Last Whisper

by Carlene Thompson

  “At least she’s alive, Jay.”

  “Yeah,” he said absently. “At least she’s alive. I just wish your mother and Mia and Robert and Eunice were.” He turned abruptly and walked away.

  Brooke stood in the hall, wishing she could call out something comforting to him, but she went blank. Maybe because there isn’t anything, she thought, feeling desolate for the good man named Jay Corrigan.

  She watched Jay disappear into the elevator, then went back into her apartment. Vincent stood by the window in the living room looking down on the street. Elise sat by his side. “Pretty day out there,” he said without looking at Brooke.

  “Beautiful. It’s hard to imagine that in a couple of months the days will be short and gray when winter is on its way.” She shivered. “I hate that weather. I always have.”

  Vincent turned. “Me, too. It’s why I moved to California.” He glanced down at Elise, who seemed to have formed a strong attachment to him. “I have a suggestion. Let’s not waste this gorgeous day. Let’s go for a ride.”

  “In your convertible?”

  “Of course.”

  “And take Elise?”

  “Would you even consider leaving behind Elise with her passionate love of riding in convertibles?”

  Elise looked at him, then at Brooke with what she would have sworn was desperate appeal. “I certainly wouldn’t. I’ll get her leash and my purse, and we’re on our way.”

  Twenty minutes later they sailed down Kanawha Boulevard. Elise, ears flapping, sat on Brooke’s lap wearing an expression of what Brooke interpreted as rapture. A bright late-August sun glinted off the Kanawha River running parallel to the boulevard. Several larger boats moved gracefully over the water before a speedboat cut a swath through the pattern, throwing up water as it roared by with skiers behind it.

  “Elise looks like she’d like to be out there skiing, too.” Vincent grinned as he looked over at the dog, whose ears had perked up in excitement.

  “She’s putting on a show. She’d be scared to death if you set her on a pair of skis.”

  Vincent pulled a face. “I believe someone once told me she’d be scared to death riding in a convertible, too.”

  “Okay, I was wrong about that one. But not about skiing.”

  “I’d have to see Elise’s reaction to skis before I believe you. I’m not sure you know your dog as well as you think you do, Miss Yeager.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him and held Elise a tad tighter, afraid the dog was going to jump out of the car and head for the river to hitch a ride on the speedboat. Then an old memory popped into Brooke’s head. “My parents rented a speedboat for a day and Daddy skied. I was only four or five and scared to death at first, but Daddy reassured me. Then Mommy skied, and within an hour, I was laughing and clapping and never wanted them to give back that boat.”

  “That’s a great memory,” Vincent said. “And someday, when you have a daughter who actually stands on two legs instead of four, she’ll probably love skiing, too,” Vincent said. “Not to mention that if she looks like her mother, she’ll be a doll.”

  Slightly embarrassed by the compliment, Brooke began furiously petting Elise and asked, “How’s your father doing?”

  “Griping, grumbling, complaining nonstop, unsuccessfully trying to make my life miserable, but I’m so glad he’s alive after that dive into the ditch, I think it would be impossible for him to get on my nerves. At least for another week.” Brooke laughed. “He’s mastered those crutches in record time. I’m not surprised, though. Whatever Dad set out to do he always did faster and better than anyone else.”

  Brooke waited a moment, then decided to broach a subject that might take some of the joy out of Vincent’s face. “All we’ve talked about the last few days is me and Stacy and that whole drama. We haven’t talked about yours.” Vincent looked at her quizzically. “What are you going to do about your father? Put him in a nursing home here in Charleston?”

  “He says no and I’m tired of arguing with him.”

  “So you’re going to get him a twenty-four-hour-a-day caregiver?”

  “No. He won’t stand for that, either. So there you have it.”

  “Vincent, you can’t just go back to Monterey!”

