Sentimental Journey (9 page)

"When you were old enough, I imagine you became more interested in boys, pop stars, and girl talk than model trains," Brodie concluded.

"Something like that,
"
she admitted.

A little boy's voice echoed clearly through the room. "Can I have that, daddy?" His arm swept out to indicate the entire display.

"We don't have a room large enough for it," the man holding him answered. "But maybe Santa can bring you one train for Christmas. Is that all right?"

"Will it make smoke like that one?" the boy pointed.

"Yes, it will make smoke," the father agreed.

"That's okay, then. Santa can bring me that." The boy accepted the compromise offer.

A smile tugged at the corners of Jessica's mouth. "I'll bet every child that sees this wants a train for Christmas." She glanced up at Brodie through the sweep of her lashes, idly curious. "Did Santa ever bring you a train for Christmas, one that blows smoke?"

"No, I never did get a train." He shook his head briefly, his black hair gleaming. "But there were a lot of Christmases that Santa didn't make it to our house. I'm not sure whether it was because we were too poor or because I was a bad boy."

Rather than comment on his background, Jessica chose a facetious remark. "Santa always knows who's been good or bad."

"He certainly knows that I didn't make my father's life any easier." His hands were braced on the railing that cordoned off the public from the display. "My father used to work for the railroad."

"He did?" Jessica was glad he had changed the subject. The memory of her brother saying that Brodie was no good was still very clear in her mind.

"Yes. He was hurt in a derailment when I was about five and ended up partially disabled. He never was able to get enough part-time work to combine with his pension to give us enough to live on, and he was too damned proud to go on welfare, so we went without a lot of things."

"What was your father like?" She tried to visualize an older version of Brodie, but had difficulty picturing a disabled man when Brodie was so vital and robust.

"Stubborn, proud. The one thing he couldn't tolerate was failure. In the end, he was a broken man." His gaze narrowed on the miniature tracks of the display. "He couldn't work at the job he loved—the railroad. His wife had run out on him. His son brought him pain instead of hope."

"I'm sorry, Brodie." This time Jessica wasn't offering empty words. "He would have been proud of you today."

"Yes." Brodie straightened from the rail, his action indicating that he was ready to leave the model-train display. "But it didn't work out that way."

She marveled that he could accept it so calmly, but he'd had more time to adjust to it. He'd had to put the remorse behind him and carry on with his life, while she was just tasting the bitter pangs of disappointment on his behalf for the first time.

They wandered outside again, onto the platform. The locomotive of the famed Chattanooga Choo-Choo waited on Track 29 of the 1905 Terminal Station. A collection of dining cars and sleeping-parlor cars occupied more mock tracks within the center.

"Have you ever eaten in one of the dining cars?" Brodie asked when Jessica slowed her steps for a closer look at one.

"No." She smiled wryly. "Isn't that typical? You never take advantage of attractions in your own hometown."

"True," he agreed.

"My intentions have been good, but I've never been able to get reservations on the night I wanted to go." She shrugged at the thwarted opportunities.

"We'll both have to correct this oversight, since I've never dined there, either. I'll make reservations to dine here some evening when I'm in town."

He was taking her acceptance for granted, something Jessica couldn't allow. "As long as I happen to be free the same evening."

"Of course," he said with a look that expressed confidence that she would be available.

They continued to stroll along the platform. As they approached a group of tourists occupying much of the platform, Brodie's hand moved to a spot between Jessica's shoulders to guide her through the throng. The vaguely possessive touch sent quivers down her spine, especially when his hand slid downward to the back of her waist.

"I understand the parlor cars are actually rented out. Couples can spend the night in them," Brodie commented.

"That's true. I've seen pictures of the interior. They're beautiful—Victorian furniture, brass beds." Jessica told him.

"When I make our dinner reservations, maybe I should reserve us a sleeping car." His sideways glance inspected her face.

Jessica felt it grow warm. "No, thank you."

"Does the thought of making love embarrass you?" Again his candor unnerved her. "Or isn't it proper for women of breeding to discuss such things?"

She didn't want to answer either question. She was on treacherous footing. The sooner she reached solid ground, the better off she would be.

"It must be time for me to get back to the office," she offered desperately.

Brodie glanced at his watch and mocked, "So it is. Always the conscientious employee, aren't you?"

"I earn my salary." She refused to sound righteous.

They turned and started back for the parking lot. "And do you work Saturdays, as well?"

"No, the office is closed on Saturdays." Her steps quickened.

"That doesn't mean you don't work. Officially, the office may be closed, but there still may be work to do," he reasoned.

"So far I haven't had to work on Saturday," was the only answer Jessica could give.

"What do you do, then? Play tennis? Golf? Swim?"

"It depends."

"What will you be doing this Saturday?" Brodie asked.

"I don't have anything special planned." Immediately Jessica realized she had fallen into another one of his traps.

"In that case, we can plan something together," he decided.

"If you have in mind that sleeping car…" she began with rising indignation.

"Actually what I had in mind is a tour of some of Chattanooga's attractions. A day spent sight-seeing. Is that innocent enough for you?" A wicked light glinted in his eyes.

"I suppose so…" Again it was an invitation that left her without grounds to refuse. Part of her didn't want to refuse, either.

"Good. I'll pick you up at your apartment at ten Saturday morning." It was all settled.

