Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics)

by Debbie Macomber

  Brand wanted to take her to dinner Friday night, and Carly had agreed, although she’d felt less nervous when the captain of the football team had asked her for a date in high school!

  “I may not be back until after ten,” Brand warned.

  “No problem. And you know better than to expect a three-course meal.”

  Setting his empty mug aside, Brand stood and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later,” he promised, his voice low and husky.

  George returned to the office just as Brand was leaving. Carly stood at the window until Brand had climbed into his car and was gone.

  “You two have been seeing a lot of each other, haven’t you?”

  Carly’s answer was a nod. Her private life had nothing to do with the office, and she wasn’t going to elaborate on her relationship with Brand to satisfy George’s curiosity.

  “He’s a rare man, Brand St. Clair.”

  She could feel George studying her. Carly’s boss had seen the look on her face—and knew the cause. “Yes, he is,” Carly agreed, and turned back to her desk.

  “He’s driven himself hard. But he looks more relaxed now than I can ever remember,” George continued.

  Carly said nothing, not wanting to encourage him.

  “I don’t suppose you could say anything to him about becoming a full-time pilot for Alaska Freight Forwarding, could you?”

  Mercifully, the phone rang, so Carly didn’t have to answer George. By the time she’d replaced the receiver, her employer had left the office.

  * * *

  When Carly returned to the empty apartment that evening, she felt restless. Usually Brand arrived shortly after she did. Now, for the first time in days, the evening stretched out ahead of her, devoid and lonely. The thought shocked Carly. A couple times she found herself glancing at her watch and mentally calculating how long it would be until Brand arrived. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted.

  Bit by bit, Brand had wiggled his way into her life. She did his bookkeeping, and in return he was teaching her how to fly an airplane. That had been their original plan. Instead, their evenings had been spent simply enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes Brand dropped by the office unexpectedly, for no more reason than to have a cup of coffee and chat for a few minutes. Now a day without spending time with Brand seemed unnatural. She had tried to tell Diana about these fears concerning her relationship, but never quite did. What she was feeling about him came from the heart and not from the mind. These emotions were foreign to her, and she wasn’t sure she could explain what was happening to her dearest friend when she wasn’t entirely sure herself. And although she loved her friend, there were certain things even Diana couldn’t be expected to understand.

  There was so much Carly didn’t know about Brand, and yet she felt she knew everything she would ever need to know. Nothing in his life had ever been done halfheartedly. Only a man who loved with such intensity could grieve the way he had for Sandra. Only a man with as much insight into and understanding of her personality could be as patient as Brand had been with her.

  With all that she was, she loved him. The realization came to her gently, warm and secure, kindling a fire that glowed. She did love Brand. What she didn’t know was whether or not her love for him was strong enough to overcome the fears and anxieties ingrained in her conscience since childhood.

  * * *

  The FCC flight manual was balanced on her bent knee and the television was on with the volume turned down when Brand knocked lightly against her door.

  “Hi.” She greeted him with a hug. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved.” He groaned and pulled her into his arms. “But before you go into the kitchen I expect a proper greeting. None of those miserly kisses you seem to be so fond of giving me.”

  Smiling seductively, Carly slid her hands up his chest and allowed them to rest on the curve of his shoulders. “Remember,” she whispered huskily, as she fit her body intimately to his, “you asked for this.” She kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other. Then she outlined the contour of his lips with her tongue, darting it in and out of his mouth with a teasing action that affected her as much as it did Brand.

  His hands began to caress her back in an unhurried exploration as his mouth opened to hers, taking the role of aggressor. His lips parted hers. Carly clung to him, drained of strength.

  They broke apart, each gasping for air.

  “A few more of those and I won’t be responsible for what happens,” he murmured breathlessly.

  All the blood flowed from her face. The point in their relationship was fast approaching when kissing would satisfy neither of them. Carly knew that Brand yearned to make love to her, and frankly she wanted him, too, but this was a serious step in their relationship and she wasn’t sure either of them were ready.

  “Let me get your dinner,” Carly said, as she turned away. She could feel Brand’s smile hit her straight between the shoulder blades. He was assuming she was running again, and he was right.

  Happy—perhaps happier than she’d ever been at any time in her life—Carly worked in her small kitchen as Brand leafed through the newspaper. She built him a three-tiered sandwich, piling each piece of bread high with meat from the local deli, adding sliced tomatoes and cut pickles. She topped her creation with a giant green olive that was speared with a toothpick. Then she adorned the plate with potato chips and proudly carried her masterpiece in—only to discover that Brand was asleep on her sofa.

  Carly toyed with the idea of waking him, but he looked relaxed and so peaceful that she couldn’t make herself do it.

  Returning to the kitchen, Carly bit into a crunchy potato chip and covered the sandwich with plastic wrap. He could eat it tomorrow. Leaning against the counter, Carly yawned.

