I just felt like writing something else for you. It's a tiny thing, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you would like me to take it to its logical conclusion, in which case, the rating will go up to an M for any subsequent chapter. All the usual caveats apply.
He smoothed the paper against the tooled leather surface of his desk. The words swam in front of him. His brain would not process them, so he glanced up at the tense features of the woman, who had stood at his right hand for the past three years, seeking an explanation for the request which had just torn his world in two and removed every vestige of stability from it.
"Why, Grace?"
"I need to do this, Sir."
Her hands, normally so still, were nervously clasping and unclasping themselves as she stood before him, unable to look at him, knowing that she had dealt him a body blow, crushed his spirit and ripped her own from its moorings. The incessant rain drummed out its soul-destroying beat on the roof of the wooden office as she waited for his reply.
"Why now? Sit down for goodness sake. I'm not signing anything until you at least tell me why."
She did not move; more truthfully she could not. He got up and went to her side of the desk, pulling out a chair for her and gesturing for her compliance. Carefully, she sat, arranging her skirt and apron with precision. There was not a blonde hair out of place on her head. Her headdress was starched and pinned, seemingly immovable, like a nun's veil. She was immaculate, as ever. He walked away from her, the piece of paper still in his hand, his head bowed as he read it, disbelievingly.
"Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Grace."
His voice was a blend of so many feelings: shock, disbelief, impatience, confusion, anger, but above all hurt. Even now, in the midst of the second worst moment of his own personal war, he wondered why he felt overwhelmingly hurt.
"I don't have one, Sir. I just feel I need to move on."
"It makes no damned sense, Grace. You and I, we've achieved so much here. Why would you want to leave that unfinished, when there's still work to be done? The staff need you; the patients need you; damn it, I need you. I don't understand. Is it something I've done?"
Her eyes flew up at this. Grey green pools of unshed tears met his gaze unwaveringly and unashamedly. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep control as she felt the tears teeter on the brink, held back solely by the thick lashes of her lower lids. Furiously, she tried to blink them back, but it was too late. She looked down at her hands, still clasping and unclasping, this time not only themselves, but also the cotton of her apron, which was now concertina creased. Traitorous tears snaked a rolling path down her cheeks and fell onto her hands. He was beside her in a second, throwing the paper to one side on the desk.
"What have I said, what have I done to upset you so? Tell me, please." His tone was one of genuine concern.
Distractedly, she replied, "You haven't said or done anything. That's the problem."
He looked even more confused than before.
"So why do you want to transfer? I can't imagine it's anyone else, unless….It's that bloody Quayle woman isn't it? I'll sort her out once and for all. I'm not having this. What is it this time? You have to ignore her, Grace, to develop a thick skin with such as her." His hand was on her shoulder, gently squeezing it, in what he meant as a gesture of solidarity. For Grace, the contact merely served to reinforce a sense of loss.
"Oh, Roland, it isn't her, but you are right, I don't have a thick skin and perhaps if I did, I wouldn't feel as miserable I do." She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and he quickly offered her his handkerchief. She pressed it to her face, inhaling the fragrance of cedar wood, which caused a frisson of longing to course through her.
"Well, if it isn't her and I haven't said or done anything, why do you want to go? Why are you crying like this?"
Their exchange had enervated Grace and her response was consequently more emotional than she had intended. "If I have to spell it out to you, then there's no point. You said it yourself, I have to develop a thick skin and I can't!"
He was bemused and she continued,
"I can't stay if I'm nothing. You said you needed me, but how do you need me? Answer me that, please."
"Of course you're something, Grace; you're my matron and I need you beside me to run this hospital."
Her heart sank. "Is that all?"
"No. You're my friend, my best friend, and I need you beside me because you're important to me."
Exasperation was taking a hold of Grace. This was as painful as pulling teeth. Perhaps her worst fears were being realised and he really did not care in the way she wanted him to. She stood up and faced him.
"When I handed you my transfer request, how did you feel, Roland?"
"How did you expect me to feel? Devastated, hurt."
"And why was that exactly? Think about it, please, before you answer."
"I can't imagine this place without you, Grace. Nothing would be the same again. You're a tiny glimmer of hope for me in the midst of a crashing sea of despair."
"And that's, in many ways, how I feel every day about you, Roland."
