Lauren's Dilemma (10 page)

“Thank you,
I meant to stay with my aunt, but the hotel sounds ideal. It will save me a lot
of traveling.”

She was
sorry to have to say goodbye when the young couple left the train at Seymour, as they were
pleasant companions. She ate her sandwiches, read her book for a while, and
when her eyelids became heavy she slept.

“Melbourne in ten minutes,”
the conductor called out, waking her from a fitful sleep.

With no-one
available to help, she struggled to lift her case out of the luggage rack.
Placing it on the floor near the doorway, she decided the sensible thing to do
was catch a taxi to the hotel, rather than risk getting lost.

Melbourne
, at last. Alighting from the train,
she carried her case in one hand, her bag in the other. What an awful
noise!
 
Everyone seemed to be in such a
frantic haste, she felt tempted to jump on the next train and return home.
Don’t be such a coward, she scolded herself. Blair Sinclair was in Melbourne, in desperate
need of someone, and for the moment she was it.

A cheerful
porter took charge of her case, and within minutes she found herself sitting in
the back of a motorized taxi, giving the driver directions to the hotel. The
middle-aged man drove carefully. Once, a few short months ago, she would have
watched the comings and goings of the Melbourne
populace with interest. Now she wanted to get settled into the hotel and visit
Blair in hospital as soon as possible.

Remembering
how he had looked before he went away, she shuddered at the thought that
perhaps his handsome features might be scarred. Her eyes blurred with tears on
thinking what blindness would mean to a virile young man, and she was glad she
had come.

“Here you
are, Miss,” the driver interrupted her somber thoughts. He lifted her case out
of the car and placed it on the footpath while she fumbled for her purse.

The hotel
was a square-fronted, double-storied building in red brick, with white window
shutters. It sat well back from the street and was surrounded by neatly tended
gardens and lawns. A plump, cheerful lady answered Laurie's knock. Her faded
brown hair was swept back from her face in a tight bun, and she wore a black
dress with a white lace collar.

“Would you
have a room for me?” Laurie asked, gazing into a pair of twinkling blue eyes.
“A friend recommended your hotel.”

The woman
scrutinized her, not rudely, yet every aspect of Laurie's appearance was
assessed.

“How long
do you wish to stay?”

“I'm not
sure,” she plunged in nervously. “I'm visiting someone in the convalescent
hospital. It depends really.”

“Well, my
dear, you certainly must stay here under the circumstances. I just wondered why
a young lady like you is traveling alone, but now I understand. Come along with
you, by the way, I’m Doris Kipping.”

“Thank
you.”
 
Mrs. Kipping picked up Laurie's
case and led her inside. Up a carpeted hallway they went to a small reception
area where Laurie signed in the leather bound register, silently waiting while
the woman lifted a set of keys from a board behind the desk.

“Follow me,
Miss Cunningham.” Mrs. Kipping picked up the case again. “A ground floor room
for you, I think, dear, overlooking the garden. Breakfast is at seven thirty. I
can serve lunch if required, and dinner is at seven each evening.”

“Thank you,
sounds perfect. Actually, I had been worrying about where to eat,” Laurie
confessed. “Would you like me to carry the case?”

“No, dear,
I'll carry it. We used to have a porter. With the war and my boys being away, I
look after everything now, except for the cooking and cleaning. My daughter
helps there.” She sighed.

“I
meant
 
to stay with my relatives in
Elwood, but then I heard about your hotel,” Laurie confessed with a smile,
feeling happier now than she had in ages.

“Quite a
number of my guests have someone at the convalescent hospital. It's less than
half a mile from here. Such a shame, all those fine boys wounded and sick. My
own two are away fighting.” She barely paused for breath. “This used to be a
family-run hotel, but at the moment only my daughter and I are here.”

She
unlocked a door at the end of a hallway and ushered Laurie in. “If there's
anything you require, let me know, even if it's just an understanding ear to
confide in.”

“Thank you,
I will.” Laurie smiled. “Do you think I should go around to the hospital now? I
suppose it is a bit late.” She gnawed her bottom lip.

“Better
wait, dear. Go in the morning after you've had a nice sleep. You don't want
your young man seeing you tired and peaky-looking.”

“It doesn't
matter what I look like. He won't know. He's blind.”

Mrs.
Kipping’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry, what a tactless woman I am. After
you get yourself settled in and freshen up, come along to the dining room. You
must be starving. Things will seem much brighter in the morning.”

Laurie
placed her bag on the bed, unpacked only dresses and skirts, and hung them in
the wardrobe. Silly to unpack everything, in case she left after a couple of
days.

She
freshened up with water from a jug. The mirror confirmed how pale and washed
out looking she was. Bruising flawed the skin under her eyes, and the flesh was
pulled so tautly across her cheekbones it showed the fine blue veins beneath.
“You're a wreck, Laurie Cunningham,” she told her reflection.

Everything
appeared clean, if unpretentious, from the brass bed head to the old fashioned
heavy furniture. A dark blue bedspread with matching bolsters stood out against
the pale blue walls.

She penned
a quick note to her father, explaining about the hotel and expressing the hope
he would not be too angry about her change of plan. Sealing the letter up ready
to post, she headed for the dining room. An appetizing meal was put before her
and for the first time in months, she ate every morsel on her plate.

* * *

It was ten
thirty by the time Laurie arrived at the convalescent hospital next morning.
Pausing at the iron gates, set into a high stone wall, she surveyed the
bluestone mansion with interest.

Even though
it was summer time, the grass remained lush in the beautiful garden. Birds
flittered between the huge oak and elm trees that shaded the flowerbeds. In the
stillness, somewhere close by she heard the buzzing of bees. Peace and serenity
reigned here. A perfect place for men broken and fatigued by war to put the
shattered remnants of their lives back together again.

