Pathway to Tomorrow (12 page)

Turning on her side, she sighed as she contemplated the future.  Where did that leave her and Marcus?  Would his understanding stretch far enough for him to accept a relationship that included an ever-present Izzie, or would he get fed up with the whole thing and move on? He had Luke to consider, of course, but it wasn’t the same. His money bought him a sort of freedom. He could go away for weeks at a time secure in the knowledge that his son’s life would continue exactly as usual, whereas she didn’t dare leave her sister even for a single night.

Chapter Fifteen

Marcus got up early the following morning. Knowing Jodie was asleep on the other side of the bedroom wall was driving him to distraction, as was the memory of her kisses. He groaned as he remembered the way she had slipped her hands up under his sweater and pressed them against his chest. 

But even as he struggled with his frustration he smiled.  At least with Jodie everything was straightforward.  What you saw was what you got.  When she was angry she scowled.  When she was scared her eyes became pitch dark and opaque. When she was happy her laughter triggered that tantalizing dimple at the corner of her mouth. And when she had kissed him yesterday she had been so turned on by his lovemaking he’d had to call on every bit of his willpower not to push her further. Not with Izzie in the adjoining room.

Izzie!  What was it with Izzie?  Jodie had told him about the car crash. She said Izzie had been trapped in the car. She’d talked about the paramedics who had tried to resuscitate her mother at the side of the road. She’d told him about her own journey home from the other side of the country too, and how scared she had been that she was going to lose Izzie as well. There was something she wasn’t telling him though.  He was sure of it. Something that ate away inside her, the same way the memory of his wife’s tragic death ate away inside of him.

He frowned.  They were a fine pair, both of them burdened by tragedy. In his case though, it was guilt that had nearly destroyed him; guilt because he hadn’t been there when he was most needed. Jodie was different.  She had nothing to feel guilty about…or did she?  Was it guilt making her so protective of her sister, and if so, what had she done?

* * *

Mrs. Cotton announced she was up by clashing pots and pans together as she began to prepare Luke’s breakfast. With a sinking heart Marcus hurried into the kitchen ready to grovel.  He knew he should have told her to expect guests for the weekend. He should have checked up on his son’s program too. If he had, he would have known
his regular exercise session in the gym was an hour earlier and been ready for the extra stress triggered by the change to his routine.

“I’m sorry Mrs. C.  I didn’t mean to take over like I did yesterday. I wasn’t thinking straight. I can hardly hear myself think at all when Luke screams like that,” he offered as some sort of explanation.

She gave an angry sniff. “Well all I can say is you were lucky. It could have gone on for hours!”

“I know.  But calming him down was a bit more than luck. Jodie and Izzie have both worked with children like Luke, so they knew how to talk to him.”

“Fat lot of good it’ll do them the next time, when he refuses to listen,” she wasn’t prepared to forgive him yet, and he didn’t blame her. 

For the past six weeks she had been in sole charge of the team of care workers who worked with Luke and looked after him.  She had run the apartment like clockwork too; timing it so that the women who came in to clean didn’t upset him, and keeping his contact with strangers to a minimum. She had also made sure he was nurtured and well fed. Without Mrs. Cotton running Luke’s home/school program, life didn’t bear thinking about.

“When did you last have a break?” he asked her, determined to make amends somehow.

“Trying to get rid of me now are you?” her Irish lilt, which was always such a delight to his musical ear, became stronger as emotion took over.

“You know I’m not,” he risked sliding an arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t do without you. It’s just I doubt you’ve taken all the days due to you while I’ve been away so I’m trying to put it right. Surely there’s somewhere else you’d rather be this weekend?”

She shook her head.  Then she smiled. “Well maybe just for a day.  My niece has a new baby I’d like to see.”

“So what’s keeping you?”

He put his hands on her shoulders when she began to list all the things she had to do before she could leave the apartment.  “I can do everything.  And Jodie and Izzie will help too.  You go and visit your niece Mrs. C. Luke will still be in one piece when you come back.”

She looked at him doubtfully.  “Well if you’re sure…”

“I am, and to prove it I’ll finish making his breakfast,” he turned her around and pointed her towards the kitchen door.

She didn’t take much persuading, and as he watched her go he felt a familiar guilty lurch in the pit of his stomach.  From the outside it probably looked as if he was a good father.  He made Luke his priority whenever he could, and when he had to go away he always made sure he was well cared for. Money was no object. The people who looked after his son kept to a daily schedule that aimed to minimize his ever-present stress levels.  They worked to his strengths, too, by encouraging his reading and his drawing, and they concentrated on improving his coordination. Yet despite all the care and money lavished on his son, Marcus knew he was a failure…as a father…and as a man. 

However hard he tried, he couldn’t relate to Luke’s small successes, to the tiny steps forward Mrs. Cotton took such pride in telling him about.  Although he smiled and nodded in all the right places he couldn’t make himself care when
Luke went a whole week without a tantrum, or when he learned a new skill. All he wanted was to have a normal son, one who could kick a ball around, or talk about music, or even share memories about things they’d done together. He wanted Luke to call him Dad and to know what it meant.

With a sigh he turned back to the cooker.  What had Mrs. C said - scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice - all to be delivered at precisely eight-o’clock.

* * *

It was two minutes before eight when he carried the laden tray through to the dining room. Luke was sitting at the table drawing a picture of a bird.  He ignored Marcus. He ignored Mrs. Cotton too when she came into the room to say goodbye. Without warning something snapped in Marcus.

“Mrs. Cotton said goodbye Luke.”

