Illusive Flame

by Girard, Dara

  “I wanted to give them the chance to survive. They were trying so hard and now...” Her words trail off.

  “Now it’s over,” he said flatly.

  Yes, now it was over. The token of her affection had been washed away by a simple spring rain. All the days and nights tending to the garden and imagining Robert’s face when he saw it, had been swept away. If only she hadn’t done it her way. Tears clouded her vision and she bit her lip to keep her chin from trembling. She had failed her Aunt Margaret too. She’d known Trevor had a drinking problem and had been warned to always leave the shop after him, but one night she wanted to go out and be free so she had just given him a firm warning not to drink and left the store. Only to come back and see it in flames.

  If she had tended to the garden as he’d suggested, perhaps it would have been better off. Why did she believe her way was the only right way? Sure the other suggestion would have been costly, but it might have worked too. Was she destined to disappoint those she loved?

  Robert reached out and cupped her chin. Tears dripped onto his palm. “Don’t,” he said gently.

  She covered her face. “I wish I hadn’t said anything. I wish we had just taken all the plants out and—”

  “It might not have worked either.” He removed her hands and wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Don’t hide your face from me. There’s no need to be ashamed. I know how you feel.”

  She looked at him in disbelief.

  “I know how disappointment feels. I was one until I was eighteen.”

  She shook her head. “No, not you.”

  He nodded. “Yes, me.”

  “I can’t imagine you disappointing anyone.”

  He sat back in his chair. “I was the youngest of five. By the time I came around my siblings had excelled in everything of importance: Timothy was the orator, Jerome the athlete, and JB the scientist.”

  “That’s only three. You forgot Amanda’s mother.”

  He lifted his mug and gazed slyly at her over the rim. “No, I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t worry about her?”

  “She was a girl. Besides, if she hadn’t been pretty—”

  “Let’s not have that conversation again.”

  “It’s true. She would probably still be living at home if we hadn’t gotten her married off. I love my sister, but she’s a flake.”

  “Is that why you have Amanda?”

  He avoided her eyes. “One of the reasons.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  He set down his mug. “Her last name wasn’t Hargrove at first. Serena got pregnant and had a baby girl. Then she found a man that would take care of her, but didn’t want to raise another man’s child.”

  Victoria wrinkled her nose. “That sounds selfish.”

  “I’m afraid Braxtons aren’t too clever when it comes to marriage partners. Anyway, Serena was in love and desperate, so she came to her loving brother with the dilemma.”

  “She came to you first?”

  “No. I was her last choice. “I was, the disappointment remember? No, first she went to Timothy who suggested she give the child up for adoption; Jerome thought she should dump Hargrove and find someone willing to help her raise Amanda; JB wanted her to find the father and sue for child support. She didn’t like any of the suggestions so she finally came to her baby brother.”

  “And what did you say?”

  He clasped his hands behind his head. “I said she could marry Hargrove, have him legally adopt Amanda so she would have a last name, and that I would raise her.”

  “Why did Hargrove have to give her a name? Why not adopt her yourself and let her be a Braxton?”

  “For the sake of appearances. Serena didn’t want Amanda asking questions about her father. She wanted her to think Hargrove was her father so there wouldn’t be any awkward moments when she was older.”

  Victoria frowned. “But that will be awful if Amanda finds out.”

  “She already knows.”

  “She does?”

  Robert let his hands fall. “I told her. Not all the details, but I put everything in very simple terms. She knew I was her uncle. When she began asking about her parents, I told her that her mother and stepfather liked to travel and that she’ll stay with me until she’s grown. She said ‘Oh’, asked a few questions then nodded her head and went back to Candyland.”

  “Candyland?”

  “She was five at the time. She has yet to ask about her real father. She doesn’t seem interested.”

  Victoria rested her chin in, her hand. “You’re not a disappointment at all. Your family must be very proud. Besides you’re a success now.”

  “Depends on what you define as success,” he said in a grim tone.

  “You’re rich and have an excellent career.”

  “Everyone in my family is rich and using a shovel as your main tool of business isn’t exactly impressive. I’m also divorced with no kids.”

  “You take care of Amanda and allow other relations to visit.”

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Which probably explains why I have no children of my own.”

  “But you do want to have your own someday, right?”

  “No.”

  She blinked at the certainty of his tone. “Why not?”

  He finished off his drink and placed the mug down. “Because I’d like to be married to the mother of my children and I have no plans to get married again.”

  “Was your marriage really so terrible?”

  He began to smile in amusement. “Clever. You got me to talk about Amanda, but you’re not going to coax me into talking about my ex-wife.”

  “I was just asking.”

  He tweaked her chin, indulgent. “Of course you were.” He stood. “You look tired, Go to bed. I’ll take care of in here.”

  Her brows furrowed. “What are you going to do?”

  “Clean the floor, of course.”

  She stared at him, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but saw that he was serious. “I can do that early tomorrow,” she offered.

