Writing Mr. Right

by T. K. Leigh

  “Yes, Auntie Molly! Come see the fishes with us!” Charlotte implored.

  I opened my mouth, about to give them the same excuse I always did…that I already had plans. Their faces fell before I had the chance to utter a single word, as if they already knew what I would say.

  “Come on, Mols,” Drew said in a soft voice. “Just for a half-hour. Then you can go. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a month.”

  I eyed my watch, seeing it was already past one in the afternoon.

  “He’ll be okay if you’re a little late today.”

  I pulled my lip between my teeth, hating the disappointment etched on my nieces’ faces. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out with them and my brother. Sure, we got together every Sunday evening for family dinner and a movie, but it had been a while since the four of us had spent any meaningful time together.

  “Okay. I’ll come for a little bit.” I winked.

  “Yay!” Alyssa and Charlotte cheered with excitement, running around the counter and flinging their tiny arms around me.

  “Can we go now, Daddy?” Alyssa begged.

  “Of course, munchkin.” He grabbed a chocolate hazelnut pastry and handed it to me, knowing my guilty pleasure.

  Ducking under the counter, he swooped both Alyssa and Charlotte into his arms with ease, carrying them out of the café. Their giggles made my heart melt. I froze in place, staring at him laughing and making up songs with his two girls. I loved seeing Drew as a father. I used to think he was put on this earth only to play hockey. He had an amazing talent unmatched by anyone else in the rink, and I wasn’t just saying that because he was my brother. Still, his skills on the ice were no match to the talent he had for being a father. He loved those two girls more than he loved anything, and it showed.

  Drew turned around, studying me. “Are you coming, Molly?”

  “Sorry.” I snapped out of my thoughts and caught up with them. “I was lost in my head for a minute.”

  “Thinking of the book?” Drew asked while Alyssa and Charlotte debated what we should see first at the aquarium. Alyssa wanted to visit the sea turtles; Charlotte preferred the penguins.

  “What else?” A silence settled between us as we wandered through Christopher Columbus Park, the smell of the ocean growing stronger.

  “You never answered why you’re wearing makeup,” Drew commented.

  “I wear makeup all the time,” I insisted.

  “To visit Dad?” He lowered his voice. “Do you have plans to see Timothy tonight?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully, although I probably should have lied.

  “Is everything still okay with him?”

  “Of course. He’s been swamped with work and I’ve been busy writing. It’s actually a blessing in disguise that he’s so career oriented. Then he doesn’t want to see me all the time.” I offered Drew a smile, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see through all the lies I’d been feeding him.

  “I don’t know why you think you even need to date this guy. Apparently, you’re doing just fine writing this book on your own. You saw Kevin at least four times a week. I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen this guy, and he’s never even been over to your apartment.”

  I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You wouldn’t understand, Drew.”

  “Because you refuse to talk about it.”

  I stared forward, remaining silent. I could feel his eyes studying me. This whole thing was a ticking time bomb. He’d eventually figure out I’d been lying to everyone about dating Timothy. I just needed to finish this book, and soon.

  “Have you ever found yourself attracted to someone you knew you couldn’t have?” I blurted out as we approached the doors to the aquarium, the girls bursting with excitement.

  “Why are you asking?” He looked at me suspiciously. “Is something going on that I should know about?”

  “No,” I answered quickly. Probably too quickly. “It’s just this book.” I ran my hands through my wavy hair. “I guess I’m trying to wrap my head around what would make someone sacrifice everything — their career, their integrity, their reputation — for another person.”

  A small smile tugged on his lips before he sighed, meeting my eyes. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to give up when they’re in love.”

  “I’m not writing a love story,” I reminded him. “I’m writing a hot, steamy romance. At least that’s what I’m supposed to be writing.” I turned my head.

  “But it’s not,” Drew stated. “I’ve seen what you’ve written so far. It’s not even close to hot and steamy.”

  “I just wasn’t feeling it,” I admitted truthfully. “So I wrote something I was feeling. There’s more than just a superficial attraction based on looks alone. There’s a connection.”

  “Then I think you already have your answer,” Drew replied.

  I looked to him, my brow furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

  “Take the girls, for example.” He gestured toward Alyssa and Charlotte as we walked behind them past the main entrance and toward a display of penguins. Alyssa’s face oozed with excitement. “What if they had some terminal illness that required a transplant? What if we found a donor, but he only agreed on the condition that you give up your writing, that you never publish another book for the rest of your life? Would you agree?”

  “Of course I would,” I answered without hesitation. “I’d do anything for those girls.”

  “Because you love them.”

  “Yes, but that’s a different kind of love than what I’m talking about.”

  “That may be, but the principle remains the same. The human race is, generally, kindhearted. Most of us would gladly sacrifice everything for those we love, regardless of whether that love is based on a mutual connection, attraction, or whether it’s the love of family.” He tore his gaze from me, a glint in his eyes as he looked at his girls once more. “I had no idea what to expect when Carla told me she was pregnant, and I was scared shitless when she left me to raise two girls on my own, but I would do anything to keep them by my side.”

