by Kelly Moore
His tone is not as smooth as it was a minute ago. I turn toward him and walk to the opposite end of the leather couch. “I’m sorry about Patrick, Mr. Taylor. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night at dinner.”
He sits back like he was before I invaded his space. He’s really very handsome with a touch of gray at his temples and a smattering through his once dark hair. He’s neatly shaved, and you can clearly see the weight of the world on his face. Crow’s feet line his blue eyes, and there is a deep crease between his eyebrows. He kind of has that Paul Newman look, minus the twinkle in his eyes.
“Thank you.” A deeper sadness settles in the lines of his face.
The leather is so soft it doesn’t even make a crinkling noise when I sit near him. “Will has told me about how close he and Patrick were.”
“Yeah, those two were thick as thieves when they were younger. Do you have any siblings?” He turns and faces me.
“I have a brother who is a year older than me.”
“Are you close?”
“Yes. I can’t imagine not having him in my life. He’s a doctor.” A flash of Philip’s face with vacant eyes has my heart pounding. I have to stifle my moment of fear.
“You sound very proud of him.”
“I am.”
“Patrick was always proud of Will.” He looks away when he says it.
“That’s a good thing, right?” I lay my arm on the back of the couch.
He picks up a picture that is resting on the side table next to him. “Patrick was easy to be proud of. He had straight As all through high school years and was the star quarterback. He had a full-ride scholarship to any college he wanted, but he chose his studies over football.” Pride permeates his eyes.
“Sounds to me like Will made some pretty good choices, too.”
He takes the picture in both hands and leans forward. “Then you don’t know him very well.”
“I know that he struggled in school, yet he’s an attorney.”
“A pro bono attorney,” he says when he looks at me.
“I think that is very noble of him, don’t you?”
“You don’t know what he gave up to be a lawyer who doesn’t make any money.”
“I think that’s my story to tell, Father.” I didn’t hear Will come into the room. He’s standing a few feet from us in a black suit with his arms crossed over his chest. Anger is brewing on his handsome face.
His dad stands and places the picture back in its spot and without another word, walks past Will and out of the room.
“I’m sorry. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that I’m here.” I’m on my feet. He lightly grabs my elbow, stopping me as I try to walk by him.
“I want you here.”
“Why, Will?” I search his face.
He squares his body with mine. “Honestly, I don’t know. The moment I saw you on the train, I wanted to be near you. I wanted to get to know you.”
“Are you going to let me get to know you?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes, but not today.” He lets out a harsh breath. “I need to get through the funeral and mourn my brother, but I promise, I will let you in.” He leans at the waist and skims his lips down my cheek. Scarlet heat warms my body from his touch. What is it about this man that I barely know, that my body reacts to? He steps back, breaking our moment of contact. “We need to get going.”
“I’m…sorry I don’t have anything else to wear.” I look down at my dress.
“You look beautiful…I mean perfect.” A smile lights his face. He holds out his elbow for me to take. “Mom has a limo waiting for us out front.”
“Were you driven around in limos as a kid?” I ask as we walk through the house.
“Yes, and we had maids and butlers too, but never a cook. My mom insisted on cooking for us. I remember when I was about ten years old, my father decided to hire a cook. My mom ran her out the first day because she didn’t know how to make homemade biscuits and sweet tea.”
“She is truly from the South.” I giggle.
“Yes, she is.”
“Sounds like she was a good mother.”
“The best,” he says as he opens the limo door. I get in, and he slides in next to me.
“Aren’t your mom and dad riding with us?”
“No. Dad only shares his ride with my mother.”
“That’s odd. You’ve never ridden in a car with your dad?”
He strums his fingers on his chin. “Not that I can ever recall.”
I want to ask if Patrick ever rode with him, but I don’t think now is a good time.
He stares out the window the minute the limo starts to move. Watching him, I wonder if he’s thinking about his brother Patrick or whatever it is that his dad was alluding to. Just when I think he is lost in the distance, he reaches over and takes my hand, laying it in his lap. His thumb brushes up and down the back of my hand. It’s so gentle, I’m not even sure he is aware that he is doing it.
Chapter 4
As we step through the dark wooden doors of the funeral home, soft violin music plays through the speakers. The smell of fresh flowers and perfume floats through the air.
Will lets go of my hand long enough to speak with the funeral director. He clasps my hand again, and we walk through another set of doors down the aisle that leads to the open casket sitting at the very front.
I can see a lump form in Will’s throat as tears fill his eyes. His hand shakes as he touches his brother’s arm. I take a step back to give him a moment. I hear the pew creak behind me, causing me to turn in the direction of the noise. Its Will’s mom and dad. It’s the first time I’ve seen his mom undone. Her head bobs on her husband’s shoulder as she weeps for her son. His hand is draped around her, smoothing down her hair. Tears flow down his cheeks as he lets his guard down. My heart aches for all of them. Throat clearing and sniffling has me turning back in Will’s direction.
