Chapter Twenty Three

Eleanor tottered rather than walked, and Joel smiled at her antics. The small park on the headland just outside the village was the perfect location to play. And Eleanor played like the little child that she was. It was wonderful to watch and Joel rued the fact that already she was almost a year old and he'd not spent much time with her. He did everything he could to not think about Sammy, he had no idea what she was going through at the hospital, but he vowed to be happy for her daughter until they picked Sammy up.

In reality it was far harder than he imagined, Sammy was puffy eyed, her tears glassed her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of Eleanor who giggled and squealed the moment she appeared.

"Hi baby girl!" She smiled leaning from the passenger seat of his car to grin at Eleanor sat in the back seat. "You been good for Aunty Joel?"

He nudged her in the ribs, "aunty? You cheeky..." He too turned to Eleanor, "shall I tickle your mother?"

Eleanor smiled so he dug his fingers under her ribs and drove to a fit of squeals, just what he hoped she needed. When she was panting and begging him to stop for fear of having an accident in the front seat of his BMW, he stopped and they both slumped back in their seats, his breathing as erratic as hers.

After a few seconds she turned to him, "thanks Joel, for everything. That was just what I needed."

He grinned, "what happened? How's your mother?"

She told him that her mother had been inconsolable, and it had taken Sammy a long time to leave the ward after that. She'd be out of theatre by mid afternoon and she could visit later.

"I'll drive you back here later, then cook us some dinner." When her eyes widened in surprise and maybe a little mockery he laughed, "I have been practicing, and I plan to wow you later."

"I should stay at the hospital..."

He shook his head, "quite the opposite, you NEED to come home. Your main role is as a mother. And I'll hang around, for as long as you need me, ok?"

The tears were there again, peaking out of her eyelids, "you are amazing Joel, I'll never thank you enough."

He laughed, deliberately trying to lighten the mood, "let's leave that sentiment until after you've tasted my dinner, ok?"

She gave a watery smile, "deal."

They'd stopped at the cliff top cafe on the way back and had an ice-cream disregarding the cold temperatures and hard wind. Back home Eleanor slept, for hours, so Sammy and Joel sat and watched the football scores appear on TV, waiting for the call from the hospital to tell her that Monica was back from theatre and recovering. At four, later than planned, she finally got the call.

Eleanor was playing on the floor, Joel was dozing on the sofa, but then he hadn't had much sleep the previous night either.

"Take my car." He tossed her the keys, "I'll give this lady some tea, and then you'll be home for our dinner. Yes?"

She nodded silently looking between him and Eleanor a few times before disappearing out into the cold afternoon.

It didn't take long for her mother to exhaust every ounce of her sympathy, she wasn't great with a head cold, post surgery she was a nightmare. After consultation with the surgeon, Monica had decided she wanted reconstruction, so she was complaining about pain, the unevenness of her bandages, and of course the food. Her anger and frustration at her mother helped her to lose anxiety and concern. When she left the hospital a couple of hours later, Sammy felt so much better. There was a long way to go, radiotherapy, chemotherapy...the treatments stretched out into the future, but for now she was past stage one. Monday would bring meetings, plans, and the results of the biopsies on her tumour, but for Saturday night, Sammy could head home a little relieved.

The house was filled with a delicious aroma as she opened the door; she couldn't hide the 'Ahhh' that slipped from her lips.

As she shucked off her coat and hung it in the hallway, Joel appeared from the lounge, "you ok?"

She nodded, "yeah. She's good. Moaning and complaining, back to her old self."

He smiled, "that's good. Eleanor followed the plan you left like clockwork, she's been asleep for about half an hour."

Whilst she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in to her daughter, inhale her, feel her breathe, Sammy was also extremely glad that she was unaffected by all that was happening around her.

"I'll just go give her a kiss."

Joel smiled then returned to the kitchen.

She was idyllic in sleep, her heart shape lips pursed as she snored softly, her long lashes fanning across her cheeks, her chest rising and falling. Sammy sighed; her love for her daughter was unending. By the time she moved back into the lounge, she could see that Joel was back at the cooker, preparing their dinner.

