A large flat-screen television hung on the opposite wall, and below it, built-in bookcases held some books, movies, souvenirs, and a few die-cast model cars still in boxes. Taking a second scan of the room, she realized there were no photographs on display.
Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen any photographs in the house. Artwork, yes. A Tuscany painting hung on the wall in the informal dining room, and there were a couple of watercolors in the great room. Probably left behind by the former owners.
But no personal photographs. No family photographs. She had always kept photographs of her loved ones with her. Even when she was living in hotels, she kept her wedding picture and the last photograph she had made with her parents on the bedside table.
She rested her shoulders against the back of the sofa and thought back to the day she and Brett had hauled the Christmas decorations down from Nana’s attic. In the ballroom, they had taken a break.
“This is a lot of Christmas stuff,” he said as they sat on the floor.
“Yeah. Nana goes all out for Christmas. What about your family?”
He shook his head. “No. It was just my uncle and me. Two guys. Christmas wasn’t a big deal.”
“What happened to your parents?” She had always wondered how it was that he had ended up living with his uncle.
“They were never a part of my life,” he answered. “My mother dropped out of high school when she was seventeen. She married this guy, and they were divorced a year later. Then she went to Florida with some friends and stayed there for a year, working in bars, serving drinks, and partying hard.
“She came back to Lafayette Falls pregnant, and her oldest brother, Mark, took her in. She stuck around for a while, worked some part-time jobs. She never went back to school.
“After my fourth birthday, she took off. She told Uncle Mark she was going back to Florida to look for a job and she’d come back for me. I never saw her again. She went on a drinking binge at a party and it killed her. I don’t know who my father is. My mother didn’t know. Uncle Mark made up a story about him, but that’s all it was. A fairy tale for a kid,” he had ended on a bitter note.
Natalie thought about that conversation as she sat in his large house, one where there were no traces of his family. Nothing that would link him to the past and Trinity Road. She understood that he disapproved of his irresponsible mother and absent father. And maybe that was what had driven him to be successful and to become everything his parents hadn’t been.
She thought of her own parents. Her father, Ted Layton, the senator who thrived on power and affluence, and her mother, pretty Susan Layton, who had endured a lonesome marriage, dreamed of Camelot, and convinced her young daughter that there was a magical place with a happily-ever-after ending, if she could only find it.
Natalie sighed. “Here’s to Brett and me and our screwed-up lives.” She lifted her glass, took a drink, and settled against the sofa cushions so she could see out the windows lining the vaulted ceiling. She relaxed, slowly feeling a little buzz from the liquor as time passed. She could make it through this night.
“Natalie?” Brett walked into the living room from the bedroom, bare except for black boxers. He raked his hand over his head as he swore. “I thought you were gone.” She noticed that his voice was edgy.
“I wasn’t sleepy, so I decided to get up and have a drink.”
He dropped on the sofa beside her and let out a long breath. “It’s the middle of the night, Natalie.”
“I know,” she said softly as she felt the tension rolling off his body. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He tilted his head as he gazed at her, his expression dark and serious. “I thought you’d left.”
She offered him the UT blanket, and he brushed it aside. “I came with you,” she said. “I don’t have any way to leave.”
He braced his hands on his knees. “And if you did? Would you go?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted frankly, and he looked away as if her words stung. “I didn’t get up because I wanted to leave, okay?”
“Sure,” he shot back in a clipped voice.
She sighed. “I don’t have true flashbacks of what happened to me. I don’t relive the experience like some survivors do, especially those with acute PTSD. But I have memories that are disturbing and sometimes they leave me a little rattled. I had to get up and wind down.”
He gave her a surprised glance. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. The drink helped,” she said. “I’m sorry if I let you down.” She felt the weight of all her transgressions fall on top of her. “I’m sorry I’m messed up. I’m the one who started this, and—”
“No.” He caught her hand. “We’re in this together. I want you here, and I don’t want you to have any regrets,” he insisted. “I just got upset when I woke up and you weren’t there. I thought you’d left me like those other guys who meant nothing to you. I don’t want to be one of those guys.”
“Brett.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “You’ll never be one of them.” She sealed that promise with a tender kiss, which seemed to make things better with him. He pulled her into his lap, and she arranged the UT throw over them. “This blanket reminds me of Uncle Harry. His house is like a shrine to UT,” she said.
Then she realized they hadn’t talked about her grandmother. “Speaking of family, Nana really surprised me when she told me she was going to let you be her doctor.”
“Me too,” Brett said. “I nearly fell out of my chair.”
“I wasn’t surprised that she figured out Harry and Lorraine’s plot. She’s sharp-minded. Always has been. I kept telling them that.” She shifted and reached over the arm of the sofa for her drink.
“I want a sip,” he said, and she handed him the glass. “Shit. That’s strong.”
“I know.” She took the glass from him. “I’m beginning to feel pretty good.”
“I told Anna it wasn’t all an act.” He rubbed his hand along her thigh. “Not on my part, and that I was really hoping to get lucky.”