  She tucked an extra pillow under Brand’s head and covered him with a spare blanket. The temptation was strong to linger at his side, to make an excuse to touch him. Her fingers flexed with the desire to brush the thick, dark hair from his forehead. But such an action might wake him, and she didn’t want to risk that.

  An hour later the flight manual could no longer hold her wandering attention. Time and again her gaze slid from the fine print on the page to the sleeping figure across from her. If Brand hoped to bore her with dull reading, he was succeeding, but she wouldn’t let him know that. A lot of what she’d gone over tonight might as well have been in a foreign language. What she needed was a pre-preflight instruction manual. But she wouldn’t give up. Now she was more determined than ever to get her pilot’s license.

  She hesitated in the lighted doorway of her room, watching the moon shadows surround Brand. Realizing that she loved Brand was one thing; what she was going to do about it was something else entirely. So many questions remained unanswered. Most important were the ones neither of them had voiced.

  * * *

  When Carly woke the next morning, Brand was gone. A note was propped on the table apologizing for his lack of manners. He assured her that his falling asleep didn’t have anything to do with her company, but only the fact that thirty-three years were taking their toll. He reminded her of their dinner date that evening and asked her to wear her best dress because they were going to do the town. His hurried postscript mentioned that the sandwich had been fantastic.

  Carly sat with a glass of orange juice and a plate of toast as she reread every word of his note. The happiness she’d felt finding it washed over her. It was as if Brand had written her a poetic love letter. Perhaps she was suffering a second adolescence. Good grief, she hoped not. The first one had been difficult enough.

  That afternoon, at the stroke of five, Carly was out the office door. She wanted to luxuriate in a scented bath and be as beautiful and alluring as possible when Brand arrived.

  The phone was ringing when she walked through the apartment door.

  “Hello.” Her voice was singsongy with happiness.

  “Carly, I’m going to be late.”

  “Brand, where are
you?” The line sounded as if it were long distance.

  “Lake Iliamna.”

  “Where?” He might as well have said Timbuktu.

  “The largest lake in Alaska. There’s a lodge here.”

  “Oh.” That didn’t mean anything to her. “I take it you’re using the float plane.”

  Brand’s low chuckle warmed her blood. “The woman’s a genius.”

  “When should I expect you?”

  “Honey, I don’t know. It could be hours yet.”

  The endearment rolled off his tongue seemingly without thought, and Carly wondered if that was a name he’d called Sandra. She pushed the thought from her mind forcefully. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, allow Brand’s first wife to haunt their relationship. Not any more than she already did.

  “Carly, you’re terribly quiet all of a sudden. Are you angry?”

  She jerked herself from her musings. “Of course not. Listen, Brand, would you rather cancel the whole thing? I don’t mind. We can go out to dinner another time.”

  “No,” he returned. “I want to see you. I need to see you. That is, if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “No,” she whispered softly. “I don’t mind.”

  By eleven, Carly was yawning and rubbing her eyes to keep from going to sleep. An old rerun of Law & Order was the only thing that kept her from drifting into a welcome slumber.

  Brand arrived at midnight. “Carly, I’m sorry,” he said the moment she opened the door. “I came right from the airport. Give me another half hour to go home and change. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “We can’t go out now.” Carly could only guess what it had taken for him to offer. One look at the fatigue in his eyes was all she needed to see that he was exhausted. “Nothing’s open at this time of night,” she reasoned in a soft voice.

  “We’ll find something,” he assured her, but not too strenuously.

  “Nonsense. I’ll let you do your magic with eggs, and we can eat here.”

  His arms brought her into his embrace even with his eyes closed. “I can’t argue with you there. It’s been a long day.”

  “What time did you leave my apartment?” He’d spent at least part of the night on her sofa.

  “Three. Which was a good thing, since I was due to take off from the airport at four.”

  “Good heavens, Brand,” she lamented. “You’ve been up nearly twenty-four hours.”

  His smile faltered. “Don’t remind me. Tell me about your day.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I got a letter from Jutta Hoverson. She wrote me the day my letter arrived, which makes me feel good.”

  “What did she have to say?”

  “Not much. She’s doing some charcoal sketches. The painting of the child was her first oil work. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  Brand sat down in the kitchen while she took food from the refrigerator. “And I phoned Diana to tell her what time my flight would be landing in Seattle. She’s too calm about this wedding business. It won’t surprise me if she tries to cancel the whole thing at the last minute.”

  Carly set a tall glass of milk in front of Brand. “Drink,” she ordered. “I’ll whip up something in a jiffy.”

  It surprised her that Brand didn’t fall asleep in her kitchen chair. After he’d eaten, she led him to the front door. His good-night kiss was as gentle as it was sweet. “I’ll phone you tomorrow,” he promised. He was making several short flights on Saturday but couldn’t invite her along because he was scheduled to fly crew into camps and there wouldn’t be any space in the plane for her.

