"I really want you there." I step towards him. "I know we haven't known each other that long but it would mean a lot to me if you could try and be there by seven."
"I belong there." He leans into me when his arms circle my shoulders. "There's no place I want to be more than with you tomorrow but this is my house. I saved most of my life for it. I can't let her take it away."
"I understand." I rest my head against his chest as the sounds of the city waft through the air around us.
"She's willing to talk. I need to listen."
He falls silent as he clings to me on the crowded sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon.
***
"You're sure you don't mind taking care of my parents?" I study Zoe's face for any wayward signs of regret. "You offered but I wasn't sure if you were being sincere."
"I love hanging out with them." She pushes a piece of my hair behind my ear. "You have to take care of last minute preparations. It doesn’t make sense for you to be at the gallery and then come all the way back uptown to get them."
It's pure logic in her mind but that's not quite how I see it. When I'd called my parents to tell them that I'd secured a place in a gallery showing their first question, in unison, while on speakerphone was what was I getting paid to do it?
Nothing about the conversation surprised me beyond my muted replies to them. I was honest when I told them that I wasn't being paid and it was more about exposure and potential than anything else. My mother's sigh and my father's clipped, "I see," were enough to make me instantly regret inviting them.
When I'd told Zoe about the conversation she offered me a way out. She said that she and her husband would send a car to my place to pick up my parents. Once they arrived at Zoe's apartment she promised that she'd keep them occupied with Vane until it was time to leave for the gallery. I'm here to thank her now and to get one last hug of reassurance from her.
"You're going to stun everyone tonight, Bridge."
"I still can't believe this is happening," I say softly as much to her as to myself. "Two months ago I didn't think my drawings would ever see the light of day."
"I'm so proud of you." She lifts her head towards me. "You're taking control of your talent. You're entire life is going to change tonight."
I sense that too. It may be the anticipation that's in the air or it could just be that I feel numb out of fear and apprehension. Either way I know that by the time this night is over, people with know my name and my work.
Chapter 21
"Are you as bummed as I am?" The blonde haired man I saw at the entrance to this gallery a few weeks away is standing next to me.
I dart my head in his direction and I'm greeted with a smile filled with crooked teeth. It suits him in a sense and I can't help but smile back at him. "I'm bummed too."
I am bummed. There had been a traffic issue two blocks up from where the gallery is. Several city blocks have been cordoned off and since the traffic only runs one way on this street, anyone who wants to get here has to follow a twisted maze on foot. It's just past seven now and the only people who are in the gallery are the other three artists, a reviewer from one of the leading art journals, a caterer, his staff and my friend Vanessa and her fiancé Garrett.
Garrett had asked about Dane the moment he walked into the space and I'd offered the only explanation I can think of. He's trying to get here along with the Becks, and my parents.
Another sudden rush of sirens sends everyone to the windows. We watch as a trio of fire engines race up the street. The flashing lights of a police car following close behind peaks the interest of a few people enough that they venture out into the chilly air to try and grab a closer look.
I take a moment to move across the gallery to a small cabinet where Mrs. Boudreau told me I could lock my purse before she left to go home to change. I doubt that she'll make it back here given what's happening. I decide that it may be best to call her to see if she wants to reschedule or if we should go ahead and talk about our pieces with the one journalist who is here.
"I wonder if Dane got called in to work that emergency." I hear Garrett's voice over my shoulder as I pull my phone free from my purse after unlocking the cabinet.
I glance down. There are three missed calls and four new messages all from Dane.
I got called in to work. I'm sorry. I'm crazy about you.
My heart sinks. It's not just that I'm disappointed that he won't be here to share in the most important moment of my life, so far. I'm semi devastated that I won't get to see the expression on his face when he walks through the gallery doors and sees the portrait I did of him.
I don't type anything back because judging by the continual rush of sirens that permeates the air, Dane and every other person responding to that emergency, is in for a long night.
"He's there," I say to Vanessa, even though the words are meant for her and Garrett.
"I'm walking down to take a look." Garrett turns towards both Vanessa and me. "Do either of you want to come?"
I have nothing to lose at this point. One of the other artists is huddled in a corner with the journalist. She's taking advantage of the situation by pointing out every unique nuance that is hidden within her paintings. I'll be able to have my moment to shine tonight too but for now, it looks like I have some time to kill.
"I’ll walk down there with you." I wave my hand towards the door.
I grab my coat, wrap it around the beautiful short black dress I'm wearing and lead the way out of the gallery and onto the sidewalk.
