Ten Years Later...

by Marie Ferrarella

  Settling into a chair, he opened the book, then glanced in Brianna’s direction.

  “Why don’t you kick back a little?” he suggested. There was no reason for her to hang around. He certainly knew how to read a story to a child. “You’ve more than earned it.”

  Kick back. Easy for him to say, Brianna thought. She felt so tense right now. The worst part was that she could hardly think straight. But there was no sense in arguing with him about this.

  She paused by the doorway. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” she asked.

  “Very sure,” he assured her, then waved her out. “Go. Eat something decadent. Watch something on TV. Read that book you haven’t had a chance to crack open. Go,” he repeated, motioning her away just before he opened up the book that Carrie had given him. Leaning back in the chair, he began to read.

  Brianna forced herself to cross the threshold and walk out of the room. Sebastian was fully capable of tackling the story about the goings-on of one of Carrie’s favorite cast of characters. There were seven “Bear” books in the small library that Carrie had amassed. To the best of her recollection, her daughter had selected one from the middle of the pile.

  Well, he asked for it, Brianna thought as she made her way down the stairs. She had no idea what to do with the free time she’d been awarded. Every minute of her day had been booked for so long, she was at a loss how to spend unscheduled time.

  When in doubt, fall back on your routine, she counseled herself.

  So she went to check on Sebastian’s mother and found that the older woman had dozed off watching TV in her room. Brianna’s first impulse was to turn off the set, draw the covers over the sleeping woman and shut the light just as she tiptoed out of the room.

  But she knew from experience that those simple actions might actually wake up the woman. With that in mind, Brianna lowered the volume on the TV and dimmed the lights only slightly.

  She made her way into the kitchen next. She washed the dishes by hand and then tidied up. Finished, she looked around for a moment, regarding the fruits of her labor.

  It was at that point that she decided that she’d had enough of “free time.” She went back upstairs to check on Carrie and Sebastian in her room.

  If nothing else, Brianna was fairly confident that Sebastian was just about ready to be rescued. Granted, he’d volunteered, but that was before he had a clue what he was getting himself into. Carrie was not a child who merely listened docilely.

  If a word was skipped, she knew it and asked to have the passage reread. If it was a new story—which this wasn’t—there were questions to ask, motivations to explore. Like the inquiring mind that she was, Carrie wanted to understand what she was listening to, no matter how long it took to explain everything.

  Brianna quietly approached the room, then very slowly eased open the door that she’d deliberately left ajar. She heard Sebastian’s voice, strong and animated, still reading the story to her daughter.

  What she didn’t hear was Carrie questioning anything or offering her comments to Sebastian about the story in general.

  That was because, she now saw, the little girl had apparently fallen asleep.

  Well, that had certainly happened in record time, she silently marveled, easing the door open the rest of the way.

  Catching the movement of the door out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian stopped reading and looked up. Seeing Brianna in the doorway, he smiled and mouthed, “Hi.”

  Then, glancing at Carrie one more time to assure himself that she was really asleep, Sebastian quietly closed the storybook, set it aside on the nightstand and eased himself out of the chair.

  Sebastian said nothing as he left the room, afraid that the slightest sound might wake the little girl. But once the door was closed and he’d moved a few feet down the hall, away from the room, he looked at Brianna and smiled.

  It was the same kind of slightly crooked smile that had initially captured her heart all those years ago in math class.

  “Mission accomplished,” he told her with a smart salute. “She’s sound asleep.”

  “I’d give it a little while longer before I said that,” Brianna advised. “Carrie has a way of suddenly popping up like toast even if you think she’s out like the proverbial light. By the way, your mother is asleep, too.”

  “That sounds good. The more rest she gets, the faster she’ll recover,” he reasoned. “Well, I’ve got nothing planned for the rest of the evening,” he told her. “How about you?”

  “I’ve washed the dishes and tidied up, so, no, I don’t have anything else planned.”

  “You plan washing dishes?” he asked.

  “I don’t like going to bed unless everything’s cleaned up.”

  “So you’re going to bed?” he asked.

  “Eventually,” she allowed. “Why? What do you have in mind?”

  He thought it best not to share that right now. Instead, he asked, “How about a movie?”

  “As long as we can watch it here,” she qualified.

  “Definitely,” he answered. “I’ll make the popcorn. You pick the movie,” he told her.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t tired anymore. And the tension she’d been harboring decreased by at least several notches. For now.

  “You’re on,” she told him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brianna realized that she’d been holding her breath through at least half the movie that she’d selected for them to watch. It was an action thriller, but her lack of oxygen intake had nothing to do with the excitement on the screen and everything to do with the untapped excitement sitting fewer than two feet away from her on the sofa.

  She kept thinking that Sebastian was just biding his time, waiting to make his move when she was least prepared for it. After all, there’d been blatant signals that he was leaning that way earlier. There’d been definite indications that if Carrie went on sleeping after she had been safely carried off to bed, Brianna and Sebastian would find themselves in his room.

