The Girl of His Dreams

by Susan Mallery

  Patrick nodded. “The contractors know this is a grant-funded project, and I think they’re scared the money might dry up. They want to get the work done fast, which works in my favor. We’re going to be up and running by the end of the year.”

  She flashed him a smile. “You must be excited.” “There are a lot of details to work through.” He wondered if he sounded more enthusiastic than he felt. He hoped so. This research facility would be the fulfillment of an important dream. In time, he would appreciate how lucky he’d been to find grant funding. Over the next few years, he and his team of experts would make medical discoveries that would impact animals’ lives. He’d been on the cutting edge of that kind of work in college, and he’d missed it.

  So he’d done everything he’d planned.

  But without Kayla, his world felt empty. She wasn’t gone yet—in fact, there were still a few weeks left until she left for Paris—but every day brought new proof of her upcoming departure. He didn’t want to think about her leaving, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.

  They stood next to each other, leaning against the clinic’s van and watching the large equipment move heavy metal beams.

  He glanced down at her and realized she’d been quiet for a couple of minutes. “You okay?” he asked.

  “No.”

  The quick reply surprised him. He turned his back on the lot and stared at her. For the first time in several days, he really looked at her.

  Shadows bruised the delicate skin under her green eyes. Her mouth was pulled straight, and the set of her jaw was faintly defeated. Although her golden hair was as shiny and curly as ever, instead of wearing it loose, or in one of her fancy braids, she had it pulled back in a simple pony tail. There wasn’t any one thing that was so different, it was all of her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Gee, Patrick, you’re a smart man. You figure it out.”

  He didn’t like playing games, and he certainly didn’t like it with her. “Kayla, tell me what’s going on.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. Different expressions skittered across her face. He tried to gauge her mood. She wasn’t angry—resigned, maybe? Disappointed?

  At last she raised her gaze to his. Pain dilated her pupils.

  “It’s been two weeks. Why haven’t you asked how I was until now? You’ve been avoiding me, as if you wanted to pretend it never happened. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  Her accusations caught him low in the belly. Guilt flared. Familiar guilt, because he’d known what he was doing, even as he stayed away from her, and it had made him feel like slime.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her. “You have every right to be angry and upset with me. I’ve acted badly.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Gee, I thought hearing you say that would make me feel better, but it doesn’t.”

  The construction machinery fell silent. He glanced over and saw that a food truck had pulled up on the opposite side of the site. The men used the opportunity to take a break.

  “Why?” she asked.

  A single word; on the surface, a simple question. Yet he knew the real meaning behind the word, and what she was really asking.

  Why did you make love to me? Why did you hold me that way, then avoid me? Why aren’t you talking to me? Did I make a mistake by choosing you to be the one? Don’t I mean anything to you? We’re supposed to befriends, but this isn’t how friends treat each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, forcing himself to look at her. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “What did you mean to do?”

  “I wanted to make it okay between us.” He figured he could risk a little honesty, but not too much. He had to keep control of himself, so he didn’t blurt out that he’d withdrawn from her because the alternative was to fall in love. To want to hold on to her forever. That wasn’t an option. She had her plans, and he cared about her enough to want her to get exactly what she wanted and deserved.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, motioning to indicate the distance between them.

  “No.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, then withdrew his hand. He didn’t dare touch her. It hurt too much. It reminded him of what he had had once and would never have again.

  “You’re sorry we made love.” Her voice was flat.

  “Never,” he answered quickly. “I’m honored that I was your first.”

  She half turned away, staring out toward the city. “No, you’re not. It’s a responsibility that you didn’t want, and now you don’t know what to do about it.”

  He tried to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “You don’t have to do anything,” she said. “That wasn’t the point. There are no strings attached. We were friends before, and I thought we could still be friends after.”

  “We are.” Yet, even as he spoke the words, he knew they sounded lame.

  “Oh, yeah. Best friends.” She hunched forward. “If I could take that night back, I would. I’m sorry we made love.”

  Her words sliced through him like a gleaming blade. He felt the physical cutting, but the pain took longer to kick in. When it did, it nearly drove him to his knees. He had to hold on to the side of the van to maintain his balance.

  “Don’t say that,” he told her. “Don’t regret it, please. That night was wonderful for me. I’ll never be able to forget it. Or you. No matter what.”

  She threw herself at him. “Oh, Patrick, I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t regret anything we did. I loved being with you. It was magic. I just—” She sniffed. “I felt so confused, and I was afraid to talk to you.”

  “Don’t be silly. You can talk to me about anything.”

  Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she pressed her face against his chest. He raised his hand to stroke her hair, then pulled away. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t touch her. Not knowing she was leaving.

  “We’ll always be friends,” he promised.

  She nodded, then raised her head. Confusion made her mouth tremble. “You’re not hugging me back.”

  He knew he didn’t dare explain why. The truth would only make them both uncomfortable. So he settled on a cheap way out.

  “That’s because I have something to give you,” he said, stepping back and opening the driver’s side door. From under the seat, he pulled out a long, thick envelope. “This came for you today, before we left.”

