Authors: Dara Girard
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Someone who adores me.”
Stephen shook his head amazed. “You don’t ask for much.”
“No, just the bare minimum.” She popped another candy in her mouth.
“Have you ever been married?”
Tima’s face dimmed. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
She took a deep breath as though about to dive into something painful. “He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I loved that man so much sometimes I wonder if I’d killed him. That he was taken away because I was so lucky.”
“What was he like?”
“He was an older man, fifteen years older. A man in every sense of the word. I knew he’d likely go before me, but... He thought I was beautiful, talented and clever.”
Stephen saw her eyes bright with tears. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
She brushed away tears. “Sad? No, I’m not sad. How can I be sad remembering being so loved?”
He suddenly envied her. Wishing someone could make him feel the way she looked. Knowing that Fiona never did. She loved him, he knew that, but would she ever speak about him like that? Did her face ever light up at the memory of him? Perhaps he asked too much. It was an unfair comparison. Fiona was more reserved as he was. He’d be exhausted with such a show of passionate emotions. Perhaps Tima had exhausted her husband to death, though a part of him was curious why she hadn’t shared how he died.
She sniffed. “We’ve gone off the subject.”
“Which is?”
“What I think of you.”
“And?”
“I think you’ve made yourself a shadow so Brenna could shine. It’s hard being the ‘normal one’. Especially with a father in competition with you. Since you are everything he couldn’t be. I think you’re ambitious in a different way, but didn’t want your parents to focus on you. You thought, or perhaps knew, Brenna needed their attention more. I think you keep a lot inside. Actually you make me nervous.”
He stared at her surprised. “I make you nervous?”
“I wonder what’s going on in your mind. I wonder who you are. Even as I talk, what I say about you seems true, yet I feel there’s so much more to you. You’re very reserved. In a way I envy that about you. There’s a benefit to keeping certain feelings hidden.”
He turned away and stared up at the sky. “Yea, sometimes.”
***
Miles approached Hunter as he walked down the hall. Hunter stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Your father and grandfather are in your office.”
He was grateful for the warning. The two men made a formidable sight. His grandfather sitting at his desk; his father standing at his side like second in command. Orson pushed a paper toward him and held out a pen. “Here is your resignation. Put your signature on it.”
Hunter stared at the paper frozen; something ugly gripped his heart. “You’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t make mistakes.”
He glanced up. “But why?”
“You didn’t follow the rules.”
He looked at his father then his grandfather. “What’s going on?”
“Sign the paper.”
“There are significant discrepancies in orders versus shipping. My computer system would help control inventory irregularities.”
“That’s not your concern anymore. Take the pen and sign. You have an hour to gather your belongings then these two gentlemen will show you the door.”
Hunter spun around and stared at the two guards who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He turned back to his grandfather. “Listen—”
Curtis sent him a look of disgust. “Are you ready to shame us more by begging?”
Hunter shifted his gaze to his father. For the first time Hunter saw hate in his eyes. Why? He knew his father never had tender feelings for him, but why this? Did his mother’s madness make him bitter towards whatever ignited her memory?
Orson smiled. “Some pleading might prove entertaining but it won’t change anything.”
Hunter took the pen and signed.
“You have two weeks to move out of my house.”
His cool faltered. “Two weeks? Couldn’t you wait until after the trial? Brenna’s under enough stress and—”
Orson flashed a shark-like grin. “She’ll understand.”
Curtis took the resignation. “Hopefully you do too.” He gave him an insincere pat on the shoulder then left. Orson slowly rose to his feet. “You lost your chance, boy. You had everything in your grasp and you failed.” He walked to the door then turned. “Remember to leave all your little scribbles behind. They belong to me. I wouldn’t want you trying to make a fortune off of what’s mine.”
