by Angela Drake
“With the dampness from the coming storm, a fire sounded inviting.”
His head rested on a pillow he'd placed on the back of the couch and he stretched his long legs out from the reclining position. He had taken his boots off at some point and now wiggled his toes in the confines of the wool socks. The man was sexy any way you looked at him.
“Comfortable?”
She sat facing him, tucking one leg beneath her. Bracing her head on the back of the couch with her left hand, she watched him. This moment might have happened thirteen years ago. Cans of beer would have replaced the mugs of herbal tea and his eyes would have been closed from intoxication. Now he breathed softly in total relaxation.
Her fingers shook as she reached to comb the tips of her fingers through the hair at his temples; so soft and fine. Using her thumb, she applied the slightest of pressure just above his ear in a circular motion.
“Mmmm, feels good,” he whispered, his eyes still closed. “Didn't you used to do that?”
“Yeah. I didn't know if you'd been aware of it.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“I might not have been then. Now a touch or a smell can trigger something familiar.”
“What led you to recovery? I mean, alcohol was your life for a very long time.”
Brendan sat up, pulling his legs to a sitting position. Cupping the mug in both hands, he stared into the amber liquid. At first, she wasn't sure he was going to answer. So much so, that his voice startled her when he finally spoke.
“Several incidents brought me here. I guess there was a needling the day you told me we were finished. Next to the booze, you were the only constant in my life.”
“That's why I did it Brendan. ‘Next to me' is the key phrase there. The drinking always came first. Maybe you thought I was selfish to want to be number one in your life.”
“No, not at all,” Brendan turned to face her. She felt it as his new way of dealing with life. To deal with things head on. She waited for him to continue.
“You should have been in first place all along. Lord knows you deserved it. I just didn’t see it at the time. I think the drinking got worse after that. About three months after you closed the door on me, I blacked out. While I was driving, I think”
“Oh Brendan.”
Did she really want to hear this?
“Were you hurt?”
“Not physically. I'm not even sure where I'd been or where I was going. I remember leaving work around noon. The next thing I knew, I was in a jail cell in the next county.”
His hand shook, splashing tea over the rim of the cup. He sat the cup on the end table. Brushing his hand on his jeans as he stood, Brendan walked over to the fireplace. She watched him rub the back of his neck in an attempt to release the tension she knew knotted there. She'd experienced the same when he'd asked about Matthew.
He stuffed his hands into his front pockets, his head down, watching the flames. She knew that somewhere in that moment, he was somewhere else.
“I sat in that cell for a month. I couldn't bail myself out, wasn't even sure I wanted to. The first few days were hell. I wanted a beer so bad I cried like a baby for his bottle. They took my driver’s license and shipped me off to rehab. In that three months of counseling and group therapy I realized I was an alcoholic, fighting the battle between needing a drink and wanting a life. The best thing was I discovered I could play the drums and the guitar… sober.”
“And the road to stardom began.” Stephanie got up and crossed the room to where he stood. She looked into his face, searching for any part of the old Brendan left. She needed to know for sure that man no longer existed.
“Well, not quite that easily.” He took her hand. In an unspoken invitation, they settled onto the hooked rug in front of the fireplace. “Recovery is a life of ups and downs. One minute, the world can be perfect and the next...” Brendan snapped his fingers; “...you're right back down again. Thankfully, I only hit hard bottom once after treatment.”
“What caused it? I mean, I know enough about the program to know alcohol addiction has a trigger like any other emotion.”
“Right. My trigger was your wedding day.”
Silence descended upon the room like the calm before a storm. She wasn't sure what to say or how to react.
“About a week after being released, I started wading through the house. Not only did I have to face things I couldn't remember but also there was everything that had accumulated while I'd been in treatment. Your wedding invitation for one.”
“Oh Brendan.”
“Yeah. I'd thought of you a lot through the process. I'd already made the decision to put my life together -finally. Then I was coming after you. I don't know what made me think you'd have ditched Matthew for me. But it was a nice dream.”
His shrug spoke volumes. She knew in that instant, when his dream shattered, they were through. She thought back to all the times they’d been together. She’d been the one to replenish his empty beer, like a faithful servant. Had she been an enabler, part of his problem? Stephanie didn’t want to think so.
“A dream shattered by an engraved invitation. Brendan, I'm so sorry.” She reached out, placing a hand on his thigh.
“At the time, beer sounded really good. What did I have to be sober for? You were all I wanted and that was over. Or would be in a few hours. I found the invitation on your wedding day.”
“Did you…”
“Did I get drunk? No. I went to the church. Stood in the back of the room and realized I wanted what you had. Even if I couldn’t have it with you. You looked so happy, and I was happy for you. You said ‘I do’ and I realized I did too. I walked out of the church in search of a way to exorcise you from my heart and find my own happy.”
“Did it work?”
“Have you listened to my music?” He laced his fingers with hers. “I thought by getting my thoughts on paper, the heartache into the music would be a cleansing of sorts so that I could start over. You see where it led me.”
