Millionaire's Secret Love

Chapter Fourteen

The first stop Elizabeth made when she left her house was to the nearest Post Office.

She was not sure if Edward still lived at the place where they had stayed together, but she was sure he still did the same job.

Edward was a mechanic, and he owned a share of the place he worked. It was something he was proud of and had spent many times telling her how successful his business was and how he wanted it improved.

With this bit of information, she found the address on her phone and posted the ring back to his workplace. Elizabeth wanted the ring to arrive back as quickly as possible, so she paid extra to get it delivered the next day.

She knew once Edward received the ring, eventually, he would show himself. In due time, she would need to think of how to handle him.

Now, the only thing she worried about was her work and whether she could juggle her commitments.

The post office where she sent the package was twenty minutes from George's parents' place. In her estimation, this was not too far. And when she drove up to the house, there was plenty of time to spare.

Still, she would rather be early than late.

Alighting from the car, she scanned the vicinity and took in a deep breath of fresh air and listened to the thrilling of the nearby birds.

She marvelled at the gigantic oaks which secluded the cottage, and she had to crane her neck to see the nearest neighbours. The place felt isolated, yet it was not. Only a few yards away were the nearest neighbours.

Reaching into the car, she took out the large medical bag she always carried with her and her tote with her belongings. Manoeuvring the bags in one hand, she grunted as she slammed the car door shut.

Turning, she looked towards the front door. It surprised her to see Maggie standing in the open doorway waiting for her with a smile on her face.

"You're early," she called.

Elizabeth returned her smile and walked towards her.

Once she was at the door, Maggie opened the door wider to let her pass and then shut the door with a soft click.

"I know I'm a little early, but I wanted to make a good impression on the first day," she explained.

Maggie nodded. "Being early will always make a good impression," she agreed. "You can go through; Christine is waiting for you in the conservatory. I will bring some hot drinks in a few minutes," she promised.

She followed the instructions and walked to the conservatory. Inside, she found Christine waiting for her.

Dressed in blue jeggings and a green woolly jumper. Christine sat in her wheelchair and was staring out into the garden.

Entering the room fully, Elizabeth wondered what she was thinking about as she stared out the clear windows into the manicured gardens.

She looked lonely, she thought. Elizabeth knew that feeling very well.

Christine was pretty. She had long blonde hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head. Her olive skin was perfect, and she could tell she was not wearing any makeup; she stared at her enviously and thought how amazing it was that girls with heart-shaped faces like Christine's needed little to make them appear pretty.

Whenever she was around girls like her client, she always felt lacking, and she could not help making comparisons between her beauty and others.

As if she felt her staring, Christine twisted her head and swept her with an assessing stare.

"You came early?" she said as her green eyes pierced her.

"I couldn't wait to come and see you today." Elizabeth smiled at her warmly.

Placing her bags next to one of the wicker chairs on the floor, Elizabeth went to stand next to the large clear window which overlooked the garden.

Straight away Christine frowned at her and went back to staring out the window. "Oh, that's nice," she replied offhandedly. "Funnily enough, I was thinking about you these last couple of days."

Turning slowly, Elizabeth met her eyes. She kept her expression open, letting Christine know she could say whatever she wanted.

"What were you thinking about me?"

"I was wondering if you were going to come back."

For a split second, Elizabeth frowned. "I'm a person of my word, when I agree to something I carry it through."

Since leaving Edward, she had made a promise to herself not to let anyone down. Once she agreed to something, she did not care what she had to do, but she would fulfil her promise. It was important for her to do so because she knew what disappointment was like.

She saw Christine mull over her words and then shrug them off.

"That's nice to know," she replied solemnly.

Elizabeth wanted to put Christine at ease as much as she could.

Taking the chair nearest to Christine, she met her eyes. "So... I was wondering what you would like to do today?"

Christine met her eyes. "To be honest, I am not too fussed. I'm quite happy staying home."

"That works for me," Elizabeth agreed. "How about we go for a swim?"

Straightaway there was a sparkle in Christine's eyes, and she looked towards the back of the garden to where there was a heated pool which her parents kept warm even in the middle of winter. It was their way of letting her know that whenever she was ready to begin her physiotherapy, everything would wait for her.

Yet from what Elizabeth was told, Christine never made use of the swimming pool.

"What do you say to that swim?" she urged.

"Did you bring a swimsuit?"

Elizabeth nodded. "A few days ago, when I was speaking to your parents, they mentioned that you used to enjoy swimming I thought it would be a good idea to spend some time swimming to build up the strength in your body," she said, surveying Christine's face for any sign she was at least a bit excited about going for a swim.

"Maybe, it's not such a good idea, right now."

She could tell Christine wanted to go for a swim. It was the way she looked in the pool's direction which alerted her to this. Christine's expression was one of regret and fear.