  I grabbed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile as we followed the girls through the aquarium, laughing as they scrunched their faces against the glass of some of the fish tanks.

  “I guess I’m just trying to wrap my head around these characters’ motivations,” I said, breaking through the silence that made me feel as if my brother knew this had nothing to do with my book. “He’d have to sacrifice everything to be with her. And why? For the illusion of love? Even if there were such a thing as love…which, just for argument’s sake, I’ll concede may exist…what’s her motivation? She’s not sacrificing anything. She should just find someone else and forget about him.”

  “It seems like what her brain wants and what her heart wants are two different things, Molly.”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, looking around, not seeing anything. My thoughts were all over the place.

  “Are you sure everything’s okay?” Drew asked softly.

  “Of course.” I turned to him, plastering a fake smile on my face. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “Okay,” he sighed. “Just be careful with whatever you’re doing.”

  “Wha—”

  He held up his hand, stopping me. “I don’t know what it is, but something tells me you’re not giving me the whole story. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, whether by Timothy or someone else.” He gave me a knowing look.

  Instead of feeding him the same lie I had been the past few weeks, I simply nodded. That one gesture told him all he needed to know.

  “I won’t,” I assured him. “My heart is an iron fortress. You should know that by now.”

  “Even iron can melt if it gets hot enough.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I PUT MY CAR in park outside the nursing home, then checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. I hastily applied a bit of lip gloss before stepping out of the car and scurrying ac
ross the parking lot. Reggie looked up from his book as I walked through the front doors, heading straight for the sign-in form.

  “Wait a second, Molly.” He shot up, unease on his face.

  I frowned, confused by this unexpected change in protocol. I’d been coming to see my father every day since we had to move him here. This was the first time anyone had tried to stop me from signing in.

  “What is it?”

  He blew out an uneasy sigh. “I’ve been instructed that your father can’t have any visitors at the moment.”

  “By whom?”

  “Dr. McAllister,” he answered guardedly. “Dr. Connors, the executive director, agreed with this decision, as well.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I raised my voice, heat building in my face at the idea that Noah issued this order.

  It wasn’t the fact someone was trying to prevent me from seeing my father that irked me. It was the idea of him being alone with only the nursing staff to take care of him. This was precisely why I fought against putting him in a home for as long as I could. Now his own daughter was being kept from him.

  “Why?” I ran my hands through my hair, seething.

  “It’s a safety issue,” Reggie responded in a quiet voice, sympathy etched in the lines of his face. “If it were up to me, I’d let you go, but I could lose my job if I did and something happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me! He’s my father, for crying out loud! He never so much as spanked me when I was growing up! He’s always been the most docile, congenial man I know!”

  “That may be,” a gruff voice said. I whirled around to see Noah approaching the front desk. “But he’s not the same man anymore. You know that just as well as I do. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “Why can’t I see him?”

  “It’s not just you, Ms. Brinks,” he replied in a formal voice, a complete one-eighty from the fun and carefree version of Noah I’d been spending time with over the past several weeks. It served as yet another reminder that our friendship…I wasn’t even sure we could call it that at this point…would always be second to his career. “Even the nursing staff isn’t allowed to see him without security present.”

  “Security? What the hell is going on?” I looked from Noah to Reggie, then back to Noah again, wanting someone to tell me what had happened.

  “I’d be happy to discuss this with you in private.” He glowered at me, obviously upset I had raised my voice.

  “I don’t want to discuss this in private. I want you to tell me what the fuck happened in the last twenty-four hours that you’re now keeping my father completely isolated!” I took a breath, stepping toward Noah. My voice barely a whisper, I added, “You know damn well how I feel about this.”

  Sighing, his stern demeanor cracked and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I understand.” He closed the distance. His hand flinched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch me, but prevented himself from doing so. I wondered if it would always be this way between us. If he would try to hide even our friendship from everyone. I didn’t know why I cared so much. I had never needed reassurance of a man’s feelings toward me before. Why did I need it now?

  “He’s taken a turn, Molly,” Noah explained quietly. “You’ve seen it with your own eyes these past few weeks. His speech has become impaired. He’s having so much difficulty communicating, he’s grown increasingly more violent, lashing out at everyone, particularly during the evening hours. I have no reason to believe he’ll act any differently around you. I’m not willing to put you in that type of situation.”

  “Well, I’m willing to take that risk,” I shot back. “He’s my father. I’m not going to leave without seeing him. You’ll have to have security throw me out.” I glared at him for several long moments, then softened my expression. “Please. It’s not even close to sundown yet. Maybe he just needs to know there’s someone out there who still cares about him.” I leaned toward Noah, my voice barely audible. “What would you have done to have just five more minutes with your father?”

  I hated using his personal information against him, but I didn’t know what else to do. My father needed to know he wasn’t alone, even if he didn’t know who I was at the moment.

