Whispers of the Heart (12 page)

Gathering Buttons and her purse, she said, “Thanks, Brent, but I think we should call it a night. Curtis starts his seasonal longer hours at the gallery tomorrow.”

“That's so, that's so,” Curtis muttered, not moving from his comfortable position in the lounge chair. “But I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee before we go. What's your hurry, Autumn? You never go out on weekends much, so you can sleep late in the morning.”

She didn't have to look to know Brent's gaze rested on her. Again.

“That has nothing to do with anything.” She set her chin. “Come on, Curtis, I want to run by the pharmacy yet tonight.”

“It's rather late, isn't it?” Brent glanced at his watch. “Can't your shopping wait for tomorrow?”

“Not really. I'm out of some things. And I like…” she took a deep breath and gave her answer straight on, all her defenses in place as she finally looked squarely into his eyes for the first time in hours “…to shop at night when only a few shoppers go. There's a couple of all-night grocery stores and drugstores. I get along pretty well that way.”

“You actually go out late at night to do errands?” Consternation lit up his eyes. Which told her plainly what he thought of that idea.

“Most of the ones where I can,” she said, refusing to back down. “Especially for a full load of groceries after I discovered where the all-nighters are. Sometimes I go just at dawn. Not many people do much grocery shopping then. And the fruit market is okay if I get there before it becomes crowded, and I've come to know a couple of the vendors that are located closer to the street.”

“But Autumn, at night? What time of night? It's nearly midnight now.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“What do you mean, is that all?”

“Well, this is a Friday night. I should wait for a while to allow more traffic to settle.”

“You want to wait until even later?”

“Well, I suppose I could wait until about five in the morning,” she said, letting her doubt show.

He didn't seem a bit satisfied with that. “What kind of safety measures do you take?”

That did irritate her. Until this moment, she'd been trying to reassure him, to tell him honestly how she handled balancing her life around her needs.

“All the same precautions one takes during the daylight,” she said, letting him see her exasperation, letting it pour out of her. “If I feel at all uncomfortable, I'll ask a clerk to walk with me to my car.”

“I don't like it, Autumn. Why haven't you asked for help?”

“Because I promised…”

“Promised who? Promised what?”

She folded her arms around herself in defense.

“Uncle William. Spring.
Myself.
Promised I'd get over this and learn to stand on my own. Grow strong.”

“Lord have mercy, woman.” His hand swept out to emphasize his protest, his face tightening by the minute. “I don't care who you promised, it's no weakness to ask for help when you need it. And asking or accepting help for your own safety isn't a weakness at all.”

“I've been telling the girls that since they were sixteen,” Curtis interjected as he brushed a hand
through his thinning hair. “But they paid no attention. Neither did William.”

“And we've managed all right anyway, haven't we?” she retorted to Curtis.

“Spring isn't around anymore, though, is she?” Brent reminded.

He'd guessed her past dependence on her sister rightly; her mouth suddenly trembled.
Oh fine, that's all I need is for him to see me cry…

“I know that!” she growled through gritted teeth.

“Does she approve of your shopping alone between midnight and dawn? Or even know?”

Anger sputtered up like a boiling kettle as she fought her inner anguish. “And we're not going to tell her, either, are we?”

“Won't make those promises, myself,” Curtis said, looking down at his shoes.

“Curtis!”

“Well, I won't tell her as long as she's not here to do anything about it,” Brent promised. “But I think your friends should step up to help you get a handle on this.”

“Would that help my self-reliance any?”

“Is that what you're demanding of yourself, Autumn? You have to be so self-sufficient that you never rely on anyone else? Never ask for help? What frightens you, really?”

“I've told you. I'm frightened of crowds. Bunches of people in one place. Otherwise I can run my own life just fine. And I'm learning to live alone very well, thank you. Now I won't discuss it again.”

She turned on her heel and swung out through the door. Brent followed in his stocking feet. He didn't
like letting her go, still angry, and with hurt feelings, but he couldn't follow with no one in the house to watch over Tim.

