ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY)

by Marie, Bernadette

  That statement confused him, but she was continuing without giving him an opportunity to clarify. “I want what my dad and Sophia have. I want that kind of relationship. I want that kind of love.”

  “I’ve never seen love like that,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in it.”

  “I guess, back to what I said earlier.” She turned to him, their fingers still interlaced. “Please don’t leave me.”

  He thought about what Sophia had said to him about Carissa having a fear of people leaving. He didn’t really know what to say to her. He was a runner. He’d run from his past and what he’d started to become. How long could he really stay in her arms before he got scared and ran again? He didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t promise her forever. He was, after all, his father’s child. The child of a man who hated, lied, abused, and killed.

  He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks, the sweat bead on the back of his neck, and his heart quicken its pace. He was glad the room was growing darker around them; if she could see his eyes clearly, she’d know the truth.

  “I won’t leave you, Carissa.” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was sure he’d just lied.

  Carissa woke many times during the night just to check that Thomas was still next to her. He’d said he wouldn’t leave her, but she’d heard the quiver in his voice. She still didn’t know the man she was falling in love with. The man whose arms she now slept in. But she wanted to, so desperately wanted to, know him.

  She’d felt a shift in the air during the night. Snow was coming and so was Halloween, as Hope had already reminded her. In no time at all construction on the school would be finished, Thanksgiving would be upon them, and the holidays would settle in. Would Thomas still be there?

  He stirred in his sleep. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened as he slept like a child with his hands folded beneath his cheek. His blond hair was tousled and his leg peeked out from under the sheet. A smile crossed Carissa’s lips. She was so in love with the man, her heart was pounding just from her watching him sleep. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. How was she going to make him fall in love with her if he couldn’t even promise not to leave and mean it?

  By the time Thomas made it down the stairs the pot of coffee was cold, the scent of toast lingered in the air, and a note waited for him on the table. She’d taken a run to the school to let in the contractor and to drop off more flyers at the grocery store and elementary school. He laughed aloud at the postscript: “Please get the car and meet me at the Spot. I’ll need a ride home.” He ran back to her room, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and found his shoes in his own room. He hurried down the stairs, pulled his keys from the drawer, and headed out the back of the house. Just as quickly, he retreated to his room for a coat. Was she crazy? It was getting much too cold out to be running miles and miles through town.

  When he pulled into the parking lot he could see into the small diner. The breakfast crowd had cleared out, but there was no sign of Carissa inside. He stayed in the car and waited. Ten minutes later, he heard pounding on the trunk of the car. He jumped in his seat, hitting his head on the window.

  Carissa was smiling at him as she pulled the door open. “It’s warmer inside.”

  “I was just debating on whether to go looking for you.

  It’s freezing out here.” He stepped from the car and pulled his coat tighter as Carissa adjusted the ponytail at the top of her head.

  Her breath misted in the cold air and the chill of her skin warmed as she looked. He’d come for her. It was something, she decided. He hadn’t left when she wasn’t there to wake with him. She stepped in and kissed him lightly.

  “Good morning, darling,” she said playfully. “Good morning, dear.” His voice joined in the playfulness.

  They collected menus as they walked past Betsy with a wave and huddled into the booth in the back corner. He didn’t sit across from her. Instead, he pushed her over on the seat and sat down next to her. She turned her face to him. She fretted a moment. Was she feeling false hope? He had said he’d stay. Would he? Could he?

  Betsy hobbled to the table. She wore her age and weight like a badge of honor.

  “You already up and runnin’ through town?”

  “Will you tell her it’s too cold for it too?” Thomas chimed in.

  “I knew I liked your new beau.” Betsy winked. “I’ll get you both some coffee. You need to warm up,” she said to Carissa. “And, honey, you need to wake up.” She gave a nod to Thomas.

  “She likes you.” Carissa nudged him and he smiled down at her. And I love you, she wanted to say, but didn’t dare even take the breath for it.

  Thomas looked over the menu. He’d been away from American diner food for so long he wanted it all.

  “What are you having?”

  “I think I’m just going to have a cinnamon roll and some coffee.”

  “Not me. I’m having ham and eggs, over easy,” he added with a nod. “Toast with strawberry jelly and home fries.”

  “They come with cheese if you want.”

  “I want.” He closed the menu, playfully raised his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she laughed.

  He took her hand in his and gently kissed her fingers. Mornings with Thomas were something she could get very used to. A routine with a man. His things by her sink—their sink, she corrected. A morning full of making coffee and toast for each other and someday getting little ones ready for days at school. Nighttime would come with its own routines of brushing teeth, reading stories, and tucking those same little ones into bed.

  Betsy returned with coffee, took their orders, and hurried away toward the counter.

  Carissa realized she’d been daydreaming about things she shouldn’t be thinking of. She took a sip of coffee to clear her mind.

  “I got a call from the store in Chicago this morning.”

  “Hmm,” he muttered as he lifted the steaming coffee to his lips.

