Rachel's Child

Rachel tried to pull back, but although Stephen’s grip didn’t hurt he held her firmly enough to make that impossible. ‘I’m fine. Really, Stephen, there’s no need to...’

He gave a short laugh which held scant amusement. ‘You don’t look fine. Now spare us both the indignity of a scene. Just get in, Rachel—because, believe me, I’m in no mood to persuade you politely that it is in your best interests and the best interests of the boy.’

It shouldn’t have hurt so much to hear Stephen speak like that but it did. ‘His name is Jamie! Is it so hard to remember who he is, Stephen?’

Stephen’s eyes shimmered with bitterness, and something which made Rachel want to weep. ‘No, it isn’t difficult. It’s only too easy to remember that.’

He opened the car door without another word. Rachel slid inside, watching numbly as Jamie got in the back. Just for a moment, as Stephen bent to help the child with his seat belt, their two heads were close together, one so dark and the other so fair. Then Stephen straightened, his face like stone as he slammed the door.

Rachel took a sobbing breath, feeling the anguish scoring deep inside her. What she had seen in Stephen’s eyes just now was everything she felt—all the pain, all the regret. Only it was worse for her because she knew just how different this situation might have been if she’d been able to tell him the truth! Yet how could she do that when she had no idea what the consequences might be?

If Stephen had been the boy she had fallen in love with ten years ago then she would have told him—here, now, this very second. But he wasn’t.

Stephen Hunter, the father of her child, was a stranger now. And it terrified her to imagine what Stephen might do if he ever found out that Jamie was his son!

‘Where are we going?’

It had taken some time to work their way out of the traffic. Rachel had sat silently, engrossed in her own painful thoughts, while Stephen negotiated the busy roads. Now they had left the town behind, she suddenly realised, and were heading for the open country.

Stephen barely spared her a glance as he increased the car’s speed until the hedges became just a green blur. ‘To my house. We’ll be there in a few minutes.’

‘Your house?’ Rachel could hear the shock in her voice. She glanced in panic through the window but the rain was still falling steadily, making it impossible to tell where they were. All she knew was that the last thing she wanted was to go to Stephen’s home!

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stephen. Please take us back into town. Jamie and I have a train to catch and...’

‘And a long wait ahead of you by the look of it.’ He smiled thinly, his hands steady and confident on the wheel, his eyes centred on the grey ribbon of road ahead. ‘It will be hours before the trains are running again. What exactly do you intend to do until then? Stand around getting soaked?’

He shot a quick glance in the mirror at the child sitting silently in the back and his mouth tightened. ‘I suggest you think about your son. He looks in no fit state to stand around in the rain.’

Rachel’s face flamed at the criticism, but when she turned to glance at Jamie she was forced to swallow the angry retort. The child didn’t look well, his face sickly white, his eyes almost black in contrast. Reaching out, Rachel laid her hand on Jamie’s forehead, shocked to feel how hot his skin was.

‘Aren’t you feeling well, darling?’ she asked softly.

Jamie shook his head. ‘I feel funny. Sort of hot—and my head hurts.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Rachel frowned. ‘You should have told me you were feeling poorly.’

Jamie bit his lip and glanced pointedly at the man behind the wheel. ‘You said we had to leave. I thought you’d be cross.’

‘Oh, Jamie!’

Rachel sighed and squeezed Jamie’s hand. She turned back to face the road then flushed as she caught the look in Stephen’s eyes. Stephen knew why she had been so desperate to leave! She waited for him to pass some pithy comment, but surprisingly his tone was almost gentle as he spoke to Jamie.

‘When we get to my house I’ll have my housekeeper give you something to ease your headache. Just try to rest for now, there’s a good boy.’ Stephen glanced at Rachel and his voice hardened. ‘I imagine it’s the fright he had when you two got separated which has upset him.’