Natalie almost choked. She set aside the glass. “Tell me you didn’t talk to my grandmother about us.” She gave him a horrified look and whispered, “You didn’t say anything about sex, did you?”
“I told her I’d had the hots for you since I was seventeen.”
“You did not.”
He fell against the back of the sofa, laughing. “You’ll have to ask her. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“I’m not asking her anything. Nana is like Pharaoh. Best left alone.”
“True,” he murmured as he kissed the hollow of her throat. “The bed’s cold without you.”
That was enough to make a girl swoon. She trailed her fingertips down his bare chest. “Are you saying we need to warm it up?”
“Maybe.” She loved his grin of anticipation.
She returned to his bed willingly, and in the darkness, she let him consume her until she was slick with sweat and filled with feverish passion. Their explorations had them tumbling on the bed and dazzling each other until they ended up wiped out and oblivious.
She settled beneath the covers with her body tucked against his. Her completely fatigued body needed rest, and her eyelids grew heavy. In the quiet aftermath of intimacy, her thoughts were of love. I know what love is.
She knew how good things could be between two people who loved each other and shared a sense of belonging together. She’d had that once. And as she lay in Brett’s arms, she wanted that again. She wanted love and closeness and passion. She wanted real.
As sleep whispered to her, she realized a love affair would be something of a breakthrough for her. Maybe another step in finding the light. But there was also darkness in it.
She knew Brett. He was as deliberate as she was impulsive.
Deep down, where it mattered the most, she didn’t trust him.
Chapter 16
“Look who’s back from parts unknown,” Brett said as Dr. Marla Grant walke
d into the physicians’ lounge early Saturday morning. He stood in the kitchen area, where platters of fruit and breakfast foods covered the countertop.
“Hot Rod. It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.” She smiled as she gave him a quick hug. Dressed in scrubs, she had a stethoscope draped around her neck. Despite having married a man who could give her anything she wanted, Marla hadn’t given up practicing medicine for a cushy lifestyle. Being a doctor was in Marla’s blood. Rich or poor, it was simply who she was.
“How’s it going?” he asked as they filled red foam plates with food.
“Great. We signed papers on the house in California, so it’s sold now,” she said. “And Carson is looking at land that would be suitable for the art center.”
Marla took a bottle of water from the assortment of drinks stuck in a bucket of crushed ice and led the way to a rectangular conference table the doctors often used as a dining table. A centerpiece of apple-scented candles and cedar added a crisp fragrance to the air. “I’m trying to get in a few more CEUs before the end of the year.”
“I’ve finished all mine for this year,” he said as he sat across the table from Marla. He popped a piece of smoked sausage in his mouth. Good, he decided. Probably not as good as Clara could make but not bad.
Marla speared a piece of pineapple with her fork. “I assume if you decide to take off for Kauai after Christmas, you won’t be going alone. Based on what I’ve heard.”
“You can’t pay attention to everything you hear.”
“You should take her there. It’s a five-star resort, and the penthouse is gorgeous. Right on the ocean. Very romantic. You might come back married,” Marla added with a wink.
When he didn’t respond, Marla gave him a surprised glance. “You are serious about her.”
“The smoked sausage is good.”
“Okay. I’ll leave it alone,” Marla said. “But if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
Brett looked up, unable to contain a broad smile. Yeah, he was definitely happy.
For him, Natalie was a fantasy come to life. The princess was a little charming, a little naughty, and a little electrifying. His body and his heart had been thunderstruck by her.
He had never met a woman whom he considered his perfect partner, but Natalie could be that woman. He could love her. Maybe he already did, even though he was trying to remain sensible about it. Sometimes men were stupid when it came to a woman. That was not him.
Natalie had been through some rough times, and as far as he was concerned, she had handled it well. Probably better than he would have. She still had issues, and she couldn’t make him any promises. He wasn’t going to push for any. He had given her his word she wouldn’t leave here with regret when it came to him, and he intended to keep his word. But he hoped she would be staying.
“Is she from here?” Marla was not going to give up.
“She was. You may remember her from school. Natalie Layton.” Marla had not been in their class. She had been a junior when they were seniors. “Natalie and I graduated together.”
“I don’t know her, but the name is familiar.” Marla studied for a moment. “Are we talking about the Castle House? Those Laytons?”
“Yeah.” It was always about the Castle House and those Laytons. “She’s home. Staying with her grandmother over the holiday season.”
Marla gave him an expectant look as though she expected more details. Women always did.
“Things are complicated,” he admitted quietly.
“I’m the poster child for complicated relationships.” Marla had weathered her share of scandal involving her past and present marriage. “My advice is to just hold her hand and don’t let go.”
Brett took Marla’s advice. As the days rolled past, he hung onto Natalie’s hand. She had told him she was trying to find the light, which translated into a future with purpose, hope, and happiness. He wanted to be a part of the light.
By the first week in December, he had a dozen photographs on his phone, commemorating their love affair. His favorite was the photograph he now used as a background image on his phone. Wearing the red Elvis dress that he liked so well, she stood beside his black Firebird.