  “I scheduled a meeting with them for November second.”

  Thomas jerked, splashing coffee down the front of him.

  Carissa jumped back and reached for napkins from the dispenser.

  “God, are you okay?” She handed him the wad of napkins and went to work helping him dry his clothes. “Did you burn yourself?”

  “I’m fine.” He snatched the napkins from her hand.

  She watched him dab the coffee from his ruined white T-shirt as he muttered curses under his breath. His blue eyes seemed to have.

  She sat back away from him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Carissa, I said I was fine.” He wadded up the napkins and set them to the side, but when he lifted his mug, she noticed his hands were unsteady.

  She was sure Chicago held a secret for Thomas Samuel. Before November second she’d know what it was.

  CHAPTER EIGHT Thomas fumbled through the rest of his day. Acting so stupid like he had, spilling his coffee, getting so upset, hadn’t set the pace to be much company for the day.

  He practiced at the piano for three hours after helping Carissa move it into the living room and then he took a long, hot shower. He watched some stupid movie while Carissa gave lessons and he tried like hell to recompose himself, but he just couldn’t get control over his emotions.

  Now he sat in Carissa’s bed. His head pounded, his throat was sore, and his hair was damp from sweat. His hands, gripping his head, were shaking.

  Carissa stood at the lighted doorway of the bathroom, holding a glass of water.

  “Are you okay?” She moved back toward the bed. She looked fresh from sleep and Thomas looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was just past three in the morning.

  He nodded.

  She handed him the glass of water and stood back a step. Her eyebrows knit together and she chewed her lower lip.

  “Who is Sarah?” she finally asked as he sipped the water she’d brought to him.

  He didn’t need to ask why she was standing back from him
asking such a question. He’d been dreaming again. It was still as vivid in his head as the pounding of his pulse.

  Her hurt expression prodded his conscience. He’d been sleeping in her bed, building a business with her, and letting his heart go to her. It was time he did a little talking.

  He finished the glass of water and set it on the nightstand. He adjusted the pillows against the headboard and sat up against them, then reached for Carissa’s hand, pulling her down to the bed so that they sat facing each other.

  “Sarah?” he whispered, and she nodded. With a breath of courage he gave some thought to how much he was about to tell her. “Sarah was my sister.”

  “Your sister?” He nodded again. “Was?”

  He held tight to her hands, and their quivering eased. “She died when she was twelve, on the second of November.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” Her hand shifted to his cheek as her eyes softened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—the date.” She shook her head and he knew she’d realized it was the date that had set him off at the diner. She’d be traveling to Chicago on the very date his sister’s life had been taken. “I’m sorry. How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.” The night replayed in his mind over and over. He could hear Sarah and he had to wait until he stopped hearing her to let the pain in his heart abate before he could finish his story.

  Carissa brushed away a tear that had fallen from her eye.

  “Was she in an accident?”

  Dear God, she was trying to walk him through it. He kissed her fingers tenderly as though to appreciate the softness she exuded. What he had to tell her wasn’t soft and couldn’t be coated to be delivered gently. It was harsh and painful and she couldn’t help him through it. He had to dig deep inside and pull it out the way he remembered it.

  “No. It wasn’t an accident.” He tried to steady himself. “She was killed.”

  Her gasp ripped through his heart. She covered her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. Telling the woman he was falling in love with that his sister was killed— murdered—wasn’t as horrible as the rest of the story. Wasn’t as horrible as the reason he couldn’t fall in love with her. He dreaded the moment when that would come up.

  “You said she wasn’t in an accident.”

  He shook his head. “No. It wasn’t an accident. Not like you’d think.” He shifted uncomfortably. He had to tell her the truth as he knew it. “She was murdered.”

  Sobbing, Carissa pulled him into her arms. “Oh, Thomas, that’s terrible. So terrible.” She pulled back to look at him. “How did you find out? Was she near home? Oh, your parents . . .” Her hand was back over her mouth. “How did you find out?”

  He took deep breath and swallowed hard. “I was there.”

  “You were there? Oh, God!”

  His stomach churned at the memory of the horror.

  “Carissa, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

  “You have to. You have nightmares about this. This is the second time in a week that you’ve woken up screaming her name.”

  “Third,” he admitted. “The nightmares started again the night Katie fell.”

  “You tried to help her, didn’t you? In your dreams you’re trying to find her.”

  Shamefully he shook his head. He took his own hands from hers and clenched them together, remembering the pain he’d been in that night.

  “I was hiding.”

  She tucked her feet beneath her and moved closer to him.

  “You have to tell me what happened. Did someone break into your house? I need to know what you’ve been through.”

  Thomas shook his head. Having to go back through it all and relay it to another person made him feel young and weak all over again.

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid? Afraid of what? You’ve already been through this.”

  “No.” He gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. He breathed in every detail of her from the scent of her hair to the shape of her body. He wanted to take it all with him when he was forced to leave. “I’m afraid of telling you and what you’ll think.”

