Conflicts of the Heart (13 page)

“I can't see him. I'm late. Tell him I'll call him after work.” Patrick stuffed Templeton’s folder into his briefcase and snapped it shut.
“Never mind. I'll catch him on the way out.”

In the outer office, Ken stood next to the receptionist’s desk, leaning against the wall, his arms across his chest, a packet of folded papers in one hand. “Sorry to drop in like this, but I wanted to bring these leases by.” He held the folder out to Patrick. “One of them ends in a week. Guess I caught you at a bad time.”

“I'm late. Give them to Angie. Ed will sign them. Can I call you later?”

“Sure. I'll walk you down to your car.” Communication between them lately had been sparse. Because of busy schedules, they hadn't been riding the past few days. Ken handed the contracts to the receptionist, and he followed Patrick out the door.

“What’s bothering you?”

Patrick pushed the elevator down button, held his briefcase with both hands, and rocked on the balls of his feet. “You never drop by the office like this.”
The smugness on Ken’s face began to irritate him.

“What's the matter, man? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

“Wanted to talk to you about Dana,” Ken said in a pensive tone.

“Why?”

The elevator doors slid open. They stepped into the empty cubicle. Ken knuckled the ground floor button.

“How'd you two hit it off?” Patrick squeezed the handle of his briefcase.

“She didn't give me a tumble.”

Relieved he asked, “She tell you about her son?”

“Yes. I offered to take them riding.”

Patrick froze. Ken had beaten him to the punch. He wondered if she told him about Michael’s autism. “She
going?”

“Nope.
Refused me.” The elevator bounced to a stop on the ground floor. Patrick led the way through the lobby to the back door.

“I'll give you a buzz later at your office, or we can ride in the morning.” Patrick pushed the glass door open to the cool, fresh, gray
autumn day. Ken's BMW sat next to his Fiat.

He pulled at Patrick's arm. “I think you should rethink this thing about Dana. She's crazy about you.”

Patrick swung around. “You're supposed to keep me from getting into one of these traps. Remember?”

“I’m telling you, she's crazy about you.”

Ken piqued Patrick’s interest. “What'd she say?”

“It isn't what she said, it was the way she looked at you, and how she spoke of you, the things she asked about you after you left.” He released Patrick's jacket sleeve. “If I were you, I
wouldn't let that one out of my sight. She's not the type you see once or twice. She's the kind you have a relationship with.”

“I think I already told you that.
So much for our pact to keep each other from getting involved. The damn deal is falling apart all over one skirt. You're no help.”

Unlocking his car, he slipped in, opened the window, and looked up at Ken. “Thanks for the tip, buddy. I can handle it from here.”

Ken gave him a friendly warning smile. “I'm giving you a month. If she's still free, all pacts are off and I’m moving in.”

Th
at brought a smile to Patrick’s face. He recalled the fond high school memories, where he and his friends bartered over girls, as if the girls had a choice in the matter. Backing away, Patrick left Ken standing with challenge written all over his face.

Patrick made a grand entrance, greeting both teams with his broadest smile.

Dana glanced up and smiled. “Did you pick up the evening paper on your way in?”

“Touché.”
He returned her smile, sat down, cocked his head, and studied her while she thumbed through her papers. While her words drifted over his head, he tried to imagine what it would be like having a relationship with a woman so dedicated to her work and so fiercely protective of Michael--a woman who commanded the attention of everyone around her. His ex-wife, Elaine, had none of these qualities. ‘Selfish’ and ‘Vindictive’ were her best dishes served cold and on a silver platter. He suspected she fought so hard for Lisa just to spite him, to force him to bend to her will. Dana had none of those qualities. She possessed strong and resolute personality traits--the consummate mother and professional. For a relationship to develop between them, one would have to change careers, and that left him out. He'd had enough experience to see the ending from the beginning. The day moved slowly. Both made concessions.

…
Later, at his apartment, after a quick shower and change of clothes, Patrick wondered if he should try one more time to drop by Dana's apartment. After thinking all day of what Ken had said, he felt compelled to see her and Michael.

Even though she refused Ken's offer to take Michael riding, Patrick still wanted to convince Dana to let him take Michael out to see the horses at least. If she didn’t want company, she could say no; he could handle that. So what if he bulldozed his way right into the middle of the firing line.

For a full five minutes, he stood on her landing, vacillating for the first time since he decided to come over, marshaling the courage to knock.

She answered the door barefoot in a baggy T-shirt and jeans. Patrick liked what he saw--the picture of innocence, fresh and natural, not sophisticated looking enough to be the top executive she was. An open novel dangled from her hand. Her brows arched in surprise. Her voice cracked.

“My goodness, what brings you here?”

“I was on my way to see a friend and thought I'd stop by to see how Michael is doing.” What he wanted to say was, I'm drawn to you and Michael, but he couldn't, so he just stammered a bit and felt foolish, hoping for acceptance of his spontaneous visit.

She hugged the half-opened door; a guarded pose he knew meant either no you can't come in, or maybe.

“It's not a good idea.”

“You're right. It was a crummy idea.” He cleared his throat, stiffened, embarrassed for doing this without calling first. “Sorry.”

He turned to head back to his car when a disconsolate cry from Michael stopped him. He whirled around in time to see the boy appear next to his mother, reaching out with one hand, bidding Patrick to come back.

Dana drew a fist to her mouth, appearing shocked to see Michael responding to Patrick again.

“I’m so surprised. Do you have some magic potion to make my son react this way to you? With all his exposure to other men in the family and friends, he’s never once displayed an ounce of friendliness toward any of them. With you, it was an immediate bonding.”

