Whispers of the Heart (14 page)

For the first time, Autumn felt a stab from one of Laureen's arrows of dislike. Why she should care, she didn't know, except…except Laureen was one of Brent's friends and associates. Laureen represented his success in business circles and was likely to re
port all she knew of Brent's interest in Autumn to those same circles.

It mattered what his family and friends thought of her more than she'd like.

Autumn felt Brent's gaze, intense and questioning. Feeling inadequate to explain anything more of her experience, she bit her lip and said nothing. She withdrew her hand from his fingers.

Oh, why had she ever mentioned hearing the music?

Cordy gave her a sympathetic, but clearly doubtful gaze. She rose, signaling more of the lunch guests that it was time to leave.

“Gotta get back to work,” someone mumbled.

After a hasty pat on Autumn's shoulder, Wendy rose to bid the departing guests come again, while David remained seated.

Catherine rose, too, collecting her own plate and Timmy's. She didn't say much. Taking her cue, Autumn felt this was a good time for her to escape. Lunch had been very pleasant up until she'd made the mistake of telling the truth of what she'd heard. She'd surprised herself by feeling perfectly comfortable in the numbers, but she couldn't help but feel these people found her more than a little odd now. No one would give her a direct look.

“I hope you come again, Tina,” Wendy said to one of the women who'd dropped in from her office to join them for the lunch hour. “Perhaps we'll see you on Sunday evening?”

“Well, you can certainly count on me coming to the weekly studies from now on,” Catherine assured
Wendy. She didn't look Autumn's way. “Now, do you need some help with the kitchen cleanup?”

“Actually, I'd love some help,” Wendy replied. In only a moment, most of the lunchers had dissipated.

David engaged Brent in conversation, and Autumn slipped from the room, hoping to go unnoticed. She could thank Wendy for inviting her to lunch tomorrow. She didn't think she'd join them again.

Who would need or want her presence there anyway? She could think of no one. Even with such a mixed group of people, she still felt the odd one out, while they seemed to find common ground.

Where did that come from, she wondered as she started for home? That common ground? Except for Spring and Uncle William, and a handful of others like Curtis and her friend Kim Smithers, she'd never found that feeling of easy camaraderie. Of truly belonging. Now Uncle William was gone and Spring lived far from home.

She sighed and increased her pace. Perhaps she didn't belong anywhere.

Brent caught up to her two blocks from home. She'd taken a roundabout route to avoid the center of downtown on the tail end of the lunchtime rush, effectively adding another mile to her run. She didn't mind. She needed the additional exercise to work out her sulks.

And she'd be painted green before she'd give up the recent gains she'd made in her feelings of confidence.

At first, she didn't notice the red car pull close to the curb, but she certainly heard Brent's voice.

“Autumn.”

Oh, fine. From his tone, she felt a scold coming on. She was sweaty, tired, and out of charity with everyone. All she wanted was a shower and a nap.

Glancing over her shoulder, she let him see she'd taken notice of him, but kept a steady pace.

“There you are, I've been looking for you.” He checked traffic, then crept alongside her. A passing driver honked in irritation, but Brent ignored it.

“You needn't have bothered,” she said airily, waving him on. “I'm almost home now.”

“Yes, I can see that. That isn't—”

The light from the last corner had evidently turned green, because three cars sped up to go around them. Brent received more than one honk, then had to stop and wait to pull around a parked car.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said when he'd caught up to her again.

“Oh?”

“Autumn…”

“You'd better move on before you cause an accident,” she called. She quickened her pace to cut down an alley. He couldn't very well follow her here.

“I'll call about four.” He leaned out of his window to call after her.

T
en minutes past four, her phone rang. Autumn took her time laying down a brush, wiping her hands, staring at the small instrument with the loud voice.

Unconsciously, she'd been waiting for Brent's call, but now she couldn't make up her mind whether to answer it or not. She wasn't sure she could take the doubts she'd seen in his eyes earlier that day.

Buttons, resting at her feet, lifted her ears and gave her a what's-wrong-why-aren't-you-answering look.

“You just don't know, Buttons,” she said on a sigh.

On the fourth ring just before the answering machine would cut in, she snatched up the phone next to her worktable.

“Yes?”

“Autumn, it's Spring.”

All of her back muscles suddenly relaxed. She was rarely caught by surprise with her sister, her instinct usually telling her when a call was Spring's, but she
welcomed this one. Yet something in her sister's voice told her it was her turn to simply listen.

“Hi, sis. What's up?”

She bent to scoop Buttons into her arms as Spring launched into a detailed description of a disagreement with the brother of her young friend, telling Autumn how irritating he could be, about an offer to leave where she was to study clothing design in Paris, and about her divided feelings about taking the offer. Autumn carried the phone and the dog into the bedroom area, throwing herself down on the bed, making comments when they were called for, but otherwise, letting her sister simply run down.

Buttons settled down beside her, her head on Autumn's stomach.

Autumn had little advice to offer her sister. Spring, much less timid than she, would work matters out to suit herself eventually. As she was doing. It felt comfortable to know she could.

