Northern Spirit by Lindsey J Carden Page B

subject of her concern was no longer her
husband but her son.
    She saw the familiar photographs of his wife and children placed on his
desk, and she wondered how happy they were. What kind of home did they have?
His dear little children would never have to suffer as hers did. Had life just
dealt her a slap in the face, a restraint for her short-lived happiness?
    Kathy left the surgery feeling trapped. Her momentary freedom had fled
and the plan had backfired. Why didn’t she listen to her own mind instead of
letting people persuade her to do other things? She was coping, and she was
doing well. Then she found herself selfishly cursing David for his sensitivity
and his weakness, and blaming him for losing her sense of freedom.
    Kathy walked away from the surgery, blindly, looking at no one. She
didn’t notice the rain touching her face. She wanted to cry as the muscles in
her throat started to constrict, and thought she would choke if she didn’t
release the tension, but the tears would not come. She hadn’t cried for George,
or anyone else, and she would not cry for David.
    She jumped into her parked car and, looking in the mirror, could see
her bedraggled hair strewn in tatters about her face. Mascara had smeared about
her eyes as she’d rubbed away the unwelcome moisture. She hoped no one had seen
her, but she couldn’t be certain. Kathy tried to remember leaving the surgery,
but her mind was blank. She must have crossed the main road at some stage, and
shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. She must try and pull
herself together and be calm and keep her visit confidential. She would tell no
one of Michael Reed’s inference and just hoped that when he did eventually call
at the farm, he would be professional enough to hide the motive for his visit.
    She brushed her hair, wiped her face dry, powdered her nose, and set
off for the short journey home.
    When Kathy arrived back, she was surprised to see David in the kitchen
and he didn’t appear to be unduly worried about her absence. When she saw her
son sat contentedly in the kitchen, Kathy felt guilty about her thoughts. She
wanted to hug him and tell him everything that had happened, but that would be
impossible. She felt, more than ever, that she needed some masculine logic to
reassure her. She wanted to feel David’s strong arms around her, to console
her, but had to be content with his presence. And as he sat quietly in the
chair, Kathy started to feel calmer inside as she could see he was having a
better day. He told her that the morning’s milking had gone well, his voice was
soft. As she peered into his face, she saw his eyes looked sleepy and he spoke
without any emotion. He wasn’t looking at her at all, but appeared to be
staring across towards the window. She hoped he could settle. He just had to.
    *       
*        *
    At four o’clock, children’s voices sounded as Tom and Sarah passed the
kitchen window home from school. There was no time for Kathy to dwell on gloomy
thoughts. They mustn’t see any unhappiness in her speech and actions. But she
found herself observing their behaviour more than usual: Sarah so small,
delicate and sensitive. She had missed her father dearly and would often weep
with her head buried in Kathy’s lap, yet she could change as quickly, if she
were offered a treat or a game to play. David had been good to her in trying to
make her feel secure, but George had so overwhelmed her with love. David did
help, but then Sarah would get angry with him and scream if he teased her.
    Tom was different: he idolised David.
    Kathy worried about Tom. He didn’t have many friends, but he didn’t
seem to mind. He spent most of his time with David and would rush straight
upstairs as soon as he was home from school to get changed, and help with the
milking; something he never did when George was around. It was strange to see
how their roles had all changed. They had all stepped up a place in the family
unit.