Brandon stepped into the kitchen and raised his cup. "Excellent coffee, but you need more than that and toast for heavy investigating. Rosalie prepared a feast."
"There looks to be enough food for a small army," Caroline said, smiling at the cook.
"Nothing like cooking for the gentlemen. They have a hearty appetite and appreciation for good food," Rosalie said as she made shooing motions. "Y'all get into the dining room. I'll bring in everything. You want your eggs poached, Miss Caroline?"
"So much for listening to me," Caroline muttered as she turned to lead the way to the dining room. Brandon was right on her heels. He caught the door behind him.
"It won't hurt you to eat a good breakfast. We don't want your energy flagging."
Caroline raised her chin and turned to respond and almost bumped into him. She hadn't realized he was so close. Brandon reached out a hand to steady her, his fingers warm as they closed on her bare arm. Swallowing hard she tried to ignore the sensations that exploded from his touch. But that proved impossible. Clearing her throat, she looked up at him.
"Toast would have given me enough energy."
"For everything?" he asked slowly, his thumb making random patterns on the soft skin of her inner arm. Caroline couldn't think.
Nodding she tried to pull free. His grip tightened. Without looking away, he placed his cup on the table and reached for her with his other hand. Caroline gazed into his eyes, mesmerized as his dark gaze seemed to glow with hidden fires. Slowly she felt herself drawn closer.
Before she could say a word in protest, he pulled her against him and encircled her with his arms. Lowering his head, he kissed her again.
Caroline stood rock still for a split second before responding to his kiss. Her arms encircled his waist and she hugged him tightly. His scent filled her senses and she tried to find a rational thought that'd help end the madness.
They hadn't seen each other in years. Yet in all that time, she'd never found anyone who came close to fostering the feelings this man could with a single look.
She should remember he didn't want her. Somehow that didn't seem important with his mouth moving against hers, with his hand tracing patterns across her back, with his heart thumping heavily against hers.
"Excuse me," Rosalie said coming from the kitchen with her arms laden with plates. "You two can carry on like that later. Now you sit yourselves down and eat this breakfast while it's still hot."
She placed the plates on the table—Brandon's at the head, Caroline's to his right. Fussing with silverware and napkins, she looked over at them.
Caroline pulled away, breathing hard, her lips warm and slightly swollen. Her heart raced. For a second, she'd forgotten everything but joy.
Only—it was an illusion.
Blinking, she stared at Rosalie and met the woman's knowing gaze. Flushed with embarrassment, she pulled out her chair.
"Thank you, Rosalie, it looks delicious," Caroline said, trying to recover a semblance of normalcy. She couldn't believe Brandon had kissed her again. And kissed her like he was never going to let her go.
Nor could she believe how she'd responded. How she wanted more and actually resented Rosalie's interruption. She should be grateful for the woman's entrance. Kissing Brandon did not play into her plans for the future.
She took a bite of poached egg, aware of Brandon drawing his own chair and sitting close to her. His leg brushed hers as he settled in.
Her gaze flew to him. He smiled at her as if nothing earth-shattering had happened.
Caroline tried to eat, but the food had little taste. Her blood pumped through her veins, her breath catching. Why had he kissed her? Twice! He showed up unexpectedly and—what? Offered to help, to stay for a few days. Why?
Brandon poured another cup of coffee, raising his eyebrows in silent question to Caroline. She nodded and pushed her cup closer to him.
"Tell me about your work," Brandon said as he filled her cup. Setting down the coffee carafe, he began to spread butter on a biscuit then began to eat with obvious enjoyment.
Warily, Caroline studied him. "Why?"
Shrugging, he replied, "I'm curious. I'd have thought the garden club, Junior League and hospital charities would've kept you too busy to work."
She stiffened at his sardonic tone. Tilting her chin slightly, she glared at him. "My grandmother may have belonged to those organizations, but I don't. Of course I work. How do you think I've earned my living?"
"I have no idea. I thought you ran home to resume your former life-style."
"I didn't come home because of that," she said. Was that what he'd truly been thinking all these years? Surely he'd known her better than that. How could he have thought—
"Come on, Caroline, you know you missed this."
He waved his hand around the elegant dining room, with the beautiful old cherry wood furnishings, the ornate crystal chandelier suspended from the tall ceiling, the fine china and elegant Revere silver coffee service.
"Our apartment was a far cry from luxurious."
She shook her head. "You're crazy, Brandon. I left because I was devastated at the loss of the baby. And there was no one to comfort me, to stand by me."
Not that her grandmother had, either. She'd dismissed the miscarriage as a trivial incident, one that allowed Caroline to resume her proper life without problems. She'd predicted Brandon wouldn't come after her and in that she'd be right.
"And you received comfort from that old woman?" he asked incredulously.
Slowly, she shook her head. "No."
"So why stay away?"
"I told you, I didn't think you cared. Besides, I had Michelle and Abby. They rallied around. Both of them were still here back then."
"You thought I didn't care because I didn't immediately come after you? Give me a break here, Caroline. I had commitments."