“Don't get yourself in a knot about it, Brent,” Curtis paused to say in a low tone. “This is nothing new. But I'll run errands with Autumn tonight. Sorry I opened that can of worms.”

“No sweat, Curtis,” Brent muttered, his gaze on her retreating back. “I knew something was going on with Autumn from the moment I met her. She's so mule-set to do this, to manage everything by herself, she's mining everything she's got to do it. In a way, it shows guts, and I admire her for that. But at what cost?”

S
tanding on his front porch watching Autumn and Curtis drive away, Brent wanted to slam something. Leaning forward, he wrapped his hands around a low railing and stretched his body out, his balance on his toes. He did thirty quick push-ups, enough to give himself a miniworkout. It didn't quite ease his tensions, so he paced the length of his porch instead.

What was he going to do with this knowledge about Autumn? Was it really none of his business?

How could he think it wasn't. Not when he cared so much about her.

Although he'd realized she usually refused his invitations whenever it involved a lot of people, he hadn't quite understood the depth of her fear. But to resort to shopping at dawn or the middle of night told him that fear went much deeper than he could imagine.

Why wouldn't she admit to needing help? Why was she foolishly determined to deal with this alone?

Where had it come from, and when had it started?

Bright and pretty, she seemed perfectly at ease in a gathering of only a few people. He didn't think she was a loner by natural selection. He'd sensed too much loneliness, a hidden hunger for a fuller life.

It rang a bell with him. He hungered for a full life himself, only he found it in his son, his visits with his mom, his many friendships and his work for the community. And not least, he found it in his frequent communication with his Lord. And although he'd grieved his wife when she died, and remembered her fondly, he looked forward to loving another woman one day.

Honestly, a wife to love and cherish was the only thing missing in his life. Deep in his heart, he'd thought that woman was Autumn.

She'd hit him like an explosion. From the very first day, he'd wanted to walk right up to her and take her into his arms.

He swung back into his living room and listened to the silence around him. Yet he didn't feel alone. He never did, and his awareness of God's spirit with him was strong and ever present, a force beyond anything he could describe as merely tangible. He frequently talked to Him aloud.

“I don't understand, Lord,” he admitted now, “when others experience that kind of loneliness, that kind of fear. It's so foreign to my own makeup. Help me to feel their pain when I come across it, help me to feel true compassion. Help me to understand Autumn.”

Maybe he needed to gain some perspective on it. He sure as wonder needed to find a perspective on
the phobia Autumn faced. Perhaps David would have a free hour for a quiet talk tomorrow.

For now, he walked the floor as he continued to petition the Lord.

“Father, I guess I needed a good knock in the head to realize Autumn's true needs. While I was busy taking in her beauty and just wanting her, I missed the inner woman. I need your guidance here, Lord. More that just guidance, I need your all-seeing wisdom. How can I help her? It pains me to see her in so much distress. Show me…”

Leaving Brent's street, Autumn clutched the wheel so hard her fingers ached. She wanted to cry, except at the moment, her anger wouldn't allow it.

She may as well kiss her promised love goodbye.

“Curtis, why did you do it? Make such a point of it all in front of Brent?”

“Because you won't.” Curtis stuck out his chin. “How long do you think it would take for him to notice? In fact, he already had, he said as much. When were you going to tell him?”

Shrugging, she steered around a corner. “Sometime.”

“Besides, you won't do anything about taking care of it—” he flashed her another mutinous glare “—and it's affecting your life, for Pete's sake.”

“That's my business,” she sniffed. “It doesn't affect anyone else.”

“It doesn't—?” Curtis stared at her with his mouth open. “I have news for you, my friend. It's no longer only your business when you allow yourself to get into dangerous situations, like shopping in
the middle of the night, because of it. Can you be so selfish not to consider how worried you make your friends?”

“You don't have to be bothered with it if you don't want to,” she snapped, ignoring his dig about her actions affecting her friends. “I'll drop you off home and you don't have to shop with me. I'll take care of myself.”

“Don't be ridiculous. We're going to get your errands done.” He paused for a long moment, then spoke more quietly. “But I want you to face it, sweetie.”