  “Go to bed. I can handle it.”

  She shrugged. She was tired anyway. If he wanted to do one of her duties, who was she to argue? “Okay.” She grabbed her mackintosh and watched him curious to see what he would do next. He didn’t do anything. He stood in the middle of the kitchen looking hesitant. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He grinned sheepishly. “Where’s the mop?”

  She put her coat down, opened the cupboard and handed him the mop and bucket. “Take off your shoes,” she suggested, as he headed to the sink.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re tracking more mud.”

  “Oh.” He kicked off his shoes then filled the bucket with water. He dipped the mop in.

  “That’s just water,” she said appalled as he began to mop.

  He scowled. “I know that.”

  She folded her arms and quirked a brow. “You do realize we use soap too, right?”

  He blinked. “Sure.”

  “I’ll get it.” She got the cleaning solution out from under the sink, mixed it with the water then handed him the bucket. “Okay, now you’re all set. Start from the corner out.”

  “I know that.” He swung the mop in a wide sweeping motion, splashing the floorboard and cupboards across the room. He repeated the motion, splashing the other side.

  She ran to him and grabbed his arm before he did anymore damage. “Stop, stop! What are you doing?”

  “Mopping,” he replied, offended.

  “Try to keep the mop on the ground.” She took it from him and demonstrated. “Like this.”

  He took the mop from her. “Fine.”

  “Don’t push so hard, you’ll damage the tile.”

  He pounded the mop against the floor, “Look, do I need a certificate to do this? Or will common sense do?”

  “Common sense and a bit of grace.” She tried to take the mop from him, “Here. Let me do it.”

&nbs
p; He maintained his grip. “No, I can do it.”

  She kissed her teeth. “You’re so stubborn.”

  He ignored her.

  Victoria watched him trying not to wince. He splashed too much water on the ground, missed sections and generally created a bigger mess than before by making the floor wet and muddy instead of clean. But he did the task with such a genuine intent that she began to smile. “You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m just making an idiot of myself,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “You’re doing both remarkably well.”

  He looked up; his eyes pierced into hers. “Getting you to laugh is worth it.”

  She sighed as the heat of his gaze warmed her, dissolving the pain of disappointment. “I just wanted to make up for everything.”

  He set the mop aside and stood in front of her. “Why?”

  She took a step back until she hit the island. “I don’t know.”

  He trapped her against the island. “You don’t have to make up for anything.”

  “Then why does it all feel like my fault?”

  “Because you care.” He lifted her onto the island. His expression grew serious. “Thanks for what you did.”

  She shook her head. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you believed in what I was trying to do. I don’t always get that and it means a lot to me.” He pressed two fingers against her lip before she could protest. “Say you’re welcome.”

  She reluctantly smiled, accepting his praise. “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Grant said to Robert a few days later.

  “What?”

  “Some homeless guy in a wheelchair got run over by a car.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. You’d think he’d have the sense not to park his chair in the middle of the road.

  Robert crumbled up paper and threw it at him. “You’re a sick man.”

  Grant ducked then held up his hands in surrender. “Sick humor is part of the job, didn’t you get the memo?”

  “You need help.”

  “Melinda doesn’t think so.”

  He waved his hands as though fending off bad news. “Don’t tell me. I still want to respect her.”

  Grant laughed. “You can still respect her. She’s determined to find out about CHC, though it doesn’t seem to exist anywhere. But I also have good news.”

  “You said you had good news before and the guy didn’t show up.”

  “This is real good news about the warehouse fire.”

  “What?”

  “That nurse I spoke to from Memorial Hospital a couple months ago called. She’d missed the second page. There was a fire injury report that night. Guess who it was.”

  “Josef Haddad? ”

  “Exactly. Now here’s the bad news.”

  Robert frowned. “You should have told me that first.”

  “She said his injuries were extensive and that he refused treatment. She believes he probably died of his wounds.”

  * * *

  Victoria looked at her aunt across the curried chicken with rice set on the dinner table surprised by how quiet she was. She’d been quiet for the past few days. Her skin looked pale and her eyes tired.

  “Are you unwell, Aunty?” Victoria asked, feeling a panic she kept from her voice.

  “I am all right,” Janet said. “A touch of cold, perhaps.”

  She accepted the explanation and nodded. “Oh.”

  After dinner, Victoria washed the dishes and tried to think of remedies to ease her aunt’s discomfort. She was eager to find something besides her problems to focus on. She went to Dana’s herb garden and picked some herbs and made a paste, which she put on Janet’s chest.

  When that gave her no relief, she made peppermint tea. She also prepared a lavender bath and made some broth.. She tried to persuade her aunt to take time off, but Janet argued that she had never missed a day of work and wouldn’t start now.

  “I have a cold not a fatal illness,” Janet complained as Victoria draped a shawl around her and handed her a cup of tea. “I’m fine.” She paused. “I worry about you though.”

  Victoria tucked the shawl around her. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Is that why you can’t look me in the eye?”