Chapter Six

SATURDAY MORNING was flooded with sunshine, There wasn't a cloud in the crystal-blue sky as it formed a contrasting backdrop to the spring green of the land. The white flowers of the dogwood blossomed in the hills. The air was filled with mating calls from the trilling song of birds to the chattering cries of squirrels.

Jessica stood on the narrow balcony of her apartment to watch and listen. A loose-fitting silk blouse of olive green, its color a shade darker than her eyes, was belted at the waist over a pair of white Levis. A long, chunky chain of gold hung around her neck.

It was a warm, coatless day, certainly not the kind of day one wanted to spend indoors. But of course she wasn't. Jessica glanced at the gold watch on her wrist; one minute before ten. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

Her heart gave a sudden leap of excitement and she paused until it had resumed its normal rate. It was essential to keep both feet on the ground today. It would never do to be carried away by spring fever, a malady she was susceptible to.

The doorbell rang a second time as she turned the knob and opened the door wide. Her heart became lodged in her throat at the sight of Brodie, despite her effort to keep it firmly in its place. He seemed so potently male standing there.

A white shirt stretched across his wide shoulders to taper to his waist, the long sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, the top three buttons unfastened. A pair of brushed denims hugged his hips and emphasized the long length of his legs. But it was the impression of so much tanned, hard flesh that was causing the most havoc with her senses.

"Hello." His greeting had a velvet quality to it. "This is for you—a rose for a Thorne, if you'll forgive an overworked sentiment."

Until Brodie offered it to her, Jessica hadn't noticed the single red rose in his hand. Her fingers curled around the stem to take it from him, the carnelian red petals in full bloom.

"It's beautiful," she murmured inadequately. "Thank you."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. Just give me a moment to put this in a vase."

She hurried into the kitchen, took a bud vase from the cupboard, and partially filled it with water. Standing the rose stem in the vase, she carried it into the living room and set it next to the mantel clock where the polished grains of the wood would show off the rich red of the flower.

Brodie watched it all from inside the doorway, commenting when Jessica joined him, "If I'd known you were going to go to all that trouble, I would have brought you a bouquet."

"It was no trouble."

In the hallway, Brodie waited while she locked the door. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Toast and coffee." Generally she ate a hearty breakfast, but she didn't want to dwell on why she hadn't been hungry this morning.

"Good. I didn't have time to eat, either. Instead of lunch, let's have a late breakfast," he suggested.

"Very well," she agreed.

Considering her lack of appetite earlier, Jessica was surprised to discover she was almost ravenous when the waitress set a plate of bacon, eggs, grits and biscuits in front of her. Brodie's meal was similarly huge. Neither had difficulty cleaning the plates.

"Have you had enough or would you like something more?" he asked.

"More than enough," she declared with a decisive nod. "I'm going to need to exercise to work it off."

"That can be arranged." There was a smile in his voice as he lifted the coffee cup to his mouth. Draining all but the dregs, he set the cup down. "Shall we go?"

At her nod of agreement, he paid for the breakfast and they left. Outside in the car, he started the engine but didn't put it in gear, turning an inquiring look at her.

"Where would you like to start our tour?"

Jessica had no preference. "You're the driver—you choose."

A lazy look of wickedness stole over his face. "Aren't you concerned that I'll choose the sleeping car at the Train Station in order to provide you with that exercise you said you needed?"

This time his suggestive comment did not completely shatter her poise. "That isn't the kind of exercise I had in mind," she answered with a commendable show of calm.

"What did you have in mind? Something more tame and less stimulating, like walking?" Brodie mocked.

He directed his gaze at her lips to watch them form the words of her answer. The action tested the strength of her composure. It held.

"Yes, like walking."

"In that case, we'll start our tour at the top by beginning at Lookout Mountain." Brodie shifted the car into gear and finally looked away from her.

The mountain towered at the edge of the city like a sentinel. Access to the top was by a road that twisted and curved its way up the slope. As they neared the entrance to Rock City, one of the more popular tourist attractions on top of Lookout Mountain, Brodie glanced at Jessica.

"I never thought about it, but it probably would have been quicker to take the Incline," he said.

"I prefer driving to the top. That railway is too steep for me." The one and only time Jessica had ridden it, it had seemed to go straight up the mountain, so steep was the incline.

"Do heights bother you?" Brodie eyed her curiously.

"Yes." She didn't lie about the phobia she had for high places.

Although he didn't comment, she had the sensation that Brodie stored the information away. He parked the car in the lot opposite Rock City Gardens and they walked across the street to the entrance, a building that didn't attempt to compete with the natural splendor that lay beyond it.

A trail wound its way through ageless rock formations, majestic and massive. Trees grew where it seemed impossible that they could root. There was a springtime explosion of flowers that filled the air with their delicate scents. The myriad sights, sounds and smells demanded a leisurely pace.

Jessica lingered at the balancing rock to study its seeming defiance of gravity. "It's been so long since I was here that I'd forgotten how unique this place is." She glanced at Brodie, remembering his previous comments about the deprivation of his childhood. "Have you ever been here before?"

"My father brought me here a couple of times when I was small. The last time I was here, though, I was thrown out." His mouth quirked at the memory.

"Why? What did you do?"

"I didn't have enough money to get in, so I snuck in without paying, Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on your point of view, I was caught."

As they continued along the trail past the balancing rock, his hand seemed to automatically seek hers. The grip of his hand was strong and firm. Jessica doubted that She could have pulled her hand free of it—not that she wanted to. She discovered that she liked this sensation of being linked to him. She was content to enjoy the feeling rather than question the wisdom of it.