Bonnie smiled at them as she waited for the staff person to unlock the door he’d led her to. They walked in an oblong room with a conference table and several chairs. In the corner, a desk sat with a telephone. The man picked up the telephone and asked someone to tell Brandt he had a visitor.
Bonnie’s nerves jangled as the minutes ticked by. She turned and looked at the door, and there was Brandt wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt, the kind he used as an undershirt. He had on tennis shoes, but the laces were missing. The whiskers on his face testified he likely hadn’t shaved since Bonnie had seen him last, and the expression in his eyes was one she hadn’t seen before.
“Thanks, Jon,” he said without breaking eye contact with Bonnie. He stopped in front of her, and the corner of his mouth curved upward. “I knew you’d figure out what the number meant.”
Emotion closed Bonnie’s throat, and she swallowed a few times. “What happened? Are you okay? What happened to your shoes? Do you need me to bring you some shoe laces?”
He shook his head. “We can’t have shoe laces in here. Or belts, or anything else that someone can hang themselves with.”
Oh, mercy.
“It’s all right. Really.” He gestured to the table. “Let’s sit down.”
Brandt sat on the end of the table, and Bonnie sat down across from him. A thousand questions crowded her mind, but she waited for Brandt to speak.
He glanced at the man he had called Jon. Bonnie did as well. It must be that patients were not allowed unsupervised visits.
“I checked myself in here.”
“Okay.”
“I thought about what you said—about the missing time in my life. You said that sometimes the system will place a child in a facility if there isn’t a placement available or if he’s got problems. So, I decided to visit a few, and when I walked in the lobby here, something happened to me. I started sweating. My heart started to race. This wave of nausea hit me like I had the flu. I left and went and sat in my car, and the feeling went away, and I realized that I must have been here before.”
Bonnie sat back. “You were here before? Brandt, that’s wonderful that you figured that out. But I don’t understand. Did you have a panic attack? Is that why they committed you?”
He shook his head. “No. I told them I was suicidal.”
“Oh.”
“I told them that because I knew they’d probably agree to keep me here for observation, and it would give me the opportunity to look at their files to see if I had been here.”
“They’re not going to let you look at their files.”
“Don’t I know it. People watch you all the time. I haven’t been able to do anything without a nurse or tech looking over my shoulder. For someone like me who prides himself on being invisible, it’s humiliating.”
Bonnie shook her head in derision. “Brandt, you told them you’re suicidal. Of course, they’re going to watch you every second. You’ve got to tell them the truth. They’re your records. Why don’t you just ask them to look?”
“I didn’t think I would have to, and besides, if I tell them everything,” Brandt’s dark gaze dropped, “they might decide there’s something really wrong with me. And then I won’t be able to leave when I want to.”
Bonnie’s heart knocked painfully in her chest. She reached over the table and took Brandt’s hands. “Let’s find someone to talk to. I’ll be here with you. We’ll do it together.”
Bonnie turned and asked Jon if anyone were available for them to talk to about Brandt’s diagnosis. The young man who was sitting at the desk, picked up the receiver. “You probably should talk to Crissy Mayford. She’s the director of therapeutic services. I’ll see if she’s available.”
Within twenty minutes, Jon escorted Brandt and Bonnie to a smaller room with a table and three chairs. Sitting down at the table, a thin woman with dark hair entered the room.
“Hi,” she said sitting on the vacant chair. “I’m Crissy Mayford. Tell me what’s going on.”
Brandt didn’t speak. Bonnie looked at him. He watched the tabletop in front of him, and a drop of sweat ran down his temple. Bonnie scooted her chair closer to his and grasped his hand again. His fingers tightened on hers.
“Brandt has something he needs to tell you.”
“Are you family?” Crissy asked.
“She’s my wife,” Brandt declared.
“Brandt, the truth. Tell her why you’re here.”
“I’m here because…” He sighed. Then he shut his eyes tightly. Bonnie didn’t think he was going to say anything else.
“Brandt—”
“It’s all right,” Crissy said. “Just give him a minute.”
Opening his eyes, he looked at Crissy and told her the story of the night he and his brother were separated, the many foster homes he’d lived in before coming to live with Delores. Crissy asked a few questions as Brandt talked. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest and told another story Bonnie hadn’t heard before.
“When I was a senior in high school, I was dating a young woman. I was arrested for raping her. I plead guilty.”
“Did you rape her?” Crissy asked.
“No. I never would have forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Or any woman. I don’t remember a lot about my mother, but I do remember a man beating her the last night I ever saw her because she wouldn’t do what he wanted. I have never treated a woman like that. Not even close.” Brandt looked at Bonnie. “But this girl—she was sixteen, and her parents were unsympathetic.”
Bonnie listened to Brandt’s story and marveled at his role in the incident involving Kayla and Rex. Bonnie tried to remember her past comments. Did Brandt think she placed him in the same category as Rex?
“Do you blame her for what happened, for you going to jail?” Crissy asked.
“I think she was too scared to tell them what really happened. I didn’t hold it against her. It is what it is, you know? But I didn’t go to jail. At least, not for long. After the conviction, I had to wait for the sentencing. A man came to see me. He said he could divert my sentence if I would work for him. He was in an organization that dealt in covert operations. So, I said, okay.”