  In his bed.

  Just the way they had that night when his mother had gone out of town to take care of his sick great-aunt. The night of the prom.

  Brianna had to admit that, despite the fact that she had picked the movie, she was only half paying attention to it. But when the credits rolled, the closest she and Sebastian had come to even casually touching one another was when they had both reached for the popcorn at the same time, and she decided that maybe it was time to stop holding her breath.

  It was obvious that the long, toe-curling kiss they’d shared earlier was not a preview of things to come. Instead, it just happened and was destined to stand apart from anything else that might go on between them.

  You’re supposed to be relieved, Bree. You don’t want to lose your heart to him all over again, remember? This time, you know there’s no future for the two of you. He’ll be leaving for Japan again and you’ll be staying here, with your child and your father and that career you’ve hammered out for yourself.

  And then, like an annoying mantra, the voice in her head added, It never goes well for you when your heart’s involved. You know that.

  Brianna blinked. The TV screen in front of them had gone blank. She could feel Sebastian silently looking at her.

  “What?” she asked, afraid he’d said something and she’d been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she’d missed it.

  “You didn’t like the movie.” It wasn’t a question, but a verdict, delivered with obvious disappointment. “We could have watched something else.”

  “No, I liked the movie,” Brianna protested, contradicting him.

  “You didn’t say anything,” he pointed out. “Generally, when you watch something, you do a running commentary.” At least, she used to, he silently amended.

  Brianna laughed q
uietly. “Not anymore. Carrie doesn’t like me to talk while she’s watching something, and since she’s become my ‘viewing buddy,’ I’ve learned to hold my tongue.”

  “So I have her to thank?” He grinned. “The girl’s definitely a genius. I never thought anything could get you to hold your tongue and keep from expressing your opinion,” he marveled with more fondness than he’d intended.

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or be insulted,” she quipped.

  “It wasn’t meant to be insulting,” he told her. “If anything, it was meant as an affectionate observation.” Picking up the remote control, he aimed it toward the set and shut off the TV, then turned so that he was facing her. He found himself hungry for the sound of her voice, to just talk the way they used to. “You’ve done a terrific job with her. How long have you been raising her?”

  “Almost from the beginning. She was thirteen months old when J.T. was killed. I’m the only parent she’s ever known.” Which struck her as ironic, since she really wasn’t Carrie’s parent at all, at least not biologically. “Her mother died in childbirth,” she said, aware that she’d already told him that earlier.

  “Childbirth?” When she’d initially told him, he hadn’t really paid all that much attention to the information, but now he did and he had to admit the thought surprised him. “I didn’t think that sort of thing happened anymore.”

  Unfortunately, the circumstances were against Carrie’s mother. “It does if the mother starts hemorrhaging and there’s no doctor around.”

  “No doctor?” he echoed. “What kind of a hospital was she in?”

  Brianna laughed shortly, shaking her head. “That was just the problem—she wasn’t. Carrie’s mother didn’t like doctors. Instead, she had a midwife in attendance. Most of the time, that’s great and midwives are pretty sharp. But, by some fluke, this one was out of her depth, especially since there were complications right from the beginning.”

  She could see the whole scenario unfolding in her mind’s eye. J.T.’s frantic call to her for help. By the time she’d arrived, the paramedics were already there—and unable to help. The young woman was already dead. She’d stayed the night, taking care of the newborn while trying to keep J.T. calm. He’d been there to help her through her father’s blackest days, and she thought it only fair to try to return the favor.

  “J.T. blamed himself for her death because he hadn’t insisted on a doctor. If his wife had been in a hospital, she might still be alive today. And so would he,” she added.

  Sebastian wasn’t following her logic. “How do you figure the last part?” he asked. “You said he died in a boating accident.”

  She sighed heavily. She should have been able to get J.T. through his emotional turmoil, but she’d failed. And that would always be on her. “It’s way too easy to have an accident if you’re driving a craft under the influence.”

  “He was drinking?”

  Brianna raised one shoulder in a vague shrug. “For the most part, he’d stopped. That was part of the conditions of our engagement,” she admitted, “that he get his drinking under control. But J.T. couldn’t quite put his demons to rest and that weekend was his late wife’s birthday. He used to say that he drank to numb the pain and the emptiness.”

  Her mouth curved in an ironic smile. “The evening we got engaged, he told me that I helped numb his pain and fill the emptiness. I guess I just wasn’t strong enough for the job that Saturday when he set sail. It was the last time I saw him alive.” Brianna looked down at her ring finger on her left hand. It was empty now. She’d switched the engagement ring J.T. had given her to her right hand, a constant reminder of the promise that wasn’t fulfilled. “We’d been engaged all of three weeks when he died.”

  Sebastian was trying to pull the pieces together in an attempt to focus his mind on something other than the fact that he wanted to hold her and make her smile again. A real smile this time.