“I didn't know.” She couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice or the tears falling down her cheeks. She didn’t even bother to swipe at them. Instead, she saw them reflected in his eyes and knew he felt them, too. “If I had thought we stood a chance, I'd have waited. I just didn't see it. Three years was long enough.”
Brendan lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing a tear aside with his thumb. Gently, he leaned forward, catching the next ones with the tip of his tongue. She moaned. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined being with him like this again. As his arms gathered her close, she eagerly accepted the sensations his nearness offered.
Every inch of skin along her collar bone and throat sizzled where his tongue trailed. When he kissed her, she drank thirstily, matching each probe with her own. As a teenager, she'd relished in the things they had done. Neither those nor any of her time with Matthew had prepared her for what she felt now.
Warning bells sounded in her subconscious. What was she doing? What was it about this man that drove every sensible thought from her mind with a kiss or a touch? She refused to allow herself to make the same mistakes. Pushing the palms of her hands against his chest, she strove for coherency.
“Brendan, stop. Please. We.... I can't do this. Not yet.”
“Angel, what's wrong?”
The look of honest concern in his eyes calmed her. She knew instinctively that even if he didn't love her, Brendan had never stopped caring.
“This just isn't right. I want you so bad it hurts. But I have responsibilities. If I learned one thing in our time together before, actions have outcomes. I'm not sure either of us is ready for the direction we were going.”
She watched as he turned away to stare into the glowing remains of the fire. Then he stood, hauling her up with him. Butterflies fluttered around her heart when he looked into her eyes. There was a sobered gentleness she’d always craved.
“You always were the one with the control. Be glad I'm a gentleman. Be
sides, I told you once that when we made love, you'd better be able to swim.” His gaze traveled from the collar of her T-shirt to the tips of her moccasins. “And frankly, Angel, you're a bit overdressed.”
With a quick kiss to her lips, he tugged on his boots and was gone. She stood, staring after him only moments before laughing softly with a shake of her head. The man was wonderful.
* * *
“Hi, Patricia. Do you mind if I use the piano for a bit?”
“Of course not, Mr. Keane. Go right ahead. I’ll get you some coffee,” the desk clerk offered.
“I’d prefer herbal tea if you have some.”
“I’ll bring it right over.”
Shaking his head, Brendan walked across the lobby to the piano. His late night composing sessions were usually done with a strong decaf coffee. Recently, though, he drank herbal tea. Was that even a guy’s drink? The road crew would rib him for his new choice in libation, he was sure. He wanted to prove to Stephanie he’d changed, but he hadn’t counted on herbal tea being a part of the transformation.
After leaving her house, his emotions were running too high to go back to his solitary room. Personal emotions were the basis for his biggest hits. As the creative juices flowed, he had driven downtown to the Grand. A beautifully old piano graced the lobby of the period hotel. Walking through its doors was like entering a time warp. It was easy to envision men in tails and top hats. Ladies in bustles and plumed hats would be on their arm, nodding a greeting to other quests.
Now, he sat at the piano. Almost of their own volition, his fingers found the chords that matched his mood. A soft, tender melody swirled around him as he came to terms with the depth of his love for Stephanie. The tempo increased, pulsing with the intense frustration of unfulfilled passion.
He knew she loved him. She had to. Why else would she agree to the date or kiss him as if trying to swallow him whole? She was passionate about the things she believed in. The depth of those feelings was very evident this evening. She was on the brink of surrender. He felt it. But something was holding her back.
He felt the invisible wall come between them each time he ventured close. Was it Matthew? The vision in the café still haunted him. Was it her love for the man who had fathered her children?
The new melody he’d been working on at the piano still swirled in his head as he drove back to the Crescent over an hour later. Lyrics came and went as he further pondered the barrier between them. How could he convince Matthew that he’d care for the kids as if they were his own? The man was dead! And how was he supposed to convince Stephanie that he’d changed if she kept halting his advances? If he could figure out what was holding her back then he’d know his next move.
She’d agreed to the costume ball. That was a start. As he parked the jeep and went up to the room, his mind reeled with ideas. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he grinned. He would make the most of the evening. It was his one chance to be truly alone with her. By the end of the night, his angel would have no choice but to admit her true feelings. From there it would only be a matter of time. Tossing his keys into the air and catching them, he whistled softly as he went down the hall.
Chapter 8
Stephanie stared at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw surprised her. The woman looking back appeared thinner than she remembered. The eyes that once sparkled with life now seemed dull and forlorn. Where had the bright-eyed wife and mother gone?
Agitatedly she adjusted the ornate Spanish comb for what seemed the hundredth time. A mass of cascading curls created by a local beautician fought the restraint. Struggling with a wayward strand, she pondered her own question. The wife had died with Matthew and the mother just too tired to care most days. The businesswoman filled up most of the time card.
By the end of the workday motherly duties waited on the side. Once the dinner, baths, homework, reading, and school functions took over nothing of the day remained. A quick shower, a cup of tea, and a pillow completed the last round of the clock.