Her doorbell rang just as she hung up the phone. A buzz shot up her spine; she didn't have to guess who was on the other side. She knew.

Buttons barked halfheartedly as Autumn opened the door, but shushed easily when she recognized Brent.

He leaned on her door frame, his lips loosely pursed, hands in his pockets, with his ginger eyes thoughtful.

Autumn had never seen Brent in an apologetic state before. It was enlightening.

“Tried to call,” he said in explanation of his unannounced appearance. He made no immediate push to come in, casting her a half-pleading look instead.

His gaze softened as he stared at her, sending that buzz down to her toes. Why, all of a sudden, she recalled the way his lips felt on hers, was a mystery to her, but every molecule in her body called out for it to happen again.

It wasn't likely. He didn't believe in her anymore. He thought she was weird; she couldn't contend with crowds and now she mysteriously heard things. Only his sense of compassion brought him to see how she was.

“My sister called,” she finally murmured.

His eyes flickered, as though she offered him an excuse instead of a reason for not being able to reach her. Was he now going to think her weird and a liar?

He surprised her by asking, “Are you deliberately avoiding me again?”

“Why would you think so?”

“Because it's the truth. You've dodged me every direction you can manage this past week. May I come in?”

“Oh, I suppose so.”

He straightened, then strolled into the loft with that languid grace she'd so often noticed. She closed the door behind him, and swung back into the room to watch him warily.

“But I don't want to talk about the music I heard at the church again, please. Everyone there thought I made it up.”

“No, that's not exactly true.” He leaned his hips against the back of her couch and gave her a very direct gaze. “I didn't.”

She tipped her head to study his face. Her heart
didn't know where to land, she mused, on the side of trust or float with wariness. “You didn't?”

“No.” His tone was unequivocal.

“Well,” she said, setting her mouth “you didn't say much during lunch to lead me or anyone else to think you did.”

Brent slowly nodded. She was right not to let him off the hook so easily. He'd taken too long to defend her, and her hurt went deep. He realized it only after she'd disappeared while he was talking with David. And after his open disapproval of her shopping habits the night they'd quarreled, he had his work cut out for him to regain her trust.

“I didn't mean to let you down, Autumn,” he said, his voice raspy. “I'm sorry if you felt, ah, attacked.”

“Laureen made everyone think…”

“Forget Laureen. I don't give a fig what she thinks. I believe you.”

If he had to say it a thousand times to convince her, he would say it. He had to redeem himself.

For a moment, he thought it was a standoff. Then her lashes fluttered. “You believe me?”

“Yes, why shouldn't I?”

“I wasn't exactly forthright about my disability. I wasn't sure what you would believe.”

Brent drew a sharp breath at the doubts fluttering across her features. He'd created this distance between them, now it was up to him to bridge the gap.

“You told me eventually. It's a real enough problem, so why would you suddenly lie about something else so easily disproved? If you say you heard music from the old sanctuary, I believe you.”

“Oh, I—I'm so glad to hear…” A hard lump rose in her throat and she couldn't finish her thought. Still, if no one but her had heard it, perhaps the only explanation was that her imagination had indeed created the sounds.

A breath caught and held in her throat. Was she really losing it? For the first time, she felt a stir of panic.

She turned away and walked to her favorite window, not wanting him to see the tears that sprang up, nor wanting him to know how hurt she'd been, nor the frightened doubts that now thundered in her mind. How could she let him see how vulnerable she was when he needed a woman like Laureen?

A woman with strength, who had her life all figured out, who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid of going after it. Or afraid of anything, for that matter, anything at all. The kind of woman who could help him in his political ambitions, who had sophistication and know-how. A woman to be his equal partner in all things.

To be his equal partner in all things…

No matter how much she loved Brent—and she suddenly knew with a cataclysmic shaking that love him she did—she'd never be that kind of woman. Never in a million years.

Yet she certainly knew she loved Brent Hyatt. That wasn't so indecisive and weak. To
know…

Joy mixed with sorrow shimmered through her. Her stomach quaked with emotion. How could she be the best person for him when the very things he wanted from life filled her with such terror at times? How could she ever be a good mother for Timmy?
She'd never be able to go to school functions, or sit beside Brent when he spoke at crowded meetings, or join him in public outings.

She didn't hear him cross the floor. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she became aware of his nearness only a second before his strong arms came around her.

It felt like heaven.

He pulled her back to rest against his chest, nuzzling her neck. His tenderness urged her to let her tensions go.

His lips against her jawline teased her enough to want more. Oh, yes, she wanted to feel his mouth, to touch his face with her own. Slowly, she let her head fall back against his shoulder, her hair falling loosely across his arm. He turned her ever so gently, and sought her mouth.

At first his kiss held no demand, only a sweet giving. It consoled her in a way she'd never known, but instantly gave birth to a longing for far more intimate contact. Something she knew would never be hers, not in the way she wanted. They couldn't make love, for she couldn't settle for less with Brent than a full and equal partnership, a marriage to last a lifetime.