Hunter didn’t move as his stomach knotted like a ball of twine scratching his insides. All that he had worked for: his name, his reputation gone. In an instant. How could his life come down to this? How could all his training, all his work, come down to this moment? His entire life had been in service to them—to the Randolph name. This was all he knew; all that he was. He’d lost his job, his house, his respect. He bent over a trash bin and promptly lost his breakfast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brenna sat in the living room, absently rubbing the pain in her leg that had been there since her fall. She tried to focus on a story that failed to hold her interest. She jumped when she heard the front door close. She glanced at her watch surprised. Hunter must have left work early. That wasn’t like him. She hurried out of the living room and found him in the foyer hanging up his coat. Words caught in her throat when she saw the look on his face. She’d never seen such a look of devastation before. He walked past her, went into his office and shut the door.
She broke through her paralysis and followed him. She turned the doorknob. It didn’t move. He’d never locked the door before. She pounded on the door, panic rising in her throat. “Hunter open the door. Hunter? Hunter! I know you can hear me. Open the door. Whatever it is we can figure it out. We always do, don’t we? Hunter? Hunter! Open this door or I swear I’ll go outside and break the window.”
He abruptly opened the door. He caught her as she stumbled into the room. “That won’t be necessary.” He returned to his desk.
“What happened?”
He clasped his hands together and stared down at his papers.
She stood in front of him and pounded her fist on the desk. “Tell me what happened.”
He didn’t look up. “I was forced to resign. We have to leave this house in two weeks.”
So Orson had made good on his threat, but Brenna wouldn’t see this as a defeat. “At least you’re free.”
He captured her eyes with his. He stared at her as though he didn’t know her. “Free? Free with no job, no reputation, no family, no right to my ideas? Freedom comes with prestige, status. Otherwise you’re a nobody. A slave to the system, dependent on its mercy, its prisoner.”
“He can’t steal your ideas.”
“It’s company property. I’m an employee.”
“We could prove—”
“He’s not a man you want to battle in court.”
Then she saw the truth. The danger. Orson could destroy Hunter. He could use her love—if it was truly that, she still wasn’t sure—against her and make her regret the day she’d defied him. It was her pride that had brought this. Her stupid pride. She fell into a chair. “This is all my fault.” She whispered the words not meaning for him to hear, but he did.
Hunter narrowed his eyes. “How?”
Brenna knew he would take his anger out on her. He had every right. She was the reason for his downfall. The reason he had lost everything that meant something to him. All because of her pride. She closed her eyes ready for his anger. Ready to lose him as she may also lose her brother. She opened her eyes and said, “Orson came by and he wanted me to stop you from looking into the company accounting and me from trying to find out about your mother. I defied him. I said you would not be chained to him by false loyalty. He promised to make me sorry.”
Hunter spoke with a quiet patience that chilled her. “When did he come by?”
“Does it matter?”
“That depends. I noticed you limping one evening. I was wondering if there was any connection between that and his visit.”
“I don’t understand.”
He traced a pattern on the desk. “I’m not in a good mood, Brenna. Don’t be coy.”
“I fell on my knee.”
“How?”
“He was angry.”
“And?”
She hesitated. “He took my cane and I fell.”
“And why did he take your cane?”
“I told you he was angry. I said a few things.” She shook her head exasperated. “It’s complicated.”
“And why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I—”
“You could have warned me so I could have been prepared,” he said in a harsh, raw voice. “I come home and discover your brother’s been indicted for murder. I go to work and discover I’m fired. In two weeks I’m going to be out of a house and you knew something like this was coming and you didn’t say anything.”
“Hunter—”
“Did you tell Miles?”
She lowered her gaze, her voice quiet. “No.”
“Byron?”
“No. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Look at me.”
She didn’t move.
“Brenna, I’ve made a simple request.”
“It’s not simple,” she whispered. “You want me to face the disgust in your eyes.”
Hunter rubbed his knuckles angered by her quiet defiance. “When are you going to learn to trust me?”
“I was trying to protect you. Your family is not good for you.”
“Can’t I be the judge of that?”
Brenna met his gaze. “No, because you can’t see it.”
“He warned me about you. Warned me that you wouldn’t understand. Carrying the Randolph name is a responsibility that you don’t seem to grasp. I almost regret the day I gave you the privilege of my name.”
