Chapter Ten
He knew that Miranda was watching him -- with hurt and confusion.
"I'm staying over at mum's house tonight, so it makes sense to drop you off first Miranda." He glanced at her quickly through his wing mirror.
"Yes, of course... thank you." Her blue eyes latched onto his for a moment, through that mirror, hurt and questioning. 'What happened... what did I do wrong?'
He fixed his attention on the road ahead, and set the car in motion...
*
Marcus walked her to her front door and waited patiently while she dug through her bag, for her keys.
Only when the door was open did he speak.
"I wanted to say again... thank you so very much for everything that you've done for us today... and I need to ask more of you -- I'm afraid..."
Miranda looked up at him in surprise. "Yes of course, anything that I can do to help!"
She felt so pathetic, as her eagerness showed in her voice, and her eyes sparkled with hope.
"I need you to go into the office tomorrow, and get a hold of your brother -- I need you to get him back here on the next available flight..." he paused for a moment and his expression became preoccupied, so that Miranda just knew that he was running over the next few days in his mind, and what he should have been doing.
His eyes fixed on her suddenly. "I'll need you to hold the fort as best as you can -- for the next day or two..." he winced at the look of hurt that once more shadowed her face -- he knew that he sounded cold and impersonal, and that she was bewildered by his change of attitude towards her...
"I would appreciate your discretion Miranda -- for the next couple of days. I would rather the whole world and his brother didn't know of my family's casualties and catastrophes -- until I'm able to talk about it myself!"
She nodded her head and blinked away tears. "Yes of course M... Marcus; leave it all to me... you just concentrate on your family -- on your father."
"Thank you Miranda!" he smiled warmly at her for the first time since she'd arrived back at the hospital, with his mother in tow...
"You needn't have come back mother," he murmured gently whilst casting a reproachful glance at Miranda. "They've settled him down for the night, and so he won't even know if we're there or not."
"But I will know Marcus..." she stated firmly, although her bottom lip quivered dangerously. "I just wanted to kiss him goodnight," she whispered.
Twenty minutes later, mother and son were sat in the front of Marcus's little car, and Miranda was squeezed into the back... and Marcus had not addressed her once, since their return to the hospital...
I'll just let you get inside, and locked up; before I leave," he told her now in that painfully polite tone.
"Goodnight Marcus!" Miranda said in a brittle tone, as she quickly stepped over the threshold, and turned and closed the door before he could even respond.
She dropped the catch, and stood listening for the slam of his car door.
Seconds later she was rewarded for her patience, and the roar of the car's engine started up, and then faded as he drove away from her.
**
Miranda spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in her bed, and crawled from it the following morning feeling like hell in human form.
It hadn't helped that the moment she'd stepped into her bedroom, all she could smell was the very faint aroma of Marcus's aftershave.
Her bed was still unkempt; the covers were all rumpled up, and evoking images of her and Marcus in that bed... in each other's arms, touching... kissing... making love in such a gentle loving way, that his coldness this evening, had been like a slap in the face.
She didn't understand.
Couldn't understand what had happened, between her leaving him at that hospital, and returning less than an hour later.
She dragged herself to the shower, and then dressed for work, and let herself out of the home that she shared with her brother.
It was a busy day for her -- fielding questions with; "he's away for a few days on personal business... I'm not at liberty to divulge anything more... he'll be back in due course..." and empty phrases like that.
She slipped into her jacket at the end of the day, with a little sigh of relief, and picked up her bag just as her mobile beeped at her.
She pulled it from the front pocket of the bag and pressed the button to view the text.
"Just about to board the plane, see you some time tomorrow."
"Oh thank you Peter!" she whispered gratefully.
*
Miranda had a nice relaxing soak in a warm bath, when she got home; and then rather rebelliously -- since their funds were still tight, decided to order out.
There was an unopened bottle of wine sitting in the fridge, and she had already had two glasses by the time that her food arrived.
She ate some of the food, but then found herself pushing it around her plate pointlessly, as she wallowed in memories of her time with Marcus; and fantasised about how he would come knocking at her door -- proclaiming his love for her and tell her that she had been mistaken over his attitude -- that he'd just been worried about his father...
