Arms of an Angel

by Linda Boulanger

  “Garrett?” Claire whispered after they’d settled into their seats.

  “Hmm?” He leaned closer to hear her.

  “How much time did you spend mulling over Tori’s file?” she asked.

  Garrett couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “None. In fact, I quickly came to the same conclusion you did.”

  “What was that?” she giggled knowingly but wanted to hear him say it anyway.

  “That she was a spoiled little rich girl that needed a good old fashioned spanking. Not too unlike another young lady I know that needs to quit paying for everything. It’s getting a bit embarrassing.” He raised his brows as he looked down his nose at her.

  “Oh! The Dr. doesn’t like being a kept man?” she teased.

  “Careful now. Kept implies commitment which we both know you’re highly allergic to.”

  She laughed again and wound her arm through his as the lights dimmed. She laid her head against his shoulder with the beginning of the movie and he kissed the top of her curly haired head. She’d left it free though she’d repositioned the rest of her attire. Park prostitute indeed, Garrett thought. Claire Orion was lady through and through no matter whatever else she tried to be.

  Thus began their Sunday brunches and Wednesday lunches with an occasional matinee and usually at least one dinner a week thrown in. It was an easy, enjoyable relationship. Garrett was always amazed with her wit and ability to challenge him in thought and conversation. And in such a lovely package to boot!

  A good three months flew by before he approached the subject of her making the Saturday trip with him to his parents. He was met with immediate rejection and let it die quickly. In those few months he’d already begun to think futuristically, though he knew her feelings well enough not to push it. For some reason, she openly admitted that she was unfit to play the part of a proper wife. Garrett felt sure he could change her view, in time. Until then, he’d proceed carefully and simply enjoy being with her.

  * * * * *

  “I’m not seeing anyone else, Garrett,” she told him one day, rather out of the blue.

  “Me either,” he teased, though his heart was overjoyed. He was glad she’d chosen to share that bit of information with him. She could tell, though she really couldn’t understand it. Commitment still remained an allusive part of her vocabulary…at least, she thought it did. She wondered what made Garrett stick around, considering he really seemed as if he’d be the settling down type. Then again, his weekly trips to the country…he obviously hadn’t managed to untie the bands of childhood. Maybe the relationship fit him as well as it did her. There was only one thing lacking as far as Claire was concerned. She smiled, confident that too would change in time.

  “Will you come up?” she whispered as he kissed her lips, cheek, neck. Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened again. She was sure he’d say yes tonight. His kisses and caresses had a sense of urgency she hadn’t felt before. She was surprised when he pulled away and shook his head.

  “I can’t, Claire.” There was a hint of sadness in his reservation.

  “I don‘t understand.” Her eyes pleaded. “Garrett… Please. I‘m not asking for forever… just one night. You know I don’t want you to make me any promises. I don’t want anything beyond what we have. I just want you to hold me. Now, only now. Tonight.” Tears filled her eyes. “Why don’t you want me?”

  “That’s just it, baby.” He touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. “I do want you. But one night isn’t enough. I need you to want this, to want me enough to say we’ll try to make it last.”

  Her lips quivered as she held them tightly together. “Garrett, I can’t have children. I’ll never make a suitable wife. I can’t be what I’m not. Don’t ask me for more than I can give.”

  “Oh, Claire. Who ever told you such a foolish thing?” Garrett wanted to laugh with glee but held it in check because he knew she wouldn’t understand. So that’s why she was holding out on him, why she refused to let their relationship advance beyond casual dating and her continued request for what he knew would spell the end because she wouldn’t let it progress afterwards.

  “It’s why my dad took his first mistress. After my mom had me… there were complications. He blamed me for her inability to give him a son and, in his eyes, she was no longer whole. And then it happened to me… I ruined his chances for his bloodline to continue through grandchildren.” She laughed bitterly. “Irony of ironies, he never fathered a child with any of those women either. None of us measured up to his expectations.” She was crying full out now. Garrett’s heart hurt for her. He understood why his wanting her was so important. He reached for her but she pulled away.

  He didn’t pursue her. Instead he told her quickly, “I don’t need another child, Claire. What I need and want is you and for you to need and want me in return. Come to my parent’s farm with me tomorrow, Claire. Please?”

  She was already shaking her head. I’m not the type you take home to meet Mum. Look at me, Garrett. I dress like a high dollar hooker, carouse as I please, live for the moment… entice innocent men into my bed.” She looked at him. “I’m not good like you, Garrett.”

  “You’re wrong, Claire. Come with me.”

  “No. I have to go. Goodbye, Garrett.” She stepped from the car before he could protest. He didn’t try to stop her even though his very being screamed for him to do so. He knew she was not in a state of reasoning. She needed time. He’d return in the morning and insist, even if it meant dragging her kicking and screaming from her fancy home. He drove off knowing it would be a long night.

  * * * * *

  Claire pushed past Charlie and headed as quickly as possible to the back hallway, just as she had when she was a little girl and life had upset her. She didn’t care about the lobby occupants who watched with gaping mouths and looks of disapproval as a grown woman in heels and bared shoulders ran past in a whirl, knocking those who barred her path and ignoring others who tried to speak to her. All she cared about was escape, the escape she should have taken months ago.

