by A. C. Arthur
He sounded so sure while Noelle still felt as if she was wavering. “What exactly is it that we’re handling, Brock? I mean, just a few weeks ago you told me you had no future to offer a woman. And while it might seem like I’m game for a whirlwind affair, I’m really not. I’m tired of the back and forth of the dating game. I want a family and stability.”
She felt his body tense, then just as quickly relax. “I didn’t think I had anything to offer, but that was before you showed me how to love you.”
Noelle turned in his arms, staring back at him in surprise. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did,” he said with a smile, still holding her tightly against him. “You told me exactly what you wanted and what you wouldn’t tolerate. I had no choice but to get my act together. You changed me, Noelle. You gave me a reason to want to move forward with my life, to put the past behind me.”
Warming inside, Noelle lifted a hand to his cheek. “You’re still haunted by your past,” she said sadly.
“But you’ll help me with that, too, I’m sure.”
Turning his head Brock kissed the inside of her palm. Noelle’s eyes closed only to open up to his staring back intently. “I will help you with anything you need,” she promised, and meant every word.
“Good,” he said, dropping a quick sloppy kiss on her lips then releasing her.
She almost stumbled it was so abrupt.
“Now get showered and dressed. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”
He was already at the door when she called to him. “But I thought I was going to lie down and rest,” she said, feeling like she’d been up for three days straight, the emotional strain finally catching up with her.
“We’ll rest tonight,” he answered.
She raised a brow.
“Afterward, we’ll rest,” he corrected with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And we’ll take tomorrow off. But I just decided to do this and I want to get it done before I change my mind.”
“What is it? Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” was all he said before leaving.
Alone, Noelle sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. She was in love with Brock Remington. She said the words aloud just to hear how sweet they sounded. Then with a startled gasp she realized something he’d just said. You showed me how to love you.
He loved her.
That’s what he’d said, right? Was her luck in love finally changing?
Noelle had just finished talking to Karena when Brock had come to collect her. Still not telling her where they were going, the two of them left the suddenly quiet house.
“Where did everybody go?” she asked as they walked to Brock’s truck.
“Linc and Jade are visiting the town and then you know since he’s here he can’t help but go by the Gramercy
II for a look-see. Linc mentioned the other guys were going to check out the golf course while they’re here.”
“When are they leaving?” she asked, pulling her seat belt across her and settling into the passenger seat.
Brock closed his door and turned to her. “Anxious to be alone with me, huh?”
His smile was flirtatious, his mood light for a change. “Yeah, I can’t wait,” she joked. “I just don’t like that all of them had to come running out here to my rescue.”
He’d started the truck and was backing out of the driveway when he slammed on the brakes. “They came because they care,” he said.
Noelle inhaled deeply, then released a long slow breath. “I know. I guess I’m still getting used to being in a big family after all.”
“I can understand,” Brock said as he continued driving, turning off his property onto the open road. “It took a little while for me to get used to.”
“Do you see Albert often?” she asked, because Brock didn’t talk about his adopted father much.
“Not as often as I probably should,” he admitted. “I talk to him at least twice a month. Bailey calls me weekly, mothering me from afar. And Brandon and I keep close contact.”
“So it’s just the Donovan family as a whole that you stay away from?”
“No. It’s not like that. At least, that’s not the way I intended it to be. I guess I just got so used to being alone.”
“You thought you deserved to be alone,” she corrected.
With a glance to his right Brock couldn’t help but chuckle. Would he ever get used to her candor? The answer was, his life would never be the same without it. “You’re right. I used to think it was my destiny to be alone.”
“But you let Kent and Josette in.”
“On a limited basis. Kent is a great guy and a good friend. He and Josette are great together. They probably think I’m a serious head case after all these years.”
“Nah, I think they see what I see.”
“And what’s that?”
“A man still carrying the pain of a child.”
Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Brock was quiet for a few minutes. Noelle kept looking out the window as if what she’d just said was nothing more than a comment on the weather, when, in actuality, she’d just diagnosed him as easily as an experienced psychiatrist.
They drove in silence for the next forty-five minutes, Brock letting his thoughts and feelings circulate through his mind. This morning had been eye-opening for him. No, it had been skull-cracking. Seeing Noelle fighting the man who threatened her happiness had knocked down his final barriers. If this woman, who had been through so much in her young life, could keep on fighting for a happy future, so could he.
He told her he didn’t speak with Albert as much as he should have and that was absolutely true. So much so that he’d called Albert right after he’d left Noelle this morning. His adoptive father had been happy to hear from him and even happier by the way Brock had finally opened up to him.
Since Brock had entered high school Albert had held the door open for him to talk about his parents, about how their situation had affected him. But Brock had declined. He’d thought he was handling the situation. In almost six weeks Noelle had knocked his blinders off. He wasn’t handling it, he was running, just as he’d accused her of doing.
Things happened in Noelle’s life, he knew from what Linc had told him and what Noelle had admitted to herself. Yet, everyday she awakened, giving her job, her family, her life one hundred percent of her efforts. She wanted love and happiness and she wasn’t going to stop until she got it. Brock admired her for her strength, her tenacity. He loved her for the inner beauty that totally outshined her physical blessings.
