The Family She's Longed For Page 5

  She laughed with disbelief. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you take my feelings into consideration before barrelling your way back into my life?’

  ‘You would have said no.’

  ‘And I’m still saying no.’ Clara twisted the napkin tighter as she tried to hold on to her frustrations. ‘You never listened in the past and you’re not listening now, Virgil. I don’t want to renew our past relationship. I’ll work alongside you. I’ll be professional and friendly. But nothing more.’

  She paused and swallowed, focusing on her breathing in an effort to get her emotions under control. He didn’t venture any comment and she was pleased about that. She needed to say what she’d come here to say and then she could leave—could return to her apartment, hug her dog and cry over what might have been for the very last time.

  ‘I can’t do this, Virgil. I can’t do “you and me” again. It almost killed me last time—literally—and it’s taken me years to get to where I am now. I just can’t do it.’

  Clara was certain the napkin in her hands was about to break, she was twisting it so much. Now that she’d told him how she felt—now that he could be sure there was no future for the two of them—she wasn’t sure whether she should stay and wait for her meal or simply leave. However, she didn’t want to leave him to pay for her meal. One of the other ways she’d changed was in taking care of herself. She was an emancipated woman and she liked it.

  Deciding it was best to leave and pay for her uneaten meal on the way out, Clara shifted her chair back slightly to make her exit easier. It had been a whole fifteen seconds since she’d finished talking, and he hadn’t made any comment.

  ‘I’m sorry to skip out on dinner,’ she stated as she started to rise from her chair, the napkin still in her hands. ‘But I think it’s best if I go.’

  ‘What do you mean our break-up almost killed you literally? What—what happened?’

  Clara’s eyes widened in surprise. For some reason she’d thought he’d know about her accident, but how could he? It wasn’t as though they moved in the same circles, except for bumping into the occasional friend from medical school, like Misty Fox.

  ‘Oh. I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?’

  ‘Wouldn’t know what?’

  Clara sat back in her chair and met his gaze across the table. ‘It was three weeks after you left for Montreal. I was involved in a horrific car accident.’

  Virgil stared at her, his mouth dropping open slightly. ‘Clara...’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘How could you? You’d left.’

  ‘That’s unfair.’

  ‘Granted,’ she acquiesced. ‘I was heading home from the hospital and a drunk driver side-swiped my car. I was in a bad way—pelvic fracture, lots of operations, lots of intensive therapy which lasted the better part of a year—and once I was back on my feet again I headed overseas myself for a few years.’

  ‘Why did you go overseas?’

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. ‘Because of my parents...because of Arthur.’

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, locking the memories away before they could take hold. Whenever she’d thought about the accident in the past, she’d usually ended up with a terrible migraine and a sleepless night.

  ‘They all gave up so much for me. I moved back home. Mum looked after me. Arthur drove me to rehabilitation. Dad paid my hospital bills when my savings ran out. They all gave and gave and gave.’

  ‘Probably because they love you.’

  ‘And that’s why I needed to go away—not only to try and find myself, to heal myself emotionally and mentally, but to give them all a break. I came back in time for Arthur’s wedding.’ She smiled when she thought of her brother and his lovely wife Maybelle. ‘He’s so happy.’

  ‘I’m glad for Arthur—but what about you? Are you happy?’

  Virgil’s words were soft and caring, creating the beginnings of an intimate bubble between them.

  Clara met and held his gaze. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Really happy? Not just happy enough?’

  ‘Virgil...’

  She sighed, trying not to lose herself in the depths of his wonderful eyes. She could see his concern for her—could see that he was genuinely interested in her answer. Was she happy?

  ‘I’m content with my life. I like things the way they are. I have a good job, people who love and care about me, and a gorgeous dog who cuddles me and loves me unconditionally.’

  They sat there, looking at each other for a long moment, lost in so many of the unspoken conversations they should have had over the years but never had.

  Virgil was the first to look away, straightening the cutlery on the table and making way for their waiter to place their meals in front of them. The wine was poured and they began to eat, both clearly happy to have something else to focus on.

  ‘I tried to call you,’ he stated after a few minutes.

  Clara swallowed her mouthful. ‘What? When?’

  She went to pull her smartphone from her pocket but he stopped her.

  ‘Not tonight. I meant I tried to call you several months after I’d been in Montreal. You were right. That’s what I was ringing to tell you. I wanted to tell you that you’d been right—that I’d ended up burning the candle at both ends, that I was overworked, exhausted and running myself ragged. I had no balance in my life any more and I realised, belatedly, that you were the person who had always provided me with that balance. Throughout medical school, during our internships... You were the one, Clara.’

  He put down his fork and picked up his wine glass, taking a sip.

  ‘I called you because I wanted to apologise, to tell you how incredibly sorry I was for the way I’d treated you and to ask if there was any possibility of us starting over.’

  ‘Virgil.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t receive any calls from you.’

