Saving Nathaniel (8 page)

He took a moment to answer. It appeared to be something he had to think about. 'I'm not sure any more, not that I ever was. I was convinced I was dying and I…I don't know…there was a second when I thought, 'What if I do die and I get wherever I'm going…and there's nothing there. What happens to me then?' It was…unsettling.' He clasped his hands together, interlacing his fingers so tightly they were bone white.

She could see that a brush with his own mortality had disturbed him deeply and he was trying very hard to hide it. When she placed her small, warm hand over his, she felt them relax a little. Quietly she said, 'It's over now, you got through it and you're okay, but I think you should take it as a warning not to get so stressed in future.'

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and slowly blew out a controlled exhalation. 'I hope to God it never happens again,' he said, adding, 'Thanks for your help.'

'I'm not going to say, 'It was a pleasure', because it wasn't. I was probably just as scared as you.'

He huffed. 'I doubt that.'

'No, probably not,' she agreed. 'Now drink your tea. It'll make you feel better.'

Later that afternoon she found him asleep in his chair, his feet up on the footstool and his newspaper across him like a paper blanket. She watched him as he slept. His hands, peacefully folded across his chest, rose and fell with the regular rhythm of his breathing and his face looked relaxed and calm, the lines and frowns of stress ironed out.

A Shakespearean quote flitted into her mind;
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care.

She reached out her hand and let it hover just an inch over his head, his hair brushing her fingers. She could touch him and feel him stir. She wanted to, but she didn't.

Chapter 8

Nat's panic attack had frightened him and he provisionally agreed he would try to cut down his workload and relax more. He didn't keep his word. When a major business opportunity in Ireland fell into his lap, he snapped it up.

'You come highly recommended, Mackie and I guarantee it'll be well worth your while,' his Irish contact told him.

It was a long way out of his usual remit and required a good deal of travel, but the lure of a large amount of hard cash at the end was too much to resist. Rather than decrease, his work and stress levels increased to nearly breaking point.

'You said you would slow down,' Megan said when she saw the small suitcase he carried. He obviously intended to be away longer than overnight.

'I will, I promise, as soon as I'm done.'

'And how long will that be?'

'I said, soon.'

'You said that last week.'

'Are you keeping tabs on me now?'

She hesitated, before saying, 'You don't look well, Nat.'

'I'm fine, stop worrying.'

'That's easier said than done.'

He sighed. 'Look, Meg, this deal…I know it's going to be tough, but it'll be worth it in the end. The commission could come in at about a hundred thousand.'

'That's very nice for you, I'm sure. But all the money in the world is no good if you're not around to enjoy it.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'The attack you had before, Nat, it was a warning, but you're not listening. Next time you might not be so lucky, it could
be
a coronary.'

He all but scoffed at her. 'There's not going to be a next time. I'm fine, now leave it.'

She opened her mouth to say more, only to be cut off before she got a word out.

'I said
leave it!
' The sharpness of his tone told her she would be wasting her time arguing with him.

She shrugged shoulders. 'Okay, whatever you say. You obviously know what you're doing. It's nothing to do with me. I'm just the cleaner.' Seconds later she was in the laundry room and the door between them had been firmly closed.

She didn't say goodbye,
he thought.
She always says goodbye.

On his return three days later, Megan deliberately avoided any reference to the reason for his absence. He worked on furiously, spending hours on the telephone and internet, seemingly oblivious to anything but the work. He rarely left his study. Trays of food were returned untouched, and he only slept when he was too tired to stay awake. Megan also noted with consternation, how much more he was drinking.

One morning, concerned at not having seen him for more than thirty-six hours, she entered the study and found him asleep at his desk, having been overcome with exhaustion. She woke him gently and insisted he take to his bed and get some proper sleep. His reaction was a sharp rebuffal, followed by his ordering her to get out and leave him alone. As he wasn't going to listen to her, she kept her own counsel and, aching with anxiety, tried to carry on as if nothing were amiss. It took nearly three weeks more before he announced the job to be over.

'That's it, done and dusted,' he said. 'I said it would be tough, and it was, but overall I think it was pretty successful.'

He related how he had met the challenge head on, had negotiated a fair price and had banked himself a good commission - not as much as he'd hoped, but substantial nonetheless. His self satisfaction did not impress Megan. She had long since reached the end of her tether.

'That's so very nice,' she said. 'I am
so
pleased for you. I hope you and your accountant are
deliriously
happy together.'

Her sharp, sarcastic comment cut him to the quick. He had expected her to be pleased with his news not throw it back at him. 'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing…and please don't swear at me.'

'It's my house and I'll swear if I want to. What did you mean by it?

'Nothing,' she repeated. 'Forget it.'

'I thought you'd be pleased. The job is over and there's money in the bank.'

'It's not just about the money is it?'

'It's what keeps a roof over my heid and you in a job.'

'And was it
really
worth ruining your health for the sake of padding out your bank balance?'

'I don't know what you mean.' He spread his arms wide in a
'look at me'
gesture. 'I'm perfectly fine.'

'No, you're not. You haven't been fine for weeks.'

'There's nothing wrong with me, Meg. You're being paranoid. One little incident…' He made a pinching motion with his fingers.

'Then I suggest you take a long, hard look at yourself, because from where I'm standing, it's none too pretty.'

