Four floors—every step with a curse for Mary Leo, Allison Chandler, and Jess Harper. Much to his consternation, his nemesis exited the elevator just as Brodie reached the bottom of the stairs. He’d acted like a jerk; he knew it. But seeing her with Harper’s arm around her, wanting it to be him, wondering if she wanted him or Harper, needed him or Harper—it drove him nuts.
“What’s your problem, Miller?”
“Jackass. Allison could have been killed in there.”
Jess’s palm hit his shoulder.
Brodie stepped in eye to eye, chest to chest, seething. “Get away from me, Harper. I’d like nothing better than to shove my fist down your throat. She knew what she was doing. She handled Sam Bennett like the professional she is. Besides, she had you to comfort her—as usual. What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have some shrubs to prune or some flowers to plant?” he sneered.
He was overreacting, but he held his ground. I should have been the one to hold her, comfort her. It should have been me taking care of her. She’s my job…my woman.
“Not that I need to justify my presence to you, but I brought her a list of potential performers for her fundraiser.” Jess shook his head in consternation. “You’re an interesting man, Miller. I know your story. I appreciate the sacrifice you made, and your service to our country. I know what it takes. It’s a damn shame you don’t have the courage to face your feelings for Allison, or hers for you.”
“You know nothing, Harper.”
“I know how she feels about you, and I know how it feels to stand at the wall. Navy. Washed out of BUDS training on the last rotation, broke my leg on the obstacle course. Couldn’t pass the physical to go through again. So, when I say I know what it takes… Shit, that’s not important. Allison and those men are what’s important. It surprises the hell out of me that you are so preoccupied with my relationship with her that you can’t see the truth. You really need to get over yourself, Miller. Better men than you laid it all on the line and didn’t make it home. You should be grateful to be alive, let alone to have a woman like Allison…”
Jess swallowed, his throat working, the muscles in his jaw clenched. He paused, staring into Brodie’s eyes. “I don’t get you, Miller. I don’t get you at all. You have a woman who loves you, an exceptional woman—beautiful, talented, full of love and compassion—a woman any man would be proud to call his own, yet you just turned your back on her when she needed you. Didn’t you hear her calling your name? Jesus, man, how could you do that?”
Brodie felt a punch of regret hit him in his gut. It didn’t help that Harper was right. “You think I’m not aware of who and what she is? That I don’t think about her every minute of every day? You know as well as I do what this is about.” He spat. The security guard at the door shot a glance their way; they needed to take it down a notch.
“You’re right—it’s about Allison. How many times will you walk away from her before she finally lets you go?” Jess planted his feet and leaned into Brodie.
Brodie straightened and thought a minute.
Jess went on. “What she sees in you, I couldn’t say, but she loves you. It’s there for anyone to see.”
Brodie caught his breath, his heart pounding. Was he telling the truth? She loved him?
“Yeah. That’s why I backed off, the only reason I backed off. Have you even talked to her since she was at my mother’s house? Have you given her a chance to tell you what happened? You have this incredible woman, this incredible gift. And you’re going to fuck it all up. And when you do, I’m going to be there to pick up the pieces, because she deserves better than a man who is so self-involved that he walks away from her when she needs him because of a petty feeling like jealousy. You got problems? Solve them. I’ll put it in terms even you can understand. Take the field or quit the team.”
Brodie seethed as Harper left. Fists clenched, chest heaving, he glanced at the curious stares of onlookers.
Deep down, he knew the man was right. He drank too much, even if he had been cutting down lately. He’d been focused on the nightmares and pain and the misery. It had all been about him, not her. Her needs, her dreams. She deserved better. She’d given him her passion and compassion. What had he given her?
All that baggage…added to his jealous reactions to her friendship with Harper. And just now, when she’d been in trouble, he’d seen her with him, been pissed, and left her in his care. He heard her call his name and turned his back on her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he had.
The pain of disappointment in himself ate at his gut. The pain of hurting Ally wrapped a vise around his heart. The pain of falling short was acid in his stomach. No wonder she’d turned to the landscaper; he might as well have handed her over with his blessing.
Brodie sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He had two choices. He could put his shit aside and concentrate on something other than himself, maybe become the kind of man Ally deserved. Or he could leave things as they were and lose her and probably himself in the process.
In two weeks, the Blazers had their first practice game. Once that started, he had to keep his mind focused on the game. Coach had given him a chance and put his faith in him. The guys depended on him. It was his job.
It didn’t leave him much time, but he had an idea of how to set things straight with Ally. And the first order of business was to meet with Coach Randall.
Chapter Seventeen
Allison closed on the halfway house the following Monday. She and Mary Leo talked it over and decided to take care of the exterior first. Fall was already in the air, and they might get an early winter. The general contractor Jess had recommended arranged for carpenters to replace the rotted wood and siding. The painters could scrape and paint once they were done. Mary Leo thought it would be a good idea to go ahead and have the wiring replaced and the plumbing checked out. Those were things that needed to be attended to for the convenience of the workers as well as the future residents. The only problem was money. She was running out of it.