  “Oh yes, I can,” Vincent said. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Shocked, Brooke stared at him with a slightly open mouth for a moment before she managed, “You can’t do that! Look what happened to him last week. If he’d lain in that ditch all night, he could have died.” Suddenly, she realized she had gone from shock to anger. “How can you even think of going off and leaving him?”

  Vincent looked at her innocently. “Who said that’s what I was going to do?”

  “You said you’re going back to Monterey.”

  “Did I say I was going back alone?” Brooke stared at him. “Dad has agreed that he can’t go on living in that house alone, but he doesn’t want to be stuck in a nursing home in Charleston, either.” Vincent looked at her and grinned. “Brooke, he’s coming back to Monterey with me. They have nursing homes out there, too. As a matter of fact, there’s a really nice one just ten minutes away from my house.”

  Brooke realized she’d been holding her breath. She finally let it out. “Oh, thank goodness. For a minute there you had me scared to death about Sam, and also thinking you were a completely irresponsible jerk.”

  “And now what do you think?”

  “Now I’m thrilled for Sam. I think the change will be wonderful for him. All he does is wander around that house he shared with your mother. It’s too filled with memories. He needs fresh scenery.”

  “The same could be said for someone else, you know.”

  “I suppose that would be your subtle way of referring to me.”

  “Yes. Charleston has some beautiful spots and I know you’ve lived here all your life, but you have to admit it’s not exactly teeming with wonderful memories for you.”

  “Well, no,” Brooke said reluctantly. “But I guess I have time to make new memories.”

  “Here. All alone. No relatives. No friends—”

  “Vincent, stop it!” she snapped. “You don’t have to rub in the fact that I’m not surrounded by loved ones.”

  “Think you might feel better with at least two loved ones around?”

  “Two? And just who would these two people be?”

  “Dad. You do love Sam, don’t you?”

  She was silent for a moment. “Yes. I guess I do. I have since I was eleven and wanted to become his daughter.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to become my daughter, but how about me?”

  “You?”

  “Do you have any tender feelings toward me? Well, maybe ‘tender’ was too strong a word. Do you think you can stand spending some time with me in the future?”

  “Spending time with you?”

  “Brooke, you’re beginning to sound like a parrot, repeating everything I say.”

  “That was a lovely compliment.”

  “I guess it didn’t help my case, did it?”

  “And what would your case be?”

  “To talk you into coming to California, too. Specifically, Monterey.”

  Brooke looked at him in surprise. “You want me to come to Monterey?”

  “You’re doing it again. The parrot thing.”

  “I just . . . I mean . . . why?”

  “Why do I want you to come to Monterey? To get a new start.”

  “Oh.”

  “And because I love you and I think you love me, too.”

  “You love me—”

  “Brooke—”

  “I’m sorry. Broken record. Parrot. Whatever.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments before Vincent said, “I do love you, Brooke. Am I right that you love me, too?”

  She glanced at him, his black hair shining in the sun, his forest green eyes focused on her, their intensity belying the casualness of his smile. A nervous tension suddenly grabbed at her,
as if trying to hold her back. For fifteen years she’d been so careful, so aloof, keeping her heart closed to everyone except Greta. Was it too late to change?

  Vincent clicked the CD player. In a moment, the sounds of Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl” filled the car. Vincent sped up. They seemed to be sailing above the ground, the river sparkling and glinting beside them, the sky bluer than she’d ever seen it. As the wind blew her hair and the warm sun touched her face, Brooke felt freedom wash over her. She didn’t have to stay chained to the past. It wasn’t impossible for her to hold a man’s hand, to run in the night, to chase the moonlight, like the couple in the song. It just had to be with the right man. And as she looked at Vincent, she felt the heart she’d tried to close for so long open wide, open happily.

  Vincent glanced at her again and asked with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, “Well?”

  Brooke smiled wider, more freely than she had for years. She shook her long, loose hair, tilted her head to look at him coquettishly, and shouted joyfully, “I do love you, Vincent Lockhart! Take Elise and me to Monterey and let’s live there forever!”