Let's go round again?
Chapter Five
Harry drifted awake and rolling over carefully he tried to orientate himself. He was in his own bed but he felt as though he'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. He ached in every place that it was possible to ache, especially his head; the slightest movement only increasing the pain. He felt ancient, ancient and over the hill. Slowly it all came back to him and he closed his eyes once more trying to come to terms with his decisions and the consequences of those decisions.
She had come to him, she hadn't left him to his fate. She had rescued him; that was good right? She hadn't been too angry with him, it had all caught her unawares he knew that and he understood that she'd now be analysing the whole thing, trying to make sense of the situation they found themselves in. She would demand explanations, he knew that. He was also painfully aware that he would need to tread carefully if he hoped to renew his connection with her. That was part of the reason he'd taken himself off to bed last night, he'd not been ready to face the questions she was bound to ask him.
Drifting back off to sleep thinking of the day ahead, he tried to plan what he would say, what she would say. How he would tell her what his feelings were and she would; well what would she do? He didn't know but God he was going to try his best to make her stay with him. But then the more he thought about it the more insecure he began to feel. Who was he kidding? If he hadn't been able to tell her of his feelings when he was at the top of his game, when he had been a man of power and influence how the f—k did he think he was going to tell her now?
When he woke again it was to a gentle knock on his bedroom door and as it opened the smell of bacon and coffee drifted into the room. But, said his brain there's no bacon in this house. "Can you sit up Harry?" Her voice was soft and enquiring as she walked towards him and placed a tray on his bedside table. Looking at the bacon roll and mug of coffee he found he was really hungry and he struggled to sit up, all the time attempting to disguise the difficulty such a simple thing was causing him. When he'd got himself settled she left the room only to appear moments later with another tray that contained a pot of coffee, milk and sugar along with toast, butter and marmalade.
"What time is it?" he asked he as he sipped his second coffee, a slice of toast and marmalade in his other hand.
"Almost lunch time." she smiled at his raised eyebrows, "I've not been up for very long myself, I've had a shower, I hope you don't mind. And we need to see about getting you in the bath today."
"We?" he asked, both eyebrows raised, winching as he did it. Both his eyes were swollen and red and he knew that he must look a fright.
"Is your face sore Harry?" she asked as she really looked at him for the first time since she'd entered the room. She'd been avoiding any eye contact because she wasn't sure about the situation she found herself in and she had a feeling that Harry was equally thrown.
"I think a bath is out of the question Ruth" he told her "I don't think that I can get in and out of the damn thing at the moment, probably in a couple of days but not right now." He looked ashamed and embarrassed to be admitting such weakness to her and she decided to pretend that she'd not noticed his discomfort.
"May I look in your bathroom Harry?" she asked him and he nodded his approval as she walked towards the door. Stepping inside she saw that it was a very masculine room, no signs of feminine influence anywhere. It was functional, the space dominated by the biggest bath she'd ever seen. A bath made for two her traitorous mind told her. Shaking her head she moved over to the shower cubicle, that was also large and she wondered if he could manage a quick shower on his own.
"Could you manage the shower do you think Harry, just a quick one, it'll make you feel better and then I can look at your legs for you, see if they need the dressings changed and make sure there is no sign of infection."
He knew when he was beaten and he also knew that she was right, earlier when he'd had to go to the loo he'd found even walking across his bedroom difficult and it had seemed to him that his whole body was fighting against him. And he really did need a bath or a shower, he felt filthy and he knew that in places his legs had bled onto his bottoms. Yes weighing it all up he was willing to go along with her, for the moment at least.
"A shower seems to be the safest thing, I think I can just about manage that. But I don't think there's any need for you to look at my legs. I can do that Ruth, really you don't need to bother yourself."
"This is not up for discussion Harry Pearce" she told him as she began to gather up the breakfast things. "Your legs need to be looked at and it's either me or I can call a nursing agency and ask them to send over someone to take over your care . It's up to you Harry, either you want me to help you or you don't."
He watched as she cleared away the pots, his eyes devouring her, the way she moved, the way she held her head slightly to one side as though she wasn't quite sure about herself. It seemed he'd not forgotten any of her mannerisms during the time they'd been apart and he knew as he watched her that time had in no way diminished the effect that she had on him. How could he ever have doubted that? Ruth and his feelings for her had ruled his life for nearly twenty years. He closed his eyes as she left the room before he began the painful process of undressing for his shower.
Carrying the loaded tray down the stairs had been touch and go, her hands were shaking so much and at one point she thought she was going to drop the lot but she made it safely into the haven of the kitchen where she sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Sitting down was probably the worst thing she could have done because as she sat there she began to question herself .Why was she still here? Her reaction last night had been purely knee jerk; he was in trouble and he called on her for help. Help that it seemed she couldn't refuse. But now he was home and it would be quite acceptable for her to arrange for a nurse to come in and look after him until he was more mobile and able to take care of himself. After all they were nothing to one another. They were just two people who had once worked together, two people who'd shared a strange not quite romance; a romance that both of them had relentlessly unpicked and scattered to the four winds.
But here she was sitting in his kitchen trying to work out the best way to look at his damaged legs in the least embarrassing way for both of them.
The rational, analytical side of her brain was urging her to be sensible, to think about the last time they'd been together and Harry's actions that day. His actions that day had caught her entirely unawares and she'd never really come to terms with what he'd done. She'd thought about it a great deal over the years; in fact in a way she'd obsessed about it.
Not only had he shocked her, he'd taken away from her a wonderful dream. For so many years she'd thought about the first time he'd kiss her. The first time he'd be brave enough to initiate a kiss. In her mind it was soft and gentle at first, then building to passion and hunger as his mouth moved over hers, as his tongue begged entry to her mouth and in her day dreams she had yielded to him. Opened herself up to him, kissing him with equal ardour as they finally stripped their feelings bare and were honest with one another.
But his actions had ruined all that. He had been so brutal, his actions so out of character that she still didn't truly understand what he'd been thinking. Part of her wished that she'd stayed and had it out with him; if she closed her eyes she could still hear his pleading voice as she'd walked away from him that day, and plainly she should walk away now. She'd done her duty, had repaid any debt real or imaginary. She could leave right now with a clear conscience.
But did she really want to do that?
Deep down inside buried deep by circumstance and fate was the one sure reality that had held her together for almost two decades; the man who was waiting for her upstairs and her feelings for him. Sighing she pushed herself away from the table before she gathered the things she would need in order to make the shower an easier task.