Warm Hearts (22 page)

“I don't want you to say anything about my having flown all the way out. There was nothing I really wanted to do in D.C., and I was hoping that I could be a help to you here. I'll fetch coffee, buy magazines, call nurses. I'll hold your hand.” He shot a glance past her, back into the room, where the woman he assumed to be Madeline Cooper had turned and was eyeing him warily. “I'll even hold your
mother
's hand. But if I'm putting you on the spot by showing up—or if you'd really rather be alone—I'll disappear. Just say the word. Or if you want me to stay, you can explain me away as one of your partners or your secretary. You don't even have to tell your mom that I'm the same man who answered your phone when she called last weekend. We can make up a name for me. I don't care. I just wanted to be here—”

Her fingers silenced him, trembling slightly against his lips. “I have no right to want you here as much as I do,” she whispered, but she didn't have time to say anything more, because at that moment Carl came flying down the hall. He held his daughter, Amy, comfortably on his hip. Diane was at his side.

Caroline hugged them all, then introduced Brendan to them as “a special someone,” which seemed to satisfy them far more than the realization that they'd all been on the same plane without knowing it. Madeline, who joined them seconds later, was relieved enough to know that Carl was there with his wife and daughter to overlook the fact that Caroline's “friend” had flown all the way from Washington to be with her. By the time she thought to ask about the nature of that friendship, Brendan was proving to be such a source of strength that she didn't bother to question and simply accepted what seemed perfectly right and natural.

He was, in his unobtrusive way, like another member of the family. Madeline turned to him as nearly as often as she turned to Caroline, which didn't bother him in the least. He was in a far better frame of mind to take Madeline's alarmism than Caroline, who was busy trying to find out how alarmed she should rightly be.

As it happened, Allan Cooper's stroke proved to be less severe than it had seemed at the start. He had a slight paralysis on his left side that the doctors believed would respond well to therapy, and he was awake, aware and easily able to make himself understood by the time Caroline and Brendan bade him goodbye on Sunday afternoon.

Caroline was surprised that she was able to leave so easily. She'd assumed that she'd have felt obliged to stay and hold her mother's hand a bit longer. But everything was under control. She was convinced that her dad was receiving the best of care and that Madeline would be a nervous Nellie regardless. Besides, Carl had decided to stay on an extra few days with Diane and Amy. Amy had proven to be the only one capable of distracting Madeline for long, which was working out conveniently. Carl and Diane had begun to talk and smile with each other as they hadn't done in months and months, and they could use whatever time they found to be alone together.

But Caroline's thoughts weren't on her parents, Amy, Carl or Diane as the plane took off and headed east. Her thoughts were on Brendan. His presence had taken the weekend from the ranks of an ordeal and transformed it into something a little less daunting. She felt calm, and that was a definite improvement over the way her family usually made her feel.

Brendan was a diffuser. He'd taken the sharp tip off the crisis and softened its edges. He was her friend and confidant. He shared the burden of responsibility and helped her put things into perspective. And he was a steady reminder that she was more than just Caroline-the-last-hope-of-the-needy. There had been times that weekend when they were alone, when he would hold her hand or wrap an arm around her shoulder or draw her head to his chest, and she would feel valued and appreciated as a person in her own right, totally aside from any service she had to offer. And when, very late on Saturday night when the rest of the household was asleep, he made hot, sweet, silent love to her, she felt positively cherished.

Brendan was wonderful, but that was precisely what began to bother her during that flight home on Sunday. He fit so easily into her life that thought of life without him was suddenly frightening. In little over a week, she had grown dependent on him. It wasn't a material dependence; she felt every bit as self-sufficient as she ever had in the sense of day-to-day, surface functioning. But emotionally … she'd quickly come to need him that way.

Theoretically, she reasoned, everything should be perfect. She'd met a man who interested and excited her, a man who was strong enough to stand on his own two feet and take some of her weight, as well. They could head off into the sunset and live happily ever after, knowing that between them they had a handle on the world.

But it wasn't as simple as that. For one thing, a mere nine days ago she'd announced—no, insisted—that their relationship should be fun and free. If, by her own decree, she'd ruled out thoughts of a future, could she simply reverse herself now and expect that Brendan would go along?

For another thing, life often got complicated when couples started thinking in terms of long-range commitments. General concerns became personal. Issues that had previously been overlooked suddenly came to the fore. Expectations changed and sides were taken. She knew that from her work. Time and again she'd counseled couples who couldn't understand why their relationship had been perfect until they'd gotten married.

She asked herself if her work had turned her off marriage and knew that the answer was no. She'd seen many long-lasting, happy marriages—her parents' included—but she knew, too, of the growing pains those relationships occasionally suffered. She didn't want
any
pains in her relationship with Brendan.

She asked herself if her experience with Ben was making her nervous, and again the answer was no. Ben was an egocentric man who had a way with words that had little to do with honest, gut-wrenching emotion. Ben was as different from Brendan as night from day, and just as there was no comparison between the men, there was no comparison between the relationship she had with each.

The trouble was that she couldn't define exactly what she wanted her relationship with Brendan to be. Was it to be laid-back and hassle free, or more intense? Could it be both? Could it
not
be both?

The plane landed in Washington without a hitch, but Caroline was still grappling with the dilemma that night as she lay in bed with Brendan. Tipping her head sideways on the pillow, she studied him in the dark. He had a strong profile—all the way from the dark spikes of hair falling over his brow to the blunt tips of his well-formed toes.

They'd just made love. His skin gleamed beneath a sheen of sweat that hadn't yet dried in the hot night air. His body hair was ruffled, left that way by the impassioned movements of her skin on his. His muscles were relaxed, his breathing steady. He'd fallen asleep.