After running it by Dr. Leo, she contacted the Dean of the School of Music and offered to give a master class in exchange for the use of the auditorium for private classes of her own. The room was only available on Thursday evenings, which worked out well with the rest of her schedule. There were no therapy sessions or classes on Thursdays. She had some flyers printed up and placed an ad in the Entertainment and Arts section of the Birmingham News. If she could charge twenty-five dollars per class, she could cover some of the ongoing renovation costs.
Life would be wonderful if it weren’t for one thing. The man who lived across the street.
Even though things weren’t the same between them, Brodie waved to her each morning. They left at almost the same time every day. He was friendly as always and didn’t seem to be bent out of shape about Jess, but he hadn’t come over since their blow-up. He was busy with the team, and the work agreed with him. He looked good. Really, really, really good.
She laughed to herself. Nothing had changed since they were kids. She still watched for him out her front window and wondered where he was and what he was doing when his car wasn’t in the drive. She lay awake in her bed at night and his image lay down with her. The feel of him, skin to skin. The smell of him…as familiar to her as her own. No, nothing had changed for her, nothing at all.
She played for him every night, soothing melodies to help him sleep. She didn’t know if he was aware she did it for him, but it didn’t matter. It was a way of expressing her love from a distance—because she loved him, she truly did. It might as well have been a mile instead of across the street, though. He stayed on his side; she stayed on hers.
She missed him. She lay awake at night in her big lonely bed and tossed and turned.
And their timing? It seemed to her that her world revolved one way and his another. So she stayed busy with her job and plans for Brett’s House, and he stayed busy with UAB football.
****
A black stretch limo b
locked the street in front of the hospital entrance Friday morning. And a Channel Six van with all its broadcast paraphernalia was setting up across the street. Had something bad happened she didn’t know about?
“Paging Ms. Chandler. Paging Ms. Chandler. Please report to the fourth floor conference room,” the hospital paging system announced the minute she walked through the door. She had the strangest feeling she was about to get the answers to her questions.
Allison opened the door to the conference room, and her stomach hit the floor. Mary Leo anchored the long, rectangular table. To her left sat John T. Worthington, esteemed mayor of the city of Birmingham, and his wife Luanne. Their son, Ike “Big Ike” Worthington, had played football with Brodie and Brett at Alabama. Many a Saturday she’d watch him plow the field for her brother and Brodie as they brought the Crimson Tide to victory after victory. They smiled in response to her questioning look.
Next to them sat the chief of the Department of Public Safety, with the police chief and the fire chief, and across the table were representatives of the hospital’s board of directors and the Veterans Administration. That explained the black limo and the TV news presence. The mayor was a consummate politician. A wonderful man and a genius at the game of politics. He had never been publicity-shy.
She had no idea what to think, but the key to the mystery sat at the opposing end of the conference table. Brodie smiled and held up a stack of folders.
“Glad you could make it, Ms. Chandler. If you could please take a seat next to me, we have a few matters to discuss,” he said, and waited for her to take her place. “Mr. Mayor, if you would like to begin?”
Allison stared at each member of the group, perplexed and uncertain of the purpose of this esteemed gathering. She took a seat, smiled, and sent a questioning glance toward Brodie and Mary Leo.
The mayor cleared his throat and began in his deep politician’s voice. “Ms. Chandler, Colonel Miller came to me and explained your plans for a residential facility for the treatment of the most severe cases of PTSD and TBI. I’m sure I speak for everyone around this table when I say how grateful we are to you and Dr. Leo for taking the lead on the project. That you would take the initiative is impressive, but for you to invest your own money in something that will impact the lives of so many in our community has challenged us to examine how we, as a city, can contribute.”
“That is why we are gathered here. Colonel Miller spearheaded our efforts, and we think we’ve come up with a proposal that will please you. It has been brought to our attention that you are organizing a fundraiser featuring performances by some of the foremost names in music. But “A Night with the Masters” needs a venue fitting the importance of the evening. It is with this thought in mind that the city feels privileged to offer you the beautiful Alabama Theater on a Saturday evening of your choice, all costs underwritten and all proceeds benefiting Brett’s House.”
Astonishment put a huge smile on her face. It was going to happen. Brett’s House was going to become a reality. Awe filled her heart as tears of gratitude welled in her eyes.
The politician continued, “The Department of Public Safety represented here has secured volunteers from active and off-duty policemen and firemen who will insure the event is safe and secure.”
Brodie held up one document and slid it in front of her. It held a proposal outlining the mayor’s plan. She pressed her lips with her teeth, shook her head, and looked at him with adoring eyes.
Doctor Proctor cleared his throat. “As chief of the hospital, I called Mr. Adkins here, our local VA rep, and we all met to see what we could contribute to Brett’s House. You will own the property and the facility will be yours, but it will be an outreach of this hospital and benefit the VA. We’ll assist in fast-tracking health and governmental requirements, as well as any other red tape you might encounter. We’re committed to supporting Brett’s House in any way we can and will do everything we can to insure your ability to make good use of it to further the treatment goals of our patients. Having said that, we’ve allocated funding to furnish beds, medical equipment, and supplies for the residence.”