  ‘When I called the phone service said the number was no longer valid. I tried emailing you. Still no response. I wrote to you but never received any reply.’

  ‘Wait. You emailed me? Which email address? Where did you send the letter? I never received anything.’

  Virgil stared at her for a long moment, his mind processing her words before he leaned his head back and slowly exhaled, unable to believe the weight which had just been lifted off his heart. She hadn’t been ignoring him. She hadn’t received his emails, hadn’t received his letters—all of them begging her for another chance. A ray of hope sprang to life as he realised she hadn’t rejected him at all.

  ‘You didn’t receive anything?’ He slowly repeated her words.

  ‘I was in hospital for months, and when I was discharged from the rehabilitation centre I moved in with my parents. Those first few months, Arthur took care of all my day-to-day issues, like paying bills, cancelling rental agreements, sorting things out with the hospital.’

  ‘And you didn’t receive anything from me?’

  When she shook her head in confirmation he couldn’t help but smile. It was short-lived.

  ‘Wait.’ He held up one hand. ‘That means you never knew how sorry I was for the horrible way I’d treated you.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘My behaviour was arrogant, thoughtless and downright rude, and I’m so sorry, Clara. You deserved better.’

  This news also made him realise why she wasn’t willing to give him a chance now.

  ‘I always thought you didn’t reply as a way of telling me it was over. You were giving me the brush-off, letting me know that I’d blown it once and for all, and that there was no chance of a reconciliation.’

  Hope continued to increase within him.

  ‘Oh? So you thought that as you’d rejected me it was my turn to reject you?’ Clearly he didn�
�t know her at all. ‘You thought I was that petty and wouldn’t give you another chance?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ He picked up his fork and started to eat his dinner again. ‘But now that you know the truth—that I did try and apologise—does it make you want to change your mind about giving me another chance now?’

  Her fork clattered to her plate as she stared at him in astonishment. ‘Weren’t you listening before?’

  ‘I was listening,’ he returned after finishing his mouthful. ‘I heard everything you said. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop hoping.’

  ‘Hoping that there might be something other than professional friendship between us?’ Clara shook her head. ‘Stop hoping, Virgil, and just accept that this is the way it’s going to be from now on.’

  ‘But why?’

  He needed to know. He felt certain there was something she wasn’t telling him. But if he pressed her too much right now, she might stand up and walk out of the restaurant. He wanted to get things sorted out between them—to know exactly where he stood. He knew her of old, and he couldn’t shake the sense that she wasn’t telling him everything.

  Clara put her knife and fork together on her plate, indicating she was done with her meal even though there was still half of it left.

  ‘I think I should leave.’

  ‘No. Wait. Clara, please stay.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because...’ He racked his brain, trying to think of a good reason. ‘Because I want to tell you about my daughter. I have a phone full of pictures.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to see them. Professional friends, Virgil.’

  ‘Does Cedric have children?’

  Clara frowned at the mention of the obstetrician at the Specialist Centre. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you seen pictures of them? Met them?’

  ‘They’ve come to the Specialist Centre on occasion, yes.’

  ‘So you’ve met them.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about Jane? Your receptionist? Does she have children?’

  Sighing with impatience, she held up her hand. ‘Yes, Jane has children. Yes, I’ve met them.’

  ‘Then why, purely from a professional friendship point of view, can’t you stay to let me be the proud, boasting daddy and show you some pictures of my Rosie?’

  There was a hint of hurt in his tone and she knew she’d capitulate—but only because he’d made a valid point.

  ‘OK. Fine.’ She held out her hand. ‘Give me your smartphone.’

  Looking at pictures of an old boyfriend’s child with another woman wasn’t her idea of a fun evening, but with Virgil working at the Specialist Centre and hospital, there was every chance that Clara would eventually meet his daughter. Best to get the initial pain of accepting he’d had a child with someone else over and done with now.

  Grinning, he was quick to find the pictures of his little girl and pass his phone to her.

  ‘That first one was taken today. She’s a cheeky thing.’

  Clara stared at the photograph of the little girl with blonde hair, her eyes as perfectly blue as her father’s. ‘She’s gorgeous, Virgil. How old did you say she was?’

  ‘Three. My cheeky three-year-old. It doesn’t end with the terrible twos!’ He chuckled at his own joke and she nodded.

  ‘Arthur has twin girls, only eighteen months old, and they get into so much mischief.’ She continued to scroll through the photos on his phone. ‘So I take it your wife was blonde?’ The words were out before she could stop them and she quickly handed Virgil back his phone. ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘But it is, Clara—or at least I want it to be.’

  ‘Virgil, we’re just professional—’

  ‘Diana. That was her name. She was French-Canadian and she reminded me a lot of you.’

  ‘Really? Except that I’m very much Australian and have dark hair,’ she felt compelled to point out.