  “I thought you said the boating accident occurred a week before the wedding.”

  “It did,” she said. “J.T. was in a hurry to get married. I think he was hoping that I’d make his nightmares go away. Guess I didn’t do such a hot job,” she concluded quietly.

  “Don’t you dump this on yourself,” Sebastian chided her. He knew she had that tendency. For some reason, she felt it was her job to save the world. For as long as he’d known her, she’d always gravitated toward animals and people who needed saving.

  He supposed that, in a way, he fell into that group himself.

  “You weren’t his keeper,” he insisted.

  “No,” she agreed halfheartedly, “but I was his friend as well as his fiancée. I should have realized that weekend was going to be extra-difficult for him to get through. I should have been there for him instead of opting to keep the store running while he went out.”

  She shook her head at her own naïveté. “I honestly thought getting away with his friends was going to be good for J.T. You know, a bunch of guys blowing off steam, telling fish stories, things like that.” And then she added more softly, “I had a gut feeling, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I thought that if I said anything to him at the last minute about not going, it would have sounded too controlling. So I opted to help Dad in the store and take care of Carrie while he had fun.

  “Except that he didn’t have fun,” she said more to herself than to Sebastian. “The medical examiner said he had twice the legal limit of alcohol in his blood when he died.”

  “And his friends?” he prodded, wondering why one of them hadn’t taken over when they saw that J.T. was in no shape to pilot the craft.

  There’d been no help in that quarter, she thought. “According to the M.E., they had all been drinking. The coast guard managed to recover all the bodies,” she said, almost as if she was reading an account of the accident out loud.

  “No survivors?” Sebastian asked sympathetically.

  Brianna shook her head, momentarily unable to answer him. Tears had filled her throat, all but swelling it shut.

  Seeing her expression, Sebastian wordlessly slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him. His only intent was to offer her some sort of comfort if he could.

  “God, but you’ve had a rough time of it,” he told her. A lesser person would have probably crumbled by now, undone by the sheer weight of all the events she’d had to deal with.

  Brianna drew in a breath slowly, pulled herself together and then shrugged carelessly in response to his comment.

  “People have had it a lot rougher,” she told him, refusing to allow herself to slip into a self-pitying mode. She’d been there several times in her life and found that if she gave in to it long enough, it sucked her spirit out of her, leaving her utterly dry. She knew that that would completely destroy her.

  So instead, she forced herself to rise above it, to rally as best she could. She’d always been an upbeat person in the long run, and she knew that a positive attitude was the only thing that could see her through the dark times.

  “Besides, I’ve had a lot of good things happen to me, too. My dad survived his accident and he’s absolutely fully recovered—”

  “Thanks to you,” Sebastian pointed out.

  She refused to take credit for that. “I couldn’t have gotten him to do anything he really didn’t want to do.” She summarized her part in all this in a few modest words. “I just figured out which of his buttons to press, that’s all.”

  “That wasn’t the way I heard the story,” Sebastian informed her.

  She looked at him, curious. “From who?”

  “My mother. She made a point of keeping tabs on you and your father, and then sent me lengthy reports about what was going on.”

  She had always gotten along with his mother, but when her father was involved in that accident, she’d turned all her attention to making him ge
t well. She’d stopped interacting with anyone else on a regular basis for literally months.

  “Did you ask her to?” she asked.

  He looked at her for a long moment. “I really want to say yes here, but I won’t lie to you. She did that all on her own. I think at the time she was still hoping that you and I would...well, you know,” he said, not wanting to put either one of them on the spot, or make them uncomfortable by saying the last part out loud.

  A sad, resigned smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I know.”

  She also knew that if she continued sitting here talking to him about the past, she would wind up giving in to the strong feelings stirring within her, emotions that still belonged to Sebastian alone. It would be a great deal more prudent, not to mention wiser, for her to take her leave now—while she still could.

  She began to get up as she made the obligatory excuses. “Well, it’s late and I told your mother I wanted to start her on a very light exercise regimen tomorrow, so I’d better be heading up to bed.”

  Her little speech delivered, she expected to go. But as she turned to leave, Sebastian caught her wrist in his hand.

  When she looked at him quizzically, he said, “I’m sorry, Bree.”

  His words hit her right smack in her chest. She pretended to ignore the sensation vibrating through her. It would only act against her.

  “We’ve already been through this, Sebastian,” she told him quietly. “And I said that you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yes, I do,” he contradicted her. “A whole slew of things to be sorry for. Most of all, I’m sorry that I let you go.”

  As she recalled, he was the one who had gone, not her. “You make it sound as if I was a pet deer you had tethered in a cage and decided to release one morning.” His wording left a little something to be desired. “You know, for an English professor, you don’t exactly have a way with words sometimes.”

  Rather than take exception, Sebastian inclined his head, conceding the point. “That’s because those are the times when I’m emotionally invested and afraid of saying the wrong thing.”