  She debated whether or not to let him distract her, then finally reached for the envelope. “If this is another shot list, I’m not interested.”

  “I don’t think that’s it at all.”

  She tore open the back and pulled out a dark blue passport. Her breath caught. She flipped it open and stared at her picture, then fingered the blank pages.

  In his mind’s eye, he could see those pages filled with stamps from countries she’d visited. She was about to enter a world that held no place for him. She wanted to discover new adventures, he wanted to put down roots.

  She turned it over in her hands. “It’s so real.”

  “I guess you’re on your way.”

  “Paris, here I come.”

  Her smile dazzled him. He forced himself to return it, when inside, his soul blackened and his heart turned to glass before shattering.

  In that moment, with Kayla clutching her passport to her chest and chattering about all the things she would do, he finally got it.

  He’d avoided her for nothing. He’d hoped to protect himself from the pain, but it was too late. It had probably been too late the first day he met her. It didn’t matter that she would only ever think of him as a friend, it didn’t matter that she was leaving and he might never see her again. It didn’t matter that he’d tried to avoid this his whole life.

  He loved her.

  He’d thought he’d played it safe. He’d wanted a sure thing if he was going to risk love at all. Now he realized he didn’t get to choose who or when. When love arrived, it did so without warning, without worry
ing about convenience or potential heartbreak.

  He loved Kayla with all his heart, and now he had to let her go.

  She flipped through the pages again. “It’s happening. This feels strange. I know I’ve planned for it and everything, but I think in some part of my brain, I figured something would stop me.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” he teased, pleased that he sounded completely normal. No matter what it cost, he would never let her know how he felt. He would never be responsible for the death of her dreams.

  “Not exactly.” She glanced at him, then away. “Things are a little different, that’s all. Sometimes I wonder if the idea of going to Paris is going to be better than any actual trip.”

  It was, he realized, the perfect opening. He could tell her how he felt and ask her to stay. She might even agree. But then what? Would his world be enough for her? How long until she got restless? Until she felt the need to search out that tornado she talked about? His love for her had come upon him slowly. He didn’t doubt its validity, or that it was forever, but would she believe that? He’d never once swept her away. It didn’t matter that he believed tornadoes to be destructive. Kayla didn’t want ordinary. She wanted the fairy tale and Prince Charming.

  If her path led her back to him, then he would confess all. But he believed she needed to experience her dreams before she could make a decision about what mattered most. Her happiness was more important to him than his own.

  Which probably made him a damn fool.

  Loud motors started, drawing Kayla’s attention to the construction. “You’re going to be so busy with the research center, you’re not even going to notice I’m gone.”

  “I’ll notice.”

  She laughed. “Patrick, by the second week, you won’t even remember my name.”

  He knew it was wrong of him, but he wished her statement was true. Unfortunately, he would remember. It would take more than three lifetimes to ever forget Kayla.

  ***

  “There’s this teacher…” Allison said, pausing to pat Rhonda on her head before turning her attention back to Kayla. “She came to see me and said there’s these videos I can watch, so I’ll keep up with my friends.” Her nose wrinkled. “I’m glad, ‘coz I didn’t want to get left behind in school.”

  “I know what you mean,” Kayla said. “When I was recovering from my accident, my sisters visited me every day and helped me with my lessons. I didn’t want to get left behind, either.”

  Talk about adding insult to injury, she thought, recalling those difficult months. As if surviving the accident and rehabilitation weren’t bad enough, to be left a grade behind in school would make the situation intolerable. She remembered overhearing a conversation between an instructor and her mother. The instructor had been concerned about Kayla’s “social” skills not keeping up, either. What the woman had never understood was that interacting with hospital employees, dealing with pain, physical therapy, adjusting to physical limitation, enduring the dark, endless nights alone, had forced her to grow up faster than any child should. She’d had no trouble socially adjusting with her peers. If anything, she’d passed them by.

  Rhonda hopped over Allison’s chest and landed on the other side of the bed. She tugged at a ribbon in the child’s hair, pulling it loose, then racing to the end of the mattress. Once there, she dangled it and wagged her tail.

  Allison laughed. “Silly dog. Bring that back to me.”

  Kayla had seen them play this game countless times before. As she watched the dog interact with the little girl, she had the oddest feeling that Rhonda really understood Allison’s limitations. She played gently, darting away, but always quickly returning, as if she knew Allison couldn’t come after her. Even when Allison’s parents and older brother visited, she would run and chase balls with them for a few minutes, then spend the rest of the time on Allison’s bed.

  “I saw your show on cable,” Allison said. “I think I know which one was you.”

  Kayla leaned forward in her chair and held the girl’s hand. “What was the show about?”

  “The cook left, and there was no one to make dinner. Mrs. Beecham tried, but she doesn’t know what little kids like to eat.”

  Kayla grinned. “We had so much fun filming that one.

  Remember the food fight everyone got into in the kitchen?”

  Allison nodded.