It was because of Albert and Darla Donovan’s unconditional love and support, because of the brother and sister who never treated him like the outsider he considered himself, because of the Donovan cousins and their friends who had flown here to help because he’d called on them, and because of one hazel-eyed temptress who’d successfully wrapped him around her finger within minutes of meeting him, Brock could turn through the wrought iron gates of the Delancie Psychiatric Center without anger or feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Noelle read the words just beneath the scrolled numbers on the dark brown sign nestled between two fat, white hydrangea shrubs. The lawn was sprawling green, the sun casting a fairy-tale look to the large estate with its colonial-style white house in the center.
The driveway curved around a huge Venetian garden fountain. When Brock parked the truck, Noelle was still taking in the breathtaking scenery. She didn’t hear him get out or notice that he’d come around to her door and was now holding it open for her. But as she stepped out she watched as the sunlight played across his face. His golden skin tone shone beneath its haze, his normally tight mouth was relaxed, his eyes not somber but holding a sort of release. He held his hand out to her and she happily took it, laying her head momentarily on his shoulder as they walked up the redbrick steps toward the door.
She didn’t know what to expect once they were inside, having never been to a psy
chiatric hospital before, but she definitely hadn’t expected what she experienced—the homey feel of a lavish mansion. Thick rugs lined the floors, while the walls were filled with paintings, mantels holding plants and knickknacks. An elderly woman with sienna-colored skin was first to greet them. She wore a crisp black skirt suit with a lace handkerchief stuffed cheerfully in the pocket over her left breast.
“Good afternoon. Welcome to Delancie. How may I help you?” she said in a stern but friendly voice.
Brock cleared his throat then spoke. “Good afternoon. I’m Brock Remington, here to see Tarine Remington.”
The woman’s smile widened as she reached out a hand to Brock. “Mr. Remington, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. My name is Janet Stevens. I’m the new day manager at Delancie. I’ve only been here a few months but Tarine has told me so much about her son.”
Brock’s eyes widened. “She has?”
“Why, of course,” Mrs. Stevens told him, still holding the hand he’d given her to shake. “She sits right out on that back porch with her glass of lemonade in the afternoons and talks about her little boy. I must say you’re quite different from what I’d pictured,” she chuckled, “even though I looked in Tarine’s file, so I knew you were a thirty-one-year-old man.”
“Ah, Mrs. Stevens, this is Noelle Vincent,” Brock said, extending his hand for Noelle to join in on the conversation.
She’d been standing close to him but still giving him his space. Coming here was hard for him, she knew, but it was also important.
“Ms. Vincent, it’s a pleasure to meet you, as well. Oh, Tarine is going to be so excited she has visitors. I’ll go right up and get her now.”
“Is she resting?” Brock asked before Mrs. Stevens could walk away.
“Oh, no. She’s in the game room, probably beating the pants off Randall Crone in checkers again. It’s her favorite game. I’ll just be a minute. You two go on out to the porch. She likes it out there.”
Taking Noelle’s hand, Brock moved through the sitting area down a short foyer to the back porch. He’d been here before. The last time he’d visited his mother, two summers ago, they’d sat on this same porch, looking out at the same pond and white painted benches. He’d talked and she’d watched the birds. He’d asked her questions and she’d hummed a tune. He’d wept for his loss and she’d picked up her glass, sipping to quench her thirst.
A slight pain in his chest had him inhaling sharply. And then she was there, one hand on his arm, the other cupping his cheek as she came to stand in front of him.
“She talks about her son,” Noelle said quietly. “She remembers you, Brock. I told you she’d remember you.”
Brock clenched his teeth, the emotion too strong for him to speak.
A few minutes later, as Brock and Noelle stood hand in hand looking out at the pond, quietly they heard a small gasp behind them. Each of them turned slowly.
Tarine Remington was a tall, slim woman, the same golden brown skin as Brock’s, eyes a bit lighter but just as serious as her son’s. She wore a pale yellow sundress with tiny lilac flowers dancing around the hem. Wrapped around her arms was a shawl made of the finest lace. Her hair was long, going down her back in one silver-streaked braid.
Noelle felt Brock’s fingers shake. She gave them a quick squeeze then released them. He took one step, a little tentative, but definitely with purpose. Tarine took a step, slow and weary. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly and Noelle felt the first tear stream down her face.
Brock closed the distance, wrapping his arms around Tarine’s frail form, pulling her so close and so tight Noelle feared he might crush her. Tarine wrapped her arms around Brock, a whimper escaping her lips. Thinking they should be alone Noelle swiped at her tears and made a move toward the door.
Tarine’s outstretched arm stopped her. She didn’t speak but it was obvious that she wanted Noelle to take her hand. And so she did. Moving out of Brock’s embrace, Tarine took her son’s hand and led both him and Noelle to the large white rocking chairs on the other end of the porch.