She stepped aside. “Come in.” Her hand rested on Michael's shoulder.

Patrick strolled into the living room, glanced around at the meager furnishings, and felt a pang of sadness for her. A woman with her prestigious job should be living in a fancy condo on the north side, with designer furniture and all the trappings a woman of her station deserved.

“Not much to look at, but its home until I get my life back together financially. Michael and I were just going to have chocolate milk and cookies. Would you like to join us?”

“You sure it's all right?”

She shrugged. “Michael usually goes right to his room when someone comes in. When you arrived, he marched to his seat at the kitchen table and waited for his cookies.”

Sweat broke out under Patrick's arms. He couldn’t remember when he'd felt this uncomfortable. He followed the boy and sat across from him. “So how was your day, son?”

Michael covered his mouth with both hands and looked down at his lap. She set the cookies, cups, and hot chocolate on the table.

“It’s very daring of you to come over like this. What if someone from work sees you?” she asked calmly, without challenge.

Their meeting outside of work, could be misconstrued as a conflict of interest if anyone found out they were personally involved. It could put their chances of getting a contract in jeopardy. One of them would have to secede. The stakes were high.

“I thought of that but then dismissed it. Does someone from the hospital live in your building?”

“Not that I know of. The hospital is only a few miles from here, though.”

“Don't worry. I won't do this again. It's just since the night I drove
you and Michael home, I've wanted to come by and see him again. He's been on my mind. I thought it might be fun if we took Michael out to the stables, so I could show him my horses.”

A warm smile spread her lips. “Ken suggested the same thing. I turned him down. I didn't tell him Michael was autistic.”

A distinct feeling swept through Patrick thinking of Michael as their secret, and for some childish reason that made him extremely happy. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

She shrugged, dismissing the subject. Michael took a cookie from the plate and held it out to Patrick.

Dana winced.

“Hey, look. He’s handing me a cookie. He’s treating me like a friend. Thanks, my boy.” Patrick took the cookie and ate it. “Hmm, these are good.
Chocolate chip?”

She smiled. “Thank you. I made them.”

He talked to Michael with the same ease he used in the car on the way home that first night. “I'm glad they don't call you Mike. I don't like nicknames.”

“Is that why they call you Patrick?”

“That and I was a junior. Right after my dad died, my mother started calling me Patrick and got ticked when anyone called me Pat. Guess calling me by my dad's name was comforting to her.”

After finishing the chocolate milk and cookies, Michael got up and went into his room. Patrick thought the boy had decided not to be with him any longer, when a moment later he returned with two controllers in his small hands. He stood in the living room holding them, looking down at the floor.

Patrick went to him. “I know how to play this. It's Wii. Come on. Let's have a go at it.”

He sat on the floor in front of the TV, pulled Michael down with him, set up their characters on the TV and proceeded to teach Michael how to use them.

“He doesn't know how to play,” she said from her chair in the dining room.

Patrick decided on bowling and went into extensive detail. Michael tried with everything he had but just couldn’t seem to keep
the ball on the alley. So Patrick purposely threw gutter balls, which sent Michael into fits of laughter, again covering his mouth with his hands.

Patrick watched him closely as he cocked his head, listening intently, trying to assimilate his instructions, and then do his best to follow them.

“What about horseback riding tomorrow morning?” Patrick spoke with his back to her.

“If this is any indication of how he’ll behave, I think it’s a fantastic idea. He may enjoy the experience.”

* * *

A bright yellow sun peeked above the mountain. A warm, delicate breeze ruffled Dana's hair. It was the perfect day to ride. She hadn’t been on a horse for years. She quaked at the thought of making a fool of herself. Michael stood behind her, gripping her belt, waiting for Patrick to return from the main house, where he went to call Ken to see if Dana could ride his horse.

In many ways, Patrick possessed every quality she ever dreamed of in a man: intelligent, with principles, hardworking and wonderful with Michael. God, he was good-looking too. Could she just settle for an affair with this man? Marriage was out of the question. Their careers collided like two meteors crashing in space. She made a promise to Gil to remain in Ashton and carry on his legacy. Uprooting Michael wasn’t an option. He loved Ruta Morse too. If Dana was to leave, Joel had an open door to try to take Michael away from her. A pang of disappointment settled in her stomach.

“Come on, honey. Let's go to the barn and check out the horses until Patrick gets back.”

Michael didn't move. His grip tightened on her belt. Patrick came out of the house, his jaunty stride and smiling face told her everything she needed to know. Patrick and Ken were close friends. Once, she and Teal shared such camaraderie. They’d been tight like sisters. If only they could recapture those days.

“Let's go to the car. I have something for Michael.”

Dana led him toward the Fiat. Patrick pulled a long box from the trunk, then after closing it, he propped Michael up on the shiny car and took off his shoes. “Now, young man, let's see if these fit.” He removed a small pair of handcrafted leather cowboy boots from the box.

Michael's eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yes.” Like magic, he slipped the beautiful boots onto Michael's small feet, and then lifted him down. “Walk!” The boy glanced down at his feet for a moment. He took a few wobbly steps on the two-inch heeled cowboy boots.

“Patrick, you shouldn't have. You don't even know if Michael will take to the horses.”

“If I know this boy, he'll take to them.”

In the stables, Patrick led Yin out of her stall. She already had a saddle on. He gave her sugar cubes and paraded her around the center of the barn, showing her off to Michael and Dana. Michael had never seen a live horse before and through his facial expression seemed spellbound.

“What do you think, son? Want to sit on her?”