Pushing aside her plate, she took her cup and rose. "I was a commitment. You married me, remember? And proceeded to ignore me when I needed you most. All for work."
"Caroline. I had other—"
"I don't want to hear it! This conversation's pointless. What happened, happened. It's over. I'm going up to Eugenia's bedroom to see if there're any papers there. I called grandmother's attorney and got the name of a reputable appraiser, who will be by later today to appraise the furnishings. If you want to stay to help, fine. Otherwise, maybe you should head back to New Orleans."
Caroline left on shaky legs. Any talk of the past disturbed her. Was she ever to get closure? She'd been ecstatically happy with Brandon until she'd lost their baby. The weeks that followed had been a nightmare. Longing for comfort, for companionship, his absence had been worse than anything. His being here now made a mockery of her feelings.
She needed to find some distance.
Brandon finished the meal Rosalie had prepared, though he'd lost his appetite. He'd like nothing better than to return to New Orleans today. It made no sense staying any longer. They couldn't even eat a meal together in harmony. Nor have any kind of discussion. Not with Caroline's running away at every turn. Had he truly expected anything different from her?
Once finished with breakfast, Brandon headed for the attic. He found stacks of labeled boxes and chose two from two dozen years ago. He carried them down and dumped them on the floor in the empty bedroom closest to the attic steps.
Caroline followed him in eyeing him warily. If she could keep the conversation off the past, she might be able to relax.
Brandon glanced up as she walked in.
"This is probably a wild-goose chase, you know," he said as he ripped off the tape of the first box. "Eugenia could have been talking nonsense, Caroline."
"I know that's a possibility. Still, I need to verify it either way if possible."
"You could be opening a can of worms."
"How do you figure that?" she asked as she peered into the box and reached for a handful of paper.
He sat beside her. Close enough for him to reach out and touch her if he w
ere so inclined.
It was a huge room, with twelve-foot-high ceilings and two sets of French doors that were open to the upper balcony. The bed didn't begin to take up the major floor space, nor did the chair, table and bureau. He hadn't needed to sit so close to her, but figured it'd make any sharing of papers easier.
"What if you learn something you wish you hadn't?" he asked.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. What if your grandmother didn't chase your father away. What if he turns out to have been the no-good drifter she called him? How'll you deal with that?"
"That's not new. I expect I'd go on like I always have. But what if he didn't leave of his own free will, don't I deserve to know that?" she asked.
Taking a deep breath, Caroline tried to calm her emotions. Instead, she caught a whiff of Brandon's aftershave. Her heart skipped a beat in memory. Shyly, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. He concentrated on the contents of the box, allowing her all the time in the world to study him.
Which wouldn't be enough, she realized as the minutes drifted by. She could stare at him forever.
Taking another breath, she turned her attention to the papers in hand. The jumble took her aback. She'd have thought her grandmother would have been meticulous in storage. It looked as if she just dumped in every paper relating to a particular year. Sighing, she began to scan the top sheet.
Brandon stretched over and snagged a wastebasket. "Dump the trash in here. And nothing's worth keeping, unless it has some value today."
Scanning each sheet briefly, Caroline either tossed it into the wastebasket or placed it in a stack beside her.
But before long, she found her mind wandering. She skimmed over each document, but her attention focused on Brandon. She could see him from the corner of her eye. And for a moment the years seemed to melt away. It was as if they'd never parted. Wistfully she wished things had been different.
Of course, she'd wished for years that she'd had her baby. That they could have built a family full of love and laughter.
Would Brandon have been more attentive if the baby had been born, or would he have become so consumed with making it in the business world he'd neglect his family?
If she'd had her baby to fill her days, would she have felt so neglected while he worked?
Had their marriage been doomed from the beginning?
He looked up as if reading her mind. "Well?" he asked.
"Well what?"
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing, just thinking," she said uneasily.
"About?" He looked at her curiously.
"Nothing," she repeated, too afraid to broach the subject. That way lay heartache.
"Thinking about nothing gives you that funny look on your face?"
"I don't have a funny look. Did you find anything?"
"I'm not looking, I'm talking with you. For the first time in five years, I might add."
She tilted her chin and faced him. "And whose fault is that?"
"Yours."
"If you are referring to my returning here, I wonder how long it took for you to realize I wasn't at the apartment? I mean, did you notice right away or was it several days later, when the laundry hadn't been done or groceries bought? You were never home long enough to notice I was missing otherwise."
"Not so. I knew the first night. The apartment was empty, echoing like a tomb."
"Don't."
The memory threatened to overwhelm her. She blinked back sudden tears. Five years and she still ached. How long would it take to get over the loss. To totally get over it and move on?
"Denying it or ignoring it won't get anything resolved, Caroline. You can't hide from what happened. We both made mistakes. It's up to us to correct them if we can. And if we can't, then it's time to cut our losses and move on."
She studied the carpet pattern, wishing she were elsewhere. After the strain of her grandmother's illness and death, to have to confront Brandon was too much. She longed to stop the words, to have him stay another day or two before bringing up the past.
"You're five years too late," she said softly.