With no indication that he’d heard him, his son carefully slotted the brown felt-tip pen he’d been using back into its place in his coloring box and selected a green one.

The fact he was still holding the tray was the only thing that prevented Marcus from snatching it from his hand and insisting he answer her.

Mrs. Cotton shook her head.  Her eyes were full of compassion.  “It doesn’t matter.  He never says goodbye.”

Marcus scowled. “Well he should! Good manners aren’t much to ask.”

“For Luke they are.”

As he opened his mouth to reply Luke returned the green pen to his coloring box and snapped the lid shut.  Then he placed it on top of his drawing pad and pushed both of them away from him, clearing a space for his breakfast tray.

Marcus glanced at his watch.  It was exactly eight o’clock. “How do you do that?” he asked irritably as he placed the tray in front of him. “How do you always know what time it is?”

Luke stared at him. “Breakfast is at eight o’clock,” he said.

Knowing it was the only explanation he was going to get, Marcus sighed.  Luke only dealt in facts so why did he keep expecting a deep philosophical debate. To him eight o’clock meant breakfast. It was part of his routine.  He wasn’t interested in the whys and wherefores. It was one of the main reasons Marcus found his behavior so frustrating because in many ways he was very bright.  It was as if a good fairy had come along, seen how burdened he was with physical and mental disabilities, and tried to compensate by doubling his intelligence quotient. Academically
he was several years ahead of his age, and his reading speed was off the scale.

Watching
him cut up his toast into equal squares, Marcus recalled how Jodie and Izzie had spoken to him the previous day. They had both used short, factual sentences, and they had told him what they were going to do before they did it. It was almost as if they had read the same books he’d immersed himself in when Luke had first been diagnosed, the books he’d long forgotten and, surprisingly, it had worked.

It had happened a
t the end of the evening meal, the first one he could remember sharing with his son for a very long time. Jodie had stood up, pushed her chair in and spoken directly to Luke.  What was it she’d said? Something about clearing the table because Mrs. Cotton was busy.  And Luke had picked up his plate and followed her into the kitchen with it.

Trying to mimic
the tone of voice she had used, he spoke directly to his son. “Mrs. Cotton is going out.”

“Okay,” Luke replied, his mouth full of egg.

“She said goodbye.”

Luke raised his eyes until he was looking directly at Mrs. Cotton but he didn’t speak.

Marcus took a huge breath in an attempt to crush his frustration. “Say goodbye to her,” he said. “Tell her to have a nice day.”

There was a long silence while Luke considered what his father had just said and Marcus knew he had pushed him into overload.  The ‘have a nice day’ concept was not something that made any sort of sense to Luke, not unless it was attached to a fact he could relate to. Why did he always forget things like that?  It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to handle things.  He had read enough about Luke’s mental challenges, spoken to enough experts, and yet still he got it wrong.

He gave Mrs. Cotton an apologetic shrug as he turned towards the window. She gave a sketchy wave and made for the door. Behind them Luke took another bite of toast.

“Goodbye Mrs. Cotton,” he said, his mouth full of crumbs.

* * *

By eight thirty Marcus had cleared away Luke’s breakfast dishes and made sure he had all the pens and pencils he needed to continue with his drawing. Satisfied he would remain occupied until it was time for his daily visit to the pool, he returned to the kitchen. He stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and swiped a cloth across the counter top. Then he spooned coffee into the espresso machine and stood listening to the satisfying swoosh of the steam as it was forced through the ground beans.

While he waited he thought about what Luke had just done.  Deep down he knew it wouldn’t always work like that. When he was engrossed in an activity his son would keep on ignoring him.  He would keep on having tantrums too when things didn’t go his way. Right now though, those things didn’t seem so important.  Right now he was experiencing an unexpected sense of satisfaction because for once Luke had actually responded positively to a request.

Pouring himself a coffee he carried the mug over to the window and stared out into the morning.  It was bright with sunshine and the sky was blue. He wondered if he should try to persuade Izzie to stay with Luke for an hour or two so he and Jodie could take a walk by the river. Then he saw Jodie and stopped wondering about anything at all.

She was standing on the slice of balcony visible from the kitchen window. It opened out from the bedroom she had chosen, so he had a clear view, and what he could see made his heart beat faster.

Wrapped only in a towel, she was leaning forward slightly as she brushed hair still damp from the shower. The repetitive sweep of her arm had a hypnotic effect. He watched with baited breath as she pulled the brush through it time and time again. Finally satisfied, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders. It settled like a mantle of dark silk almost to her waist.

Unable to drag his eyes away he continued to watch as she tucked the towel more securely around her and tilted her face up to the early morning sun.  It sparked blue lights in her hair while a mild breeze dancing through the leaves sent dappled shadows across her bare shoulders. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were still rosy from the shower. Marcus ached with need. He wanted to go into her bedroom, lock the door behind him, and take her in his arms.  He wanted to unwrap her towel and tangle his fingers in her hair. He wanted to…

Izzie interrupted his raised his blood pressure by coming out onto the balcony and standing beside her sister.  She said something that made Jodie laugh and as she did so, Marcus saw her turn back into the old Jodie.  Gone was the private abandon with which she had greeted the early morning sunshine.  Gone, too, were the sensuous movements of her fingers in her hair.  In their place was the practical woman whose desire to protect her sister overrode almost every other feeling.

He sighed when she reached behind her and divided her hair into thick skeins.  She was going to plait it. Then she would pull on a long-sleeved T-shirt. By the time she left her bedroom the Jodie he had seen on the balcony, the Jodie he could sense when she was kissing him, would have completely disappeared.