Unforgettable (20 page)

“Good Lord, woman! How many different types of crafts do you make?” Patrick gasped, astounded by the total finished items and craft supplies.

“Just about everything from needlepoint to woodworking and everything in between. Crafting is the only thing I’m good at, besides cooking.”

“You have everything in here except a bathroom,” he teased.

“That’s behind that little door over there,” Brittany said, her cheeks blushing brightly.

“I should have known! How did you learn how to do all this?” he asked.

“My mother taught me how to crochet when I was little. After she died, I taught myself one new craft after another just to keep my mind occupied. That filing cabinet over there is full of all my patterns and how-to books. I swear, if I buy one more pattern, that cabinet is going to explode.”

Patrick was about to ask her another question when the phone rang upstairs.

“I always make the mistake of forgetting to bring my cordless phone when I come down here to work. Tonight is no exception, it seems. If you’ll excuse me, please, I’ll be right back.” Brittany quickly climbed the stairs.

While she was gone, Patrick explored the large basement and some of the pieces she was working on. His eyes finally fell on a shelf which contained only one item. A stack of papers was neatly rolled up and tied with a mauve silk ribbon. It was unlike anything else in the basement. Unable to resist, Patrick untied the ribbon and spread the pages out on the work table. What he saw was an extraordinary drawing of a Victorian home in extreme, exquisite detail. Page after page held drawings of each view of the house from the outside. Each drawing was magnificently drawn and highly detailed, from the ferns and Virginia creepers climbing along the trellis to the white wicker furniture on the front porch. They were followed by more drawings of each room in the house as viewed from every angle of the room. These were also highly detailed and quite stunning. The colors for the interior and exterior had been chosen by using colored artist pencils. At the bottom of each drawing were the measurements in square feet and, in very small print, Brittany had signed each picture.

“Patrick, that was a…” Brittany started to say something when she realized what was he was looking at. Before he knew what was happening, she’d grabbed the drawings, rolled them back up and replaced them on the shelf.

“These really aren’t important,” she was saying, “It’s not part of my work anyway. It’s just something I fiddle with every now and then.”

“If that’s what you call ‘fiddling,’ I can’t wait to see a finished project that you’re serious about,” Patrick replied incredulously.

“No,” she replied angrily. “It’s just a hobby. Look, that was a client of mine on the phone. She wants to put in a large order for Christmas and I have to be up early tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ve got a lot of work to get together between now and then so I’m going to have to bring this evening to a close,” she insisted, gently pushing him up the stairs and into the kitchen.

“What did I do now?” he asked, following her into the living room. He was at a total loss as to why she was suddenly pushing him away again when, a few moments ago, they were getting along so well.

“Nothing. Like I said…I have a lot of work do before morning. It’s late and I have to get up early,” she replied shortly. She handed him his coat and he stood there for the briefest moment looking puzzled before taking it from her.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night, Brittany?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how late my meeting runs and how much time I have to get supplies and things.”

“Brittany, please don’t shut me out. Every time you show me some small, wonderful part of your life, you push me away with both hands. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to cause you pain or trouble. I only want to be your friend. A friend is someone who knows everything about you and still stands by you. You taught me that. Good or bad, Brittany, I’ll be here for you. You can count on it,” Patrick said, hoping against hope she’d talk to him and tell him what she was so terribly frightened of.

“I’m not pushing you away and there’s no problem.”
LIAR!
Her conscience accused silently. “I just have to get up early, that’s all,” she continued softly, refusing to meet his gaze.

Clearly, she wanted him to leave, but he stood there staring at her for the longest time, neither of them moving or speaking. She was upset and that it had something to do with her drawings of that house. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what the problem might be, though. He only knew that she still didn’t trust him enough to tell him the whole truth, or to let him get close enough to really know her. Patrick turned to open the door and step out onto the porch. Still holding the screen door open, he turned back to face her.

