Everlasting Love Read online

  'No!' Olivia refused sharply. 'Please don't trouble him. I—It wasn't important anyway.'

  'Very well, my dear. If you're sure…?'

  'Yes,' she confirmed abruptly.

  'I'll tell him you called,' the other woman said kindly.

  Whether she did or not, Olivia didn't hear from Marcus, and then two days later Marcus had asked for a leave of absence for 'family reasons'. Olivia knew exactly what those family reasons were too, she had seen just how beautiful Ruth Hamilton was, knew that Marcus would want to spend time alone with his wife for the new start to his marriage. Her own request for a transfer to another hospital had been dealt with so efficiently that by the time Marcus returned to work she had already gone.

  For months she had lived in the hope of his reconciliation with Ruth not working out, selfishly wishing he would come looking for her to take her out again. She hadn't set eyes on him again until this moment.

  And what a way for them to meet again, with Marcus seriously ill! He looked so weak just lying there, so helpless, and she had never seen Marcus helpless before. If—when he regained consciousness; she mentally reprimanded herself for even thinking in the negative, of course he would regain consciousness. And when he did he was going to resent his weakness and anyone who had seen him like this.

  Looking down at him now she knew that her love for him all those years ago had been all the more intense because he had been her first real love. Perhaps if she hadn't been so young she could have coped with it all so much more easily, but as it was she had continued to think of him for the last six years, had compared every man she met to him—and always found them wanting. But Marcus was only a mere man after all, not the demi-god she had blown him up to be in her mind.

  'Sally?' One of his hands suddenly moved gropingly across the bedclothes.

  'She's here,' Olivia assured him, nodding to the nurse to go and get the doctor.

  He turned in the half-light as he heard the door close behind the nurse, his eyes the same smoky grey Olivia remembered as he looked at her. 'Who are you?' he asked sharply, his voice exactly as she remembered it too, deep and throaty.

  She moistened her suddenly dry lips, her thoughts of a few minutes ago now seeming superfluous when faced with the vibrantly alive man, her senses leaping just at the sound of his voice. 'My name is Olivia,' she told him softly.

  'Olivia…' His attention seemed to wander for a few seconds, then he blinked still sleepy eyes. 'Why are you sitting here in the dark?'

  'I—' she frowned, looking into his eyes once again, fear clutching at her heart. 'Does it seem very dark to you, Marcus?' She tried to keep her voice calm, although she wasn't sure she had succeeded. And where was the doctor, he should have been here by now!

  Marcus moistened stiff lips, seeming to have trouble speaking. 'Very dark,' he nodded. 'Why don't you put the light on so that I can see you?'

  Olivia began to shake, unable to stop the trembling of her hand as it moved to clasp his, unable to comprehend what he seemed to be telling her, finding speech impossible as she sought to comfort him. Where was that doctor!

  'My God!' The panic screaming inside her suddenly seemed to transmit itself to him as he attempted to sit up, somehow finding the strength to struggle against her restraining hands.

  'Please, Marcus,' she begged, trying to calm him. 'You must lie down, you could make things worse.

  'Worse?' he choked. 'How can they be worse? I can't see,' he groaned. 'My God, I'm blind. I'm blind…!'

  The last came out in an agonised cry as he slumped back against the pillows in unconsciousness once again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  His shouting woke Sally, and when she saw the truth of his words in Olivia's stricken face, that those beautiful smoky grey eyes could see only darkness, she collapsed. The doctor at last hurried into the room, still dressed in the dark green clothes he had worn during surgery, checking on Marcus before carrying Sally out of the room.

  'I think it might be better if you took Miss Hamilton home,' he told Olivia softly. 'Mr Hamilton should be out for another few hours now, so there's nothing she can do here.'

  'But he's blind,' Olivia choked, the tears quietly falling. 'Marcus is blind!'

  'I suspected as much,' he said dully; he was a young man in his early thirties, with kind brown eyes, fair hair, and a pleasantly handsome face. 'My name is Brooks, Miss King, Simon Brooks. I performed the operation on Mr Hamilton.'

