by Gina Wilkins
“She must have been devastated.”
“Yes. She’d had some emotional problems before that—which was why she was placed in the home where she met Danny. But after he died, she was never really stable again, if she ever had been.”
“Did she know she was pregnant when he died?”
“No. She found out afterward. From what I’ve been able to determine, she settled down for a while when I was born, but by the time I was a toddler, she began having problems again. She would leave me with a neighbor, saying she would be back in an hour, and then she wouldn’t come back for days. Or she would have wild parties at our apartment or trailer or wherever we were living at the time and the police would come and take me away from her. I would be placed in a foster home until she could convince someone to give her another chance with me. And then she would become so depressed that she wouldn’t get out of bed for days. I had to eat whatever I could find in the kitchen—dry cereal, cookies, peanut butter straight from the jar. And I would eventually be taken away again.”
“Was your mother ever treated for her problems?”
“She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. When she was on medication, she was better. Unfortunately, she didn’t take her pills very regularly.”
“You said she died when you were thirteen?”
“She took a handful of pills with a couple bottles of tequila. I was living in a foster home at the time, so I was spared being the one to find her.”
“I’m sorry, Brynn.” And then he stopped and exhaled in frustration. “That sounded inadequate, didn’t it? I don’t really know what else to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I only told you about my past so you would understand.”
“Understand what?”
She swallowed. “Why I said you and I are mismatched.”
The line was silent for a moment. And then Joe said, “No. I still don’t understand that.”
Brynn shook her head in disbelief. “Weren’t you even listening? We couldn’t be more different. You came from a comfortable, white-collar, happy two-parent family. My only family was a mother who couldn’t take care of herself, much less me. You’re a doctor, a surgeon. I’m a nanny.”
“None of which makes the least bit of difference to me. I know the person you’ve become, Brynn. And I admire you very much for having the fortitude to overcome all those obstacles and make a real life for yourself.”
She ran a hand through her hair, resisting the impulse to pull. “I didn’t tell you about my childhood to make you admire me.”
“I already admired you. Now I only admire you more.”
“Joe, you’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“I’m not trying to be. I simply don’t understand the problem. Yes, our backgrounds are very different. But we’ve got plenty in common now. I think we’ve proven that.”
Memories of their lovemaking filled her head, making her face heat and her skin tingle. She closed her eyes, but that only made the images clearer in her mind. She opened them quickly, focusing on the crystal clock on her bookcase. The clock Joe had bought her as a housewarming gift.
“Do you want an affair, Joe? Is that it? Some great sex, with no strings, no expectations?”
Her blunt question seemed to take him aback. “You know me better than that.”
“Yes,” she said a bit sadly. “I do.”
“My feelings for you are more than lust. More than temporary. And I have expectations, Brynn. A lot of them.”
She sighed. “Before you start thinking too far ahead, you should probably understand a few more things about me. I want to finish college. I plan to enroll. in evening classes as soon as possible. I want to teach on the elementary school level. I’m at least three years away from that goal, but it’s what I plan to be doing before I’m thirty. And once I enroll in classes for the fall, I’ll have very little free time when I’m not working for Michelle and Tony.”
“I think...”
“What I don’t plan to do is have children of my own,” she continued doggedly. “Ever.”
The silence that followed that emphatic statement was long and deep. “Why?” Joe asked finally, simply.
“Why do you think? My mother was mentally ill. Her mother was mentally ill. My father was a teenage alcoholic. Do you really think I would choose to create a child with that genetic heritage?”
“No one knows exactly how their children will turn out, Brynn. Michelle’s biological father was an alcoholic, and her mother died of poor health before she was thirty. Michelle knew nothing more about her genetic history. And yet she and Tony have taken that particular risk four times...very successfully, so far. Michelle’s siblings have all chosen to have children, as well. And they’ve all been blessed with healthy offspring. Genetics is a crapshoot, still heatedly debated in the medical community. There are no guarantees—for anyone.”
Brynn couldn’t compare herself with Michelle or with anyone else. She had to deal with her own fears—and this was the solution she’d chosen long ago.
“It’s getting late,” she said, her throat tight. “I have to go.”
“Brynn, we need to talk.”
“I think we’ve talked enough tonight. I won’t change my mind—I can’t. This is the way it has to be for me. And I know it isn’t what you want. So let’s just say good night, Joe. Please.”
She hung up quickly, not even giving him a chance to bid her good-night in return.
Okay, she’d been a coward. She’d stated the facts, then hung up on him. Maybe she’d just become overwhelmed with emotion at having to bare so much of herself to him—her past, her fears, her most intimate decisions. She simply hadn’t been willing to get into a more detailed discussion.
Joe didn’t try to call her back. She imagined that he was busy thinking about what she’d told him. Once he’d had time to reflect, she knew he would agree that it would be best to end their affair now. Before anyone was hurt. He would understand there was no future for them.
She wondered if that inescapable reality was even half as painful for him as it was for her.