"So what have you made me?"

She leaned against the door frame watching his shoulders move as he chopped something on the board in front of him, from her angle she couldn't see what it was. Regardless it smelled wonderful. As he turned to smile at her, he handed her a goldfish bowl full of deep red wine.

"The greatest gift to man!"

She knew what that was; it was how Marcus referred to fillet steak. His ultimate greatest meal. Smiling she lifted an eyebrow, "I'm worth fillet steak?"

He laughed, "he told you huh? That is something that brings him into the room again, you know?"

She nodded, "I do."

"But it doesn't hurt anymore, not like it used to."

"I know what you mean, I feel the same."

She slurped at her wine rather inelegantly, her sudden flush of anxiety made her feel a little uneasy. Because she did think of Marcus at that, but it had been far too long since that had last happened, he'd been a long way from her mind, other than the anger that he wasn't there to support her.

"You ok?" His voice almost made her jump, and when she glanced up he was staring at her, "sorry...I thought..."

"It's fine, I'm not sad, I was just thinking, honest."

He studied her for a few more seconds then offered, "medium rare?"

"Of course. I'll lay the table."

Joel turned slapping the steaks on the griddle, "so what can I smell?"

"My other speciality, dauphinoise potatoes."

Her stomach literally growled in appreciation.

A day later and Joel had perfected his role as uncle. He and Eleanor had bonded and she literally made him laugh all the time. Sammy had been at the hospital all day, and though she'd phoned VERY regularly, she hadn't been able to leave whilst all the plans for Monica's treatment were made. So as a repeat of the previous afternoon, Eleanor was settled in her highchair, finishing her evening meal, watching him as he baked potatoes and marinated salmon. It was a million miles from his life in London, he barely had time to pour a cup of coffee the last five years, but here, away from it all, he was enjoying and appreciating life in its simplest form. He looked up as Eleanor punched her hands into the remaining baked beans on her plate. Anything but simple being with that madam. She loved making a mess, another fact he'd discovered in detail over the past few days.

"Your mother is going to kill me if she sees how ridiculously messy you are Ellie!" He'd taken to calling her by that as he'd become more familiar with her. And it only made her giggle more.

"Kill her? I'm going to smother her with soap and bubbles!"

They both looked up to see Sammy in the doorway, she looked exhausted, but she was smiling.

"Bad day?"

She shrugged, "I'm going to bath this little one, then I'll tell you all about it. I wish I could thank you for all you've done."

He shook his head, "no need, really no need."

"I don't know what you've done to her, but that is the quickest that Eleanor has EVER gone to sleep!"

Joel was sat on the sofa, one ankle resting on his other jean clad thigh, a bottle of beer hanging from his fingers. He was more relaxed then she'd ever seen him, and when his lips turned up into a smile, it was a heart-warming one.

They sat at the table before Sammy told him about her day; instead she preferred to listen to the antics that he and Eleanor had got up to. Every time he called her Ellie her heart swelled a little more and she relaxed into the chair.

His dinner was once again exemplary, as was his choice of wine that went with it.

"So Monica?" He asked laying down his knife and fork.

She chewed the end of her meal thoughtfully, "they're treating her aggressively, it was a really progressive form of cancer, fast growing...so they are attacking it from all angles. She has half a dozen radiotherapy sessions, and then she'll start on chemo."

"Shit, sounds heavy duty."

She nodded, "it is when you've got Monica's personality, half drama queen, half baby. She'll reinvent the terms 'holding hands' for this, I'll have to be at her beck and call."

"You can't drop everything; you have a house to buy and a daughter to care for."

She gave a harsh laugh, "how can I move out now?"

"With ease! You have to. A sick bed is no place for a baby, drugs, illness...she needs her space, and Ellie needs hers too. You think when you mother is sick from chemotherapy that she'll appreciate a baby laughing, making noise, banging?"

Sammy didn't know what she thought anymore, so she shrugged, "I just know that I'm all she's got, WE'RE all she's got."