  “You need to focus on getting well.”

  Janet put her cup down. “You have a tender affection for Mr. Braxton. I had hoped...” She sighed. “But that’s the way it is. You love him, don’t you?”

  Victoria sat next to her. “Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you.”

  “Don’t tell me not fi worry when I already do,” she snapped. “I can’t look out for you forever. Your temper is too hot and your heart too soft.”

  She tapped her forehead. “Ah, but I have the sense of a Spenser.”

  “Sense is not something you have. It’s something you use.”

  She looked down and pulled lint off her jeans. “Yes, I know.”

  “Our first loves are usually our most foolish ones. I fancied myself in love once with a mechanic from Trinidad. All he had to offer me was a smile and a broken heart. It was painful to leave him, but later I was glad I did. He now has seven children and no wife. Could you imagine that kind of life for me?”

  Victoria shook her head. “Is that why you never married?”

  “I did marry.”

  “What?” she sputtered.

  “Yes. It was a secret ceremony. We didn’t want anyone to know because there would have been talk. He was much older than me you see. But he said he loved me with all his heart and promised to marry me and take care of me. Though I didn’t love him, I married him, and later grew to love him so very much.”

  “What happened? Where is he?”

  “We had five wonderful years together then he died. Fortunately, he kept his word and I was well taken care of. So you see the first time is full of heartache and the second full of joy. The young are usually too impatient to wait.”

  “What was his name?” Victoria asked too eager for her aunt to finish the story to care about the message. “What was he like? Do you have a picture? When did you get married?”

  Janet shook her head faintly amused. “Why do you ask the wrong questions?”

  “But Aunty this is important. Who was he?”

  “Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, but not tonight.” She absently rubbed her shoulder. “I think I will go to bed.”

  ***

  The next day Janet hadn’t improved and Victoria sensed something was wrong. When she saw Robert sitting at his writing desk in the library, she approached him. “Mr. Braxton?”

  He kept his head lowered and continued writing.

  “We’re alone, Ms. Spenser.”

  “I know.”

  “That means you can call me Robert.” He looked up from his work and began to smile then stopped.“What’s wrong?”

  “My aunt has been feeling ill recently. May she take a few days?”

  “Of course she can. You don’t need to ask me. She knows that.”

  “She won’t unless you tell her to. I tried to convince her, but she won’t listen.”

  He rubbed his chin. “A stubborn Spenser? Now there’s a rarity.”

  “Will you say something to her?”

  He pushed his papers away and stood. “I’ll do it right now. Where is she?”

  “In the dining room hunched over her notes. She’s setting up next week’s schedule.”

  “All right.” He gave her a mock salute and went to the door.

  “Be your most domineering,” she suggested. “Otherwise she’ll argue.”

  He rubbed his chin again. “An arguing Spenser? Now there’s—”

  Victoria pushed him out the door. “Stop your foolishness. Just go.”

  Robert grabbed onto the doorframe. “Don’t I get a kiss first?”

  “Why?”

  “You’re sendi
ng me off to battle. I may not return.”

  She kissed him on the nose. When he began to protest, she covered his mouth. “You’ll get the rest if you succeed.”

  He winked. “This will take less than a minute. Wait here.”

  ***

  Robert found Janet exactly as Victoria had described, hunched over her clipboard and scribbling notes down. She looked a little tired, but otherwise fine.

  He pulled out a chair and sat. “Ms. Janet, I’ve been told you haven’t been feeling well.”

  Janet pushed her notes aside and sat straight with her hands clasped in front of her. “I’m fine, Mr. Braxton.”

  “Fine isn’t good enough. I want you to take off a week and look after yourself.”

  Her mouth fell open. “But Mr. Braxton—”

  He lifted a brow. “You notice I didn’t form that into a question.”

  She nodded, accepting his order. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I could schedule you to have some time away. Time in a nice spa perhaps or something in the mountains?”

  “No, no. I’ll be fine at home. Thank you.”

  “If you don’t feel better after your rest, I want you to see a doctor. You’re never sick and I want to find out if anything’s wrong.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine after a week.” She hesitated “A week is a long time.”

  He patted her hand. “You’ll still get paid and I’ll hire someone from The Agency so don’t worry about anything.”

  “Thank you.” She went back to her scribbling.

  He pulled the clipboard away from her and stood. “Your week starts now.”

  “Yes, Mr. Braxton.”

  Robert returned to the library, Victoria jumped to her feet when she saw him.

  “She’s to take off a week,” he replied to her silent question.

  “Did she argue?”

  He smiled. “She tried.” He handed her the clipboard.

  She held it to her chest. “Oh, good. Thank you.”

  “If you’re in the mood, try to convince her to go to a spa. I know a few resorts my mother likes to visit when she needs a rest. I’ll pay for everything.”

  “That’s very generous, but she won’t go.”

  “The offer is always open. I’ll be calling The Agency to send someone to take over her duties. I don’t want everything falling on you.”