  She wanted to hear what Virgil had to say about the woman he’d married, but by the same token she didn’t want to know anything. Knowing more about Virgil’s life during the past six years would only make her more intrigued by him, and that was the last thing she wanted. Her life was great the way it was—wasn’t it?

  ‘Personality-wise, I mean. She liked old movies, like you. She liked the same authors you did. She loved to sing off-key in the shower and was always late for appointments.’ He smiled sadly.

  ‘Were you happy with her?’ Again the question seemed to spring from her lips without thought.

  ‘In the beginning, yes.’ Virgil took a sip of his wine. ‘After I didn’t hear back from you I was—depressed. Lonely. Diana was a nurse, and we became friends. She helped me to heal a broken heart.’ Another sip of his wine. ‘Our wedding was a pure impulse at the end of a clinical convention in Las Vegas. Tacky, I know, but it happens.’

  ‘Chapel of Love?’ she asked, trying to keep her emotional distance from what he was saying by injecting some humour.

  ‘Something like that. Anyway, we decided to try and make a go of it.’ He put his glass down and leaned forward. ‘I thought there was no hope of reconciling with you, Clara. I had to move on with my life, try and find some new form of “normal”.’

  ‘Just like I had to move on with my life—to heal from my accident and travel overseas in order to find my new life.’ She nodded, her words soft. ‘I do understand, Virgil.’

  When he reached for her hand she let him take it, linking their fingers together. When he gazed into her eyes she didn’t look away, but instead saw the sincerity of his convictions. Perhaps she’d judged him too harshly. Perhaps he had changed. But if he truly had, did that mean she should give him another chance?

  Her heart was screaming yes, but her mind... Her mind was definitely not saying no, and that was a scary prospect to consider. Was there a future for herself and Virgil just waiting to be explored? Should she take the chance? She honestly didn’t know.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN CLARA ARRIVED home from her dinner with Virgil she sent her brother a text message to check if he was free to talk. A moment later her phone rang.

  ‘Hey, sis.’

  ‘You busy?’

  ‘Nope. Just waiting up for my wife to get home from her long shift at the hospital. The wine is chilling and I’m about to draw her a long and relaxing bubble bath.’

  ‘And the girls?’

  ‘Sound asleep—at the moment.’ Arthur chuckled. ‘But tonight Daddy’s on duty and Mummy gets to relax.’

  Clara sighed. ‘See? Why can’t I find a guy like you?’

  She sat down on the lounge and a moment later, her dog, Fuzzy-Juzzy, jumped up beside her, expecting to be patted. Clara didn’t disappoint the dog.

  ‘You’re all about the caring and the listening and the supportive attitude.’

  Arthur chuckled. ‘I know. I’m quite a catch—as I remind Maybelle on a semi-regular basis. Anyway, little sis, what’s up?’

  ‘Why would anything be up?’

  ‘Because you don’t usually call me this late at night, sounding so serious.’

  ‘Uh—well—I had dinner with Virgil tonight.’

  There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line, and for a second she thought her brother had hung up.

  ‘Arthur?’

  ‘I’m here. I just didn’t think you were going to have anything to do with him—apart from being professional, I mean. At least that’s what you told me before he arrived back in town.’

  The protective note in Arthur’s tone was unmistakable.

  ‘It wasn’t a romantic dinner.’

  She tried to block out the mental vision of them sitting at that table for two, fingers linked, staring into each other’s eyes. What had she b
een thinking? That was the problem. She hadn’t been thinking. All she’d been feeling at that moment when she’d let him link his hand with hers, was that she’d missed him. Even though she’d been through therapy, even though she’d tried new things, met new people, done everything and anything she could in order to pull her life back together, at the end of the day the simple and honest fact was that she’d missed him.

  Of course there was no way she could say that to Arthur, or else he’d don his protective big brother superhero cape and stand guard over her as he’d done in the past. She didn’t need him to do that any more. She was more than capable of donning her own superhero cape.

  Clara cleared her throat. ‘We—ah—we simply needed to set out some ground rules so we know where each other stands.’

  ‘And where does the almighty Virgil Arterton stand? Still on his pedestal? With a pole stuck up his—?’

  ‘Actually, he was very apologetic.’

  Arthur snorted. ‘I’ll bet he was.’

  ‘Arthur...’ She hesitated for a moment, unsure how to ask what she needed to ask. ‘Virgil mentioned that several months after he’d been in Montreal, he tried to contact me again. Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘No!’ The surprise in Arthur’s tone was clear.

  ‘He said he tried to call but the number was disconnected.’

  ‘He would have tried your old number at your old apartment.’

  ‘He also said that he tried to email me and even wrote me a letter.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘You seriously don’t know anything about this?

  ‘I don’t. I really don’t. Back when you were in hospital I cancelled your phone, your internet connection and your lease. I had your mail redirected to Mum and Dad’s house for six months. I figured six months was enough time to change over any details. With regard to your emails, I think the only email address you had at the time was the one at Melbourne General, and that was shut down when you stopped working there.’