Broken Wings (14 page)

“Daniel I can’t wear this!” Pamela exclaimed as she looked at her reflection in the department store mirror.

She had on a black silk cocktail dress that was cut high above the knee and draped over one shoulder. The waist and skirt were fitted, accentuating every curve of Pamela’s slim figure. There were tiny silver beads sewn intermittently throughout the fabric, making the dress shimmer in the dull fluorescent light of the store.

“Now that will make any man’s mouth water,” Daniel remarked, standing behind her at the mirror, grinning. “But we have to do something about the scratches on your arms. You look like you have been attacked by wild animals.” He waved his hand over the long red scratch marks on her arms and upper chest.

“One of the drawbacks of rehabbing wild animals, I’m afraid,” Pamela admitted as she looked at him through the department store mirror. Her eyes traveled once more over her reflection and then she turned around to face him. “I can’t wear this. I look like a hooker,” she whispered so as not to be heard by th
e saleswoman standing close by.

Daniel leaned in closer to her. “You don’t look like a hooker. You look like a hot wildlife rehabber.”

“But I’m supposed to look like a respectable wildlife rehabber. I run a not-for-profit charity, not a brothel.”

“Pamela, when are you going to realize that certain types of men don’t want to respect you, they want to sleep with you. And wearing a dress like that is how you’re going to trick them into giving you money.” He spun her around and started to unzip the top portion of the dress for her. “We’ll take it,” he said, nodding to the older saleswoman with silver hair.

Pamela looked down at the price tag hanging from the dress. “It’s a fifteen-hundred-dollar dress!” she whispered in horror. “You can’t buy this. It’s too much money,” she firmly said under her breath.

“I can afford it,” he assured her.

“How can you afford a fifteen-hundred-dollar dress?”

“I have a trust fund,” Daniel casually answered.

Pamela frowned at him in the mirror. “Very funny.”

Daniel turned back to the saleswoman. “Now where can we find her some shoes?”

*  *  *  *

A little over an hour later, Daniel and Pamela were sitting in his Jeep outside of a drive-through burger place in downtown Folsom, a small town in St. Tammany Parish. Daniel was munching on a fried fish sandwich and Pamela was eating french fries. The new dress and a pair of high-heeled black pumps were neatly wrapped in fancy shopping bags in the back seat.

“You shouldn’t have spent so much money, Daniel,” Pamela scolded in between mouthfuls of french fries.

“You need to look stunning at that party, and to make money you have to spend it,” he insisted after he finished the last bite of his sandwich.

“But I feel very guilty that you spent so much.” She waved at the bags in the back seat. “That must have cost you two months of tips. I don’t know when I will be able to repay you.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t want you to repay me. It’s a gift. And I already told you, I have a trust fund.”

Pamela almost choked on a french fry. “I thought you were joking. You’re serious?”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, but you seem so concerned about my finances.”

“Are you…” She stopped herself. “I mean, how does a bartender get a trust fund?”

“The trust fund is actually from my mother’s estate. My brother, Josh, and I received it after her death many years ago, but my father retains control. He sends Josh and me monthly allowances, but that’s about all we get.”

“Your mother left you the money in a trust fund?”

“Yes, she wanted us to have money so we could live comfortably, but didn’t want her family fortune squandered on fast cars and loose women. Her family owned sugar cane farms. They were from New Orleans, and that’s one of the reasons I came to the city. She died when I was sixteen, and I thought maybe I could get to know more about her by coming to live in the city where she grew up.”

“So you’re rich?”

“My mother’s family was, but not anymore. All that is left of her family’s fortune is what is in the trust fund, which is quite sizable. My father is the wealthy one now. He owns an import company in Bridgeport, Connecticut, where I grew up. He imports exotic food items, luxury goods, and clothing, and then sells them to retailers across the country. That’s the business he was grooming me to take over when I signed up to go to Iraq.”

“And what about your brother? Does he work with your father?”

“Josh is a plastic surgeon in Boston. He’s married to a great woman and they have twin girls, May and Emily. He was always the brain in the family, and wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. I was the football star. Dad didn’t want him to go into the business because he felt Josh should pursue his dream of becoming a doctor. My father always expected me to take over his company.”

“Are you close with your family?”

“Josh and I talk every now and then, but we were never that close growing up. He’s a few years older than me and once he left for college, I never saw that much of him. And I haven’t spoken to my old man since coming back from Iraq.” He paused and his eyes appeared dark and distant for a moment. “He thought once I was back, everything would be as it was before I left. But I wasn’t the same; none of us were after that war. He tried to understand but never did, so I left Connecticut soon after I returned home and…well, you know the rest.”

Pamela watched the darkness in his eyes fade out like the light from a dying flame. She knew she had not even begun to scratch the surface of all the pain and trauma he had experienced during his time in Iraq, but she wanted to help him; not so much to forget his past, but to rise above it.

She wiped her hands on her napkin. “You could have told me earlier about your trust fund. Then I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about your buying all those supplies for my home and my dress.” She shook her head. “Begging for money all of the time can be so degrading. I have had people threaten me, call me a leech, and escort me out of their homes or businesses when I was trying to solicit funds for my facility.” She sighed. “It’s refreshing to finally meet someone who just gives what he has without asking for something in return. True kindness is such a rare quality these days. I guess I’m just not used to it.”

“Well, I can’t picture any one running you out of this benefit next Saturday.” He leaned in closer to her and leered playfully. “Especially not in that dress.” He pointed to the dress in the back seat. “And I’m not as kind as you think, Pamela. Perhaps there is something I want in return for my investment.”