Dr. Bernard spoke up. “Human Resources, in conjunction with Social Services, will be happy to meet with you and Dr. Leo and go over staffing. I am sure once the community is informed you will have more than enough volunteers to do whatever needs doing, but we are placing flyers all over the hospital to enlist nurses and physicians to handle visitation at the facility,” he said.
Brodie held up another document and a copy of the flyer and slid it in front of her.
That’s when the tears started to fill her eyes. She grasped the two documents with shaking fingers as she made an attempt to thank them. “Gentlemen, I don’t know what to say. When I lost my brother, I lost a part of myself. Playing the piano didn’t seem important in light of his sacrifice and that of so many others. Having a place to house those who have paid the ultimate price and come home damaged, those who bear the scars no one can see, who face the night with fears no one can understand—that place is the fulfillment of a dream. You are making the dream a reality. From the bottom of my heart I say ‘thank you’ for myself and for Brett and for all the others like him.”
The mayor stood. “The city council also voted to make the first of what I am sure will be many donations to Brett’s House. If you will pardon the obvious nature of the presentation of the check, by making it public we hope to promote knowledge of the facility and encourage the general public to become a part of this effort. Allison, our son Ike was a teammate and friend of Brett and Brodie. It’s personal for us. Luanne and I also want to make a donation—privately, of course—as does Ike. But for now, could we adjourn to the front of the building and let Channel Six do the rest?”
The generosity of the mayor and of all those attending this meeting overwhelmed her. Her heart filled to bursting with appreciation for the vision of these good people and their willingness to put their faith in her. It would be a huge undertaking, but Brett’s House would pay it forward a thousand fold. So many wounds healed, so many hearts restored, so many families saved. An outpouring of love for the kind of man her brother had been. It was all because of him. Uplifting, but bittersweet.
Blinking back the tears welling in her eyes, she looked at Brodie’s widely grinning face. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“You can thank me later,” he teased under his breath. “Like tonight…dinner…my place?”
She nodded, and as the others filed from the room, she reached for his hand. Cradling the calloused fingers in hers, she gently squeezed. She’d underestimated him. While she’d been moaning about his bad behavior and feeling sorry for herself, he’d been working to make her dreams come true.
Dinner at his place? Brodie never let her into his place. She wondered if his invitation had some special significance. Looking at the blue intensity of his gaze, she certainly hoped so.
“I’ll be there.” She stood on tiptoe, and placed a peck on his cheek. His cheeks flushed when her lips touched his face. He had such a dear, dear face. And she loved it so very, very much.
They all gathered in front of the hospital for the presentation of the checks and to publicize the festival weekend. Hands were shaken, cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions and jostled for the best position.
Allison smiled to the sky. Are you watching this, Brett? Can you see all you’ve accomplished? How I wish you could be here beside me.
She took the check on behalf of Mary Leo and the veterans who would benefit, thanked the mayor, Luanne, and all those who made this moment possible. While she spoke, she searched the faces in the crowd for the one that meant the most. Finding him, her heartbeat stuttered at the answering expression on Brodie’s face.
Somehow she knew everything would be all right between them. Someone far, far away was looking out for her. The sun warmed her face, and she could almost feel her brother standing right there beside her. Wherever he was, she carried him in her heart. Always.
&n
bsp; ****
Five o’clock finally rolled around. She fought her way through traffic, pulled into her driveway, and glanced at Brodie’s house. No activity, but some delicious smells were emanating from his side of the street.
She grabbed a quick shower and took special care with her makeup and hair. What to wear? Ah. At the back of her closet she found a soft yellow dress. Designed in a halter style, it hung straight from her neck, wrapped under her breasts, and hugged her curves. Brodie would like it.
Slipping on a pair of lace panties in the same shade as her dress, she perused her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was flushed with anticipation, flavored with a hint of desire. And hoping for a night to remember.
****
Brodie met her at the door before she knocked.
“Hey.” She smiled as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth. Arms around her waist, he pulled her through the door and slowly kissed her lips, her chin, and the hollow of her throat. Worries about his reception disappeared in the warmth of her embrace and the taste of her hungry lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his mouth. “For today. For everything you’ve done.”
“I owe you an apology, sweetheart. Many apologies. For the day I left you after the Bennett fiasco. For the way I’ve treated you. For the way I’ve been so self-involved. You deserve so much better than me.” Brodie couldn’t finish because of the emotion clogging his throat, tightening it up.
“You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. There’s nothing to forgive.” She locked her fingers behind his neck and toyed with the soft hair teasing his collar. Leaning forward, she let her hands trail to frame his face and kissed him. His heart pounded as he saw her emotions reflected in the pools of her eyes. Already she was his. His breathing ratcheted with the thought. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against his body.
“Dinner is almost ready. Are you hungry?” He barely got the question out of his mouth. God, he hoped she’d say no.
Sonata by Moonlight Page 16