“You can have it back any time.”
The corner of his mouth twisted in a cynical grin. “So you can run off to with your precious Byron?” He snorted. “Wait, I forgot. You can’t—” He stopped before he said ‘run’, but it was too late. The damage was done.
Brenna gasped and stared at him as though he’d stabbed her. He swore fiercely. He said something but she didn’t hear him. She just continued to stare at him overwhelmed by a primitive despair. She held out a hand when he moved toward her. “No.” She laughed bitterly. “You’re right. I can’t run. I also can’t skip, I can’t dance and I can’t help you.”
Hunter grabbed her shoulders; Brenna shoved him away. “You promised not to pity me, but you do.”
“I didn’t mean it.” His words echoed his regret.
“Leave me alone.”
He stared at her for a long moment then did.
Brenna wrapped her arms around herself and rocked, hoping the pain would ease with the movement. She’d angered so many people. Pauline, Byron, Orson, him. She briefly shut her eyes, rocking harder. She could move in with her mother until she found a place. Probably wouldn’t start divorce proceedings until after Stephen’s trial. She could go to the Randolphs and beg Orson for mercy on Hunter’s behalf. She knew he was right. She didn’t have what Hunter needed. She couldn’t offer him the status or the prestige he craved. Without the Randolph name she was just his crippled wife.
Oh her pride. What the hell did she have to be proud of? Her father saw her as no more than a successful carnival act, Hunter a conniving spouse, Pauline a romantic fraud and Byron a pathetic con artist. Perhaps she was all those things. She didn’t know anymore.
She rigidly held back tears. She would not cry. She couldn’t afford to. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for herself. She was strong. She had made choices and she would live with the consequences.
“Brenna.”
She turned away when Hunter sat beside her.
“I don’t think you could hate me more than I hate myself at this moment.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
He fell quiet but she could feel him staring at her. She spun around. “Stop staring.”
“I can’t help it.”
“What do you want?”
He looked at her bewildered. “I don’t know. For the first time in my life I don’t know. I don’t know what to say or do next.”
She turned away.
“Will you let me apologize?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He fell silent again then swept her up in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded as he carried her out of the room.
“I prepared a bath. I’m thinking of dropping you in.”
“Let me go.”
He climbed the stairs. “Will you let me apologize?”
“No. This is not funny,” she said as he entered the bedroom.
“Do you want your clothes on or off?”
She shot him a glance.
“Okay on.” He pushed opened the bathroom door. “Will you let me apologize now?”
“No.”
He released her. She fell into the whirlpool tub with a splash. She came to the surface sputtering ready to shout at him when she suddenly found him beside her.
“What are you doing?”
He scooped up a handful of water and splashed his face. “I wish you’d stop asking me that.”
“You didn’t even get out of your clothes.”
“Neither did you.”
“Are you having a nervous breakdown?”
He leaned back and looked at her through lowered lids. “Perhaps.”
She pulled herself out of the water and sat on the rim. “Great.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m angry at myself. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
His sincerity helped although she knew she would need time to forgive him. “You left my cane downstairs.”
“I’ll carry you to bed.”
“I’d rather crawl.”
He sat up amused. “I’d like to see you crawl.”
She stiffened, remembering another man who’d said those same words.
His tone grew serious when he saw the expression on her face. “I was only teasing.”
“I know.”
“I’ll get someone to bring it up.” He reached for the buzzer.
She stopped him. “I don’t want anyone to see us in here like this. Nervous breakdowns are usually private affairs.”
“Oh.” Hunter sank back into the tub and closed his eyes. “I’ve lost everything.”
Although it galled her to do so, Brenna sank back into the water beside him. “No, not everything,” she said gently.
Hunter drew her to his side. “I know you were trying to protect me. You were trying to protect me from the look my father gave to me today. He hates me and I don’t know why. I don’t know if I want to.” He shook his head then looked at her as though she could give him the answer. “What did I do that was so awful?”