Once in front of the chairs, she motioned for Noelle to sit in one, for Brock to sit in the one beside her, then Tarine took a seat across from them. Leaning her frail body forward, she once again took Noelle and Brock’s hands, entwining them together. With hers resting on top Tarine looked up at them, tears shining in her beautiful brown eyes.
“Be. Happy,” she said in almost a whisper. “I want my Brock…to be happy.”
Noelle was crying full force now, and as she looked over at Brock with her own blurry eyes she saw that his broad chest was the epitome of strength, his booted feet and strong hands, all male, all power, but his lips grew into a tight line, one lone tear slipping slowing, almost fearfully, down his left cheek.
They spent the duration of the afternoon sitting on that porch, rocking in those old rocking chairs, drinking the lemonade Mrs. Stevens had brought out to them. Tarine commented on the birds, then went into a diatribe of St. Michaels history, complete with a story of star-crossed lovers thrown in.
Noelle and Brock laughed with her, asked questions about her story and for a few hours saw the world through Tarine’s eyes.
And when they left, even though Tarine had stiffly hugged them both, expressing her wish that she’d had children, that she’d married, that she’d had a life outside the walls of Delancie, neither Noelle or Brock felt sad.
In the truck Brock sat perfectly still for a few minutes. When Noelle leaned over the console and touched a hand to his knee, he sighed. “She knew me. For just a short time she knew who I was.”
Noelle nodded. “She loved your father fiercely, Brock. You could hear it in her voice when she talked about him. And she loved you, her special little gift of love, she’d said. You both meant the world to her. Losing him was just too much.”
“Losing her was devastating,” he said tightly.
“She’s still here.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“And so am I,” Noelle said quietly.
Brock turned to her then, touching a finger to her chin. “I love you.”
Tears flowed freely again and Noelle almost cursed. It had been almost four years since she’d cried this much and then it had only been for Grammy. Tears cleanse the soul. They wash away the old and make room for the new. That’s what Grammy used to say whenever Noelle would catch her crying. She’d never asked her grandmother why she cried—the smile Grammy gave her through her tears always halted her words.
“I love you, too,” Noelle said, finally smiling through her own tears.
Chapter 24
“All I can say is the airlines are going to love me,” Noelle said when she and Brock had returned to the house to find not only that the Donovan men had returned and Kent and Josette had stopped by, but also Karena had arrived.
“Now you know, after all that talking about Mr. Brock Remington and all your confusion about him, I just had to come and get a look for myself.”
The men were out back near the pool, all huddled around the grill, arguing over the best barbeque sauces and other spices. Karena, Jade, Josette and Noelle were sitting a good distance away from them on the other side of the pool.
“I hate that I’ve taken everyone away from their work and their lives,” Noelle said, toying with the tattered edges of her denim miniskirt.
Once they’d returned from visiting Tarine and found a full house, Brock had suggested a cookout to say thank you and to see the family off—they’d all be leaving in the morning. So Noelle had changed from her slacks and blouse to something more comfortable. The water was enticing, so she’d slipped her bikini on beneath her skirt and tank top.
Now she was stretched out on one lounge chair, with Jade occupying another, wearing a long, flowing purple and white sundress. Karena lounged next to her with her five foot two height, spiky hair and chic knee-length slip dress. Josette, wearing denim capris, flip-flops and a St. Michaels T-shirt, sat in a chair.
Karena waved Noell
e’s comments away. “Girl, please. I needed a break. Monica is driving me crazy.”
“Monica’s your oldest sister, right?” Jade asked as she reached for her glass of punch on the small table.
“Yeah, she’s the boss of all bosses. I just came off an eight-week buying spree and the moment I set foot in New York she’s ready to send me off again. I tell you, that woman needs to find herself a man.”
Noelle laughed. “She’s probably sitting somewhere saying the same thing about you.”
“I doubt Monica even thinks about men.” Karena sighed.
“Maybe she’s into women,” Noelle said thoughtfully.
Jade covered her mouth so the punch wouldn’t go flying all over the place as she laughed at her sister.
Karena simply shook her head while Josette chuckled.
“What?” Noelle asked innocently.
“Only you, Noelle. Only you.” Karena smiled.
“Hey, no giggling over here,” Sam said, walking toward them with Max and Trent, each holding a bottled beer.
Sam was more than a little cute, Noelle thought. She’d first met him a few months ago when he’d come to Vegas to assist Trent with Tia’s stalker. And here he was again. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was another member of the family.
“Are we going to eat sometime today or do the masters of the universe need more time to contemplate recipes?” Noelle asked sweetly just as Brock and Linc joined them. Brock made his way through everyone until he was sitting at the foot of Noelle’s lounge chair.
He’d changed his clothes to so that he now wore shorts and a T-shirt, his Timberland boots replaced by running shoes. Damn, he was still sexy.
“The steaks will be done in about ten minutes. Max over there tried his hand at a salad.” Brock was talking as he lifted one of Noelle’s feet, surveying the shoes she wore—dark brown jeweled sandals with leather straps that criss-crossed all the way up to her knees.
“Forget it, Brock. She’s addicted and there’s no amount of therapy that can help her,” Jade said, getting up to let Linc sit down, then making herself comfortable on his lap.