  “Fool. Idiot. You’ve never been able to accomplish what you’ve set out to do. You’ll never amount to anything if that’s the road you choose to follow,” she chided herself.

  Those last words were her dad’s. He’d said that to her when she told him she wanted to pursue art, not college. He’d said she needed a degree. She could paint and teach or… He went nuts. Made her feel worthless; showed her again what a disappointment she’d been to him.

  Why couldn’t he just love her? And why couldn’t Garrett just want her, stay with her sometimes, and nothing more. That way when he found someone who could give him what she couldn’t, there’d be no strings attached. He could simply walk away.

  She hadn’t been completely truthful with Garrett. There had been another baby once. Her father had a son. It was several years after the artist. Claire was almost sixteen. That other woman, the boy’s mother, had wanted Claire’s dad to leave his family and be with them. He’d told her no. He couldn’t. But he wanted her to give up the boy and let Claire’s mom raise him. Can you imagine? Requesting that your son with another woman be raised by your wife? Not only that, expecting a woman to walk away from her own child? What kind of woman could do either of those things? Her father was an obsessed idiot.

  The mistress had refused and left with the baby. Her father had been devastated…for a while, though slowly he recovered…with her mother’s help. That was the one thing Claire had never understood. The whole event had brought her parents closer. She’d held out hope it would tear them apart and then it would just be her and her mom. But somehow his refusing to leave had made Claire’s mom overlook his faults and love him even more. He’d chosen her and, to her, it meant he truly did love her.

  Claire supposed that made sense. Still, she hated him for how he made her feel.

  Claire rode up the staff elevator, thankful to be alone. A perk of having been around this old building as a child, she knew the inner workings. If on
ly she could figure out her own self as easily.

  No figuring out left to do. There was too much turmoil, too much pain. It was time to go. She wondered briefly if perhaps she’d never really been meant to be.

  She was calm by the time she reached her floor, her decision having been made. Undoubtedly she looked a mess and was again thankful for a vacant hall. There was only one other unit on this floor, so she wasn’t surprised. Still, she was thankful. A chance encounter might deter her as it had when she’d stumbled across Garrett.

  Garrett! She snorted as she clicked on the light and several of her paintings were illuminated, including the one of him as her angel. She’d sat her favorites out in hopes of showing him should he have joined her that evening. There was the angel one, a farm scene with a happy family in the corner, a couple, mother and child, and the little girl she’d taken back from Old Joe.

  Joe! Her heart twinged. He’d miss her. She gathered the paintings into a pile in the sunroom closet and hastily scrawled a note that directed her finder to take them to Joe’s shop. She wondered if he’d sell them or keep them. No matter. At least he’d appreciate them. He was the only one who’d ever appreciated her.

  Claire looked out over the city, taking in the lighted night sky. False illumination, she thought. What a hollow place; beautiful on the outside, broken on the inside. Just like her. The whole world was the same.

  She went into the living room and poured herself a large glass of wine, kicked off her shoes right there at the bar and left them. Her dad would have been livid. All things in their place.

  She trod silently to the bedroom in her stocking feet. How anticlimactic, she thought as she opened the night stand drawer and pulled out the bottles. She studied their contents as she reclined against the stack of silk pillows piled neatly at the headboard. At least they were pretty little pills, she thought, which caused her to begin to laugh hysterically, ending in a sob. God, she was tired. She reached for the throw at the end of the bed and pulled it up over her and closed her eyes. So, so very tired.

  * * * * *

  Garrett tried to call three times throughout the night, to no avail. She must have turned off her phone. By 9:30 the next morning he’d gone way beyond worry. He wondered as he drove if they’d even let him in the building.

  His heart raced. He held his breath as he pulled into the circle drive; exhaled deeply in relief when he saw the man Claire called Charlie. He’d been there the night before. Seen how upset she was. Perhaps he’d listed to reason.

  “No sir. Been on duty since 6:00. No way she could have slipped past. She’s up there, sir. Just not taking your calls.” The doorman raised questioning eyebrows to Garrett.

  Garrett shook his head. The old man was guarded, protective. How could he convey the urgency without letting him know his fears? A quick mental rundown told him he couldn’t.

  “Look,” he told him, “Claire was very upset last night. I’m worried she may have… she was pretty shaken and talking irrationally. I thought a good night’s rest was in store for her but since I can’t get a hold of her… I’m a psychologist. I should have known better… can you let me in to check on her? We’ll believe the best, but ease our minds,” he implored the gentleman.

  “If you’re wrong… she could have me fired on the spot.” Charlie’s eyes showed concern as he wrestled with his job and with Claire’s well being. She had been pretty emotional the night before. She’d also been acting differently as of late, but not in a bad way; more like the old Claire instead of the over zealous party girl, bringing home strange men at all hours. Charlie felt confused. He studied the face of the man before him; a face filled with concern, compassion. Even if he was wrong, especially if he was wrong, that was exactly the face Claire needed, whether she realized it or not.