"Is there a reason you don't want to go swimming?" She could not help asking.

For a minute Christine stared at her fingers, then she looked up at Elizabeth. "I don't want to, that's all," she murmured in a small voice.

"You know, even if you are in a wheelchair, you can still go swimming. We recommend it to help to strengthen your muscles."

Her shoulders slumped. "What's the point? It's not as if I'll be able to walk again."

"How do you know; you won't be able to walk again?" she asked kindly.

Christine did not answer immediately. She kept staring at her fingers as if they were the key to all her hopes.

"Have you tried anything to make your body strong?"

Shaking her head, Christine pulled a face. "Nah."

Patiently, Elizabeth waited for her to continue when she saw her mull over her words. "Maybe you're right. But I can't seem to motivate myself to get out of this wheelchair."

She knew what she should say to encourage Christine.

Instead, she gave her a friendly grin. "Well," she said. "How about we take it slow today and just do some basic exercises inside and when you feel more comfortable, then we'll go for a swim." Elizabeth studied Christine's face. "Although I must tell you, I wouldn't mind going into the pool. The last time I went swimming was in Jamaica three months ago."

She wore a bright smile as she remembered the feel of the warm Caribbean Sea as it lapped against her every evening when she went for a swim.

Christine's eyes sparkled with interest, and she wondered if Christine had gone on any holidays since her accident.

Curious, she wanted to ask her, but she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing she would find out, eventually.

"Do you go to Jamaica often?" She inquired. "Is it as beautiful as I have seen on TV?"

Excited to tell her about Jamaica. Her grin widened. "Oh gosh, Jamaica is beautiful," she enthused. "The best feeling in the world is when you sink your bare feet in the warm sand and feel the rush of the cool waves as they lap against your ankle."

For a moment Christine closed her eyes. "It sounds lovely."

"Maybe if we make some progress with your therapy, we could go together?"

Her eyes snapped open, and she gave Elizabeth a fierce frown.

"I can't go anywhere, not in this wheelchair."

And there it was, the root of the problem.

It appeared Christine was still embarrassed about being in a wheelchair. Even after seven years, she would have thought Christine would be even moderately comfortable with her new mode of getting around.

In all fairness, this did not surprise Elizabeth.

Many people who suddenly find themselves disabled, nine times out of ten, often felt some embarrassment that they were not like everyone else.

Not wanting Christine to dwell on her negative thoughts, she gave her a cheerful smile. "It would surprise you to know where you can go in a wheelchair these days," she said with an encouraging smile. "Did you know almost everywhere you go now, there is wheelchair access? You would love Jamaica very much," she added.

Since the moment she greeted her, she had sighed at least four times and her expression was that of a depressed house cat. It was not pleasant to witness.

Elizabeth liked Christine. There was something about her that made Elizabeth want to wrap her into her embrace, stroke her back and tell her the world was cruel, but she would be alright.

"I know I would love Jamaica," Christine said, remembering her words. "And George is always telling me about it," she added. She frowned absently. "Thinking about it now, he was in Jamaica three months ago."

"Oh?" Elizabeth said, reluctant to revisit the episode she experienced.

Animated now, Christine straightened her posture. "Yes," she said. "He told me he was going there for a friend's wedding. Didn't you go to the same wedding too?" she asked with an expectant look.

Elizabeth avoided her prying eyes. "What makes you say that?" she asked, seizing her chance to throw doubt on Christine's assumptions.

Christine's, narrow and well-groomed eyebrows snapped together.

"You went to the same school, didn't you?" she asked. "I just assumed you would know the same people," she explained.

Christine was very shrewd. She must get it from her brother, she thought.

An image of a shirtless George rose into her mind, and she told herself not to think about him.

"To be honest, I saw George in Jamaica," she admitted.

Christine gave her the once over as if seeing her for the first time. "Really?" she said curiously. "Was he there with anyone?"

Elizabeth thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. "I didn't see him with anyone."

It was not as if she had looked. Well, maybe she had wondered why he had been at the wedding with no imminent date to hand. She knew some of George's history with women, she only needed to look on their f*******: friend's page to see what he got up to. They were not friends on any social media platform. And she wanted to keep it this way. But then there was always the temptation of checking his profile through their mutual acquaintances, which in her opinion was borderline stalking.

Thank goodness she did not have to worry about anyone looking her up; she had disabled her account before she left a year before. To her surprise, she had survived without it, and the most valuable lesson learnt was how much she valued her privacy.

Elizabeth tried hard not to think of why she needed to deactivate her account, instead, she focused on Christine who was fiddling with a small gold ring on her index finger.

"Did you know George is single?" she affirmed, wiggling her eyebrows at Elizabeth as if she was a villain.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth put some distance between them. "Don't get any ideas. I'm not interested in your brother," she replied firmly.

Immediately, Christine withered from her words, then she narrowed her eyes at her.