‘Perhaps. But I really don’t see any need for you to go to all this trouble, Stephen. You must have far more important things to do. If you would just take us back to the station, I’m sure the trains will be running shortly.’

‘I’m sure they will. However, it wasn’t just coincidence that I saw you this morning. I went to the station specifically to find you.’ Stephen must have seen her surprise because he smiled thinly. ‘A neighbour told me that was where you’d gone. She’d seen you leaving with your case and put two and two together.’

‘But why?’ Rachel cleared her throat, feeling her heart start to hammer in sudden nervous anticipation. ‘What did you want to see me about?’

Stephen glanced pointedly in the mirror. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we wait until later to discuss that, Rachel.’

Rachel knew he was right; with Jamie listening this was hardly the time to demand an explanation. Yet the more she thought about it the more uneasy she became. Stephen would never have gone to the trouble of following her to the station if he hadn’t considered it to be important that he speak to her. But what was it about?

‘Here we are.’

Stephen turned the car between tall stone pillars which marked the entrance to a long driveway. Rachel stared through the window, experiencing a sudden curiosity to see where he lived despite her initial reluctance to come. However, it was only as they rounded a bend in the driveway that she suddenly realised which house it was.

Rachel felt the colour drain from her face as they drew up. She heard Stephen cut the engine then open his door, but everything seemed to be happening from a distance as she sat there and stared at the house with disbelieving eyes.

She had been here only once before, many years ago, with Stephen, but she recognised the house immediately, despite the fact that there had been many dramatic changes made to it. Then the house had been little more than a ruin, having fallen into that state after the death of its elderly owner, a former prima ballerina.

She and Stephen had been out for a walk when they had come across the house by chance, and Rachel had been persuaded to climb the crumbling wall by much gentle teasing from Stephen. Hand in hand they had wandered the overgrown grounds, and then Stephen had found a window hanging open and they had gone inside the house.

The place had echoed with the sound of their footsteps, the dust and dirt lying thickly everywhere. Yet despite its condition there had been a beauty about the old house which even the grime and decay couldn’t detract from.

They had examined each of the rooms in turn, then made love in one of the empty bedrooms, the sunlight spilling through the dusty window falling on their two bodies as they lay entwined in each other’s arms. And afterwards, as Rachel had bent and kissed him, her eyes adoring, she had whispered, ‘If we ever have a house then this is the one I want, Stephen. This one...no other...’

‘Ready, Rachel?’

The sound of her own voice receded into the past. Rachel stared at Stephen, the shock still rippling through her body, the questions pounding inside her head. Why had Stephen bought this house when he could have had his pick? Had he...had he been influenced by the memory of what had happened here that day?

Her brain spun as she tried to make sense of something which made so little, yet which filled her with a breathless kind of hope. Maybe, just maybe that was the answer...?

‘Are you coming in, Rachel, or do you intend to sit there all day?’

Stephen’s voice was full of impatience and nothing more. Rachel searched his face for one long moment as the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting, then slowly she got out of the car and walked past him, and the fragile bud of hope died a painful death.

Stephen watched her go, his hand tightening around the keys he held until they bit into his palm. He was glad of the pain. Slowly he eased his grip, felt the tension which had beset him seep away to leave him oddly deflated.

What had he hoped for in bringing Rachel here?

He could tell himself that he’d had little choice, that they could hardly discuss what needed to be discussed in the street—especially in the state Rachel had been in before—that taking Rachel back to the office would have aroused the kind of speculation he preferred to avoid! All that made sense enough but it wasn’t the truth, not the whole truth, Stephen knew.

Had he chosen to bring Rachel to this house today so that she would recall what had happened here all those years ago? And if she remembered, what then? Exactly what had he been hoping for?

Stephen slammed the car door, his mouth twisting with self-mockery as he shot another look at Rachel’s rigid back, at the child standing by her side. What he and Rachel had shared was long past; the boy was all the proof he needed of that. Frankly, that was the only thing either of them needed to remember!