  “Come on,” he told Garrett. “Follow me.”

  “Thank you,” Garrett said quietly as he obeyed.

  Charlie nodded, “Jack! I’ll be right back. Cover for me, will you?” he hollered to a younger man working in the lobby.

  The two men were silent as they rode up the elevator. Any other time Charlie would have been filled with small talk and Garrett would have welcomed the insight into the finer details of the grand building, but not then.

  Charlie fumbled with the key when Claire didn’t answer their knocking. His face was washed with concern as the lock finally gave way and Garrett pushed past him. He pointed to the door that let to the bedroom when Garrett turned back and scrunched his shoulder indicating he was lost.

  Garrett stopped at the door and closed his eyes as his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. He opened them and slowly surveyed the scene before him; the half-empty wine glass, beautiful Claire, still and lifeless, laid out on the bed with the pill bottles beside her. His breath began to come in quick, shallow gulps. He’d known, yet he’d refused to believe…

  “Oh Claire,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.

  The pain bottled inside for the past 2 ½ years surged through him. A loud guttural “No!” burst forth; a deep sound that startled Charlie who stared at the scene over Garrett’s left shoulder. The doorman stepped back, missing a startled Claire scurrying up and pressing against the pillows in complete fear.

  “Garrett?!” she said as she took in her surroundings and gained her bearings. Her eyes darted wildly about; confusion reigned. She looked from a frozen Garrett to a fearful Charlie who had returned to the doorway at the sound of her voice.

  Claire stiffened, her chin set as her eyes register absolute anger. “Why are you here? Either of you?”

  Charlie began to stammer an apology. “I’m sorry miss. You were just so upset last night. And when he suggested… I wanted to make sure you were all right. He couldn’t reach you and…”

  “Save it!” Claire said, her voice edged in angry contempt as she shook her head.

  “It’s okay, Charlie,” Garrett intervened.

  “I told you I could lose my job over this, man!” Charlie whispered to Garrett.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Go ahead and go. Don’t concern yourself. You did the right thing. Thank you.” Garrett’s eyes never left Claire. She returned the stare with unguarded hatred.

  “The right thing.” Charlie heard her mock Garrett with his own words. “What exactly is the right thing Mr. O’Bryan? Is it right that you’ve disrupted my private affair? Tell me what right you have to be here? Do your credentials give you that right?”

  “The fact that I care about you gives me that right,” he returned calmly.

  “Oh now you care, huh? Is that why you pushed me away last night?” Her words were a mere hiss.

  “Oh, Claire! You have got to be kidding. I’m not the one that keeps pushing you away!” His emotional roller coaster took a turn to anger as he advanced toward the bed. Claire tensed as if to scurry off the other side then chose to stand her ground. “You’ve done everything you can to keep this relationship from going forward. I don’t know exactly what your game is, but I’m tired of it. Now get out of that bed and get changed,” he commanded.

  Claire stared at him with open-mouthed disbelief. “You can’t tell me what to do…”

  “Then you’ll go as you are.” He returned her angry glare without so much as a flinch.

  “And just exactly where am I going?” Besides crazy, she wanted to add. Perhaps he was taking her to the Looney bin. He had presumed she was a threat to herself. She looked at the two bottles of pills he had picked up as he came to the edge of the bed. She supposed it was pretty obvious he’d have been right.

  “To my parents farm.” His tone and his face had both softened as he too looked at the bottles.

  Claire gave a sarcastic laugh as she reached for the bottles. “Hey, those are mine,” she said as he took as step back.

  “Get ready, Claire,” he commanded again.

  “I’m not going to meet your parents on some lovely little country estate called a stinking farm, so they can stare at me with that look o
f guarded disdain that always comes when they know their near-perfect child is on the path to making the biggest mistake of his life.”

  Her tone was so bitter. Garrett chose to ignore it. “Get changed,” he said again, quietly yet sternly, as he leaned toward her.

  Claire glared at him for a moment with out moving. “Oh fine! Whatever it takes to make you feel good, Mr. Psychology Man. But I’ll tell you right now, this is a waste of time.”

  “I know. I know. Meeting parents is one step closer to commitment and you can’t commit because you have some crazy notion that you have to be able to give a man a son to count for anything…which you can’t do,” he placated as she jerked articles of clothing from their resting places in her closet and drawers, “and you can’t do that because…?”

  “Stupid doctors.” She went into the adjoining bathroom and he heard the shower water turn on. “A false positive report and an over zealous physician, and my life was forever changed within a matter of days,” she hollered out.

  “You didn’t get a second opinion?” he asked from his position just outside the cracked door.

  She didn’t answer for a moment. “I was nineteen years old, Garrett. I was scared and I was stupid. My parents were away. On a trip to Africa, of all places, and I couldn’t get a hold of them. I didn’t want to die! I was afraid to wait.”

  He looked down at the two pill bottles he still held. How ironic. The very thing she hadn’t wanted had led her down a path that was now driving her to live a life that wanted her to take her own. He put the bottles in his pocket and pulled out his phone.