  'Yes,' she nodded, still too dazed to take in what was happening. 'How did your other emergency go?' It seemed ridiculous that she should even think of such a thing in her shock, but somehow the question just seemed to flow from her lips.

  'Very well,' Simon Brooks patted her hand understandingly. 'You're a nurse, I believe?'

  'Yes.'

  'Then I don't have to tell you the seriousness of the operation I performed on Mr Hamilton. Those fragments of bone I removed were dangerously close to the optic nerve.'

  Her eyes widened in horror. 'Then—'

  'The damage—the blindness,' he amended with a ragged sigh, 'could be temporary—or it could be permanent. I have a specialist coming to see him tomorrow.'

  Olivia felt sick. Marcus couldn't be blind! How could such a man lose his sight, never to know the sight of spring, the beauty of a summer's day, never be able to perform his wonderful operations again. It couldn't be true! .

  'I feel this as badly as you do, Miss King,' Simon Brooks said shakily. 'Marcus and I have worked together for over two years now. I respect him deeply as a surgeon, and I like him as a man. But I didn't have time to get in the specialist surgeon he needed, if I hadn't operated on him he would already be dead!' The doctor was too shaken to hide his stress; he was in need of comfort himself, the strain seeming to catch up with him.

  'I understand.' And she did. A blind, alive Marcus was better than a dead one, although she didn't know if Marcus would feel the same way when he was finally conscious once again. Too many people believed, erroneously, that they had nothing to live for when left with such a disability, and Marcus was one of the proudest men she knew; he would hate the restrictions blindness would put on him.

  'I just hope he will too,' the surgeon grimly echoed her thoughts.

  'He will,' she squeezed his arm reassuringly. 'Now I'd better get Sally home.'

  He frowned. 'Her grandmother collapsed too, I believe?'

  'Yes,' she nodded.

  'Then perhaps, as a family friend, you wouldn't mind staying with them tonight,' he suggested.

  'Oh, but—'

  'I don't think Miss Hamilton should be left on her own, and if her grandmother is sedated…'

  Olivia could see she had no choice; she felt herself being drawn into a web of her own making, and she knew that by coming here tonight she had involved herself completely with the Hamilton family again. Anyone seeing her here with Sally tonight would, mistakenly, presume her to be a friend of the family, and it would look odd, not to mention callous, if she let Sally down now. But the thought of going to the Hamilton house didn't please her at all.

  Sally was still in shock when she came round, and put up little resistance to Olivia's efforts to get her home, back to the house Marcus had occupied six years ago. His housekeeper was a very capable woman, who took in the situation at a glance, helping Olivia get Sally up to her bedroom and into bed, Olivia giving the young girl the injection Simon had instructed her to. Within minutes Sally had fallen into a drugged sleep, so Olivia quietly left the room.

  'My God—you!' gasped a shocked voice behind her.

  She turned sharply to confront Sybil Carr, a vastly changed Sybil, her face ravaged by grief, her body too thin, her hair in disarray. The other woman seemed to sway as she looked at her, and Olivia rushed to her side before she fell, helping her back into the bedroom she had just left.

  'It is you, isn't it?' Sybil said dazedly as she was lowered back in to the bed.

  'I'm Olivia King, yes,' Olivia replied briskly, making the other woman comf
ortable against the pillows.

  'The girl Marcus—the one he was involved with all those years ago?' Sybil looked at her accusingly.

  'Yes,' she confirmed tersely.

  'But I don't understand. What are you doing here? Have you seen Marcus?' she demanded sharply.

  'Yes, I've been sitting with him.'

  'And is he—is he all right?'

  In that moment she felt sorry for the older woman, even though she had been the one to tell Olivia her own dreams couldn't come true. The last six years had been more unkind to Sybil than to her; the older woman had lost her daughter, her husband, and now Marcus had been seriously injured. It was enough to throw anyone into hysteria, and Sally had gone through the same traumas. This last one involving Marcus could be one too many, for both of them.

  'He regained consciousness briefly, and the doctor seemed satisfied with him,' she answered evasively. 'I think you should try and get some sleep now, Marcus is going to need you tomorrow.' She didn't feel up to coping with the other woman's possible hysterics right now, and maybe in the morning Sybil would be able to accept Marcus's blindness more calmly. If such a thing could ever be accepted calmly!

