The Keeper

Demelza to the Rescue

Dean heard a small car driving too fast down the track. Then a slammed door and the rapid crunching of gravel before Demelza's voice called out, "Dean? Dean? Where the bloody hell are you?"

"In here. The barn!" Dean yelled.

Demelza blazed through the door, ducked under the fallen ladder, and winced as she saw Dean sitting against the wall, one leg not as straight out as the other, an empty bottle of wine beside him.

"Did you drink that before or after you busted your leg?"

"After."

"Good. Sorry no one came looking for you sooner – Stan didn't think to mention your absence last night until he came in for the papers today."

"I've never missed a shift. I was hoping he'd notice."

"And you usually pick up the local newspaper on a Thursday – I noticed that too. Now let me help you up and get you to hospital; it'll be quicker than fetching an ambulance, since we can't call one from here." Demelza gave Dean a stern look. One that reminded him of all the times she had told him he should reconnect the phone.

"Sorry," said Dean, as Demelza helped him shuffle to the car.

"You will be – it's a hell of a bumpy ride out of here in an ancient Honda Civic."

* * *

Demelza took him to Truro hospital and waited the five hours it took for the staff to admit him, examine his leg and set it in plaster. He didn't complain, and neither did she.

She then helped him fold himself back into the Honda. "Right. You'd better come back with me then."

"I can't do that."

"The doctor said you need support, and you've got none at the barn – you'd be stranded with no means of contacting anyone. Don't be bloody stupid."

"I'll get the phone connected."

"Good. Until then, you're staying with me."

* * *

It took nearly two weeks before Dean could stand long enough on his crutches to wash dishes. He insisted on sorting the papers each morning and writing out invoices each afternoon. In between these chores, Demelza ushered him out of the shop and back into the lounge, where she had set up the sofa bed for his convalescence. The lounge door opened to the back porch, and Demelza maintained she had lost the key to it years before. There was no escape for Dean from the female well-wishers who inundated the front room with hand-picked flowers and home-cooked meals.

Joanne 'recently divorced, but it was over a long time ago' Sawyer was making her third visit and had stayed beyond the time needed to ask how he was doing and discuss the weather. Silence hung in the air like damp laundry on a windless day, but Joanne was oblivious to it. Dean limped to his feet, and was thanking her, wishing he could free a hand to guide her towards the door, when Demelza came in, nodding to Joanne as she squeezed past her to leave. She looked at the casserole dish and back at Dean. "I reckon neither of us will need to cook till that cast comes off."

"Can't you make them stop coming?"

"Why? They're all attractive single women. And some of them can cook. You could do with someone in your life, love."

"I've got you, Demelza."

"Don't get cute with me, Sunny Jim. You know what I mean. You could do with a partner, someone to share your life with."

"I'm not too good at that."

"Were you married then?"

"Yes. But I never should have got married."

Dean told Demelza about how he had come to marry Kristina and spent too many years regretting it. "With hindsight, I can see how crazy it was to be with her for so long. But it started out as a means to survive, to keep her well from day to day, then week to week. Then the years slipped away... There was no point at which I could decide enough was enough, until she did. The veil over my eyes came away with the burden lifted, and I saw what a massive mistake I'd made. I hope she'll be much happier with her new partner."

"What about you? Don't you deserve to be happy with someone?"

"I was happy for a while, but it was complicated."

Demelza waited for Dean to explain, but no explanation was forthcoming. "So she broke up with you, did she? Which is why you came down here?"

"No, I broke up with her."

"What was wrong with her?"

"Nothing. The situation was wrong."

"Then change the situation."

"I couldn't."

"Or you didn't want to."

"I did. Believe me, I did."

"Yes, well, where there's a will, there's a way. Never mind. Perhaps she wasn't the one. Perhaps she wasn't right for you, either. It's hard to find someone who you click with enough to spend a lifetime with."

"That's not it. We clicked all right, it was just the situation. She was young, that's the problem."

Demelza kept quiet.

"But she had an old soul and wanted what I want in life. We both love nature and would like to leave the world better than we found it. She didn't care about money, or the stuff that money can buy, unless it would help her grow a better world. She made me feel connected to that again, reminded me of my dreams as a young man."

"You're still young, Dean."

"I'm 40 next year."

"Ha – when you're my age, 63, you'll know 39 is young. How much younger was she? The One. Because she sounds like The One."

"The One? You could call her that. I've never connected with anyone else that way, so she's unique in my life. But she was too young. I was 30, and she was 17."

"Yes, I see. That would have been a problem. But not now she's 26."

"And has her own life. And is probably married. With kids, even."

"You're reading too much into something you know nothing about. It sounds as if you need to find her and finish that chapter, or close the book."

"I can't do that. I can't go back. She's better off without me at this point."

"Have you asked her that? It wouldn't be hard to find her these days."

"No, I haven't asked her. It's not that simple."

"It is that simple, if she's worth it. Otherwise, you have to move on. If you don't get her out of your head, how can anyone else take her place?"

"I don't want anyone to take her place. Which is why you have to stop these women from visiting me."

"Okay, I'll put the word out that you're not to be disturbed here. The freezer's full, anyway."