Chapter Thirteen
Monday was a long, busy day for Brynn. She’d slept fitfully after her conversation with Joe, so she started the day tired. The children were still a bit wired from their weekend trip, making them more fussy and boisterous than usual. Brynn had to struggle to keep them occupied and out of trouble all day, an especially difficult undertaking because she had all four children in her care during the afternoon, when Michelle had to attend a board meeting.
By the time Michelle returned home to take the children off her hands, Brynn was completely drained. She didn’t even make a trip to the hospital, settling, instead, for a long telephone visit with Kelly.
Unlike Brynn, Kelly was in a very good mood. “Dr. Joe came to see me this afternoon.”
Brynn forced herself to speak evenly. “Did he?”
“Yes. He’s letting me leave the hospital later this week! I’ll be in a wheelchair for a little while, then on crutches for several weeks, and I’ll have to come back nearly every day for physical therapy, but I’ll be out of this place.”
“That’s wonderful,” Brynn said, and meant it. She looked forward to having Kelly with her in the little guest house. She wanted to watch for herself as Kelly got stronger and back to her former active self. And she would welcome the companionship during the long evenings Brynn would otherwise spend thinking about Joe.
Evenings like the one that stretched ahead of her.
Less than half an hour after Brynn and Kelly concluded their telephone visit, someone knocked on the front door. Brynn glanced at her watch, noting that it was just after seven. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door. Her nervous frown turned to a smile when she saw who stood on her doorstep.
“Shane. What on earth...?”
“Quick. Grab something.”
She reached out to relieve him of some of the many packages balanced precariously in his arms. “Is that b
etter?”
He gave her one of his wicked, flashing smiles. “Well, I was hoping you’d grab me, but that’ll do, I guess.”
“Shut up and come in,” she told him with mock severity.
“That’s why I like visiting you, Brynn. You’re always so gracious and welcoming.”
Shane dumped the remainder of the packages on the coffee table. He extracted one and handed it to Brynn. “For you, ma’am.”
She dug in the bag and pulled out a delightfully goofy-looking purple beanbag monkey. She couldn’t help but return its engaging smile. “How cute. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s open the rest of this stuff.”
Curiously, she walked closer as Shane began to rummage through bags. He pulled out food: peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, raw carrots, grapes and store-bought chocolate chip cookies. Comfort food, he explained, his grin as goofy as the purple monkey’s.
“I hope you haven’t eaten yet,” he added.
“No.” She looked at the feast spread on her table and giggled. “I’ll get us sodas.”
Shane stopped her with an upraised hand. “No need. I’ve taken care of everything.”
He pulled out a bottle of expensive red wine. “They say this tastes best at room temperature. Hope it goes well with PB and J.”
Brynn laughed. “You’re insane.”
“So I’ve been told. Sit down. No, not on the couch, on the floor. Kick off your shoes—get comfortable.”
She obliged. “Now what?”
He dug out a stack of videos. “Call this dinner theater. We’ll be entertained while we eat.”
“What movies did you bring?”
He held them up one at a time, naming each. “Jumanji. Men in Black. Mouse Hunt.”
She blinked. “Um—”
“I raided Molly’s video collection. All I had were shoot-’em-ups in mine, and we needed silly stuff tonight.”
“Why do we need silly stuff tonight?” she asked patiently, accepting a sandwich when he handed it to her.
“Because,” he said, settling cross-legged on the carpet beside her and reaching for the food, “you need cheering up. Kelly said so.”
“Kelly said so?” she parroted blankly.
“Yeah. I went to see her this afternoon. She said you were feeling kind of down and needed cheering up. So, here I am. What movie do you want to see first?”
Brynn realized how little chance she’d ever had of hiding her feelings from Kelly, who had always known her too well.
“You choose,” she answered. “I haven’t seen any of them.”
Shane laughed. “Darlin’, you are in for a treat.”
Brynn licked a smear of peanut butter from her finger while Shane popped a video in the player. He was reaching for the remote when she placed her hand on his arm. “Shane?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good friend.”
His dimples deepened. “That the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”
Brynn and Shane watched only one of the videos, and they talked so much during it that Brynn hardly knew what the film was about. Their conversation wasn’t particularly deep or meaningful; mostly they joked and teased and chattered about inconsequentials.
Neither of them mentioned Joe D’Alessandro.
It was exactly what Brynn needed.
They talked about movies and music and high-school memories, and somehow they ended up looking at an old photo album containing numerous pictures of Brynn and Kelly as teenagers in Mrs. Fendel’s foster home.
“There are quite a few photos in here,” Shane commented, flipping through page after page of snapshots of the two best friends in dozens of poses. “A lot more than I have of myself as a kid.”
“Mrs. Fendel wanted us to have memories of our youth. She tried very hard to give us as normal a life as possible, though she never pretended to be our mother. She was a dedicated and very efficient caretaker who expected a great deal from us and then worked very hard to help us live up to her expectations.”
“Sounds like you were pretty lucky to have her, considering,” Shane murmured, looking at a photo of thin, angular, well-intentioned Mrs. Fendel.