  To her surprise she received no argument; the other woman looked as if she had every intention of sleeping as Olivia quietly left the room. The housekeeper met her downstairs, offering her a cup of tea.

  'I'd prefer coffee,' she accepted gratefully, and went through to the lounge, unconsciously noting that the mellow golds and browns of the room were much more attractive than the stark white had been six years ago.

  She drank more than one cup of coffee through the night, dozing in a chair, but all the time keeping half an ear alert to the sound of the telephone. Simon Brooks had promised he would call her if Marcus should wake up, and by the time Sally joined her at eight o'clock the next morning there had been no call from him.

  'Grandmother won't be down this morning,' Sally told her quietly, very pale and drawn, dark hollows beneath her eyes. 'I—I've explained to her about Daddy.' She sat down abruptly.

  Olivia bit her lip, knowing how hard it must have been for the girl to tell her grandmother such a thing. 'How did she take it?'

  'Not very well, but she's calm now.' She leant her head back against the chair. 'You've been very kind, Olivia, I don't know how to thank you.'

  'You don't have to,' she said huskily. 'I was glad to be able to help.'

  'Did—did Daddy know you?'

  Olivia had wondered that herself, but there hadn't seemed to be any recognition in the hard face. 'It's difficult to say,' she shrugged. 'But I don't think so.' She frowned as she saw the worried look on the other girl's face. 'He asked for you, Sally, so I don't think you need fear brain damage.'

  'He's just blind,' Sally said bluntly, without emotion. Olivia revised her first impression this morning of how well Sally was coping with her father's accident now that the first shock had worn off. The girl was too calm, too composed, and when the break came it could be like a dam bursting.

  'He's alive, Sally,' she encouraged softly. 'That's the important thing.'

  Sally stood up forcefully. 'I'm going back to the hospital, would you like to come with me?'

  Olivia frowned. 'I—I thought I would go back to the Hayes' to change and freshen up a little.' She looked down ruefully at her creased clothing.

  The girl nodded. 'Thank you for your help anyway, I mustn't impose on you any longer.'

  Olivia was still worried about the young girl when she got back to the Hayes house, and yet Sally's last words had been a dismissal. What else could she do but be dismissed? What else did she want to do…? Mrs Jenkins was a dear to nurse, not letting her illness disrupt her life any more than it needed to be, having a vitality for life that couldn't be daunted by anything.

  It was almost a month since Olivia had come to work for the elderly lady, a month when she hadn't been to see Marcus again, although Clara had told her that he was physically well again, that they were discharging him from hospital soon. Apparently Sally hadn't broken down as Olivia had suspected she would, instead she had become her father's eyes, spending most of her time with him.

  Then one day out of the blue Sally called her to ask if they might meet. She didn't want to go; she had once again made her break away from the Hamilton family. But Sally was insistent, and as Olivia's patient was taking her afternoon rest she decided to see the young girl, arranging to meet at a coffee shop in town.

  'It's about Daddy.' Sally came straight to the point once they had been served their coffee and left in privacy. She was a more mature Sally, her grey eyes intent, her body filled with a nervous energy.

  Olivia instantly stiffened. 'What about him?'

  Sally sighed, chewing on her inner lip. 'I—It's hard to explain.'

  'Try,' Olivia encouraged softly.

  'I'd rather you came and visited him, saw for yourself what's wrong with him.'

  She swallowed hard, her lashes fluttering uncertainly over troubled green eyes. 'I don't think that would be a good idea.'

  'But it would be better if you saw him,' Sally pleaded. 'I just can't explain what's wrong, except to say that he—he isn't himself.'

  'He's blind, Sally. It will take time for him to adjust—'

  'It isn't just that,' the girl shook her head. 'You would have to see him to know what I mean.'

  'No—'

  'Why can't you?' Sally cried. 'You said he didn't recognise you. You can just be a friend of mine, he doesn't have to know who you are.'

  'I'm not dressed—'

  'Daddy won't know what you're wearing,' Sally reminded her bitterly.