  “That was real. We spent hours on that one scene. By the end of it, everyone was covered in pudding and flour and green beans.”

  “Were you the one scooping the pudding out and throwing it at the boys?”

  “Yup. And I was in the scene with Mrs. Beecham when we tried to make toast in the big oven and everything caught on fire.”

  Allison shook her head. “I didn’t know that was you. ‘Sally McGuire’ is on every night, so I’m going to keep watching it.”

  “I hope you enjoy it. That was a long time ago.” She stroked Allison’s bangs off her forehead. While she and Rhonda were visiting, she made it a point to touch the child as much as possible. Kayla remembered feeling isolated when she was in a body cast. There hadn’t been much of her skin showing, and everyone had seemed nervous about getting too close.

  Rhonda returned the ribbon and flopped down next to Allison, resting her head on the girl’s shoulder. Allison bent her neck so her cheek rested against Rhonda’s soft fur.

  “I’m gonna be moving soon,” Allison whispered.

  Kayla wasn’t sure if she didn’t want Rhonda to hear, or if the thought of going to another facility frightened the girl.

  “I’d heard,” she said. “You’re doing really well, and the doctors want you to have more physical therapy.

  You’re going to like the new place. It’s closer to your family, there are going to be other children around, and—”

  A single tear trickled out of the corner of Allison’s eye.

  Kayla leaned close and brushed it away. Then she hugged the child as best she could, bending toward her and cradling her head.

  “Honey, I know you’re scared. Since the accident, everything new is frightening. You’ve been so brave and strong, but it feels like you’re never going to get better.” She rocked gently. “You feel like you’re going to be broken forever, that you’ll never have any friends, that you’ll never run again, or even walk, and that you’ll never be pretty.”

  Hot tears dampened Kayla’s T-shirt. She ached for Allison. She knew the difficult road to recovery better than anyone.

  “I j-just want to be like i-it was,” Allison said, between sobs. “I d-don’t want to go away. I w-won’t see you anymore.”

  Kayla’s eyes began to burn. She’d barely avoided crying that morning, when she was with Patrick. Apparently she wasn’t going to be able to avoid tears much longer.

  “I’m not going to forget you,” she said fiercely. “I swear. I’ll write you, and you can write me back.”

  “But I can’t write,” Allison moaned. “I can barely hold a pencil, and there’s nowhere to put the p-paper.” The additional problem unleashed more tears.

  Kayla kissed her forehead. “You can dictate letters to me. Make your brother be the one who has to sit here and write everything down.”

  The crying slowed. “I don’t think he’d want to do that.”

  “I think your parents might insist. Did your older brother used to tease you when you were younger?”

  Allison nodded solemnly.

  “Wouldn’t this be a great way to pay him back?”

  A smile tugged on the corner of the girl’s mouth. “He broke a couple of my dolls, too.”

  “Well, then, you’re going to be able to make him write a lot of letters.”

  “Maybe every day,” Allison said, warming up to the possibility.

  What Kayla didn’t tell her was that Allison’s brother was suffering from guilt. The uninjured siblings often felt left out and ignored. They wanted parental attention, but felt guilty for that, because they weren’t the ones
in the hospital. By spending time together, brother and sister would have the chance to get close to each other in a way that wouldn’t have been possible without the accident. If things went well, that bond would last them a lifetime.

  Kayla straightened. Rhonda moaned at Allison’s distress and licked away the rest of her tears. The girl giggled.

  “That tickles, Rhonda. But thank you for caring.”

  Kayla glanced at her watch. “Your mom’s going to be here any minute, so I’m going to go out in the hall and wait for her. We’ve got a couple of things to talk about.”

  Allison wrinkled her nose. “You gonna tell her I cried?”

  “Nope,” Kayla said, then kissed her cheek. “That was just between you and me.”

  Kayla stepped into the hallway and saw that Allison’s mother had already arrived. The tall, slender woman had passed her thick raven hair and blue eyes on to her daughter. In about four years, Allison was going to start breaking hearts.

  Sheila Kay looked up from the magazine she was reading and smiled. “The nurse told me you were with Allison.” She patted the vinyl sofa. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”

  Kayla settled next to her. “I heard she’s being moved to another facility.”

  Sheila nodded, then named the place. “It comes highly recommended. There are children there, and we want her to have a chance to make friends. I worry about her being so isolated. Plus, it’s closer to home, so her father can visit more often.”

  “I think it’s a great idea.” Kayla touched her arm. “Don’t worry. No one judges you for wanting the best for your daughter.”

  “I know. It’s just she’s upset about the move. And she’s not going to be able to see you anymore. That’s going to be hard on her.”

  Just one more relationship she was leaving behind, Kayla thought grimly. “Even though I never discussed my travel plans with Allison, you and I have talked about them. I would have been leaving you in less than a month, anyway. I think it will be easier if she goes first. The new experiences will give her something to think about.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Sheila said. “It makes sense. I keep thinking how hard this is for me, then I realize it must be so much worse for my little girl. I just want to hold her until she’s better.”