Ten Years Later...

by Marie Ferrarella

  Chapter Fifteen

  And I’m back, Brianna thought with a suppressed sigh as she moved around the kitchen the following morning, doing her best to focus. Back to the present. Back to reality.

  Last night, she’d gone all the way back to her last days as a high school senior, but now, perforce, she was back. Back to being the diligent nurse, the responsible single parent. Back to being the woman who did her best to be all things to everyone and slept a minimum of hours.

  Last night had been about the path not taken, the one she found herself yearning for on those rare occasions when she had more than two minutes to rub together.

  Staring into the refrigerator, trying to remember what it was she was looking for, Brianna wished she hadn’t gone there, that she had remained firmly entrenched in the present.

  As wonderful as last night was, as much as she enjoyed reliving the past, she knew the here and now would be that much more difficult to bear. Because, as full as her life was with her daughter, her father, her work, she had to admit that deep down she was lonely. Not all the time, of course—there were times when she was too exhausted to feel anything at all—but she felt that way just often enough to leave her wanting.

  Grow up, for heaven’s sake, she ordered herself as she took out a carton of eggs and put it on the counter.

  She wasn’t the wide-eyed innocent anymore, wasn’t on the brink of following her dreams. She knew all dreams didn’t come true.

  All?

  Heck, most dreams didn’t come true. That was because most dreams were just that—dreams, she thought, depositing a large frying pan on the front burner. And while retaining those dreams did keep a person going, did give a person purpose, she freely admitted, she had embraced reality enough to know that very few ever came true.

  The rest didn’t have a prayer of coming true.

  Ever.

  And by the same token, she knew that there was no future for her with Sebastian. He had his life and she had hers. Moreover, those lives weren’t separated by a few blocks or a few counties, or even states, but by half a world.

  Idealistic as she once had been, Brianna was not so starry-eyed—or so delusional, for that matter—to think that Sebastian would give up everything he had just for her.

  The adult thing was to behave as if she accepted that. To behave as if she didn’t expect anything to change just because, for the space of one night, the earth had moved for her.

  Again.

  Right. Good luck with that.

  * * *

  It bothered him.

  Brianna was acting as if nothing was different, as if last night they hadn’t both glimpsed what could have been their lives had she not remained in Bedford when he had left.

  Last night had wiped out ten years of physical estrangement and let him pick up the dropped thread. Last night had allowed him to see how very good it all could be.

  Last night had been about beginning again. Except that now it felt as if they hadn’t begun anything, just briefly revisited a world that they no longer had access to.

  Still, he’d thought because of last night that things would be different from here on in.

  Granted, he hadn’t expected Brianna to slant covert looks his way and act like some love-struck puppy, but he’d expected some indication that last night had meant as much to her as it had to him.

  Instead, what he got was the impression that it was “business as usual” for Brianna.

  To begin with, when he woke up she was gone from his bed. He hadn’t thought that she’d sleep in—that didn’t mesh with the person she was—but he had hoped that when he opened his eyes she would be the first thing he’d see.

  Instead, he saw a vacant spot beside him in his bed.

  Then he realized that the pillow and comforter were neatly back in place. So neat that it gave no indication that anyone had been there. Had alcohol been involved last night, he might have even thought he’d imagined the whole thing, from the very first kiss to the last wildly erotic surge.

  Except that he hadn’t imagined it. It had been very, very real. And it had, for that stretch of time—and beyond, as she’d slept beside him and he’d lain there with his arm around her, just listening to her breathe—made him begin to entertain the idea that perhaps there were such things as do-overs.

  That once in a while, people did get a second chance to get things right.

  But if it all had meant so little to her that she could silently slip out of his bed without a moment’s lingering, then maybe he needed to rethink his rethinking.

  Two minutes after waking up, he was already in the stall, taking a quick shower rather than the lengthy one with her that he’d fallen asleep anticipating. Within five minutes he was dressed and padding down the stairs in bare feet.

  He found Brianna in the kitchen, moving around between the stove and the refrigerator as if she was the one who belonged there and he was the interloper.

  As if suddenly sensing his presence, she flashed him a smile. The very same smile she’d been flashing him every morning for the past week and a half. There wasn’t even the slightest hint that she was holding back something extra, something special that involved only the two of them. There was no indication whatsoever that they had crossed some magic line, or gone on to a higher plateau.

  “Hi,” Brianna called out brightly to him. Then, nodding at the frying pan, she asked him, “What’s your pleasure?”

  It was on the tip of Sebastian’s tongue to say, “You” in response, but he managed to keep it back, and Carrie being there, seated at the table, was only part of the reason why he’d refrained.

  Carrie was an obstacle easily circumvented if he’d wanted to. The reply could have been tendered in a whisper, with him standing close enough to say the word into her ear. But something told him that the answer would have made her feel uncomfortable, so he told her, “Just coffee, thanks,” and then went to the cupboard to get a mug for himself.