“Don't cry, Autumn. Don't…” he murmured fervently, while his mouth grew more passionate with each passing moment. “I don't care if you hear a full orchestra from the old sanctuary.”

Her tears fell in earnest now, even when she returned his kisses. How could he know they weren't over the music, real or imagined? How could he know she'd just decided she could never let this lovely, wondrous thing between then grow any
deeper, or be carried further? After the passion wore down, they'd still have to face her limitations. The pain it would bring them both when she couldn't live up to what he needed in a woman would be beyond measure.

And to disappoint him would be to destroy her.

“I do believe you,” he insisted between kisses, “and Wendy does, too—”

At the very moment his arms began to tighten, she pulled away gently, hoping her reluctance didn't appear too obvious. Any weakness on her part would trigger his protective responses, she knew. His was a forceful personality, and given full fledge, she'd have a hard time holding on to her new resolve against letting him waste it on her.

“It's all right, Brent. You don't have to reassure me again.” She placed her fingers against his yielding mouth, wanting to silence his continued apology. He took the opportunity to kiss them, his lips warm and seductive. She felt the sensation travel up her arm and down the other.

Snatching her hand away, she pushed herself from him, unable to prevent her quick glance into eyes that smoldered with desire.

He let his arms drop, but she had the notion he didn't think their kissing session was at an end. His mouth took on a hint of a smile while the gleam in his eyes told her he knew just how his caress affected her.

If she didn't do something quick to clear the air,
she
wasn't sure the kissing would stop. Or that they'd be able to stop at kissing.

Moistening her lips, she said, “You and Wendy
are very sweet to come down on my side. I appreciate your faith in me. Now,” she continued, wiping her eyes, finding a tissue as an excuse for putting more distance between them.

On shaky legs, she very deliberately walked over to pick up her purse lying on the kitchen counter. “I promised Curtis to help him out in his acrylic art class this evening. I need to wash my face and leave in about ten minutes. I think he has about five new students, and there's a waiting list, so I said I'd help out so he can increase the class size.”

Brent's hesitation lasted all of three seconds. “Okay. I'll drive you.”

“No, don't do that. You'd be bored hanging around an art class for two hours. And—” she gave him a smile to soften her refusal “—I'd blow my concentration with you around.”

“All right,” he conceded, a grin tugging at his mouth as he moved toward the door. She could tell by his upbeat tone that he thought things between them had smoothed out. That the closeness they'd just shared would continue and deepen. He counted on it. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure. Call…” Then as an afterthought, “But I'm working in Curtis's workroom for several afternoons a week, now.”

“Gotcha.”

She and Buttons stared at the closed door. Then she sighed, a long pent-up release. She'd be terribly busy when Brent called. Too busy to allow his pity and concern for her to take control of his common sense.

At least she now had a good grip on reality when it rose up to hit her in the face.

“Come on, girl. I'll take you with me this time, all right? Curtis doesn't mind.”

Brent drove to the south edge of the city to pick up Timmy from his mother's house the next morning. He'd have to take him along to work today. His mom had plans that he'd insisted she not break, and he hadn't liked the last day care he'd interviewed. A decision on day care had to be made soon, though. He couldn't keep on with spontaneous arrangements. It wasn't good for Tim, either.

“You ready to go, tiger?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee to drink while Timmy finished his cereal.

“Uh-huh. Do I have to go to Mrs. Drake's house again?”

Catherine came into the kitchen with Tim's overnight bag, his shoes in her hand.

“Tim tells me he doesn't like it there,” she remarked. “One of the boys bullies him. I think you should—”

“I'll take care of it, Mom.” He turned back to his son. “How about you coming to work with me today? I packed your cars and I have a brand-new coloring book in my desk.”

“Okay. What about Samson?”

“Samson stayed at home today.”

“But I want to take him with me.”

“Not today, son. I think Sheila has enough to do without Samson underfoot.” And he hadn't yet mentioned to his assistant that he'd need her help to
watch his son for a period later this afternoon while he ran out to a construction site. He had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

“Why can't me'n Samson go to Autumn's? Then we can play with Buttons, too.”

“Autumn has a full day today. I can't take advantage of her good nature and ask her to look after you and Samson too often.”

“But I like Autumn,” Tim insisted. “She lets me paint.”

Brent nodded, thinking how much he liked Autumn himself. In fact, he sort of wished he could play hooky from work today and just hang out at her place—but that thought led him into places better left alone, so he said, “Painting can be fun. But she won't be home today.”

“I know,” the boy said around a mouthful of crunchy little squares. “She's at church. I can go to church and stay with Autumn while she paints the wall.”

“Uh…” Brent began, wondering about Tim's current obsession over Autumn. He couldn't fault his son's good taste in women. Like the earlier one, he wouldn't mind that suggestion for himself, either. Watching her paint would sure give
him
pleasure.

“Timmy, Autumn isn't just having fun while she's painting the mural,” Catherine explained. “That's her work. She can't paint and look after a little boy at the same time.”