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It was the voice he recognised first. His head turned automatically to try and locate the source. Then it was the figure. The broad shoulders and familiar dress uniform. The last time he’d seen Admiral Sands had been at his father’s funeral.
At the same time Joe Sands looked over and caught Sullivan’s eye. The recognition took less than a few seconds before he lifted his hand, waved and started to walk in Sullivan’s direction.
A tightness spread across Sullivan’s chest, his mouth instantly dry. There was a buzzing in his ears, as if he’d just been surrounded by a swarm of angry wasps. Joe Sands looked as relaxed as always. Time had been kind to him. Sullivan knew he must be in his late seventies; he’d retired twenty years ago. He’d been one of first people to get in touch following the death of his father, and he’d made a few attempts since then to keep in contact with Sullivan.
He slapped Sullivan’s arm. ‘Sullivan Darcy. It’s good to see you. How have you been?’
Sullivan gave the briefest of nods as his mouth tried to formulate a reply. Even though he’d had a dress uniform in his apartments and had chosen not wear it, seeing someone else dressed that way had caught him unawares. He hadn’t expected it—not here, in Mirinez. He’d got out of the way of being in the company of men in US uniforms. His father had been buried in his dress uniform—as many military men were—and as the light glinted from Joe Sands’s buttons the hairs on the back of Sullivan’s neck stood on end.
He finally found some words. ‘I’m good. Still working.’
Joe was as amiable as ever. ‘I never expected to see you here in Mirinez. And you’re with Gabrielle? That’s wonderful. She’s a beauty. Smart too. Your father would be so proud.’
Would he? It was the oddest feeling. Sullivan suddenly felt very young. He’d always wanted his father’s approval. He’d always had it.
But in the last three years parts of his life had played on his mind. He’d been as rebellious as the usual teenager and young man—there were a few things his father had found about, a lot he hadn’t.
But he’d never really done anything serious. He’d respected his father and their relationship too much for that.
Now every decision he made came under his night-time scrutiny of whether his father would have approved or not. Sleep had deserted him.
Gabrielle had proved the best distraction yet. There was nothing like the feel of soft smooth skin to chase away any other jumbled thoughts. But when she fell asleep first, her soft steady breathing filling the air, then the crazy thoughts would find their way back in.
Part of him knew what this was. He’d been a doctor long enough to spot the signs in other people so he’d be a fool if he couldn’t recognise them in himself.
But a man wasn’t supposed to be unable to deal with grief. A doctor even less so.
Life had moved on. He should have too. If a therapist had asked him a question, he couldn’t even give an obvious answer. No, he didn’t have unresolved issues with his father. No, there had never been any real conflict. Their relationship had been strong, cemented in the fact they’d only had each other.
And since his father had died, Sullivan had felt as if he’d lost his right-hand man. In a way he had. The effects of being an adult, real-life orphan had never occurred to him.
Perhaps it was much simpler than all that. He missed him. He missed his dad every day. So many times he’d gone to pick up a phone or write an email and stopped instantly, body washed with cold at remembering his father wasn’t there. It was ridiculous.
Packing up the house felt final. It was like ripping away the last part of his father that still existed.
He couldn’t talk about this to anyone. They would think it pathetic. Men weren’t supposed to grieve like this. Men were supposed to get to work. And he had done exactly that—for three years—because work had been the only place he’d felt safe.
And seeing Joe Sands was bringing everything back. Any minute now he’d start regaling Sullivan with stories. Stories about the visit to NASA or Washington. Stories about arguments with generals. Joe Sands had worked alongside his father for the best part of eight years. He knew things that Sullivan didn’t. And part of that made him angry. He hated the fact there were memories of his father that he didn’t have.
He pasted a smile onto his face and he reached out to shake Joe’s hand. ‘It’s a real pleasure to see you again, Admiral Sands. I’d love to talk but I’m actually on duty. I helped with the mining accident in Mirinez and I’ve just been contacted to go and check on a patient. If we’re lucky, we might be able to catch up later.’
It was all lies. And he only felt the tiniest hint of regret as he saw the wave of disappointment on Joe’s face.
‘You’ve had a call?’ Gabrielle’s voice cut through his thoughts. He hadn’t realised she’d appeared and certainly not that she’d overheard him.
She caught sight of his face and nodded smoothly, sliding her arm into his. ‘That’s why I came to find you. I’ve had a call too.’ She nodded her head. ‘Good evening, Admiral. It’s so nice to see you. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk. Possibly tomorrow?’
The Admiral didn’t seem to notice Gabrielle’s cover-up, but Sullivan’s insides felt as if they were curling up and dying.
The Admiral nodded. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
Gabrielle steered Sullivan towards the open doors out to the palace gardens. Her footsteps were firm. She gave a few people gracious nods as they passed but didn’t stop to talk. It was clear she was on a mission.
As soon as the colder night air hit him his breath caught in his throat. It was the oddest sensation. Like breathing in, without being able to breathe back out. He’d never felt anything like it.
Gabrielle lengthened her strides as they reached the gardens. They passed the fountain and moved away from the paved pathways and across the manicured lawn.
His heart was thudding against his chest, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow. He tugged at the tie he was wearing and struggled to loosen his collar. His skin was itching.
Was he having an allergic reaction to something? What had he eaten? That was all he could liken the sensations to.
Gabrielle led him through some trees and out towards a glass and metal-framed summerhouse. Her footsteps didn’t slow until they were inside and she pushed him down onto the bench seat that ran along the inside of the summerhouse.
She knelt down in front of him and unfastened the next few buttons on his shirt. ‘Calm down, Sullivan. Breathe. Slow it down.’
He pulled at his collar. ‘S-something’s...wrong.’
She locked her dark eyes on his, her fingers pressing on the pulse at his wrist.
‘Sullivan, you’re breathing too quickly. You need to slow it down. We’re going to do this together.’
Sweat was trickling down his back between his shoulder blades. He shrugged off his jacket, desperate to get some air around him.
Gabrielle kept talking. Calmly. Slowly.
‘I’m... I’m...’
She touched his hand gently. ‘You’re having a panic attack, Sullivan. That’s why I’ve not called an ambulance or taken you anywhere else.’ She held up her hands. ‘It’s just you and me. There’s no one else around. No one else noticed anything.’
Her hand rubbed up and down his. ‘Breathe in for two, and out for two. Come on, you can do this.’
His head was spinning. Was she crazy? He’d never had a panic attack in his life. But things around him felt fuzzy and he could feel his heart thudding against his chest. Pain was starting to cross his ribs. Any minute now he might throw up. Could this really be a panic attack?
Her voice got firmer. Still calm, but with a little more authority. ‘Work with me, Sullivan. Come on. Breathe in for two and out for two. In for two, out for two. Do it with me. You can do this.’
She was persistent. She kept talking. Softly. Steadily. Until she started to sound as if she was making sense.
He sucked in a breath to the sound of her voice.
‘That’s it. Do it. Follow me. In for two, out for two.’
He started following her lead. Within a few seconds she changed. ‘Okay, now in for four, out for four.’
His heart was slowing. He could feel it. And the pain in his chest was easing ever so slightly. She kept talking, looking up at him with those big brown eyes laced with concern.
His skin prickled as the perspiration on his skin mixed with the cold air. His shirt was open to his waist. He’d practically stripped.
Reality started to take a grip on his brain. He’d never had an experience like that before.
He sucked in a deeper breath and ran his fingers through his now-damp hair.