“Yes. She was a good guardian. I owe a lot to her.”
An age-yellowed snapshot fell out of the back of the album when Shane closed the book. He picked it up and glanced at it. “Who are these people?”
Brynn knew her smile had vanished. “My parents. That was taken the day my father died in a car accident later that evening. It was his eighteenth birthday. My mother’s pregnant in the photo, though she wasn’t showing yet. That’s the only photograph I have of either of them.”
Shane examined the old snapshot intently. “You look exactly like your mother.”
Being compared with her mother always made Brynn shiver. “I know.”
“But you have your father’s eyes, I think. That pale, clear blue...” He fell silent, holding the photograph closer, suddenly frowning.
She wondered what had caught his attention. “What is it?”
“You said your father died in a car accident on his eighteenth birthday?”
“Yes. Only hours after that photo was taken.”
“Where?”
“Just outside of Longview.”
Shane didn’t take his eyes off the picture. “And what did you say his name was?”
“Danny Smith. I don’t know if that was his birth name. My mother didn’t seem to know, either. She simply called him ‘Danny.’ ”
Very slowly, Shane looked up from the picture. He studied Brynn’s face as closely as he had the snapshot.
Self-conscious now, she squirmed on the carpet. “What’s wrong, Shane?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” He glanced at his watch. “Gosh, it’s getting late. I’d better go.”
She looked at the clock on the bookshelf. Shane had been there almost three hours, and he still had a long drive ahead of him.
She walked him to the door. “Thank you for coming by, Shane. I really enjoyed the visit.”
He patted her cheek in a brotherly fashion. “Are you all cheered up now?”
“Much more so,” she assured him.
“Good. Call me any time you need mindless diversion, you hear? I seem to excel at that.”
A moment later he was gone, leaving Brynn smiling as she closed the door behind him.
Her smile faded as she picked up the photo album to .place it back on the bookshelf where she usually kept it. What was it about the photograph of her parents that had so captured Shane’s attention? Had he seen more than a physical resemblance between Brynn and her mother? Or was that only her old paranoia showing?
She turned off the lights in the living room and walked into the bedroom. As she dressed for bed, she found her thoughts turning to Joe, though she’d been able to avoid thinking of him, for the most part, while Shane was there to distract her.
Joe hadn’t called. She hadn’t been aware, until now, that she’d more than half expected him to. Apparently, her tale of her sordid background and plans for her future had made him rethink his interest in her. She expected him to be polite about it, knowing Joe and his impeccable manners. But he would allow their short-lived romance to end now.
He would see that there was really no other option for them.
Brynn had agreed to take Jason, Carly and Katie to a pizza parlor-arcade for lunch Wednesday. Michelle, who was keeping the baby home with her while she caught up on paperwork, suggested Brynn take the minivan for the outing, so she wouldn’t have to transfer booster seats to her car. Brynn was just loading her charges into the van when an all-too-familiar sports car turned into the driveway.
Brynn swallowed hard, then pasted on a smile that must have looked fake, since Joe nearly grimaced when he saw it. Spotting their uncle, the children tumbled back out of the van.
“Dr. Joe! Dr. Joe!” They threw themselves at him. He knelt and caught them deftly in his arms for a group hug.
/> He looked over their heads at Brynn. “Hello, Brynn.”
“Hi, Joe.”
“I came to visit the little monsters. Are you just getting home with them or just leaving?”
“Just leaving. I promised to take them to Pizza ’n’ Prizes for lunch.”
“Come with us, Dr. Joe,” Jason urged eagerly. “I’ll beat you at air hockey.”
“In your dreams you’d beat me,” Joe retorted, ruffling the boy’s dark hair.
“Come with us, Dr. Joe,” Carly repeated, clutching Joe’s hand. “You always win lots of tickets for us.”
“Well, I am free for the afternoon. But maybe you should ask your nanny if she minds having another kid along to watch out for.”
Katie giggled. “You’re not a kid, Dr. Joe. You’re a grown-up.”
“There are some who might disagree with you there. So, what do you say, Brynn? Can I go, too? Please, please?”
Brynn found herself suddenly the focus of three pairs of young, pleading eyes and one pair of totally shameless, full-grown male eyes.
“You’re welcome to come with us,” she said, because there was really nothing else to say.
“Great. You put the kids in the van, and I’ll run inside and tell Michelle what’s going on, so she’ll know why my car’s parked in her driveway.”
Even more excited now about the outing, the children practically bounced in their seats, making it even more difficult than usual for Brynn to get them safely buckled in. She couldn’t imagine why Joe had decided to accompany them. Had he simply wanted to spend time with his nephew and nieces—or was there more to it than that?
Maybe this was his way of putting their relationship back on a “just friends” basis.
She tried to analyze his behavior toward her during lunch. He seemed comfortable enough with her, laughing frequently, talking as easily to her as to the children. He helped her persuade the impatient girls to eat before playing in the arcade, and then he proved very helpful watching them in the crowded, noisy game room.