by Francis Ray
She gave the doorbell a sharp punch. If she stayed angry she might get through this.
The door swung open. Patrick wore a white T-shirt that delineated the hard muscles of his impressive chest, the awe-inspiring biceps, the flat stomach, and soft, faded jeans that defined his long, muscular legs. Damn him again.
“Morning. Great timing. The first batch of pancakes is ready.”
She just stood there.
“I won’t bite.”
Somehow that excited her. “I don’t like this.”
The teasing smile left his face. He brushed his hand gently across her cheek. “I know. Just trust your instincts.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”
He stared at her. “Are you sure that’s your instincts talking and not something else?”
Her gaze narrowed. “You calling me a liar?”
“Nope. I like my body in one piece. I better go rescue the pancakes.”
Brianna came inside and closed the door. It was that or else stand in the entryway like an idiot, and she had acted like that enough around Patrick. Her eyes somehow zeroed in on his Grade-A butt.
“Coming?” he said over one broad shoulder.
Close to it, she thought. Muttering under her breath, she followed him into the kitchen. On the table was a cut flower arrangement in a white wicker basket that hadn’t been there the last time. Otherwise, things were the same. “Put your briefcase in one of those chairs and take a seat. I don’t want to get on Matilda’s bad side if you’re late.”
“That makes two of us.”
Patrick placed a four-inch stack of pancakes in front of her with Canadian bacon, an omelet, cheese grits, and freshly squeezed orange juice. She’d seen the peels on the counter.
The coffee was in a mug, not a cup. He took his seat and blessed the food. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
She picked up a fork. She had to eat and she was hungry. Logical. “Briefs and appointments until late afternoon.”
“You want to unwind with a quick sail around the marina?”
“Don’t you ever give up?”
“If it was something that mattered to you, would you?”
“No.” She tasted the pancakes. Light and delicious. “What are your plans?”
“Besides strategizing how to get a date with you?”
She lifted a brow, and he smiled. “Taking Mark and Amy to the zoo.”
Her shoulders snapped back. “You have children!”
“I’ve never been married.”
She simply stared.
“Right, but I hope I’m more responsible. Mark and Amy are Brooke’s children. Stepchildren actually, but none of us think of them that way. Amy is a riot and Mark is the smartest nine-year-old you’ll ever meet.”
She heard the pride in his voice. All that going for him, and he liked children as well. She was sinking deeper and deeper over her head.
Justine was purposefully thirty minutes late going to the hospital. Beverly might be upset, but she could take that. It occurred to her that she had been doing just that, “taking it” a lot these days. What she didn’t want to do was face Dalton. Despite what he’d said, the kiss was as much her fault as it had been his. More so—knowing how vulnerable she was, she should have never let him hug her.
She didn’t want to use the word “needy,” but it also came to mind. Not very good for a woman who, although not very assertive, hadn’t let people step on her—unless she counted her mother. And she didn’t plan to.
Justine entered the room to see Beverly in her usual position, standing over Andrew’s bed, doing her usual thing, talking to him. She was five feet to Justine’s five-six. Perhaps that was why she didn’t have back problems.
“She’s here, Andrew. I told you she might be a few minutes late.”
Justine frowned. “How did you know?”
She smiled, but it lacked warmth. “I know a lot of things, don’t I, Andrew?”
Justine thought of one thing she didn’t know, and worried about the rest of what she did.
Justine woke up three days after Andrew’s last cardiac arrest and didn’t want to get out of bed. She was wise enough to know it was the first sign of depression. Facing Beverly and her nonstop talk of Andrew and to Andrew was taking its toll on her. It annoyed the hell out of Dr. Lane.
He and Beverly butted heads on every issue. More than once he had come in the room, seen her, and paused as if he seriously considered leaving. Beverly acted as if she didn’t notice. They were at war over Andrew. Justine wasn’t going to get into it or let them drag her into it.
She still didn’t know what decision to make. She couldn’t even decide whether to get up or not. How could she decide to sign the papers to disconnect life support?
The doorbell rang and she ignored it, just as she planned to ignore the ringing phone. At least she planned to until her purse started playing “Hungry Like the Wolf.”
Throwing back the covers, she crawled to the foot of the bed and emptied the hobo purse out on the bench where she’d left it last night. “Brianna.”
“We have a movie date.”
Justine plopped back on the bed, running her hand through her tangled curls.
“No buts and no excuses. Come and let me in. While you’re showering I’ll pick you out something to wear.”
“You wouldn’t take a rain check, would you?”
“Would you take one from me?”
Justine blew out a breath. Through good times and bad they were always there for each other. “No.”
“Exactly. Now hurry up. I’m starved.” The phone went dead.
That was one way to win an argument. Justine placed the cell phone on the nightstand and went to open the door.
Breakfast was at a family restaurant chain near the edge of town. Blessedly, no one approached Justine. Afterward, when Brianna asked where to, Justine suggested a drive to Summerville, a quaint nearby city known for its antiques, small-town charm, and hospitality. There would be less chance of her being recognized.
