Page 75 of Do Opposites Attract?

During their last few days together they’d settled on a reasonably amicable truce. He had been courteous, civil and distant. She had tried to be the same. He had enquired with polite interest how her date with Frederick had gone. In the same manner, she had replied she had enjoyed it. And she had. So what if she felt nothing when Frederick kissed her goodnight? Surely that zing, that passion, would come. She just needed to allow her body time to adjust to a different man holding her, that was all. And anyway a few dates with a handsome, charming man, no matter how platonic, would at least help soothe her wounded ego, if not her damaged heart. Mitch was gone, back to his own life. It was time to pick up the pieces of her own.

She dialled number two on her phone, making a note to herself to relegate Mitch from his number one status after the call.

‘Melanie, it’s Brianna.’

‘Well, knock me down with a feather. You’ve finally decided to come out of the woodwork again, have you?’ her friend replied with her usual bluntness.

‘Sorry, I’ve been a bit tied up looking after Mitch. But hey, he’s gone now, so I’m free again.’

There was a pause down the line, then an exhaling of breath. ‘Let me guess. Despite saving his life and nurturing him back to health, the guy has buggered off home without declaring undying love for you?’

‘Something like that.’ To her annoyance Brianna could hear her voice breaking. ‘I feel such a fool. Of all the men in the world, why did I have to fall for one who doesn’t love me back?’

‘I don’t know, honey, but you always did like a challenge. I’ll get the girls together. What you need is a night of wild dancing and unlimited champagne.’

‘I’ll be there.’ Brianna put the phone down with a deep sigh. What she really needed was a complex, compassionate, sexy man, but it seemed he wasn’t up for grabs.

* * *

Mitch worked on his fitness like a man possessed. Where the physio had stated thirty repetitions, he did sixty. He doubled the weights and walked along the seafront, with his cane, twice a day. His leg was still in a walking plaster, but that was coming off next week. His shoulder and arm were mended and though they might be weak, he had full movement. The ribs and pelvis were doing fine, giving him only the occasional twinge of pain. Even the scar on his head was fading, covered by a new growth of hair. Getting his leg back would be the last major milestone in his recovery. After that he could pick up his swimming, get back in his car and start to claw his life back together. They told him he wouldn’t be fit for work for another few weeks, but he was damned if he was going to let them keep him to that. He needed the focus of work more than ever.

Throwing the newspaper down in disgust, Mitch went to get his coat. Time for another walk. Staying in the house was driving him crazy. He couldn’t understand why he was so restless. He was used to enjoying his own company, the peace and quiet of his home. Now, it felt like a tomb. The silence seemed to scream at himyou’re alone, you’re alone. It was how he’d always wanted it, so why did he crave someone to talk to? To drink a cup of tea with. To laugh over the articles in the papers with.

Slamming the front door, Mitch set a fast pace along the coast. It wasn’t just anyone he wanted to do those ordinary, everyday things with. It was Brianna. God, he missed her more than he’d ever thought possible. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d quietly dropped him off nearly two weeks ago. Not that he’d expected to. After the business over Catherine, they hadn’t exactly left on best friend terms. More polite work colleagues. Mitch thrust his free hand into his pocket and stared out to sea. That had been his fault and he knew it. With his self-righteous anger he’d finally succeeded in driving her away. He deserved to be alone.

As he let the sound and smell of the sea wash over him, Mitch forced his shoulders to relax. There was one thing Brianna had left him with, and that was Catherine’s contact details. He still had them, pinned to the fridge. He hadn’t phoned her yet because he knew when he did, he’d want to see her. He didn’t want to do that looking banged up. Next week though, he was going into town to get his cast removed. It would provide a perfect opportunity to drop in on her.

The thought finally lifted his heart. He might have lost the second woman he had ever cared for, but he had a chance to make everything good again with the first.

* * *

A week later, his leg free of the cast and his heart hammering like a trip engine, Mitch rang the bell of the house he remembered so vividly as a child. Feeling like a gawky teenager again he took a moment to study the grandeur of it all, noting that outwardly at least, the place hadn’t changed. Then the door opened and he could do nothing but stare at the elegant lady who stood before him. She was something else that hadn’t changed. Without a word, he reached out his arms and she moved into them. They hugged for what seemed like hours,neither willing to let the other go. She even smelt the same, Mitch marvelled, remembering her distinctive perfume. As a child it had represented sophistication and security. So different from the memories of his mother.

Finally he eased away, though his arms were still around her. ‘You haven’t changed,’ he whispered, amazed at how hard it was to find his voice.

She chuckled and gave him a gentle dig in the ribs. ‘And you’ve turned into quite the charmer. I’ve got a lot more wrinkles, my fingers are arthritic and my hair is white.’

He smiled. ‘To me, you are still beautiful.’

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, my darling boy, I’ve missed you so much.’ She gave him a final, tight embrace before ushering him in. ‘Come on in, you know where to go. I’ll sort us out a drink.’ Smiling, she raised a hand to his face. ‘Look at you, a real man now, and so handsome. I don’t suppose you’ll want a hot chocolate.’

Laughing, he followed her through to the sitting room. ‘I think I need a beer, or a whisky if you’ve got one.’

‘Mitch McBride, you know there is always whisky in this house.’

While Catherine walked off to get the drinks, Mitch took in the familiar surroundings. She’d decorated, moved things round a bit, but in essence it was still the house he’d lived in for four years. The only one in his childhood he had ever called home. It was in this very room he’d acquired the taste for whisky. Catherine would treat herself to a tot while they played chess. Every time her back was turned, he had a crafty sip, something he knew she was probably aware of, but never mentioned.

When she came back into the room, she stood for a while, gazing at him. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’ She handed him his whisky and sat down on the sofa, patting the seat next to her. ‘Come on, you’ve got fifteen years to fill me in on.’

Chuckling, he sat down beside her. ‘I’m going to need a few more of these then, before the evening is over.’ As he took a sip, his face turned serious. ‘Catherine, first I have to apologise. When I got that letter, I should have realised you hadn’t had anything to do with it. I don’t know why I didn’t. All I could think was how gutted and hurt I felt—’

Laying a hand on his, she interrupted gently. ‘It’s my brother who should be apologising, not you. You were used to being let down. It’s not surprising you thought I had let you down, too. Besides, I should have tried harder from my end. When you didn’t return my last few letters, I just assumed you were busy with your new life and didn’t want a reminder of the old one.’ She looked at him questioningly. ‘Did you not receive them?’

He groaned and clasped her hand. ‘I moved digs right after the letter from the solicitor arrived. The threat of police scared the life out of me. I figured they’d dredge up my past and kick me off the course, so I scarpered and didn’t give anyone my forwarding address.’

‘Oh, Mitch, you poor soul. What you must have gone through.’

Her voice caught and he squeezed her hand. ‘Hey, forget it. It’s all over now. And just so you know, I never thought of you as a reminder of my old life. I thought of you as the closest thing to a mother I’d ever had. I still do.’

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