She couldn't begrudge him that. He'd been a rock for her this weekend. He'd earned his rest. And besides, she didn't want to talk right now. She wasn't ready to share the particular thoughts in her mind.

So she wrestled with them silently for another hour, until sheer exhaustion wore her down. But before she fell asleep, she reached a decision. Brendan Carr was too good to be believed. He had to have a flaw. It was going to be up to her to find that flaw, before she was so head over heels in love with the man that she was beyond redemption.

*   *   *

During the next few weeks, Caroline and Brendan settled into a routine that wasn't so much a routine as a regular meeting of minds. They each went to work in the morning and brought work home to do at night, but there was variety in where they did that work—sometimes at his loft, sometimes at hers. There was variety, too, in when they did it—sometimes before they went to a late movie, sometimes after they returned from a restaurant, sometimes between snacks or phone calls or chores. They found the spontaneous little twists to be refreshing, and though they discovered small differences in their tastes, compromise was incredibly simple.

Caroline wasn't quite as gung-ho about looking for Brendan's flaws as she should have been. Too often she was so comfortable with him that she simply didn't think to look for flaws, and when she was tired after a day of work, she didn't want to look for them.

On occasion, though, when an odd, tiny inner unease nudged her, she would examine their lives together and search for a catch in the relationship. She'd wanted the freedom to come and go as she liked, and she had it. Brendan never made her feel guilty. He didn't say things he didn't mean or make promises he didn't keep. She was able to lean on him and find ready support, and not once had he treated her like his mother. When she looked for signs that she was being taken advantage of, she couldn't find a one.

Cooking dinner was a case in point. On those nights when they decided to eat in, she took charge, since it had quickly become clear that even she knew more about cooking than he did. But he helped. Even when she protested, he offered, insisting on chopping onions or tenderizing steaks or setting the table, and not once was she left to do the cleanup alone.

Doing laundry was another example. Without a second thought, Caroline offered to throw his laundry in with hers when she went to the basement washing machine. It was no sweat off her back, she'd reasoned; she was doing the wash anyway, and the addition of his T-shirts, shorts and socks was negligible. In turn, Brendan insisted on making the trip to the dry cleaner's that she would have also had to make. The following week, when she'd gotten her period and was feeling crampy and under the weather, he did both chores without pause.

No, she wasn't being taken advantage of. True, she automatically straightened things up when she was at his loft. But then, he automatically answered the phone when he was at hers. True, she took care of his newspapers and mail when he was out of town. But then, he called every night from wherever he was, and when he came home he was more solicitous than ever, compensating for what she'd done while he was gone.

It was while he was on one such trip, after they'd been together for nearly four weeks, that a knock came at Brendan's door. Having left work immediately after her last appointment, Caroline had been waiting for just that knock. She said a tiny prayer that was answered the instant she opened the door and saw the pretty brunette who was no more than sixteen and very, very nervous.

“You're Shelley,” she announced softly but with an excited smile. Catching the girl's hand, she drew her into the loft and quickly shut the door. “I'm Caroline. Thank goodness you've come. Your mother's been worried.”

Shelley seemed a little perturbed by that. “She shouldn't have worried. I left a note saying I was coming here.”

“Still, Kansas City to Washington's a long way. How did you do it?”

“Bus.”

Caroline hated to think of the state of the nation's bus stops, but at least the girl hadn't hitchhiked. “Your brother will be relieved to see you.”

Shelley glanced uneasily around the loft. “Is he here?”

“He's been out of town since yesterday morning, but when he learned that you were on your way, he canceled his meetings for tomorrow. He should be back here in an hour or two.”

Shelley nodded. Her gaze skittered off. She was using her forefinger to pick at her thumb. She looked awkward. “Were you the one who talked with my mom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you living here with Brendan?”

“No.”

“But you must have something going with him if you were here.”

Caroline hadn't been sure how Shelley would react to her. She was relieved to find that the girl was more curious than hostile. “I had dropped some things off last night and happened to be here when your mother called.”

“I'll bet Mom was surprised when you answered the phone instead of Brendan.”

“A little, I think.” Caroline's smile was crooked as she recalled how impressed she'd been with the older woman's aplomb. “She recovered.”

“She always does. She's cool. I have to say that for her.”

The awkwardness seemed to be easing. Caroline took advantage of that and suggested softly, “Think we ought to give her a call and tell her you arrived safely?”

“She'll probably be furious with me once she knows I'm safe.”

“Because you left a note and took off, rather than discussing the trip with her beforehand? Maybe. But if you call right now and tell her that you just this minute arrived and wanted to call right away because you knew she'd be worried, I bet the anger will be minimal.”

Apparently that made some sense to Shelley, because after a brief pause, she let her backpack slide to the floor and went to the phone.

In an effort to give her a little privacy, Caroline crossed to the French windows and stood with her back to the girl. She could easily begin to understand why Brendan held a soft spot in his heart for this half sister who was so much younger than he. She was adorable to look at—slim and petite, dressed in ankle socks and flats, a short denim skirt that was nearly hidden first by a large Banana Republic T-shirt, then by an even larger denim work shirt with sleeves rolled high and lapels flapped open. Caroline's trained eye saw a sweetness and a certain vulnerability in her, which fit well into what Brendan's mother had told her the night before.

Shelley wasn't rebellious. The girl's father—Brendan's mother's second husband—had died three years before, and Shelley and her mother were close. Shelley didn't drink or do drugs. She was a top student in school and, a late developer, had just become part of a social group during the past year. Her one fault, it seemed, was laziness, which was why she didn't have a job for the summer. She'd been spending her time between her girlfriends and her first steady boyfriend. Two nights ago, she and the boy had broken up, which was why she'd taken off in search of Brendan, whom she adored.