"So, we agree on something. Then why are you going if you feel the same?"
As her emotions welled up, Grace gave vent to her feelings.
"But I don't feel exactly the same. You say that you need me, losing me would devastate you, yet you never say or do anything to give me that same glimmer of hope which I give you. You mean the world to me, and it's because you do that I can't stay. I've come to realise that friendship is wonderful, but you are so much more than that to me. It will be easier to start somewhere without you than to have to see you each day and know that all I can ever be is your friend and confidante. You said it; I need a thick skin to pretend I don't hurt, when I know what it is I want, but can never have it."
"Grace, I…." He got no further as she interrupted him.
"Please, Roland, do one thing out of love; sign off my transfer request. I don't want to be like this anymore, waiting and hoping for something which won't happen. You told me your marriage was dead and I thought, like a fool, that you might want me, but you've never said or done anything to alter the status quo between us, and so I realise that you don't feel the same way that I do. If you have any affection for me, no matter how slight, let me go, please."
He shook his head and took her hands in his.
"Do you truly think I have no feelings for you, sweetheart?"
She was so distraught that she did not realise the term of endearment which he had just used.
"Oh, you have feelings of friendship, but no more than that."
"How do you know what I feel, Grace? Have you ever asked me before today?"
"No, I haven't because you never gave me any hope that you might feel anything for me."
"I've tried to show you I care in little ways, but what can I give you? I'm married to a woman, whom I despise, and I'm in love with a woman I can't have. There, Grace, I've said it. Listen carefully to me: I'm in love with you, I adore you, I worship you; that's why I won't let you leave. How could you even think of going?"
"Why tell me now?" she asked simply.
"Because I feared that if I told you before, you'd run a million miles away. I hoped you had feelings for me, but it was gamble I wasn't prepared to take because I thought I might lose you altogether. You're a decent, honourable woman, who deserves a man who's free to give you the best things in life. What can I give you? Social and professional loss of status? So you see, ironically, in not saying anything for fear of losing you or causing you harm, it seems that I've lost you anyway? At least, if you still decide to leave me, you will have made an informed decision."
Grace looked intently at him, and then she walked to the door. He was behind her in a trice, holding her by the arms and pulling her back into him. His mouth was pressed against her ear, his breath hot, as he quietly implored her,
"No, Grace, my darling; please, stay with me, now, forever."
She reached out and bolted the door before turning in his arms. Her hand touched his face and the sense of wonderment was plain for him to see, as she followed its passage down from temple to jaw, looking into his eyes with such vulnerability that he felt humbled by her.
"I've loved you for so long, Roland."
He touched his forehead to hers, saying, "And I, you, Grace. Forgive this foolish man, whose only mistake has been to love you too much."
She was looking into his eyes as she replied, "I would forgive you anything except not loving me. That would be too great a sorrow for me to bear."
"Don't go, Grace; please don't go. I would surely die a little inside." His face moved closer to hers and his hands were travelling restlessly up and down her arms, across her back, as if undecided where they should caress her first, to bring her the comfort and reassurance, which she craved.
"I'll never leave you, Roland; I swear it." Her mouth was now so close to his that he could sense her lips without physically touching them. He pinned her to him with one hand and with the other he stroked her face, cupping her jaw and gently easing her head up so that for the first time he could kiss her as he had longed to do. Her lips grazed his and he moved immediately to deepen the contact, his tongue sliding smoothly into her mouth, which opened with no hesitation beneath his, as years of longing escaped in a moan of long anticipated satisfaction. His body's reaction was instantaneous as he felt himself swell and pulse against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with ardour.
He bent his head to hers and said, "I love you, Grace; I need you, and I want you, now. I'm yours, if you'll have me."
She kissed him passionately. "Is that a good enough answer?"
His response left her in no doubts of the level of his desire for her but, just as they were about to extinguish the lamp and head to the bedroom, he said,
"Grace, I don't think you'll need this now." He reached across the desk and taking the transfer form, he tore it into pieces and threw them into the wastepaper basket. He took her hand and raised it to his mouth.
"I have all I need right here and I think I may very well have something you need, so, will you please take me to bed?"
His kiss promised her everything and she willingly followed where he led as he pulled her through the bedroom door and into his arms once more.
If you would like some more, please let me know. XX