  Every second of silence felt endless to her.

  Brianna searched for something to fill the emptiness. She didn’t want Sebastian thinking that she was waiting for him to make some sort of comment or reference to the night they’d shared. She didn’t want him to feel on the spot and, more than that, she didn’t want to become, by saying the wrong word, the object of his pity.

  So, after a moment’s internal debate, she went with a topic she deemed to be safe, one that would show him that she had absolutely no expectations because of last night, no demands on him whatsoever.

  “So, how much longer is your vacation?” she asked cheerfully as she broke two eggs, depositing them in a bowl and then sending them scrambling about said bowl with a whisk.

  “That depends on how my mother is doing,” Sebastian told her. “If it looks like she’s getting stronger and I feel she’s getting better, then I guess I can fly back anytime.”

  He left his answer open-ended, really curious now to see her reaction. The girl he’d once known would want him to remain and would say as much—passionately. If she didn’t, that meant he was in the presence of someone with Brianna’s face, someone he didn’t know at all.

  Brianna chose her words carefully, wanting to convey just the right message, one he could hold on to.

  “Well, I’m happy to tell you that your mother’s doing remarkably well. As a matter of fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would have said that there was a mistake in the initial diagnosis.”

  But she knew who the woman’s cardiologist was and the man had an excellent reputation. And even though she hadn’t asked to view the E.R. report—that was a matter of privacy between doctor and patient—she was well aware that the cardiologist was at the top of his game.

  “Your mother doesn’t behave like someone living through the aftermath of a stroke. All in all, I’d say that she�
�s an incredibly strong woman.”

  She smiled, feeling this was the best possible news she could give him. “She is one of the very lucky ones,” she added.

  “Right,” he murmured, interpreting her words in his own way.

  He was right. Brianna was trying to get rid of him, to get him to go back to Japan. Otherwise, there would have been something else, something more. Some small attempt with perhaps a white lie to get him to remain a bit longer rather than sending him on his way.

  He didn’t exactly expect her to pitch herself at him bodily, but he knew her. She would have found something to make the prognosis a little more guarded than it was. After all, he’d indicated that if there was still some sort of uncertainty about his mother’s condition, he could stay awhile longer. This cheerful report she’d just rendered was all but ushering him out the door. Quickly. Brianna obviously regretted what had happened between them last night.

  Hey, what do you expect? a voice in his head taunted him. After all, he wasn’t exactly the same inexperienced kid, either. He’d gone on, made a life for himself—of sorts—and obviously, so had she.

  Last night could have very well been just a pleasant interlude for her and nothing further. Certainly not enough to make her rethink things and change her life around.

  He had to assume that Brianna was happy with her life, with her daughter and with her career, and that having him around threw a crimp into all that.

  Maybe she was even afraid that he would want to change things on her, place demands on her that she wasn’t prepared to put up with.

  No, it was better just to keep going and not look back. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to daydream about building a brand-new life for himself and for her on a foundation that was all but eroding right out from beneath his feet even as he tried to take his very first steps.

  Eyeing Brianna covertly to see her reaction, he said, “Well, if she’s doing that well, then I guess I’m free to fly back to Tokyo.”

  “I guess so,” she said.

  Her smile was rigidly in place and she congratulated herself on not losing a beat despite the very real, very painful ache that she felt was eating up her gut from the inside out.

  Brianna was well aware that it wasn’t exactly ethical to use his mother as an excuse to stay. She couldn’t lie to him about her condition. But wasn’t all fair in love and war?

  This wasn’t war, she reminded herself and then quietly acknowledged that it really wasn’t exactly love, either.

  At least, not for him. He’d leave the first chance he got.

  For her it was a whole different story but it was not a story that she was about to share with Sebastian—or with anyone.

  It was her story to bear, her problem to deal with and resolve. And maybe, if she didn’t involve anyone else in it, she might bring about a good conclusion.

  Or so she hoped.

  “Well, if you’re going to be shoving off soon, maybe you’d better spend a little more time with your mother,” she suggested brightly, still doing her best to maintain a cheerful countenance. “Otherwise, she’s going to feel neglected—and we want her as upbeat as possible, even though, quite honestly, just the thought of you leaving will probably take its toll on her.” As well as on me, she added silently.

  “Right,” Sebastian agreed mechanically.

  About to leave the room, he turned around to the counter and retrieved the steaming mug of coffee he’d just poured for himself. Without thinking, he paused to take a sip of the hot, inky liquid. As it wound a warm, bracing path through his esophagus, down to his stomach, he looked in Brianna’s direction.

  “Good coffee,” he murmured.

  “Thanks. I thought you might like it.” She addressed the words to his departing back.