He drew a deep breath. "In more ways than one, I guess."
Glancing up at him, she frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You and I never should have married. Our worlds were too far apart."
Caroline stared at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. She didn't want it to be true. She'd loved him so much!
"When we hit our first bad patch, instead of drawing together to fend against the world, we went our separate ways. Did you think I wasn't upset about losing the baby? I wanted our baby, Caroline! It was a part of both of us."
He hesitated a moment, then slowly added, "I hated losing it for another reason. My father had been diagnosed with cancer. He didn't have long to live. I wanted him to see my son or daughter. Wanted him to have the chance to hold his grandchild, once, before he died."
"I didn't know," she whispered.
The hurt grew with each word he spoke, with each memory he exposed. She hadn't known about his father. That made their loss all the worse.
"No, you didn't know. I'd only found out a week or so before we lost the baby and hadn't talked about it. I was still trying to come to terms with the news. It doesn't matter, now. The apartment wasn't as fancy as this place, but if you'd stayed around, the money eventually came in."
"It was never about money!"
She rose up to her knees and dashed away the tears that threatened to spill over.
"It was about needing someone there for me. You were gone, I was alone day and night. Do you have any idea how difficult that was for me? We hadn't lived there long enough for me to make many friends. At least here I had my sisters, long time friends, familiar places. A time to recover while I wasn't alone!"
Brandon looked away, frowning. " I felt totally helpless. There was nothing I could do to make things right. So if I buried myself in work, it took my mind off—"
"And I needed something, too, Brandon. Only I had nothing! I didn't have a job. Nothing to consume me, so I wouldn't feel the loss every single minute. Just an empty apartment, an empty nursery, an empty spot on your side of the bed. So, yeah, I came home. You're right, obviously we shouldn't have married. I expected more than you gave me. I needed more."
His hard gaze clashed with hers. "And I expected more, as well. Loyalty and commitment."
"Don't talk to me about commitment. You were so far gone in your work that you didn't have time for anyone!"
"It was the only way I knew to cope with the tragedy."
"And what about me?" she almost screamed.
He was silent for so long, Caroline thought he wouldn't respond. Her breathing slowed, her flare of anger began to fade. Finally, he spoke.
"I let you down in more ways than I thought," he said slowly.
Deflated at his capitulation, she sank back on her heels, at a loss for what to say next.
He admitted he'd let her down? She should have felt vindicated. Instead, she only felt a huge sense of loss. She'd loved him, believed he loved her. And their marriage hadn't stood the first test.
"It's over, then, isn't it?" she said slowly. "No more hoping you'll show up one day, no more wanting to turn back the clock, make things different."
"Honey, you can't make things different. You had no control over the miscarriage. I didn't know how to comfort you. I couldn't find comfort for myself. Maybe your returning home was the best thing for you."
Standing, Caroline dusted her hands and looked at him. "The best thing for me would have been to have my husband contact me five years ago."
With that, she turned and left the room.
Chapter Four
Brandon watched her leave, anger simmering just below the surface. She still had the power to infuriate him!
"It's a two way street, Caroline. You could have met me half way," he called after her.
He rose and took two steps toward the door, intent on following her. Then his cell p
hone rang. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the slim device. He growled into it.
"Madison."
"Whoa, boss. Don't snap my head off. Am I interrupting something important?" His secretary's familiar voice came through.
"No. What's up?" Betty Jean wouldn't call if it weren't important.
"We received a fax from Bendix. You said to let you know when it arrived. Do you have a fax machine there?"
"Send it to the laptop. If I don't have wifi here, I'll use my hotspot. What does he say?" Brandon asked as he began walking toward the bedroom he was using.
In seconds, Caroline's abrupt departure was forgotten, as he concentrated on a crucial situation for a customer. Setting up his laptop, he noted his suit jacket slung over a chair back—the divorce papers still in the inside pocket.
Why not just give the blasted papers to her and have done with it?
It was over an hour later before Brandon finished dealing with the myriad of details related to the Bendix situation.
That done, he went in search of Caroline. Surprised, he found her back in the bedroom where he'd deposited the boxes. By the looks of the overflowing wastebasket and stack of papers beside her knees, he could see she'd been at it for some time.
She glanced at him, immediately returning her attention to the sheet of stationery she held, saying nothing.
Brandon sat beside her and reached for another stack of papers. He'd cooled down while working through the Bendix mess. Now, despite all that had transpired between them, he was determined to discover more about Caroline before leaving.
What had she been doing over the last five years?
"You never told me about Dallas," he said a few minutes later.
She looked up in surprise. "I have a good friend there from high school. She invited me for a visit after I lost the baby. She's in real estate and got me interested. I'm my own boss. And I'm doing pretty well. Dallas is an exciting city. I like living there."
She gazed into space for a moment as if considering what else to say.
"I bet you're a success," he murmured, tossing a stack of papers into the trash and reaching for more. "You always found it easy to talk to people. Wouldn't that be an asset in selling homes?"
Letters to Caroline (The Talmadge Sisters Book 1) Page 5