“Face what? I'm doing pretty well, in my opinion. I'll get along.”

He cast her a long-suffering glare. “Say it, Autumn, honey. Say it aloud. You have a real problem.”

“All right! I have a problem. Now are you happy?”

“I'd be happier if you'd take steps to find help,” he muttered.

“I'm doing all I can to take care of my life right now, if you please. I'm becoming self-reliant. Now can we please drop it? You're one of the few friends I can count on to…”

Her voice broke. She swallowed hard against the tears as her anger dissolved into hurt and despair. Curtis had been her teacher and friend since she was fourteen, when Uncle William hired him to come to the house to teach Spring and her to sketch and paint.

He'd been the first one to insist she had real talent. Uncle William believed him. The two men had been friends, after a fashion.

“Sorry, Autumn.” He sighed, turning his head to stare out the window. “You can still count on me. Just don't stay mad at me, okay?”

“I…no, I won't.”

No, she couldn't remain angry with Curtis. But she'd never let him see how her hopes for a loving relationship with Brent had plunged to a sudden death, either.

She doubted Brent would want her now. There were too many differences between them, and now he knew just how lopsided her personality was.

Oh, he'd remain civilly friendly and talk to her when the occasion arose. Perhaps he'd even still ask her to lunch, or allow Timmy to visit with Samson. But she doubted their growing closeness had survived the exploding bomb of her disability.

A half sigh, a half-smothered sob caught in her throat. Swallowing it down, she resolved to conquer the problem without another word said.

Long after she dropped Curtis at his apartment building and finally gone home, long after the milk and eggs were put away and she had neatly stacked the canned goods into her cupboard, she lay curled on her side in the middle of her bed, the sheer curtains billowing around her from the breeze, listening.

Listening to the silence of her apartment. Listening for movement from her neighbors below. Straining for any sound at all from the street to tell her she wasn't alone.

Then, she let the tears come. With plaintive sobs, they rolled down her face and onto the hand tucked under her chin as she sniffed and hiccuped.

She slept, finally, only to wake from a dream
where she watched Brent's smiling, welcoming eyes turn slowly to consternation and dislike when he gazed at her. With deep sadness, he turned his face from her and walked away.

She sat straight up in bed, her breath coming in little gasps. Brushing her damp hair from her face, she stared at her bedside phone. She even reached for it before she jerked her hand back. It was 3:00 a.m. in New York, and she wasn't about to wake her sister over a mere dream. Or a stifled romance.

Instead, she rose and made herself a cup of tea. She wouldn't call Spring. It was the one thing she steeled herself not to do too frequently.

If she really needed her, Spring would catch the next flight out of New York for home any day of the week. She simply couldn't do that to her sister. She'd insisted she was ready to live alone and tend to her own life while Spring did the same, and she would. She'd get over this.

For the next week, Autumn geared her courage into sprinting to and from the church, just to prove she could. The dawn hour along the empty streets, staring at the massive buildings along her route, gave her a new perspective on her neighborhood. But it did nothing to improve her outlook.

She'd lost all chance with Brent.

At least she could claim a small victory; fear held no domain for her in the dawn hours, and she found that returning home during the midmorning lull wasn't frightening as long as she kept moving.

She even braved dashing into a corner drugstore one morning for a quick purchase when she saw only a few shoppers there.

Avoiding Brent for the first few days after their argument took a little planning. She quit answering the phone. She couldn't face him just yet.

She needed the time to let her feelings toughen and calm down, she told herself. To be ready when she saw him again to accept him merely as a friend, with no other hopes attached. It would be better to let her budding love for Brent die now, without dragging it out. Better for him, too.

She instructed Spring not to call her during the day; she'd do the calling. Anyone else who might need to reach her could wait a few days.

That decision helped her to stay busy and focused.

During the mornings, the church seemed a good place to hide. Most of the time, she saw only David there, and then only on occasion. Wendy sometimes came along to say hello, but Wendy wouldn't think of asking questions that were unanswerable.