  No, he wouldn't. Marcus wouldn't be able to see her casual denims and the loose silk top, her hair brushed about her shoulders in red-gold curls. He wouldn't be able to see any of that. 'All right,' she sighed her agreement. 'But I really don't know what you think I can do that the doctors can't.'

  Her heart almost seemed to stop beating as she followed Sally into the private hospital room Marcus still occupied. The room was full of flowers, their perfume filling the room, but it was to the man sitting in the chair by the open window that her gaze was drawn. He sat perfectly still in the chair, faced towards the window, and yet seeing none of the smooth green lawn in front of him, the neat flower-beds, the bright sunshine making the buttercups on the lawn shine like pieces of gold, the sky above a deep clear blue, completely cloudless; a perfect summer's day, in fact. And Marcus could see none of it, although the open window at least allowed him to hear the birds singing, to feel the warmth of the day. He sat stiffly in the chair, ramrod-straight, wearing black trousers and a light blue shirt, the latter short-sleeved. His body was leaner than a month ago, and although the cuts had healed on his face and the stitches had been removed, the bandage gone from about his head too, his face looked thinner too.

  He turned as he heard them enter the room, and Olivia had to suppress her gasp as those familiar grey eyes looked straight at her—and then through her, reminding her that he really couldn't see her, that the specialist Simon Brooks had first called in had been uncertain if he would ever see again. The proposal that they have more tests done later, when the initial injury had healed, had been flatly refused by Marcus, deciding he would have no more examinations by any specialists.

  His expression was harsh, his mouth a thin unhappy line, a bleak look to his eyes. 'Sally?' he queried sharply.

  'Yes, Daddy,' she moved forward to kiss his cheek. 'I've brought you some fruit,' she told him lightly.

  'Thank you.' His voice was emotionless as he once again turned back in the direction of the window.

  'I'll put it in the bowl, shall I?' his daughter continued in a cheerful voice.

  'Yes.'

  Olivia hung back near the door, wishing she had never been persuaded to come here. It had been a mistake, there was nothing she could do to help Marcus.

  Suddenly he stiffened, turning his face in her direction, a dark frown to his brow as he seemed to look direct
ly at her. 'Is there someone else here?' he demanded harshly. 'Sally, is there someone with you?'

  His daughter turned almost guiltily, although he couldn't possibly know of the emotion. 'I've brought a friend with me to see you.'

  'A friend?' he probed savagely.

  'Olivia.'

  His nostrils flared out furiously, a white ring of anger about his compressed mouth. 'I'm not some damned peep-show!' he rasped.

  'Daddy—'

  'What do you think I am, Sally?' he said bitterly. 'Some sort of freak? What did you tell your little friend, Olivia, "Come and see my father, he's blind"!'

  Sally was white with shock, and she gave a strangulated cry before running from the room.

  'Well?' he barked as he sensed Olivia was still in the room. 'Aren't you going to run too?'

  She wanted to, she wanted to run after Sally and comfort her. Marcus had hurt her terribly, and she didn't deserve his savage anger. 'I don't run, Mr Hamilton,' she told him calmly. 'Not from bullies like you, anyway,' she added challengingly.

  Angry colour flooded his otherwise pale cheeks, the tan having faded from his cheeks after five weeks in hospital. 'Bully!' he repeated scornfully. 'How can I be a bully when I can't even see who I'm bullying?'

  'You've just hurt the person who loves you most in the world.' Olivia walked further into the room. 'That makes you an emotional bully, Mr Hamilton. At least, in my book it does.'

  'Maybe your opinion doesn't interest me,' he mocked harshly.

  'Maybe you're going to get it anyway.' She was shaking so much she could hardly stand, but to run now wouldn't do this man any good.

  He was Sally's father, so he could hurt the girl, he was the hospital's Chief Surgeon, and so he could command respect here—and from the look of him it wasn't doing him any good at all! He was withdrawn and unreasonable. And she knew that here lay Sally's problem, that Marcus wasn't himself. He was making no effort to accept or combat his blindness. Bitterness was still his main emotion, and after five weeks he should be making some effort, any effort.

  'Get out of here,' he told her with cold contempt.