  * * *

  Carly spent Saturday morning shopping for a dress for Diana’s wedding. Although she spent several hours browsing, she couldn’t find what she wanted. Problem was, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But she knew she’d recognize it when she saw it. Shopping had never been her forte, and she decided to leave it until she arrived in Seattle. Diana would know exactly where to go.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent answering Jutta’s short letter. The woman hadn’t said much. Few personal details were given in the note. Carly had no idea of her age or background. In her reply, she explained that there was a possibility that she would be able to visit Jutta the following week. She mentioned that she’d like to look at the charcoals then.

  With the letter finished, Carly glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was dinnertime. Not having heard from Brand, Carly assumed that it would be another late night for him.

  He showed up around nine, declined her offer for dinner, and promptly fell asleep on her sofa. This time Carly decided to wake him. Enough was enough.

  “Brand.” Her hand on his shoulder shook him lightly awake.

  He bolted upright and blinked. “What happened? Did I fall asleep again?”

  Arms crossed, Carly paced the floor in front of the sofa, unsure how to express her frustration.

  “What’s wrong?” He was awake enough to recognize that she was upset.

  “Plenty, and—and don’t tell me that you don’t want to argue, because this time you’re listening to me. Understand?”

  Brand wiped a hand across his eyes and nodded. A wary look condensed his brow as his eyes followed her quick, pacing steps.

  Without preamble, Carly began. “I won’t be a pit stop in your life, Brand. Maybe some women can live like that, but I’m not one of them. I want to talk to you when you’re not so tired that you’re rummy. And when I leave the room I want to come back and find you awake.”

  “A pit stop?” Brand repeated blankly. “Carly, it’s not that. Seeing you, being with you, is more important to me than anything.”

  “Then why am I stuck with the leftovers of your life?” The hurt was impossible to hide.

  He rose with the intention of taking her in his arms, but Carly wasn’t in any mood to be kissed. She sidestepped him easily. “Go home, Brand. Get a decent night’s sleep, and maybe we can talk later.”

  Sitting back down on the couch, Brand rested his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands together with his index fingers forming a small triangle. “I don’t want to leave. We need to talk this out.” His eyes showed the strain of the past week.

  “As far as I can see, there’s nothing more to say. I understand why you work the hours you do.” She took the chair opposite him. “You can’t start a new life with me or anyone else while Sandra’s medical expenses are hanging over your head …”

  “I paid those off six months ago,” he announced in a tight whisper.

  “Then why are you pushing yourself like this?”

  He didn’t answer; instead, he stood and walked to the far side of the room. He paused with his back to her and smoothed the hair along the side of his head. “You’re right, Carly. You deserve more than what I’ve been giving you.” His look was sober as he turned, his eyes searching hers. “I love you, Carly. I thought those feelings within me had died with Sandra. But I was wrong.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I love you, my sweet Carly.”

  Brand didn’t need to tell her that he’d said those words to only one other woman in his life. Carly’s fingers were trembling so badly that she clenched them into fists at her sides. Everything that she wanted and everything that she feared was staring her in the face.

  “Well?” Brand was waiting for some kind of reaction.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so tight it was hardly recognizable. “I’ll always treasure that.”

  “You don’t know how you feel about me?” Brand asked.

  “I … know what I feel.” Swallowing was difficult.

  “And?”

  “You’re waiting for me to declare my love. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She was speaking loudly and being obtuse because she was afraid.

  “Only if that’s what you feel.” Everything about Brand softened, as if he recognized the turmoil taking place within her.

  “All right, I love you! Are you happy?” she cried out on a sob. Her whole body was shaking. />
  “I’m not, if it makes you so miserable.”

  “It’s not that.” Oh no, she was going to cry. Her throat ached with the effort to suppress the tears.

  “Carly, I want to marry you.”

  “No.” The denial was torn from her in shocked dismay. This was the one thing she’d feared the most. Tears slid down her face and scalded her cheeks. A hand covered her mouth as she shook her head violently from side to side. “I can’t, Brand. I won’t marry you.”

  “Why not?”

  There wasn’t any explanation that made sense, even to herself. How could she possibly hope to make him understand? “You … you had Sandra. You have children.” Her voice wobbled, and she tried desperately to control its quivering but failed.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Carly moved into the kitchen and picked up the low-heeled loafer from beside the garbage pail. “I’m throwing these away because … because there was never enough money for me as a child and everything had to be fixed and repaired until it was beyond rescuing. I don’t want that anymore.”

  “Carly, you’re not making any sense.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. But I am what I am. You’ve been married and you’ve loved.” She swallowed down the hurt. “I want to be a man’s first love. I want a man to feel for me what you did for Sandra.”

  “Carly, I do.”

  “But I want to be your first love,” Carly cried. “Don’t you understand? All my life I’ve been forced to take someone else’s leftovers. I’ve always been second and I won’t be again, not with a husband. Not with a man.” Brand looked as if he might come closer to her, and she held out a hand to warn him to stay away. “You have beautiful children, Brand. A boy and a girl. Don’t you see? I can’t give you anything you don’t already have. You’ve had a wife. You have children.”

  The grimness of pain returned to his eyes. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

  “Must we do anything?”