Twice, although she never saw them, she heard the musicians playing in the old chapel. She'd stopped once to listen as she'd done before, sitting on the floor next to the closed door at the end of the corridor. It soothed her, eroding her disquiet, and that morning she went home feeling much calmer about things. That was the day she'd successfully popped into the drugstore on her way home.

She'd been quick to tell Curtis of her small victory. He'd only grunted.

This morning as she stepped from her building, she gazed doubtfully at the heavy sky. The air felt damp. Perhaps she should drive.

Yet she didn't. She couldn't bear to give up what she saw as her winning streak. Every day since the
quarrel, she'd taken the run. She set off at her usual sprint.

She was smiling when she let herself into the church, snapping on all the lights against the darkened sky. A little rain couldn't keep her down.

The scaffold needed repositioning, and not willing to wait for David to come along to help with it, she tackled it herself. This morning she felt full of vigor and capabilities. Why shouldn't she take care of everything by herself? Perhaps she no longer needed to fear so many things. Uncle William had told her the biggest enemy in life was fear itself, and she had often become fearful of the very possibility of an episode. Maybe she'd answer the phone when it rang today.

The metal scaffold screeched horribly as she scooted it along the floor, filling the hall with noise. When she paused, she heard the low woodwind begin its trailing climb. As usual, she listened with pleasure as the strings joined.

She'd been working on the scene at the top of the arch and was very pleased with it, but somehow this morning, the corners beyond beckoned. They seemed too empty. She'd planned to fill in some fluffy clouds and blue sky, but now she thought she'd fill it with angels.

The music rose, drifting through the closed door to fill her corridor and her mind with inspiration as she worked. Long moments flew by as a bright shining face came alive under her hand.

When the noisy door from the direction of the church offices clanged into her consciousness, she realized the musicians had ceased their rehearsal and wondered when they'd stopped. She hadn't noticed.

Wendy came through, stopping just beneath her.

She liked Wendy. Wendy took a breezy attitude toward most things and often made Autumn laugh over nothing.

“Hey, Autumn,” Wendy greeted. “Nasty morning today. Does it make your work harder when the sun is hiding?”

“Oh, yes, without enough natural light it's harder to see well.”

Autumn considered her angel face. She rather liked it, but said, “In fact, I think I'll quit early today and hope for a better tomorrow. Or string up some lighting rather than simply depend on these overheads.”

“Good, do it. Knock off early, I mean. We're about to start our Power Hour and we need you.”

“Why would you need me?” Autumn glanced down at Wendy's upturned face in surprise.

“We're down to only five souls today. The weather, I guess. Anyway, I think it would be nice to have you with us.”

“That's sweet of you. I'll be right there,” Autumn said without even thinking about it. She began cleaning her brushes.

“Oh,” she reclaimed Wendy's attention. “I've been meaning to ask you about the musicians. They're so good and I've really enjoyed the music. Would you tell them so for me?”

“What musicians?”

“The ones rehearsing in the old chapel.”

“I didn't know there were any there,” Wendy said, glancing at the closed door in puzzlement. “I
haven't heard them. What kind of musicians? Is it a group?”

“Not a group, but a trio, I think.”

“I wonder if David is planning to have them here during our rededication next month. Remind me to ask him about it, won't you? I'm helping to plan the occasion, but sometimes David is late keeping me up to date with what's happening.”

“Sure, if I remember.”

Autumn trailed Wendy back to where they'd met before. She recognized most of them from the last time she'd joined them, but the one new face she hadn't expected to see there was Catherine Hyatt's.

She hesitated, wanting to turn around and run back to the safety of her corridor, but it was too late. The woman had spotted her, her smile beckoning. Ashley was there, too, her baby kicking and waving her tiny arms. To leave now would be rude.

Would Catherine know of her disability? Had Brent told her? If so, Catherine would be bound to see her differently than the competent person she'd thought her to be. Catherine would never want her to care for Timmy again.

She started toward the empty third row, but Ashley scooted in to make space for her on the second, just behind Catherine. Autumn returned the young mother's smile and sat beside her. The baby cooed and waved her tiny fist. Autumn reached out with a finger to touch the miniature ones, only to have them wrap tightly around her own. Autumn was captivated.