'You don't know what you're talking about.' His defensiveness told her he knew exactly what she saying; he just didn't want to hear it.

'Well, let's try these caps on for size shall we, and see how they fit?' She ticked off each point on her fingers. 'You look like death warmed over, you're not sleeping, you're not eating, you've worn the same clothes for three days in a row, you're always in a foul mood, and you…well to be brutally frank, you smell like a distillery. If you're
trying
to put yourself in an early grave you're certainly going the right way about it?'

'Don't push it, Meg. Just DON'T!'

She could tell by the set of his jaw and hardness of his eyes that he was already beginning to lose his temper, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. 'I will push, Nat, and I'll keep on pushing until you take some notice. If you won't listen to me then perhaps you'll listen to a doctor when you end up in the emergency room with a real heart attack.'

'I really, really don't need this from you…!'

'Yes, you do because I'm the only one who's going to tell you, not that you ever listen to anyone!'

He glared at her from under brows knitted into a deep scowl. 'That's more than enough from you, woman! And I strongly suggest you watch that tongue of yours!'

Megan's fury boiled over. 'Don't you use that tone with me, mister. I'll say what needs to be said...'

The last of his tolerance ebbed away. 'Not one more word...I'm warning you!' he growled through clenched teeth.

She crossed her arms defiantly. 'Or what? You'll fire me? Go ahead, it won't change the truth!'

'If that's what it'll take to shut you up, you only have yourself to blame.' He inclined his head sharply towards the door. 'You're sacked…get out.'

She stood her ground, her blazing eyes locked on his.

'NOW!' he roared.

She drew in a deep breath and said stiffly, 'As you wish,
Mister
Mackie.'

She marched across the kitchen, grabbed her coat and bag from the hook behind the door, slamming it behind her as she left. The echo of her leaving resounded around the silent kitchen and jolted Nat back to his senses. He sagged against the worktop and looked around the empty room as it screamed her absence.

'
Oh shit, what have I done? She's gone! Meg's gone! Shit...shit…! Get her back you bloody fool! Get her back!'

He yanked open the door and as fast as the deep gravel and his stockinged feet would allow, ran along the path to find her. 'Meg!' he yelled. 'STOP!'

She was already standing by her car, rooting in her bag for her keys. He reached her and grabbed her by her arm. 'Please, Meg, don't go. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry.'

'It's too late for being sorry, Nat. You've gone too far this time.' She shrugged his hand away and pulled the keys from her bag, tears of frustration perilously close.

'Come back inside, Meg.'

'No.'

'Please…don't go,' he said. 'Come back inside, let's talk about this.'

'There's no point, you won't listen. You never listen.'

'I will, I promise. Please, Meg?'

'You've made a lot of promises, Nat, but you don't keep any of them. I don't think you know how.'

'I will this time, you have my word.'

'I don't believe you.'

She selected a key and offered it to the lock. It slid home and she turned it. As she withdrew it, the tremor in her hand caused the keyring to slip from her grip and fall into the gravel. He quickly bent and picked it up. 'Please, come back inside with me,' he said.

'Give me the keys, please.'

'Not until you agree to come back inside with me.'

'No.'

'Why, Meg?'

'Because I've had enough. I was wrong. I made a mistake. I thought I could handle being here, handle you. I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not. You've beaten me. You win.'

'Don't say that…I don't want you to leave…I'm really sorry.'

For a brief moment, she thought he meant it. When it passed, she held out her hand for the keys. 'Don't say what you don't mean, Nat. Please give me the keys.'

He cupped her open hand with his and dropped the keys onto her palm, closing her fingers over them and holding her hand tightly enclosed within his own. The warmth of his skin against hers ruptured her resolve and it crumbled. Still, she let her eyes wander anywhere except his face.

'I don't want you to go, Meg. I was wrong and I
am
sorry. Please…won't you even look at me?' His voice had taken on a softer note and touched her with its sensitivity.

Finally, she forced herself to look at him and could see, this time, he was telling the truth.

'Please, Meg, let's go inside. It's cold out here...' He looked down at his feet, wiggling his toes. 'And I haven't got any shoes on.'

He had already put his arm around her shoulder and was slowly, step by step, leading her back to the house. Against her better judgement, she allowed him to do it.

He led her into the kitchen and sat her at the table. Their rôles were now reversed and he found himself making the comforting cup of tea.

She sat with her head bowed. 'I've been worried sick these last few weeks,' she said. 'You've been driving yourself into the ground and I've not been able to do a damned thing about it.' Her voice cracked and she put her hand to her mouth to cover her distress. Over it, her large, moist eyes gave her away. Nat tore a piece of kitchen towel from a roll on the wall and handed it to her. She dabbed her leaking eyes with it.

'Every morning I've been coming in here with my heart in my mouth,' she said. 'I was dreading what I might find, always afraid that something might have happened to you. I was scared, Nat.'

He remembered what she had told him about her father;
'I found him in his bed one morning… he'd died in the night…in his sleep… we didn't even get to say goodbye...'

'I had no idea I'd made things so dreadful for you, Meg,' he said, gently. 'I didn't mean to.'

She slapped her palms flat on the tabletop, needing to emphasise her point. 'It's not about
me
, Nat, it's about
you
. You're making yourself ill, but you just won't see it.'

He laid his hands over hers. 'I can't believe I've been so selfish. I'm so sorry.'