Pamela eased back from him and felt the blush rise on her cheeks. She looked down at the half-eaten container of french fries still sitting in her lap. Her appetite had suddenly vanished.

He leaned back in his seat, never taking his eyes off her. “I must admit I find it hard to believe a woman like you isn’t knee deep in men asking for dates.”

Pamela shrugged. “Being out at the facility all day kind of limits my ability to meet people, especially men.”

“If you wanted to meet a man, you could have found a way.”

She glared at him. “And what is that supposed to mean? If I were desperate enough I could have picked up some farmhand at the local bar?”

“No, it means you like being alone. Most people, men and women, can’t stand being alone, and they would have gone down to the local bar and picked up some farmhand, as you put it. I don’t know, but I get a sense that you’re afraid of becoming romantically involved with any man.”

Pamela wrapped up the uneaten french fries in a paper napkin, making sure to avoid Daniel’s inquisitive stare. “I’m not afraid of men, if that is what you’re implying.”

Daniel reached over and placed his hand beneath her chin. He slowly turned her face to his. “I didn’t say you were afraid of men. It’s more like you are afraid of what a man might make you feel.” He leaned in closer to her. “Like the way I make you feel when I kiss you.”

Pamela’s heart was thudding away inside her chest. A tingle of excitement shot up from her toes, and made her stomach leap upwards. It had been so long since she had felt her body respond to a man.

Daniel traced the outline of her jaw with his finger. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

She pushed his hand away from her face. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs to be afraid, Daniel. You haven’t seen me ill and when you do…” Pamela let the words slip from her lips, instantly regretting them.

Daniel eased away from her, took in a long breath, and let his eyes settle on hers. “I don’t see illness when I look at you. Your lupus is no different from my PTSD. They’re just names in a medical book; they don’t define us. I see the real you, Pamela. I will always only see the real you, remember that.”

Pamela said nothing. She looked down at her hands and kept her thoughts to herself.

“We’d better go,” Daniel said, starting the car. “We’ve got to get back before all those baby squirrels of yours go hungry.”

*  *  *  *

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel pulled his Jeep in front of Pamela’s little cottage. It was dark out, but a waxing quarter moon was rising in the sky, blanketing the trees and surrounding property with a soft glow. The dogs seemed not the least bit interested in the car, and continued to snooze on the front porch.

“I thought you were in good hands with that bunch.” Daniel nodded to the five sleeping canines. “Maybe I should install an alarm in this place.” He glimpsed up at the cottage. “I’ll worry about you out here alone at night.”

Pamela grabbed her shopping bags from the back seat and climbed out of the car. “I was just as alone and vulnerable before you came along, Daniel. And I will be the same way after you have gone.”

Daniel cocked his head to the side as he studied her. “What makes you think I’m leaving?”

She looked over at him and shrugged. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated, that’s all. Things change and people move on.”

“I’m not Bob, Pamela. I don’t run out on people I care about when they need me.”

Holding her bags close to her chest, Pamela walked around the front of the Jeep to his side of the vehicle. “Is that what you are doing, Daniel? Hanging around, buying me all of these things,” she held up the bags, “because you think I need you?”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing, Pamela. Bob ran out on you when your lupus got bad. I’m just saying I won’t do the same thing.” He moved closer to her and rubbed his fingers along her smooth, pale cheek. “You don’t have to keep me at a distance because you think I’m going to hightail it out of here as soon as you get sick. I’m not that kind of man.”

“That’s not the…” Pamela fought back the lump forming in her throat. “I’m not keeping you at a distance,” she insisted as she walked to the front porch.

Daniel laughed his warm deep laugh behind her. “Yes, you are. You keep everyone at a distance. Me, Carol, probably even Bob. The only ones you let in under that thick hide of yours are covered with fur and don’t have any expectations.”

She turned to face him, jutting her chin out defiantly. “Maybe I’ve been burned once too often by people. Animals are safer to love because they don’t lie or let you down,” Pamela said, raising her voice.

“You’re not the only person on the face of the planet who has been hurt, Pamela,” he countered, raising his voice to match hers. “You will not be repeating your past mistakes if you allow yourself to open up to someone.”

All the dogs on the porch sat up and nervously observed the quarreling humans.

“And I suppose you’re say
ing I should open myself to you
…and then what?” She felt her anger take control. “Sleep with you so you can get a good return on your investment?”

“Now what a minute!” he yelled as he bounded up the steps to her side. “Don’t you think for one minute that I have done all of this just to sleep with you.” He waved at the bags in her arms.

“No, not all of it,” she said, putting a cool tone of disregard into her voice. “I’m sure there was an element of pity mixed in with your plans. Sleep with the poor, sick, repressed wildlife lady. Show her a good time and then you have fulfilled your charitable quota for this lifetime.” She backed away from him and placed her hand on the doorknob. “Go back to the bar, Daniel. I’m sure there you can find women who are easier to bed and a lot more interested in your selfish acts of philanthropy,” she snapped.

“Jesus!” He ran his hands through his thick hair. “When you push someone away you do it with both hands. Stop trying to sling arrows at me because you don’t feel you’re worthy of anyone’s kindness or regard.”

She stood at the door, staring at him, not sure if she should slap him or sic the dogs on his ass.

She sighed and felt the fight inside of her fade away. Suddenly, she was tired; tired of second-guessing people’s true intentions, tired of hiding her hurt emotions, and tired of being disappointed. She took in a deep breath and could smell the early traces of white clover in the air. Spring was here and her world was re-awakening. But deep inside, Pamela longed for winter to return. Winter was safe. Expectations, like the tender petals on a flower, were only trampled upon by the violent storms of spring.