“I’m in the dark here, Brittany,” he said. He kissed her gently on the forehead and let one of her auburn ringlets twine itself around his finger. When he didn’t move, Brittany looked up at him curiously.

“It’s cold and lonely here in the dark, Brittany. Come and find me soon.” That said, he closed the screen door and vanished into the night.

Brittany shut and locked the door, then leaned her head against it as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Stupid jerk! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she said, banging her head gently against the door with each word. The only problem was, she wasn’t sure she was talking about Patrick or herself.

Patrick stood just out of sight and watched as Brittany closed the door. He wondered what it was he could do or say to reach her…to prove to her that he could be trusted. There was no answer to that question and there couldn’t be one until he knew what had frightened her and made her keep him at arms-length. The only other question bigger than both of these was why it mattered to him so damned much? Why was that…no, why was
she
so damned important to him?

There was only one person, other than Brittany, who could even begin to answer his questions…who might possibly know her better than she knew herself. He turned and headed for Susan’s house.

Later that night, after Brittany had gotten her portfolio, order book and other supplies together, she lay on the sofa listening to the radio. She’d gotten ready for bed before calling Susan to tell her what had happened earlier that evening. Now, still unable to sleep or relax, Susan’s words came back to haunt her.

“… You’re being silly. I believe you can trust Patrick, but you’ll never know until you give him a chance. You’ve got to open up and let the man in. Tell him about Frank and everything else. Then, if he hurts you or abuses that trust, kick his ass. We both know you can do it. Hell, I’ll even help you.”

“By then it’ll be too late, Susan. I’ll get hurt and he’ll walk away unscathed,” she’d replied. “When he told me how he used to be, he sounded so much like Frank it scared the hell out of me. Then, when I saw him looking at the drawings, all I could think of was Frank’s slurs and smart remarks about everything I did. At the time, those drawings were my only refuge and sanctuary from him. They were my one tie to sanity because they were the only part of my life he didn’t know about. I was afraid Patrick would say something snide or hateful about them, the way Frank used to, and I just don’t think I can handle another jerk like that if I lived ten more lifetimes.”

“Look, Frank was the lowest kind of scum ever to slither across the face of the earth, okay? And that was his one good point. Patrick is nothing like that. He went through some tough heartache and he made some bad decisions, but he’s a great guy. He’s not the coldhearted man he used to be. Hell, you can see that in his eyes. You’ve changed a lot over the years and so has Patrick. Take a chance…give
him
a chance. If you don’t, you’re always going to be afraid.

“When your parents died, you learned to stand on your own two feet and fight for what you believed in and for what you wanted. When things hit their lowest with Frank, you learned how to stand up to him and fight him and again, you fought for what you believed in. You came out stronger for it in the end, too.

“If you don’t take this chance with Patrick, if you run and hide because of what happened with Frank, then you’ve lost all those battles. Everything you fought so hard to gain will have been for nothing and Frank will have beaten you after all.

“I know you’re stronger than that. You’ve got to believe in yourself again. Take a chance like you did all those times before. You’ll never know if you’ve really beaten Frank until you take a chance on Patrick. You’ll go through your whole life alone, wondering…if things had been different…if you’d only taken the chance…”

Brittany rolled over on the sofa and sighed. Damn! Why does everything have to be so hard and complicated? She lay on the sofa most of the night, wondering what to do about Patrick, when the soft, familiar voice on the radio finally caught her attention.

“I’ve got another dedication to send out to the Earth Angel from her Guardian Angel this evening. He says to tell you that Guardian Angels are sent here to help and protect and that you can always trust and depend on them, no matter what. He also wanted me to tell his Earth Angel he’ll be there for you, if you’ll only let him. So, this song goes out to you, Earth Angel, from someone who wants to be your Guardian Angel…always.”

When the song, “You’ve Got a Friend” ended, Brittany was halfway to the phone before she realized she was crying. The man had an uncanny ability to hit her soft spot. Damn him! She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

“Hello?”