  Noah ran his hand over his face, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” he relented. “You can have ten minutes.”

  “Two hours. Like usual.”

  “One hour, and that’s it.”

  “Fine. One hour.” I stepped back to the front desk and scratched my name on the sign-in sheet while Reggie eyed both of us with intrigue. Smiling at my victory, I grabbed the visitor badge and proceeded down the hallway.

  “An orderly and a security guard will be present,” Noah called out.

  I huffed, spinning around, watching him approach with a furtive stare. “What could have possibly happened to make you think I need protection from my own father?”

  “He doesn’t know he’s your father.” His tone was even. “He’s been lashing out, refusing to eat, shouting incoherent thoughts.”

  “And how is that different from every other day?”

  He breathed in through his nose, pinching his lips together as he stared at me, fire in his gaze. “One of the orderlies was helping him into the bathroom after lunch. She now has five stitches in her forehead.”

  My eyes widened as I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

  “It’s the disease. These violent episodes never have any warning so I need to do everything I can to keep those around him safe.” He lowered his voice. “I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there. I didn’t want to think my father would ever hurt me. The disease eats away at him. He doesn’t know which way is up and it scares the shit out of him. So much so, he has no choice but to try to protect himself from what he perceives as a potential threat.”

  “I just want to read to him.”

  “And you can.” He grabbed my hands in his. I shot my eyes to him, surprised by the sudden change. Whenever I was at the nursing home, Noah had always made a conscious effort to avoid coming within even an inch of me. “But with people who are trained to deal with this sort of behavior close by in case he lashes out at you.”

  “I don’t like it—”

  “I know you don’t,” he answered quickly. A tingle spread through me when he caressed my knuckles. “But this is the only way right now. I’m hoping tomorrow will be different.”

  “Is this why you’re here on your day off?” I asked.

  “I said goodbye to the idea of days off the second I decided to go into this field. My patients are my priority. Always have been. The staff called and said your father was having an unusually bad day. It’s my job to keep him safe, even on the weekends.”

  Footsteps sounded from down the hall and he quickly withdrew his hands from mine, taking a step back. I didn’t know why I expected anything different, but it still pained me.

  “Dr. McAllister,” a large man in a security uniform said upon seeing us. “You requested assistance?”

  “Yes. Larry, this is Molly Brinks. She’d like to spend about an hour visiting her father. I’d like you to remain in the room with her, along with Brian.” He nodded at the orderly by his side.

  “Certainly, sir. We’ll make sure everyone remains safe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This way, Ms. Brinks,” Larry said.

  I forced myself to tear my eyes from Noah’s and followed Larry down the familiar hallways toward my father’s room. He opened the door and allowed me to enter first, remaining within an arm’s reach of me at all times. This all felt like visiting hours at a prison, but I bit back any derogatory comments. If this was the only way I could see my father, I’d suffer through.

  “Hiya, Dad.” I gave him a congenial smile as he sat in his favorite chair, a shape sorter on the table beside him. It reminded me of a child’s toy. My heart ached thinking how low he’d fallen in such a short time. It wasn’t fair.

  His eyes met mine and, f
or a split second, I thought I saw a hint of recognition in his warmhearted gaze.

  “I heard you’re having a bit of a rough day.” I tried to pretend nothing had changed, that this was just like any other day. “But I’m here now.” I lowered myself into the chair beside him, grabbing his hand in mine.

  When Larry started toward me, I glared at him. He stopped, still hovering in case he needed to quickly defuse the situation. “It’ll be okay,” I assured him, then returned my attention to my dad.

  Eyeing a new book on the side table, as if a silent instruction to read it, I picked it up. Memories of tenth grade English class rushed forward as I flipped through the pages. Turning to the first chapter, I cleared my throat, then started reading. A heat fell on my skin, as if someone was watching me. I glanced up. Noah leaned against the doorjamb, wearing an expression I couldn’t quite place. Returning his tight smile, I continued reading.

  “Even then, he was the most striking figure in Starkfield, though he was but the ruin of a man.”

  Noah continued to hold my gaze, a pang forming in my heart as I recalled the story of Ethan Frome and Miss Mattie Silver’s forbidden affections toward each other, their botched attempt to find a way to spend eternity together, and the sad result of the sled accident that caused so many girls in my high school English class to shed a few tears. Not me. I saw the book for what it was…an allegory that the illusion of love could destroy your life, although my English teacher didn’t quite agree.

  “Keep going,” Noah’s voice cut through my thoughts as I contemplated whether my English teacher was right. Maybe the lesson in Ethan Frome wasn’t that love could destroy your life, but that life was too short not to take risks. According to her, love didn’t destroy Ethan’s life. It was society’s limitations that forced his desire to abandon the burdens put on him. It was impossible to ignore the parallels between this book and the story I was currently writing…and living.

  I shot my gaze to my father. “Did you…?” I asked with a quiver, wondering if he set this book out after hearing me tell him what I was working on. I could feel three sets of eyes on me.