“Let’s go. I need to put the car on the road since it’s only been in the city.” Brianna lowered the top of the convertible and headed for the freeway.
“You still drive fast,” Justine commented later as she glanced at the speedometer.
“But competently.” Brianna winked, checked traffic, and accelerated to pass another car.
“You’re also impatient,” Justine noted as the speedometer climbed another five miles per hour until they were going seventy. “Patrick seems just the opposite.”
Brianna made a face and said nothing.
Justine straightened. “What was that look for?”
“We kissed.”
“And?”
“If he hadn’t stopped, I’m not sure I would have.” Brianna passed another car. “Men are supposed to be off my list. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I tell him to get lost and make it stick?”
“Probably because you really don’t want to,” Justine said quietly.
“Same thing he said,” Brianna told her, her annoyance obvious.
“At least the both of you are single. Dalton and I can’t say that.” Justine briefly tucked her head when Brianna’s gaze whipped to her.
“What happened when he took you home?”
Justine clasped her hands in her lap. “Let’s just say Dalton’s techniques in kissing have greatly improved since high school. I was clinging to him like cellophane. He called a halt to things and apologized.”
“But knowing you, you feel guilty,” Brianna correctly guessed.
“My husband is fighting for his life.”
“That same husband cheated on you and brought this on himself.” Brianna took the highway to Summerville and slowed to the posted speed limit. “Don’t beat yourself up because you accepted a little comfort and want to move on.”
Justine briefly tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I want that more than anything. I’d settle for one day of peace.”
&nb
sp; “And I aim to help you find both. Starting now.”
Less than five minutes later Brianna had parked, put up the convertible top, and together they strolled the downtown streets, which offered a wide variety of retail stores that catered to everyone’s budget.
“First stop,” Brianna said, looking in the window of an upscale clothing boutique. “You’d look sensational in that apricot pantsuit.”
“I—”
“I’m not hearing an argument.” Grasping Justine’s arm, Brianna literally dragged her into the spacious store. “You’re getting a new outfit and that’s that.”
Thirty minutes later, they both came out with clothes. Of course, they had to shop for shoes for Justine’s three-piece apricot-colored pantsuit and Brianna’s coral dress with a ballet collar. They hit pay dirt a couple of stores farther down.
“I’d forgotten how much fun this can be,” Justine said as they stored their packages in the trunk of Brianna’s Benz.
“There’s nothing like shopping to give a woman a second wind.” Brianna closed the trunk. “Or make her hungry. How about we grab a waffle ice cream cone with fixings?”
“I want mine with strawberries and pecans.” Justine turned and saw a man in a wheelchair with a portable oxygen unit. Her smile froze.
“Don’t you dare start feeling guilty about taking some time for yourself,” Brianna ordered.
“I won’t, but I do need to call.” Justine reached in her purse for her cell phone.
Brianna folded her arms and tapped her lavender and yellow slingback sandals. The shoes perfectly matched her shoulder purse, scooped neck silk top, and floral print jeans. “If I knew you wouldn’t just worry anyway, I’d take it from you.”
Justine held up her finger as Beverly answered. “Good morning, Beverly. How’s Andrew?”
“Improving by the hour,” was Beverly’s happy reply.
Justine doubted that statement, but decided not to contradict her mother-in-law. No amount of talking would change her mind. “I just wanted you to know that I’m with Brianna. We’re running errands.” She moistened her lips. “I might not make it back today.”
Brianna gave Justine a thumb’s-up sign.
There was a long pause, then Beverly said, “Perhaps you need this time away. Andrew and I will be fine.”
Surprised and relieved, Justine repeated Brianna’s sign. The other woman pumped her fist. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good-bye.”
“Yes!” Brianna said. “Now for that ice cream.”
After they gorged themselves on ice cream, they decided to take in a movie, a legal spoof that was light enough to make them both laugh. It was after six when Brianna pulled up in front of Justine’s house behind a floral delivery van.
“More flowers for Andrew,” Justine reasoned and got out.
“I sure hope you’re Mrs. Crandall,” the delivery man said, nearing the car with a huge arrangement of cut flowers.
“I am.”
“Great. I’ve been by here twice, but I thought I’d try one more time.” He handed the arrangement to Brianna, who reached for it. “The customer specifically asked that the delivery be made today.”
Justine signed and tipped the man. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” He bounded back to the van and drove off.
“He still gets flowers?”
Opening the door, Justine looked over her shoulder at Brianna. “Yes. I spoke to his mother about the waste, but she said people wanted to do something, and once Andrew wakes up he’ll know how much people admired him.”
“Talk about a snow job.” Brianna entered and went into the great room to set the flowers on the round glass coffee table. “If he doesn’t come through this, she is going to need grief counseling big time.”
Justine sighed and picked up the envelope. “I know and I worry about her, but there’s nothing I can do. She—” Justine gasped.
“What?” Brianna asked, rushing over.
Silently Justine handed her the card with one word written on it. Sorry. There was no signature.