She downed another glass of wine, and curled up on her sofa dreamily, deciding that her dishes could wait until morning... that there really wasn't any need to rush over anything...
That third glass of wine may not have been such a good idea, but it had certainly left her feeling more relaxed than she had felt for the last couple of days.
The sudden rattling of her letterbox had her glancing at the clock on the wall, even as she scrambled off the sofa. Now who on earth would be knocking on her door at nine o'clock in the evening...
Marcus of course!
"Oh... just a second!" she closed the door briefly so that she could take the safety chain off, and then pulled the door wide. "Do come inside."
'He looks tired,' was her first thought as she took his coat.
"How is your father doing? Can I get you a drink... have you eaten recently?"
He smiled down at her, although it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"He's holding his own thank you, and the doctors are quietly optimistic... and yes please, a coffee might help to keep me going... but I don't quite remember..." he trailed off as she looked up at him, and her breath fanned his face.
Warm and inviting... and the smell of alcohol was -- noticeable -- to say the least!
Something flashed in his eyes and Miranda stepped back instinctively.
"Go and sit in the living room, and I'll fix something for you... it's no trouble honest!" she hurried to say as he opened his mouth as though to argue the need.
His shoulders sagged wearily. "That's very kind of you... thank you Miranda."
He could hear her moving around in her kitchen, and Marcus sat on the sofa and let his head rest back, and his eyes close for a little while.
He'd missed Miranda today, after spending so much time with her recently and the way she had been, when he'd first heard about his father...
It was as though she had taken all of his fear and pain, and just absorbed it into herself, sending back only calm and reassurance.
At a point when he had been unable to function... to think or to act -- for himself or his family; Miranda had stepped into the breach, and had guided him along.
Today had been a long and tiring day, but his father was over the worst, the doctors were hopeful that -- with the proper care and attention -- his father could make an almost full recovery... although he would never be the same man again -- not the strong and vital man, that he had been before the stroke...
"It's not much I'm afraid..." Miranda placed a mug and a plate on the table in front of him, and sat down in the chair on the other side.
"It's plenty... thank you Miranda... you are very kind," he knew that he kept repeating himself but it was all he could say to her -- at this moment in time.
He picked up the plate and slowly began to eat the food, and it was only as he swallowed the first mouth full that he realised, just how hungry he was.
He throat went dry, and he had to reach for the drink, to wash down the food that had lodged there.
Even now Miranda was thinking for him, guessing that he would have spent the whole of the day at the hospital, and not thought of hunger or resting... or much else.
He'd heard Peter say how wonderful Miranda had been, when their own parents had died so suddenly; but he was only now beginning to understand what he had been talking about.
Miranda in her quiet understanding way; was a rock to hang on to.
She gave everything she had, and asked for nothing in return, and again he felt a rush of emotion for her.
But this was not the time for that.
"I've heard from Peter," she said suddenly. "He was just about to board his plane and he said that he'd be back sometime tomorrow."
"That's good to hear," he remembered why he'd sent Peter on this trip in the first place, to give himself the opportunity to spend some time alone with Miranda.
To try and sort out once and for all, these confusing feelings that he seemed to have whenever he was around her.
"Has it been very bad at the hospital today?" she asked quietly. "And how is your mother... and Amanda?"
He swallowed some more of the food and looked across at her.
"They're both doing okay thanks... tired and still worried about dad, but mum is being strong for Amanda and Amanda is trying to be brave for mum..."
"It's difficult for you all -- I know," she sympathised softly.
Her words were simple and probably said a thousand times by a thousand people, but the way that Miranda spoke -- the way that she looked at him...
Again he felt a warm rush of -- something, and he felt himself relaxing.
"It must be the food," he muttered softly to himself.
"Sorry?" Miranda leaned forward and her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
"Nothing," Marcus sighed tiredly. "Just thinking out loud is all."
She reached out to pick up his empty plate and mug, and then stood up.
"You look so tired," she said with concern, "will you stay here tonight, try and get some sleep?"
Her voice was hesitant and uncertain, and he realised suddenly that she was wary of him, that she feared his rejection.
As though he could ever reject her!
He smiled and this time it did reach his eyes.