“Brandt, why are you telling me all of this now?” Crissy asked.
“Because I don’t want to kill myself. I just wanted to find out if I was a patient here when I was a kid.”
“We didn’t admit you because you were suicidal. We admitted you as a patient because you were symptomatic of PTSD.”
“Really?”
“Have you been taking and swallowing your medicine?”
Brandt pinched his lips together and stared at Crissy.
“I see. Where are the pills?”
“I threw them in the trash when I could, and one I saved until supper and then I put it in my milk carton before I took my tray up.”
“I should have known. You were much too compliant with your meds. Most patients who willingly take their medicine don’t try to sneak out.”
Brandt smiled. “Your staff are top-notch. You have no idea how good I am at leaving and entering places undetected, and I haven’t been successful here once.”
“Except you weren’t medicating, and we were not aware.” Crissy stood up. “What year was it that you think you were a patient here?”
Brandt answered her.
“All right. Jon will show you back to the visitation room.” Crissy opened the door and left. Even before they crossed the threshold, Bonnie felt Brandt’s distance.
“You don’t have to stay,” Brandt said as Jon accompanied them to the other room.
Bonnie turned and searched his face, but she couldn’t read any emotion.
“Do you want me to go?”
“I appreciate your advice. You accomplished in an hour what I haven’t been able to do in four days.”
Disappointment and confusion swirled in Bonnie’s mind. “But do you want me to go?”
The wall—or whatever it was�
��fell, and fear marred his face. “No. No, I don’t.”
Then it was gone, but Bonnie had seen it. She took a step toward him, and then they were in each other’s arms. Brandt’s mouth descended on hers, the bristles from his whiskers scraping against her lips and skin deliciously. Bonnie opened her lips and tasted him, giving him more than he asked, putting all of her doubt and relief in the kiss, hoping he understood what she hadn’t the chance to tell him with words. Vaguely, she realized his arms encased her, and her feet weren’t touching the ground.
“Sorry. Sorry, guys, you’re going to have to stop.” Jon was speaking, and Bonnie became aware of catcalls from the other patients. “Conjugal visits aren’t allowed and especially not in the day room.”
****
Before visiting hours were over, Crissy had met with Brandt and Bonnie once more. She had researched Brandt’s suspicion he’d been a patient previously, and he was right. Crissy located the file in the hospital’s record storage room.
“There’s nothing here about your brother, but you were here for seven months—from ages six to seven. We treated you for PTSD and panic disorder. Those aren’t uncommon at all for someone who experienced what you did.”
“Is it strange that he has no recollection of being here?” Bonnie asked.
“Obviously, you did remember subconsciously,” Crissy spoke to Brandt. “That’s why you were able to be so convincing the day we admitted you. Profuse sweating. Your temperature and blood pressure were both elevated, and you exhibited signs of extreme stress.” Crissy shook her head. “But it isn’t uncommon for our minds to block out traumatic events in our lives. Obviously, you were able to develop some coping skills and overcome the tragedy of your past. It’s exciting to meet you after knowing you were a patient here, even if you misrepresented your circumstances to get in.”
“Next time, just ask,” Bonnie said.
“Yes. Next time, just ask.”
“So, can I go?” Brandt asked.
Crissy smirked. “No. You haven’t been discharged yet. I’ve had a consult with the doctor, and he’d like to meet with you about what you’ve told me. Whether you need to be hospitalized for the symptoms you’re presenting remains to be seen, especially since you have not been compliant with your medication. You could leave AMA, but the doctor is not going to discharge you today”—her attention turned to Bonnie—“and visiting hours are over.”
With one last soul-wrenching kiss, Bonnie left Brandt and the unit.
“Call me,” she said. “Okay?”
“I will. I promise.”
Stopping by Veda’s on the way home, Bonnie picked up the boys. Bonnie was later than usual, so she had called and ordered pizza to be delivered to the house. She kept her cell phone close by in case Brandt texted her, but he didn’t.
The next day, he did call.
“Hi,” he said.
Bonnie’s heart thumped quickly. “Hi. Are you okay?”
“The doctor wants to keep me a couple more days.”
“Okay.”
“I’m in a mental hospital.”
“Yes.”
“And they think I need to be here.”
Bonnie heard the dejection in his voice.
“You just found out there is about seven months of your life you don’t remember. You think the doctor doesn’t want to talk to you about that?”
His sigh came through the line.
“Brandt, you have the opportunity to explore some things in your life that were very painful. Maybe you can find out why you’re afraid to be naked.”
“I asked about it. They call it a coping mechanism because a lot of the traumatic things that happened to me as a kid took place at night, and the doc says it’s all right if I want to sleep in my clothes. Even though, he thought the exercise you and I did with letting you wear my shirt was likely beneficial.”
Bonnie cringed. “You told him about me?”
“Yes. Listen, I know you’ve been reluctant to be involved with me from day one, and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to have anything else to do with me. I’ll let it go, and I won’t stalk you or try to contact you again. I promise you don’t have to worry about me.”