***
If I had to describe the scene we came upon a block and a half from the gallery, I would call it muted chaos. There were no flames; no cars had crashed violently into one another. There were several fire engines, ambulances and a sprinkling of police cars that had all seemingly screeched to their halts right in front of a store front.
Others had gathered on the sidewalk opposite the building in question to get a better look. I'm not tall, and even in the three inch heels I'm wearing it's hard to see beyond the crowd. I do spot the Engine Company that Dane works for. I see the fire truck with the number thirty-four across the side.
I admit, even in the middle of this scene with all the flashing lights, people running about and the ever approaching sirens in the distance, that I've wondered what Dane looks like in his gear, when he's just about to save a life or put out a fire.
I glance back to where Vanessa and Garrett are standing behind me. I motion towards the street and Garrett instantly understands what I want. I want a front row seat, or in this case, standing position, for the action.
He takes the lead and pushes his way through the gathered crowd until the three of us are standing on the edge of the curb. I can see policemen talking to one another. I see a man in a fireman's helmet barking orders at others. I strain to pick out any words that I can from the various conversations that are taking place.
It's obvious something is happening in the closed restaurant across the street but the space is dark and quiet. It's a direct contrast to what's happening right in front of me.
I scan the names on the backs of the firemen's jackets as they dart past me. I can't quite catch some but when I do, my heart stops, hoping that it's Dane.
We've shared how fond we are for each other, but right now, watching the scene that is unfolding in front of me, I realize how much fear I feel. I've read the stories in the news about firemen who go into a building and don't come out alive. I know that sometimes, even in the most prepared scenarios, that the unexpected can happen and lives are lost.
I turn my head slightly to the left and that's when I spot them. It's two firemen, standing next to one another, their eyes on the building, and their backs turned towards us. I see his name, spelled in bold black letters across his back.
BECKETT.
He's tall, his shoulders are broad and when his left hand darts up to tap the brim of the helmet of another man who approaches them, I see the telling gesture of that gentleman who
rescued me from the restaurant a few weeks ago.
Garrett pats me on the shoulder and then points past me towards where Dane is standing. I turn back towards him. "It's him. I see him."
"I'll try and call him over for a minute," he says the words loudly.
I stand in silence staring at Dane's back as I hear Garrett calling his name, not once, but twice.
Dane's head turns to the left before he looks back towards the building. It's as if he heard something but then shook it off.
Garrett yells louder this time and his reward is a definite shift in Dane's stance. He starts to turn and when he does I start frantically waving my hand in his direction. It's misplaced and silly given that we're standing at the scene of an actual emergency.
Dane pushes his helmet back slightly so he can get a clearer view of the gathered crowd. His eyes scan the faces until they come to rest on mine.
"He sees us," Garrett's voice carries over the crowd. "Wave to him, Bridget so he knows it's you."
I do and as he starts to walk towards me, I can't contain my need to touch him. I know he's working, I know it's the complete wrong and inappropriate thing to do but seeing all the emergency personnel that have gathered has hit a chord within me.
Why haven't I realized that he puts himself at risk all the time? I was so focused on a relationship that he willingly ended that I haven't let myself truly get lost in what I'm feeling for him. It might not be love yet, but it's something more than I've ever felt with a man.
He starts to walk towards me with a brilliant smile on his face. His hands swing at his sides, his suited legs take large steps towards me and he looks imposing, heroic and different than he does when he's in my bed at night when the city has quieted.
The space between us feels enormous so in one quick movement I crouch to scoot beneath the yellow tape that is bordering the sidewalk. It's there to keep the crowds at bay but I need to touch him, even if it's just for a minute. I instinctively glance to my right to see if any traffic is coming.
I take a step off the sidewalk and just as I do I look up and see him running.
Dane is coming at me full force, his hands waving in the air. His face has twisted into something I've never seen before. It may be panic or fear.
I take quicker steps wanting to lessen the space between us and that's when I hear him call out to me.
"Bridget. No, stop. Don't."
I freeze. I've never heard his voice at the pitch before and just as I reach out my arms to him, I hear something else. It's a horn. It's unrelenting, it's piercing and when my head finally turns to the left I feel the impact before my eyes can fully focus on the police car racing towards me.
The pain that shoots through my hip is only quieted when my head smashes into the windshield of the car as it comes to a screeching halt.
I hear screaming in the distance.
I hear my name.
I hear Dane's voice…
And then I hear nothing at all.
Thank You!
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About the Author
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.
Ember: Part One Page 7