  His coffee preference was, even after all this time, one of the things she remembered about him—one of the many things she remembered about him, she silently amended. Sebastian took his coffee strong, hot and as black as potting soil—the exact opposite of the way she took hers. She liked her coffee exceedingly pale, with sugar and enough cream to make the cup pass for chocolate milk—light chocolate milk.

  Out of the corner of her eye, as she watched Sebastian leave the room—doing her best to prepare for the moment when he would be leaving her life again—she became aware that Carrie had wiggled down off her seat and was now pushing the step stool up against the counter.

  The next second, the little girl scrambled up the three steps that allowed her to touch a few things on the counter.

  In this case, it was a loaf of bread that had her attention.

  “What are you up to?” Brianna asked her daughter, forcing herself to focus on something other than Sebastian and his inevitable departure.

  “I’m gonna make some toast,” Carrie declared matter-of-factly.

  While she was all for encouraging independence in children no matter how young, this was different. She was in no mood to deal with the myriad of difficulties that could come out of the seemingly simple undertaking of making toast.

  “That’s okay—I’ve got it,” Brianna said.

  “No, you don’t,” Carrie contradicted her, surprising her.

  Brianna looked at the little girl quizzically. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re busy staring at Sebastian.” It wasn’t an accusation, but a statement of fact.

  “No, I’m not,” she protested with just enough feeling to sound sincere rather than confused, which she still was regarding Carrie’s behavior.

  “Yes, you are,” Carrie insisted. “You’re watching him walk out. Why? Are you afraid he’s going to fall down and hurt himself?” She asked the only thing that seemed to make logical sense to her.

  “No,” Brianna told her patiently.

  But I’m afraid that I am. Or have already. I’m afraid that I’ve fallen in love with him all over again—harder this time—and I shouldn’t have.

  “Then why are you watching him leave the room, Mama?” Carrie asked.

  “I wasn’t watching him leave the room,” Brianna lied. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?” Carrie asked.

  “About what to give a little girl who asks so many questions for breakfast,” she told her, pointedly looking at her daughter.

  “Scrambled eggs, toast and bacon,” her daughter recited.

  Because she asked for the same thing every morning, Brianna’s voice blended in with Carrie’s, reinforcing the choice.

  Carrie broke down in giggles.

  And that, Brianna hoped, was the end of the little girl’s interrogations.

  At least for now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sebastian was upstairs packing.

  Which meant that he would be leaving soon, Brianna thought with a heavy heart. Maybe even by tomorrow. She hadn’t been able to get herself to ask exactly when. All she knew was that it meant that she’d been right about the other night. It had just happened. It meant nothing to him.

  She meant nothing to him.

  Despite the fact that she’d told herself that all along, her heart hurt.

  When the doorbell rang, she was tempted just to ignore it, but whoever was on the other side of the door might be coming to see Mrs. Hunter. If she let them continue ringing the doorbell, it might make her come down the stairs to answer it herself. Although she was pretty certain that Mrs. Hunter was feeling far better than she pretended, she still didn’t want the woman exerting herself.

  Still she hurried to answer before the doorbell rang a third time. She did not expect to see her father standing on the doorstep. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  Jim MacKenzie looked around as he walked in. “I thought I’d take Carrie home with me for the night,” he told her. Still not seeing the little girl, h
e looked at Brianna and asked, “Where is she?”

  Brianna nodded toward the stairs. “Keeping my patient company.” A fond smile curved her lips as she thought of the duo. “She and Mrs. Hunter really seem to have hit it off.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her father laughed softly to himself. “She’s a pistol, our little girl.”

  Brianna looked at him, confused. “You know?” she questioned. To the best of her knowledge, she hadn’t said anything to her father regarding the situation. “How do you know?”

  That was a slip, he thought. Brianna didn’t know he’d been in touch with Barbara Hunter, didn’t know anything about the nature of what had brought the two of them together in the first place, and he had a feeling that now was not the time to tell her.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “I thought I’d give you the night off by taking Carrie home with me for the night. I rented some of her favorite animated movies. Thought she might get a kick out of some one-on-one time with her old grandpa.”

  “How’s that giving me the night off?” she asked. “Officially, I’m taking care of Mrs. Hunter. Carrie’s good about entertaining herself. She usually hangs out in a corner, reading her books until it’s time for her to go to bed.”

  “Barbara’s got to sleep some time,” he pointed out. “And then you get the night off—to spend it the way you want,” he added, looking at her significantly.

  Her suspicions were definitely aroused. Her father did not number among the most subtle people on the planet. “And just exactly how would I want to spend it, Dad?” she asked.

  His wide shoulders moved up and down in a nonchalant shrug that seemed just a tad too innocent. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe with Sebastian. As I recall, you two were going together before my accident.”

  “The operative word here being were,” she pointed out. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her father more intently. “What are you up to, Dad?”

  He supposed if he didn’t tell her, they were going to dance around the subject all evening, wasting too much time. “All right, Bree, if you want me to be blunt about it—”