He’s pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and is wiping his nose. I step back up next to him and wrap my arm through his. He blinks back a few more tears then steps down, leading us to the pew behind his parents. His mom and dad head straight over to Patrick.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks for being here with me.” He puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lay my head in the curve of his neck. When I splay my hand on his chest, I hear the crinkle of paper. I pick my head up to look at him.
“It’s my speech.”
I nod in understanding and lay my head back down. I watch as his mother grieves along with her husband.
Slowly, the room starts filling in with mourners. Close family is escorted to the pews at the front. Soft cries start filling the room rather than the music.
“Will, I’m so sorry to hear about Patrick,” a beautiful brunette says from the aisle.
Will’s jaw tightens as he speaks to her. “I’m sure you are, Phoebe.” He spits out her name. She cringes and spins the ring on her finger. Will’s gaze travels to her hands, watching the ring go round and round.
“Hi, I’m Maggie.” I stick my hand out for her to shake to break the trance of his stare.
“I’m Phoebe…I guess you know that already,” she says, glaring at Will.
“Go away,” he orders as his jaw juts out.
She snaps her mouth shut and sits in the pew on the other side of the aisle.
“I take it you two have a history together,” I lean inches from his ear and whisper.
His only response is a nod.
As his mother and father take their seat in front of us, his father glances over at Phoebe and then at Will before he sits.
She keeps looking over at Will, and I can tell he’s doing everything he can to ignore her. He straightens his body and then crosses his right ankle over his left knee, shifting his body away from her. He takes his hand from behind the pew and drapes it in my lap. I’m not sure if it’s for her benefit or mine. Under different circumstances, it would piss me off thinking that I’m being used
for some jealousy ploy, but I get the feeling that it’s not like that for him. He needs the comfort of someone who cares around him.
The lights overhead dim as soft lighting takes over. Voices hush, but I can hear the crinkle of a wrapper, and the distinct smell of throat lozenges, followed by a low cough. I don’t know if it is someone trying to really hide a cough or keep the lump down in their throat.
The soft music is turned down even lower as a pastor steps up to the podium. He gives a brief speech and then we sing a few songs.
“Patrick would hate this,” Will whispers in my ear. “He loved classic rock and would want a band playing on stage, jamming to the tunes.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile but quickly fades as he glances in Phoebe’s direction. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s glaring at him.
When the songs are over, the pastor announces Will to the podium. Will straightens his tie, uncrosses his legs, and stands. He slides past me into the aisle and on to the stage. He pulls out his speech that’s in his pocket and flattens it out on the podium. He lays his hand on his chest and holds it there as he breathes deeply a few times. My heart aches for him as I can only imagine he’s doing it to ease the pain in his own chest. Before he looks up, he scrapes a knuckle under his eye, wiping away a stray tear.
“Thank you all for coming here today to help us remember Patrick.” He picks up his speech, and I can see his eyes searching the paper, but words are not coming out. His father in the pew in front of us clears his throat, getting Will’s attention. His dad shakes his head and hangs it down as his mother nods up at Will.
Will crumples the paper and stuffs it deep into his jacket pocket. “Patrick…was the best brother I could’ve asked for. Everyone that knew him, loved him.” His gaze slips over to Phoebe and then over to his mother as she lets out a cry. His father hands her his handkerchief, and she balls it into her fist.
“He was the kind of man that would’ve given the shirt off his back, but he wouldn’t ask for help for himself. He got caught up in a world that he didn’t know how to get out of even with help. He was my best friend and…”
His father’s voice bellows out, interrupting him mid-sentence. “Then why the hell is he lying in that coffin? Why didn’t you help him more? He was always taking care of you!”
His father’s face is beet red, and Caroline is trying to hush him. “You run a rehab center, for God’s sake, yet you couldn’t help your brother!” He’s on his feet, and Caroline is tugging at his arm.
“Please, don’t do this, Patrick. Not here. Not now,” she cries.
All the blood has drained from Will’s face. His mouth is hanging open in disbelief. His gaze falls to the floor as he takes the three steps down to the aisle. I get up and so does Phoebe at the same time. He walks to my side of the aisle, and without looking at me, he holds his hand out for me to take, and I walk out with him. He doesn’t utter a word as we step through the wooden doors of the funeral home out into the manicured lawn. I have a hard time keeping pace with him as he keeps my hand tucked into his. The limo driver opens the door, and I slide inside.
I hear a woman’s voice calling after Will and the clicking of her heels on the sidewalk. Will shuts the door with me inside and him outside. The dark windows of the limo are tinted, but I see him talking to Phoebe. I can’t make out what he is saying, but anger emanates from him. There is a tightness surrounding his eyes as his nostrils flare.
Phoebe takes a step back and crosses her arms over her chest. He smacks his fists on the roof of the limo, causing me to jump. The door flies open, and he gets inside, slamming the door behind him. He looks down at his hands and cracks his knuckles, then rolls his head from side to side, trying to relieve the tension.
Phoebe storms off as the limo driver pulls out onto the road. I’m not sure what to do at this point. I have no idea what’s going on with his family, but I don’t think he needs me prying right now.