  She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “I may have known you only a little over a week, but I know one thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “I know I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  His eyes grew wide and his already pounding heart beat harder. “Carissa . . .”

  “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve already told you I watched two people miss a decade of loving each other because they were stubborn. If I get my heart broken, then I’ll have to deal with that. I asked you not to leave me and no matter what you tell me, I’m not getting up and walking out on you.”

  “But I’m not who you think I am.”

  He saw it flash in her eyes. Fear.

  “Thomas, did you kill your sister?”

  “No,” he answered, and she let out a breath. “It wasn’t me that killed her. It was our father.”

  Tears fell from her eyes and her breath had stopped for a moment longer than it should have. He could see the shock in her eyes and the paralysis of her body. It was as if he’d hit her with his own hands. He kicked his way from the sheets and climbed out of the bed. He walked to the window and stared down at the empty street.

  “You don’t want to love someone like me.”

  “Too late.” She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his back. “I do love you. Now, I’m going downstairs and I’m going to start us a pot of coffee. You are going to gather your strength and come down and tell me all about this.” She turned him toward her. “I want to know.”

  “You’re going to change your mind.” He knew what he'd told her already had shaken her.

  “Didn’t you promise me not to leave?” Yeah, and he’d said it knowing he’d have to leave when he told her what he’d just told her. What he hadn’t yet told her. “Then I’m not going to change my mind.” She kissed him softly and left the room. She was wrong. She didn’t know.

  Thomas let out a sigh of relief when he saw Carissa at the kitchen table in her tank top, boxer shorts, and a blanket wrapped around her waiting for him. He hadn’t scared her away yet.

  He took a moment to study her. She was beautiful. She deserved better than him.

  The October air had chilled the house. She looked up over her coffee mug at him and he watched as she let her eyes settle into his. He had to tell her the rest; she was waiting.

  It had taken him a half hour to work up the courage to make it down the stairs. Now dressed in a pair of flannel pants and a T-shirt, he shuffled into the kitchen.

  She stood to pour him a cup of coffee.

  “I thought you gave up.” She pulled down a mug, filled it, and handed it to him. “C’mon. We’re going out to the couch and cuddle and talk.”

  She was amazing, he thought as he followed her to the living room with his cup of coffee in his hand. It had saddened her and shocked her to learn the bare bones of what had happened. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was going to be able to deal with the details of that horrible night and who he’d become.

  Carissa turned on the small lamp on the end table and situated herself on the couch with her legs tucked up under her. She set her coffee on the table and patted the cushion for him to join her. He slowly walked to the couch and sat down. She draped the blanket over both of them, picked up her coffee, and focused her eyes on Thomas.

  “Now, tell me about what happened.”

  His mouth had gone dry and the coffee did nothing to help the matter. His hands still shook so he leaned across her to set his mug on the table. He felt her breath in his ear and the pounding of her heart as his body brushed against hers. As he pulled back, he stopped and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “That’s for taking this much time with me.”

  “I’d like to take more,” she said as though she were offering her life to him, and his stomach knotted. He’d never considered living
his life with anyone else until that moment and the thought scared the hell out him. It scared him more than what he was about to tell her.

  “Are you sure? I could just leave. I could be out of your life in a matter of moments. Sophia didn’t know anything about me other than that my situation at home was abusive and I ran away. I met up with someone who knew Pablo and he arranged an audition for me. Pablo took me in, trained me, and made me a musician. He took care of me.” He cringed at the mention of Pablo’s name. The look in her eyes said she hadn’t missed it. “Had she known she never would have asked me to come here.”

  “She’s not that shallow.”

  That was true enough. So, he began.

  “I grew up just outside of Chicago. We moved there when I was about eight and Sarah was four. Dad had been fired from his job and Mom thought we needed a change. At least that was what they told us.”

  Carissa took his hand and interlaced their fingers. Her eyes urged him to continue.

  “I know now he was fired because he sexually harassed a woman at work. Her story didn’t seem to hold up. She’d told everyone he sexually assaulted her, but it came down to harassment and they didn’t send him to jail, they just fired him. Mom was embarrassed and we moved.”

  He was fidgeted in his seat. Carissa gave his hand a squeeze. “Things were quiet for a few years. He held a job and Mom taught school. She taught at the same school we went to. I know now that was so she could keep track of us and us of her. When I was eleven he’d begun to accuse her of having an affair.”

  “Did she?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I sure as hell wouldn’t have blamed her.” He ran his fingers through his hair and licked his lips. “He was a drunk. A mean one. You’d hear him lay into her with his words, then his fists, and then his body.” He swallowed. “Why she didn’t run away I don’t know, except that I think she thought he’d kill her.”

  His heart continued to race. The story wasn’t getting any easier to tell.

  “It was that way for a long time. He’d beat my mom. Sometimes he’d beat me. I was bad enough a few times to stay home from school,” he admitted. “Then there was Sarah.”