"What's wrong with my brother?" she demanded hotly.

The last thing she wanted to do was to offend Christine, not because it worried her, they would fire her, she was concerned if she said the wrong thing Christine could use this as an excuse to stop any treatment before it started.

Elizabeth patted her loose, kinky curls nervously. "Nothing's wrong with your brother, "she said, her palms up in surrender. "I'm sure your brother's a nice guy, but he's just not my type."

"Your type would be?" Christine persisted.

Why were they speaking about her when the conversation should be about Christine?

Quickly, she realized, Christine was trying to distract her with her inane conversation.

"Oh, I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to throw me off your case, aren't you?"

"You catch on quickly," Christine said, rolling her wheelchair around towards Elizabeth.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Elizabeth, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't need any help."

She looked after patients long enough to gain some insight into how they thought. Sometimes her patients were reluctant to begin therapy. It was as if they feared becoming whole again or even making progress, or worse, making no progress at all, in which case, all their hopes would die.

The one thing she did not want was to make Christine feel pressured. Tilting her head, she pressed her lips together.

"Well, since you don't want us to have a nurse and patient relationship, what would you say to us being friends?"

Christine considered her words for a short while, then eyeballed her.

"Why would you want to be friends with a cripple?" Her words were brutal and blunt.

Elizabeth cringed, she hated the word, "cripple". The word conjured that there was no hope. This was not true for her, Christine was only partially disabled, she had full use of her upper body and if she continued with regular exercise, she could even get the feeling back in her legs.

All she needed to do was try.

Instinctively, she knew Christine only said those words because she was afraid of being disappointed. Elizabeth wanted to be honest with her, but she also needed to make sure Christine was in the right frame of mind to keep hope burning.

"If I'm honest, I could use a new friend." Elizabeth leaned forward closer to her and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Christine did not buy her, I-need- new-friends routine. She rolled her eyes. "You don't look like the type who lacks any friends."

Elizabeth forced herself to keep a straight face under Christine's scrutiny. "Everyone can always have a new friend. It's what makes our lives so interesting," she assured Christine. "New people equal new conversations and new experiences of the world. Don't you agree?" she carried on.

"I think you're right, but there aren't many people who'll want to be friends with someone who can't enjoy the same things they can."

"Even though this may be true. There's plenty of life to enjoy, even if you believe you're limited by your disability," she encouraged. "A genuine friend will give you the strength you need when you most need it."

Christine nodded and met her eyes. "It sounds as if you've had some unpleasant experiences with friends before?"

She bobbed her head a few times. "You're right," she agreed. "In the last few years, I've learnt that many of the people who I consider friends are just only there for a good time and never around when you truly need them."

A look of recognition came into her eyes and Elizabeth wanted to pat herself on the back for being able to get to the crutch of what was bothering Christine.

"You seem to have something on your mind, would you like to talk about it?" she urged gently, not wanting her to clam up like before.

Shaking her head, Christine wheeled herself to the nearby coffee table just as Maggie came in with a tray of hot drinks.

Once she laid the tray on the table, she gave the two women a friendly smile. "I remembered you told me you only drink white coffee, Lizzie," she said.

Pleased, Maggie remembered, she grinned at the housekeeper. "Thank you. I can't believe you remembered."

"You'll be a part of the family, of course, I'd remember."

She took the hot cups off the tray and laid them on coasters on the table. "Call me when you finish." She turned to leave but remembering something spun around and looked at the women sheepishly. "Would you like some biscuits, I made them fresh this morning?"

Christine and Elizabeth nodded, and a pleasing look came across Maggie's face. "Thank the Lord, you're not like those women who watch their weight, eating salad as if that can hold a human being."

Christine rolled her eyes at Maggie. "Maggie is the true reason everyone wants me to exercise," she said, smiling happily for the first time.

They both nursed their hot drinks; Elizabeth could feel Christine's eyes on her. She could tell she wanted to ask how many questions and was looking for a way to do so.

Thinking it would be better if she were open with her, Elizabeth gave her a warm and open smile. "Since you don't want to be doing any therapy, how about we sit here and just chat- we can get to know each other and then move on from there."

Christine nodded. "Elizabeth," Christine began, but immediately Elizabeth held up her hand to stop her in mid-sentence and murmured, "Please call me Lizzie, everyone else does."

Christine smiled at her, and she saw her visibly relax in her wheelchair. And for the first time, she felt Christine was open to listening to her.

"Lizzie, are you seeing anyone?" Christine asked.

Taken aback by the suddenness of the question. She had not expected the first thing Christine asked her would be about her love life.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone right now, but my mum has this idea that she can pick my boyfriend for me."

A spark came into Christine's eyes.

Elizabeth could tell she would not escape from bonding with the young woman. And she settled into the chair and made efforts to enjoy the time she spent with Christine.