“What about Marshall?”
“Of course, I still want your help, but I can keep it professional.”
Fear slammed into Bonnie. She didn’t want to keep it professional.
Wait. What?
Oh, mercy me.
I’m in love with Brandt Sherrod, ninja.
Bonnie’s mind began racing with the implications of loving someone who had a letter as part of the zip code at his job, who had no qualms breaking into the governor’s office and stealing sports memorabilia, who was presently residing in a mental institution, and whose kisses made Bonnie lose her breath.
Of course, I still want your help, but I can keep it professional.
Was he saying that because he had changed his mind about her?
Or because he thought she didn’t want him?
Bonnie took a fortifying breath. “Let’s talk about it when you’re discharged. All right?”
****
A text from Brandt showed up on Bonnie’s telephone the following evening:
Sprung from the nut house Appreciate everything you’ve done.
Bonnie smiled. She texted him back: Want to come over? Kids are in bed.
Half hour?
Come to the back door, Bonnie sent back.
A soft knock alerted her that he had arrived. She went to the door and opened it. Brandt stood there in black denim jeans and a black golf shirt with his tennis shoes laced up. His whiskers were fuller, covering his face in a dark beard. Yearning to touch him, to kiss him, filled Bonnie. Instead of jumping on him and kissing him, she stepped backward and gestured to the table. “Would you like to have some cake?”
A wide smile split his beard. “You know I do.”
Bonnie cut him a large piece and arranged it on a plate in front of him.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay, at least Breckinridge says I am.” He meticulously divided the cake on his plate. Why wasn’t he eating it? “I know you didn’t know all of my history.”
“You didn’t know all of your history either.”
“I’m talking about my conviction. Even though my record doesn’t show I raped that girl, I admitted to it, and I took responsibility for it. So, I understand why you don’t want to see me anymore.” His gaze focused on the cake.
“But you didn’t rape her.”
“No.”
“Okay, so you didn’t, and it all happened a very long time ago. We all did stupid things when we were young.”
“Yeah? What did Bonnie Moore ever do that was stupid?”
“I fell in love with Guy Moore and married him.”
“You got three kids out of the deal.”
“That’s true. I’d like to think that in my forties, I’m smarter about such things. More discerning. More wise. Eat your cake. You make me think you don’t like it the way you’re pushing it around your plate.”
“I love your cake.” He shoveled a piece of it and put it in his mouth. “See? Mmmm.”
“Brandt, I know that all of this with your brother and your lost time, it’s a lot to process. I don’t want to add to your stress.”
“Since I’m crazy and everything?” He took another bite.
“Would you stop with that? I don’t think you’re crazy. I need to tell you something. When you were at Breckinridge, and I didn’t know where you were, I started to worry about you. Were you hurt or dead? It scared me, and I wished that I hadn’t….”
“Played hard to get?” He stuck the fork in his mouth and cleaned the rest of the icing off of it.
“Yes.”
Her one word answer made him pause. For the first time since they sat down, he met her gaze.
“Falling in love, it’s not responsible,” Bonnie said. “I’ve got my children to consider, and it’s scary to think that I’ve gi
ven my heart away again, because I know how much it hurts to love someone who can’t love me back.”
Brandt laid the fork down next to the plate and stared at her. “No.”
“I don’t want this to be awkward between us. I judged you when we first met, and a lot of times since then, but when you show you care about my kids, well, that just makes it that much harder for me not to love you. I didn’t think I’d fall in love with someone again, but I have. I do, so if you don’t want to stick around after we find Marshall, that’s okay. I just want us to be discreet, so that my kids won’t get too attached. All right?”
Brandt blinked at her. “You want to have an affair with me?”
A nervous laugh escaped her mouth. “A discreet one, I guess. If it turns into something more permanent, that’d be wonderful.”
A little smile turned his mouth upward. “Secret affair,” he sang the words of a popular song. “Hide me in your closet when your dad comes to the door. Secret affair. Brag to the boys at school that I made a weekend score.”
“Shh. Shh! Would you be quiet?”
“Sorry.” He scooted back his chair and picked up her hand, then tugged. “Come sit here and tell me about this discreet affair we’re going to have.”
Bonnie allowed him to maneuver her onto his lap. “I don’t think this is it. If one of the kids walks in, me being on your lap is going to look suspicious.”
Brandt grinned at her and planted a wet kiss on her palm. Bonnie’s body tingled all over as if that spot on her hand connected with every other part of her.
“We still have our clothes on.” But a wicked light had entered his eyes. His other hand slid under her shirt. His thumb slid across her bra.
“Brandt.” She was about to tell him to stop, when he leaned forward and kissed her.
Yearning battled with uneasiness. He was nibbling her neck now, and she was pretty sure he’d unhooked her bra.
“Brandt.” Bonnie shook her head to clear away the lusty haze. “We have to stop.”
He palmed her breast. “I don’t want to stop,” he said against her lips.
She held onto his forearm. “Neither do I, but I don’t want to do this in the kitchen.”
Brandt slid his fingers down to her waist. His intense gaze held her, and he began to stroke her hip.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 111