All the
windows stood open, as did the glass double doors of the entrance. Slowly,
almost warily, she made her way to a small alcove where a middle-aged nurse sat
making notes.

“Excuse
me.” She gave a nervous swallow. “Could you tell me where I might find Captain
Blair Sinclair?” She fumbled in her bag, withdrew the Chaplain's letter and
handed it to the nurse.

“Lauren
Cunningham, Captain Sinclair's fiancée.” Laurie bit back a squeak of surprise.
“We hoped you would come.”

She twisted
the strap on her handbag in agitation, as she waited for the nurse to finish
writing up a chart. Should she clarify the matter and say who she really was?

“Come
along, Miss Cunningham.” The chance to set the record straight disappeared. “I
won't keep you waiting any longer. You'll be anxious to see your captain.” She
smiled in a friendly fashion.

“Oh
yes.
 
Is he, I mean, is he all right?”

“As well as
can be expected, although I must admit he's not responding as he should. He's
taken his blindness very badly. With a pretty young thing like you to cheer him
up, though, he'll be out of here in no time.”

The room
they entered had walls painted in a pale primrose color and white net curtains
fluttering at the open windows. Rows of beds stretched along either side, some
with curtains drawn about them, others with their occupants visible.

The
patients seemed so young, she thought with a pang. Some sat in chairs beside
their beds or lay propped up against pillows. Others rested quietly with their
eyes closed, as if trying to shut out the horrors they had endured.

The last
bed was next to a glass door opening onto a side verandah. “Captain Sinclair,
you have a visitor.”

“Someone to
see me?” His voice sounded the same, yet somehow different. His handsome
features were unmarked, but he looked gaunt, his face pale and drawn with
suffering. His misty blue eyes were fathomless pools of emptiness.

Laurie
blinked away threatening tears as he moved his head in the direction of the
nurse’s voice. Wearing a blue pajama top, he sat propped up against two
pillows, his lower half covered by a crisp white sheet.

“Come
along, Captain Sinclair, you haven't greeted your fiancée yet.”

“My
fiancée?” his voice sounded puzzled, and Laurie waited anxiously, wondering
what to do for the best. “Do I have a fiancée?” He frowned, obviously grappling
for facts that eluded him.

Hello,
Blair.”
 
Better for him not to know her
true identity yet. “Don't you remember me? It's Laurie.”

“Laurie?”
He repeated the name slowly. “Sorry, I don't recall you at all.”

“You're
lucky having such a pretty sweetheart. I’m sure every man here envies you. How
could you forget those bright auburn curls?”

“You've got
auburn hair, Laurie?”

“Yes, with
a temper to match. Do you have much pain?” Impulsively she touched his hand,
which lay clenched on the bed sheet.

“I'll leave
you two together for a while.” Smiling, the nurse hurried away with a swish of
her skirt.

“Do you
have to stay in bed all the time or can you get up?”

“I get up
sometimes for exercise.” He gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “A blind cripple
hobbling along clinging to someone's arm, that’s me.”

“Don't say
that. You won't always be blind. The nurse said it's temporary and your sight
will eventually come back. At least you’re alive, not like…”

“Alive!” he
cut in savagely. “You call this being alive? A blind cripple with half a
memory? Go now with a clear conscience. You saw me, paid a duty call on the
poor, wounded soldier. I don't want or need your pity.”

“Pity!” Her
temper flared. He lived. Danny was dead. “I came over a hundred miles because I
wanted to help. It was a mistake though, wasn't it? There's nothing anyone can
do for a person who is so full of self-pity.”

An angry
hiss escaped him. He gave her hand such a savage wrench, she fell on to his
chest. His lips fastened on hers, hard, bruising and insulting. His hands
twisting cruelly in her hair brought hot tears to her eyes. He must have tasted
their saltiness, because he released her straight away.

“Sorry, I'm
acting like a swine.” He clutched her hand. “Please, don't go.”

She
scrubbed the tears from her cheeks and sat down again.

“Don't
apologize. I shouldn’t have attacked you like I did.” The fingers she ran
through her hair trembled. “Good thing you can't see me.” She gave a forced
laugh. “I look an absolute fright.”

“You must
be beautiful, you felt it. I could smell the perfume of your skin, too, but you
have no ring.” His fingers touched hers in a feather soft caress, yet every
nerve ending felt it.

“Were we
engaged long?”

“We got
engaged just before you went overseas. There wasn't time to buy a ring,” she
gabbled, despising herself for the lies, yet not knowing what else to do.

“We'll have
to remedy that. You'll have a ring as soon as I get out of here.” A shadow
passed across his face, wiping out every vestige of color, and he dropped her
hand.

“This won't
do. I've got a mangled leg, I'm blind, and parts of my life are a complete
blank. I must release you from our engagement. It's the honorable thing to do.”

“No, Blair,
I want to stay.” His terrible hopelessness made her feel like weeping again.

“God, it
seems so unfair taking advantage of you. I must have loved you once, for us to
become engaged, yet that part of my life is wiped out. I can remember things
before I enlisted, but the war, and you, and my getting wounded, all of it is a
blank.”

“You must
have seen terrible things, and you were badly wounded. In time, when the
memories aren't so painful, you'll remember. I suppose things became so
horrific your mind blocked them out. When you get stronger again and return
home, things will be different.”

He clutched
her hand. “Do you think so? I try to remember. I concentrate as hard as I can.
Sometimes there are flashes, and then just as I get ready to grasp them they
flit away. My head aches with trying to remember, but nothing makes any sense
to me.”

His fingers
gouged so deeply into the flesh of her hand she feared he would crack her
bones. He was almost grey with fatigue, she saw with compassion.