He remembered she shivered after he took the picture. “I know you like this dress,” she had said, rubbing her bare arms. “But I need to change. It’s too cold to go out wearing it.”
Removing his jacket, he draped it around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Why don’t we just stay in?”
Huddled beneath his coat, she had given him a suggestive smile. “I’ll race you to the bedroom.” Impetuous and sexy. He loved that about her.
He had a picture of her with her camera at the edge of the lake. Her camera, with a wide-angle lens attached, was perched on top of a tripod. It faced west as the sun started to set, and she explained the basics of photography to him as she stood beside the camera, bundled up in a parka and scarf.
“Taking a photograph is simply exposing film to light. In the case of a digital camera, you have an image file and light-sensitive cells called pixels,” she said. “You use the lens to capture and focus the light being reflected from your subject. You have to adjust the shutter and the aperture to get the right exposure. The aperture is like an opening in the lens, and it determines how much light reaches the film. The shutter controls the amount of time light is allowed through the aperture.”
She adjusted the shutter speed. “Underexposure works well with sunsets to produce rich, deep colors.” She looked toward the west, where the sky was awash in vivid purple, pink, and a fading orange sun and was reflected in the still water of the lake.
In awe of the sight, she sighed. “Nature gives us this gift every day, and most of the time, we never think about it or even see it,” she said. “But it is truly beautiful.”
He had agreed as he hit the button on his phone, taking a photograph of her standing beside her camera with the sunset behind her.
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, they had hung out at the Thunderbird with Jerry and his girlfriend, Roxy. Jerry, decked out in his duck-hunting outfit, had a couple of duck calls with him, which had fascinated Natalie. Sometimes she could be such a kid. Brett had taken a picture of Jerry teaching Natalie how to use a duck call.
Then there were photographs of the Christmas tree ordeal. Anna, whose pacemaker implant was scheduled on the Monday after Thanksgiving, demanded that the Christmas tree at the Castle House be put up and decorated on Sunday so she could see it, just in case she were to die in the hospital on Monday; despite Brett’s assurances that she would make it through the procedure, she insisted she might not. After all, he was not God.
Anna had sent him and Natalie to a Christmas tree farm to pick out a ten-foot tree. Thankfully, the owners of the tree farm knew Anna, and they delivered and set up the tree in the ballroom on Saturday. On Sunday, he and Natalie decorated the tree under Anna and Pharaoh’s supervision. The cat still didn’t like him.
He snapped a shot of Natalie standing on a stepladder, tossing icicles on the tree, and she took one of him as he stuck a glittering silver star on top of the tree while trying not to fall off the ladder and break his neck.
He had a picture of Anna and Natalie at the hospital before the pacemaker implant. Anna insisted she and Natalie have one last picture taken. Just in case. Then Brett took a picture of Anna and Natalie as they were leaving the hospital. “This is my I-told-you-so picture,” he announced, much to Anna’s scorn. He knew he had become one of her favorite people. He did not fail.
And there was a selfie he’d taken of him and Natalie. Just their faces, looking a bit flushed because they had been fooling around on the sofa at his house. She stayed at his house more than she stayed at Anna’s now. That had been deliberate on his part. He routinely planned something for them to do at his house, and then he would convince her to stay the night. Why go home when there was plenty of room for her? Especially in his bed.
He was having the best time of his life. Thi
ngs were so good that it worried him a little. He wasn’t a pessimistic person, but he remembered how Uncle Mark always said when you got too comfortable, that was when life screwed you.
He didn’t plan on letting life screw him, but it was getting close to Christmas, and Natalie had said nothing about staying in Lafayette Falls after the holidays. He had given her space and gone along with her choices. No pushing her. But if she hadn’t made the decision to stay by Christmas, he was going to step in and stop her from going back to a life where she no longer belonged.
At the hospital, his soft-sole shoes were noiseless against the tile floor as he strode down the hallway on the pediatric floor, where colorful murals of Santa and his workshop decorated the walls. It was a trip like this that put his worries about his personal life in perspective. He didn’t have any problems compared to some of the little patients on this floor.
He tapped lightly on the door to Room 310 and pushed it open. He carried a red gift bag with a curly ribbon attached to it.
“Brett,” Kevin Tucker, a lanky man with a tired face, greeted him.
“Hey,” he said. He had been buddies with Kevin in school, but after graduation, they hadn’t seen much of each other. Now bad luck had brought them together.
In the small, private room, eight-year-old Ryan Tucker was engulfed by white linens covering the hospital bed. The head of the bed was elevated, and Ryan was in a lounging position, watching television as intravenous fluids flowed slowly into his body and monitors registered his vital signs.
“Hi, Ryan,” Brett said, giving the little boy with a mop of dark brown hair and brown eyes a big smile. He had always found pediatric patients to be the most heartbreaking, especially the ones he couldn’t help. Like Ryan, who suffered from cardiomyopathy. His disease was a result of a genetic mutation. A DNA defect that came with tragic consequences.
Everything His Heart Desires Page 18