Tossing the comb onto the dressing table in frustration, she buried her face in her hands. What was she thinking? She couldn’t go through with this. Being alone with Brendan wasn’t safe. She’d never been able to resist his devilish charm. She had almost given herself to him the other night. Being in his arms tonight would be asking for trouble. Maybe she should claim ill and crawl into bed, away from everything.
“No! Jennifer’s right, I do need more time to myself.” And tonight is a good place to start. She’d dance and enjoy being with him again. That would be easy. Keeping it from going beyond the party would be the real challenge.
She still wanted him physically and if their recent encounter was any indication, the feeling was mutual. She’d been the voice of reason then and she would be tonight. She had to be. This evening could not go any farther than the masquerade ball. Her life existed here in Eureka Springs with Kimberly and Max. His life was wherever his tour manager sent him. On a daily basis, the tabloid headlines spouted broken marriages and affairs in an entertainer’s life. It came with the territory. That’s not the life she wanted for her family. Tonight they would be the proverbial ships passing in the night.
She sighed as a tap sounded at the door, followed by Jennifer’s voice.
“Steph, may I come in?”
“It’s open.” Stephanie got up from the dressing table and walked over to stand before the cheval mirror.
“I found this choker at a …wow!”
Jennifer froze just inside the door. Stephanie couldn’t help but laugh at the look of astonishment on Snow White’s face behind her reflected in the mirror.
“Well?” Stephanie twirled in place. The layers of tulle beneath the wide, black satin skirt rustled with the sway.
“It’s terrific. You are going to be the belle of the ball.”
“I don’t know why I agreed to this.” She muttered pulled the cap sleeves farther up onto the top of her shoulders. The gesture caused the bodice to dip lower. She tugged furtively at the lace overlaid satin material in hopes of covering the swell determined to escape the confines.
“I feel like I’m going to my first prom.”
Jennifer stepped behind her to fasten a black velvet choker into place. Stephanie adjusted it to center the cameo as her friend slid the sleeves back off the shoulder with a wicked grin.
“You made it through that one okay, didn’t you?”
“This is my first.”
Stephanie had moved to Fulton Hill, Indiana in the middle of the school year. Cliques had already formed and she was an outsider from the beginning. No friends meant no dates. Instead, she’d gotten a job waitressing in a local bar where she’d met Brendan just before Christmas. She found it interesting that the town she had left behind two years ago included a statue of Christ of the Ohio while her forever home now included the Christ of the Ozarks. Was her life coming full circle?
She turned to face Brendan’s daughter. With the short cut, raven black wig, Jennifer looked more like him than ever. Who could have thought that little girl in pigtails would become her best friend? Then, she had envisioned Jennifer as a stepdaughter. Was that still a possibility? Not likely. Their lives were still worlds apart.
“Well, your date is meeting you there. Dad’s into the whole mystique of this.” Jennifer laughed. “He says you have to ‘find him’.”
“Oh great. As if I’m not nervous enough, your dad wants to play hide and seek.”
“It’ll be fun. Besides, you look incredible. I only hope Dad doesn’t play his game too long. Every man in that room will be vying for your attention, Senora.”
Stephanie took a last look at the reflection of the Spanish maiden costume she’d found at a costume shop earlier in the week. No one had ever heard of a golden-haired senora but something about the costume left amongst the meager selection had spoken to her.
“I doubt that, but thank you anyway. Speaking of kids games, did you have any trouble with Max?”
Jennifer had volunte
ered to drop Max off at Marge’s when she and Kimberly picked Becky up for the teen party.
“Not a bit. Marge has several others tonight. He has a lot of playmates. He’ll be fine.”
“Good. And she’ll have the girls’ help after the dance.”
Turning and with a wave of her hand, she encouraged Jennifer to step back, surveying the Snow White costume.
“I’d say David will have competition as well.”
“Speaking of Prince Charming, he’s downstairs with the carriage. Are you ready?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the comb and with Jennifer’s assistance, the teeth took hold this time. With a nod of uncertainty she gathered up her lace shawl and satin mask from the dressing table. Stephanie prayed she wasn’t crossing a threshold of no return.
* * *
The weather was unseasonably warm for late October. Only a hint of the winter to come whispered in the air wafting through the open windows of the Crystal Room.
Every muscle in Brendan’s body knotted in apprehension. Waiting just inside the doors of the ballroom, he curled and uncurled his fingers. Popping his knuckles wasn’t a habit, yet it came involuntarily with each flex. The pop resounded in his ears. Quickly, he gripped his jacket placket. Where was Stephanie?
Having already sent the hint that she’d have to find him, he knew she would search the room. She’d never been able to refuse a challenge. Unaware of the costume he’d chosen coupled with an elaborate corn stock arrangement to hide behind, he was confident she wouldn’t find him until it was time.
A hint of roses assailed his senses and he felt some of the tension leave him. Since the night she’d said yes, he’d harbored an inkling that she would change her mind, but she was here now. He only had to watch and wait. When the time was right, he would reveal himself to the Senora.
The costume she chose couldn’t have been more appropriate. The old-fashioned Spanish gown paired well with his black gauchos and matching bolero jacket. Zorro was perfect both as a costume and for his plans later in the evening.