He shook his head vehemently, "what about the friend who relieved you tonight? What about her boyfriend? You have your own life to deal with, I'm not saying never help her, but just that you have your own duties and obligations too. You have to remember that."

"You're saying that cos she's been a shit mother?"

"NO. I'm saying it cos you are NOT a shit mother."

Standing she walked into the lounge, hoping that she could gain some clarity, her life was unravelling just as it was about to become settled. Pacing the room for a moment, she eventually stopped looking out of the large bay window. The street was quiet, there was no one about, it was late, dark.

For Sammy it wasn't enough, she longed for the view from the cottage, the dark turbulent sea from its place on the cliff would just about be in keeping with her mood. But she wasn't going to live there, nothing was going to change.

Two hands came to rest on her upper arms, warm, secure. It was the first time she'd felt like that in so long. Rather than moving away, she leaned back into the hardness of Joel's chest and closed her eyes. His hands ran up and down her arms, calming, soothing and she sighed.

"It's all so hard, and I feel as though it's all on me, you know?"

He rested his chin on the top of her head and said, "you're not alone, I haven't taken a day's holiday in...I don't know how long. I'm taking a week, and I'll handle Ellie, plus sort out all that Clifford needs."

"But..." she made to protest, but he turned her in his arms. When she wouldn't look up at him, he lifted her chin with a gentle finger.

"But nothing. You have to think of you, ok? If not you, Eleanor."

Tears welled in her eyes, she could feel them, but she wanted to avoid him, avoid this confrontation. Before she could look away, hide her tears, he stretched out his thumbs and swiped below both eyes. Her smile became a whimper as she finally dropped her eyes, extracted them from his gaze, because she felt bare under his scrutiny, naked, and she hated that. Hated the vulnerability of it all.

Joel groaned at that, why she wasn't sure, but then he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She recoiled for a moment, her whole body stiffened, but it was only momentary. He was hard yet soft, warm, and his arms were as familiar feeling around her as the scent of his aftershave. Letting go she leaned into him and reached around his body to secure her hands behind his waist, and nuzzled into his chest with her nose.

He groaned again, the sound reverberating through his chest against her cheek, then she felt his lips touch her head again, his breath against her scalp. A shiver travelled up her spine and goose bumps erupted over what felt like the whole of her body. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she suddenly noticed the pounding of his heart against her cheek.

Lifting head, needing breath back in her lungs, she pulled away slightly, but before she could truly move away, take the distance her fraught body needed, she glanced up and met his eyes. And that was her undoing. He was staring back at her looking as fraught and charged as she did.

She didn't nod, didn't overtly agree to the suggestive tilt of his head, but she watched his lips descend; get closer until she could feel his breath. Then she closed her eyes.

Joel felt as though his heart would literally burst out of his chest. One minute he was watching her walk away upset the next she was in his arms and they were kissing. It seemed like a dream, but it wasn't. He was kissing Sammy, and after just a few seconds she started kissing him back. He'd imagined that it would be a brief contact of lips, but once his had met hers, he lost all control. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue sliding out to lick at her bottom lip, but instead of backing away, acting repulsed, she parted her lips, and her small tongue reached out to him. Then he was nibbling at her bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth, and when she moaned, he started to plunder her mouth with his tongue, and all the while she returned every nuance tenfold. It was a long time since he'd been with a woman, it had been a long time since he'd actually tried to live, but he knew even before that he'd never shared a kiss as toe-tingling, as pulse racing, as knee weakening as this one.

His hands ran up her spine, sliding into her hair and securing her lips securely to hers. She thrust her chest up into him and that set off another spark, another tingle to his toes. Reciprocating, he backed her towards the wall, wanting something to lean against, to slide her up against, his hands wanted to roam, and her thighs separated to allow one of his to invade her personal space.

It was magical, it was passionate, it was everything he wanted. But as her hand lifted to cup his cheek, her elbow, or maybe her shoulder...something knocked the shelf beside them and something fell, crashing to the floor.

He dragged his lips from hers, then looked down to see a photo of her, her and Marcus looking up at them from behind a shattered picture frame.