“Dalton,” Brianna said, handing her back the card. “So, what do you plan to do?”
With the card clutched in her hand, Justine took a seat in front of the lush arrangement and stared. “He gets to me. I’m not sure if it’s because we were sweethearts in high school or because I’m attracted to the new Dalton as much as I was to the old Dalton.”
“A good kisser always makes it more difficult.” Brianna sat beside her. “Throw in sensitive, handsome, and a great body, and you’re in real trouble.”
“Dalton and Patrick have certainly made us rethink our plans.”
Brianna leaned forward to sniff a blood red rose. “Speak for yourself. I’m still resisting.”
“Are you happy about it?”
Brianna scrunched up her face. “No.”
“Neither am I, and I want to be happy again.” She looked at Brianna. “Is he staying at the same hotel?”
“You’re going over there?” Brianna asked.
“Calling.” Justine rose to her feet and went to the kitchen to look under the cabinet for the phone directory. Brianna was a step behind her. “The least I can do is thank him for the flowers.”
Less than two minutes later she hung up the phone, disappointed. “He wasn’t there.”
“There’s one place he might be.”
“Where?”
“His family place.”
Dalton positioned another pine board in place to repair the rotten porch at his family place. The six-room frame house sat in the middle of two acres surrounded by oak and pine trees. He’d decided this was top priority since he’d almost fallen through it that morning. It would have served him right if he had. His mind should be on repairing the house and not on another man’s wife.
Hearing the motor of a powerful engine, he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t expecting anyone. His grip on the hammer tightened when he saw the passenger in Brianna’s Mercedes. Justine. No matter how he’d tried, he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts. He hoped her visit meant he was forgiven, and not that she was there to ask him to stay out of her life. He wasn’t sure he could.
Laying the hammer by his bag of nails, he straightened and went to meet them. Brianna stopped behind his Jeep, which was parked beneath the heavy branches of a fifty-year-old oak tree. “Hello, Justine, Brianna.”
“Hi,” they greeted in unison. Brianna’s was as warm as always. It was Justine who had his body tense and whom he kept his gaze on. She met his hopeful gaze, and he mentally gave a sigh of relief. There was no recrimination in her eyes. He was forgiven.
Opening the passenger door, he stepped back. He didn’t plan on making the same mistake of getting too close. The consequences were too great.
She stood. “Thank you. The flowers you sent were beautiful.”
So are you, he thought. I wish I knew how to make you happy. “I’m glad you like them.” A woman didn’t usually drive twenty miles with her life in turmoil to thank a man for flowers unless there was more going on. His family had lived just inside the city limits. “You want to get out and see what I’ve done to the place? Perhaps give me some ideas?”
Her smile was tentative, but it was there. “I’d like that.”
As soon as he closed the door Brianna started the car. “I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll be back in an hour.”
This time he did see panic on Justine’s face. “You’re not staying?”
“Wish I could,” Brianna said, and put the car in reverse.
Dalton wanted this time with Justine, but only if she wanted it. “Brianna, wait.” The car immediately stopped. He faced Justine. “We can do this another time.”
She stared at him a long time, then shook her head. “No, it’s all right.” Turning, she waved to Brianna. “Go do your errand.”
“I’ll bring her back,” Dalton said.
“Make sure you feed her,” Brianna ordered.
“I will,” Dalton called.
Her hands wrapped around her waist, Justine watched Brianna turn her car around and drive off.
The last thing Dalton wanted was to lay another problem on Justine’s already overloaded shoulders. “You’re safe but, if you’re uneasy, I’ll take you back now.”
“No, I don’t want to go back.”
There was such desperation in her voice he reached out to touch her, just her arm, and then only briefly. “I started on the kitchen first. Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Lead the way.”
“Careful on the porch. A couple of the boards need replacing.” Side by side, they walked up the driveway, which until four days ago had been full of weeds, and entered the wood frame house. “This is the living room, which I plan to turn into a great room. The dated wallpaper comes down. I’m toying with the idea of taking out the narrow windows on either side of the door and putting in larger ones. The ceilings in every room are ten feet high so I’ll probably install ceiling fans all over. What do you think?”
“It’s a good idea, but be sure the hardware on the fans matches whatever is in the room.” Her arms came to her side, her fingers fidgeting with the leather strap of her purse. “Windows would bring more light into the room and a mirror across from the sitting area would make it appear bigger. What colors do you plan to use?”
Dalton rubbed the back of his neck. “I hadn’t thought that far.”
“When you do, get the biggest sample possible.” She looked around the dim room. “Some colors look fine until you get them in the room or add upholstered furniture that introduces more color and causes the hues to change. When Andr—” she stopped abruptly and her face became shadowed.
Dalton’s gut knotted. She looked as if someone had sucker-punched her. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’ll get my keys.”
“I don’t want to go.” The words were whispered, but he heard them and stopped. “You were going to show me the kitchen.”
Before he thought better of it, his hands reached out to circle her forearms. Her eyes were wide. He felt her tremble. “You don’t have to be brave with me. Friends. Remember?”