I slide over on the leather seat until my hip is touching him, then I take his hand and hold it. He sniffs but doesn’t look up.
“Where would you like me to take you, sir?” The limo driver glances back in the rearview mirror.
“Home…no, to the cemetery, but don’t park at the graveside. Stay out of view.”
The limo driver pulls between two large oak trees with moss hanging down on the branches. Headstones cover the old cemetery. Off in the distance, I can see a green tent set up over a burial site. I’m assuming it’s for Patrick.
“Are you okay?” I ask because I don’t know what else to say right now.
He sniffs. “I don’t know that things will ever be okay again without Patrick around. My dad is right. I should’ve found a way to help him more. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be watching my brother being buried today.”
I turn in the seat, pulling a leg up on it to get a better look at him. “No matter what your father says, you’re not responsible for your brother’s death. You tried to help him, and Patrick made his own choices. I’m sure your father didn’t mean it anyway.”
“Oh, he meant it all right. He blames me for not being there the night Patrick overdosed. I was supposed to meet him at his apartment that evening. I was so tired from trying to help one of my members get through a really bad day, that I decided to go back to my place instead. When I called Patrick, he was fine and said he was going to chill at home. He’d been clean for months. I had no idea he would overdose that night.” He leans over and lays his head on the headrest in front of him, gripping either side with his hands.
“It’s not your fault, and it pisses me off that your own father would blame you.” I squeeze his shoulder.
“I would have given my life for my brother,” he sobs.
“I know that just from the little time I’ve known you. You loved him.”
He rests back and lets his head fall to the back of the seat. “I did love him.”
“Now may not be the time, but how does Phoebe fall into all of this?”
“She was my fiancé.”
“Was? I saw the ring on her finger.”
He chuckles. “That’s from her new fiancé, not me.”
“What happened?”
“The night before our wedding, she was celebrating with a few of her girlfriends at a local bar. She was drunk and talking loudly. She didn’t realize that Patrick was across the bar from them. He overheard her tell one of her bridesmaids that I wasn’t the one she was actually in love with.”
“Let me guess…she was in love with your brother.”
He places his finger to his nose. “Bingo.”
“Did Patrick not know before that night?”
“He had no idea. She had hung out with both of us for years. She was in his class and a cheerleader in high school. They went out on one date his senior year, but he said they didn’t hit it off.”
“Apparently, that isn’t what she thought.”
“No, she knew he wasn’t into her. She and I didn’t hook up until after college. She had come to New York as a tourist, and I saw her standing in line to go out to Ellis Island. She moved in with me not long after that. I hadn’t started my practice yet, and she kept encouraging me to be a trial lawyer, which is what Patrick wanted to do.”
“Did she spend a lot of time with the two of you?”
“Yeah, and the signs were there, I was just too stupid to see it.”
“Evidently, Patrick didn’t see it either.” I run my hand through the side of his hair.
“He heard her tell her bridesmaid that I would never amount to anything, but she would marry me, so she could be close to Patrick and maybe one day he would fall in love with her.”
“What a bitch.”
“She denied it all when I confronted her the day of our wedding. She said he misunderstood what she said, but I could see it in her face. The lie stood out so clearly. I couldn’t go through with it.”
“So, you basically left her at the altar. I would have too, but why is your dad so mad about it?”
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“You caught that, did you?” He laughs, again. “Phoebe is his best friend’s daughter, and of course she lied to her father about what happened. She told him that I had cheated on her. My dad ended up reimbursing them for the cost of the elaborate wedding, even though they are wealthy, and it wouldn’t have put them back anything.”
“It’s over money?”
“No. I’ve paid my dad back every cent. He adores Phoebe, and he thinks I crushed her.”
“Did you tell him what she did?”
“No. It wouldn’t have mattered. He would have believed her over me.”
“What about Patrick? Did he tell him?”
“He tried, but he said Patrick was just trying to protect his stupid brother again.”
“You are not stupid!” I say between gritted teeth. “And, she’s getting married, so obviously she isn’t crushed!”
“She’s with some well-to-do senator that her dad wants her to marry.”
“She’s not in love with him either?”
“No. It’s always been Patrick for her. One of the last times I spoke with my brother, he said she had called him, pleading with him to love her. I think Patrick felt guilty for not wanting her, yet he was pissed at how she had treated me.”
“I want to feel sorry for her, but I don’t.”
“I love your honesty.” He chuckles.
A rapping noise on the window lays silence in the limo. His mom is standing outside.
“I’ll be right back,” Will says, as he opens the door and steps out, closing it behind him. He immediately embraces his mother. She’s sobbing on his shoulder, and his father is standing out in the distance with his hands in his pockets, looking down at his polished shoes.
I feel bad for all of them, but I feel worse for Will. He seems like such a sweet, misunderstood guy, and he truly loved his brother. The door opens, and Will sticks his hand through the door for me to take. I tug at the hem of my dress and slide out. All tears are gone from his eyes. The man before me is a wall of strength, clearly put there for his mother.
“I would understand if you don’t want to be here. I can have the driver take you back to our home.”