“Patrick, *sniff* it’s me, Brittany. *sniff*”

“Is everything all right, Brittany?”

“Yes, damn you. Why do you have to be so nice?” she moaned softly.

Patrick smiled with relief. She wasn’t mad at him…she was irritated with herself. He’d been at Susan’s house when Brittany had called and overheard Susan’s side of the conversation. Susan had told him not to worry about anything, explaining that Brittany always did the right thing…she just needed to talk about it first and then think about it for a while.

“Because you bring out the best in me,” he replied. He felt better than he had earlier. He and Susan had actually gotten to her and he hoped she would loosen up a little now.

When he’d asked Susan what he’d done that upset Brittany so much, and what it was that Brittany was so frightened of, Susan wouldn’t tell him everything, saying that it was Brittany’s place to tell him if she wanted him to know. However, she did tell him that Brittany had been incredibly and unbelievably hurt by a cruel and vicious bastard named Frank. It explained a lot and Patrick had been outraged at the thought of anyone treating Brittany that way.

“Well, that’s a pitiful excuse if I ever heard one *sniff,* but okay,” she replied, smiling. “Look, I really do have a very early and very important business meeting in the morning so I probably won’t be back until after four o’clock. If you aren’t busy, would you please come to dinner tomorrow night and allow me to explain and apologize for pushing you out of here tonight, and for being so rude to you?”

“I would love to have dinner with you, but an apology and an explanation are not necessary.” He was taking a big risk by giving her the opportunity to pull away and keep her secrets to herself, but her answer would tell him how much he mattered to her.

“No, Patrick. At the very least, I owe you that. Will seven o’clock be all right?”

“It’ll be perfect. Good night, Angel.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

Chapter 12 “Apologies Not Required”

While Breezy was preparing dinner, she wondered what she was going to say to Patrick. Apologizing to him would be easy but explaining her behavior and the reason behind it would be very difficult. Besides giving him all the ammunition he’d ever need to hurt her, she was also going to relive some very painful memories, which meant she’d probably start crying. Susan was the only person she could talk to about her past without breaking down. She also realized that Susan was right. If she didn’t take this chance to let Patrick know the real Breezy, then she would never know if she’d truly healed from the physical and mental trauma Frank had caused her.

Tonight would be either a stepping stone or her downfall. Either way, a lot of questions were going to get some much needed answers.

A few minutes later found Patrick standing on her front porch, right on time. Breezy took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Patrick! You didn’t have to bring flowers. I should be doing things for you after the way I treated you last night,” Breezy protested, although secretly pleased at his thoughtful gesture.

“I did it because you deserve beautiful things,” he smiled, presenting the bouquet of roses with a flourish.

“And, before you even start, I will not have you apologizing for last night. Those were your personal drawings. They were rolled up and tied and I had no right to open them, let alone look at them, without your permission. It was an invasion of your privacy and I’m truly sorry for having upset you.” Patrick was determined to get his own apology out of the way before anything else.

“Oh, please! I behaved abominably. I was very rude and I apologize. As soon as I put these in some water and check on dinner, I’ll explain why I reacted the way I did,” Breezy insisted.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Breezy. I’ve only really known you for a few days but I think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t get that upset without just cause. I don’t want you telling me things just because you feel guilty, or because you feel like you have to. I want you to tell me things about yourself because you care enough to include me in your life. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” he asked, taking her small hand and meeting her gaze.

“That’s why I asked you to have dinner with me tonight…because I do care and, unless I tell you certain things about my past, you can never understand me, or why I do the things I do, and why I am the way I am,” she said softly.

Neither of them spoke as Breezy found a vase for the roses and fixed a stiff drink for them both. She was wondering how and where to begin her explanation while he was giving her time to find the courage to tell him whatever it was she needed to say. After they were seated in the living room, she finally found that courage.