2. Come Be My Love (13 page)

❧

Streams of sunlight shone through the drapes the next morning. One fell across Brandi's face, causing her to open her eyes.

For a moment she had no idea where she was. Then she became aware of the solid warmth at her back and across her waist. Greg.

Memories of the previous day came tumbling back into her mind with clarity. They had gotten married the day before. Since then, they had spent most of their time in bed.

She glanced at the clock. It was still early. Greg had to be in court that morning, but he had plenty of time. She smiled. He needed his rest. Although they had gotten up later in the afternoon to eat, their impromptu meal had been interrupted more than once by a kiss or a caress, and they had soon found themselves back in bed.

Brandi stretched, feeling a sense of well-being that she had never before experienced. Not even her imagination had prepared her for the wonderful sense of beauty that resulted when she willingly shared herself with the person she loved.

"Good morning."

His lips touched the nape of her neck, causing her to shiver.

She shifted so that she could see his face. "Yes, it is," she said with a shy smile.

"Are you happy?"

"Extremely."

"Not sorry that I rushed you into marrying me?"

"How could I possibly be sorry about that?'' She kissed him lightly, enjoying the intimacy of holding him close without the urgency of lovemaking. "What more could I possibly want in life than this?"

He glanced at his watch. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a honeymoon, however."

"It doesn't matter."

"Once this trial is over, I'll clear my calendar and we'll take off, go somewhere. Wherever you want."

"I need to go home, you know. I left in such a rush. There's so much to do .... pack, talk to a realtor, get my car."

"We'll do all of that. We've got all the time in the world to take care of whatever needs to be done. We're together now. That's the important thing."

"Yes," she murmured, kissing him once again.

Greg deepened the kiss and began to show her the many pleasurable sensations that could occur during lovemaking, even when there was not the urgency that had once controlled them.

❧

Hours later, Brandi sat in the unfamiliar atmosphere of the courtroom and looked around. This was part of Greg's world, a place where he felt at home and at ease. The hushed tones of the attorneys sitting at the tables in front of the judge's bench speaking to their clients were the only sounds she heard.

There were only a couple of people sitting in the spectators' seats. Brandi smiled. She'd seen too many movies and television shows, she guessed, in which the courtroom had been filled to overflowing. The reality was much less dramatic.

She sat quietly during the morning session, not understanding any of the various motions and exhibits offered. For some reason she had thought there would be a jury, but Greg had told her that very few divorce hearings, even contested ones, had a jury.

Brandi enjoyed watching Greg at work. Now that she had seen his informal side—and his passionate side—she could better appreciate the professional who was emerging before her. She'd seen glimpses of him since they had met, but now the full force of his personality and his quiet strength seemed to take over.

She was still having trouble remembering that this man, this marvelously skilled and analytical professional, was in love with her, was married to her, was her husband.

As the days went by, she was more and more enthralled, not only by the intricacies of the law but also by the man who took her home each evening and continued showing her all the many ways a man and woman could express their love for each other.

Even now she had trouble concentrating on the case he was trying. When she watched him move between the table where his client sat and the witness chair she v/as reminded of the sleek muscles that were hidden beneath the suit coat he wore. When he leaned over and picked up a document she could almost feel the strength of his arms as they pulled her hard against his long, lean body.

Brandi shook her head, embarrassed that her imagination could be so active. She found the case engrossing and was determined to pay attention, and she prayed that the outcome would be all that Greg wanted.

The tension in the courtroom had steadily increased as each day had passed. Brandi felt a real compassion for Greg's client. She had been married to her husband for almost twenty years. The evidence had shown that although he was a successful businessman, his behavior at home and in private had been shocking and atrocious.

Greg glanced around the courtroom, his eye catching Brandi sitting quietly in the rear. He was pleased with the progress of the trial. The thorough investigation and careful preparation he had done on the case had given him a decided edge, one he intended to use to his client's advantage. He had managed to introduce enough damaging evidence against Clyde Sherman, his client's husband, to cause the man to become obviously agitated.

Greg had hoped to show the judge the more unstable side of Sherman's nature by having the man lose some of his composure in court.

So far, his strategy appeared to be working. During Greg's cross-examination of Sherman, the man became increasingly flustered and irate. Although Greg carefully kept his questions low-key, the man continued to respond in a loud and insulting manner.

After a particularly abusive outburst on Sherman's part, the judge reprimanded him and suggested a recess until Sherman could gain some control of himself.

Greg turned and walked away from the witness stand. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after eleven, close enough to noon that they probably wouldn't reconvene until after lunch. He'd take Brandi over to the little cafe where he liked to eat during a trial. He was amazed that she had insisted on coming with him each day, but pleased, too. She was taking an active interest in his life, all phases of it. For some reason that surprised him. But then, so much about Brandi continued to surprise him.

Once more he glanced toward the rear of the courtroom. This time she smiled, and he returned her smile.

There was a commotion behind him, and he spun around. Sherman had left the stand, but not quietly. He was shouting obscenities and shaking his fist at Greg and at Greg's client, Carol Sherman. The bailiff was trying to quiet the man when a woman's scream rang out.

Carol Sherman shouted, "Oh, my God! He's got a gun!"

By the time Greg understood what she was screaming, he could see what the man held in his hand.

Everything seemed to move slow motion around him. Sound seemed to echo from all sides. Greg saw the man struggling with the bailiff and, for a brief moment, breaking free.

Clyde aimed the gun at the table where Greg and Carol Sherman stood and fired the pistol. Before Greg could register the events around him, he felt a heavy blow to his body, and at the same time he heard the exploding sound of the gunshot reverberating in the courtroom.

He felt no pain, just a sense of faint surprise before he lost consciousness.

E
verything happened so fast that Brandi didn't understand what was going on until she saw Greg double over and fall to the floor. Then the loud noise, the yells and the scuffling across the room began to make a horrible kind of sense.

Greg had been shot by his client's husband.

Brandi ran to the front of the courtroom, not even realizing that she was screaming Greg's name. One of the court officials caught her by the arm. "Don't crowd him, miss. We're sending for the paramedics. They should be here in a moment."

"But I've got to see him. He's got to be all right. I can't lose him now. Not now!"

She knew she wasn't making sense. Nothing in her world made sense at the moment. What was it about her that caused people to die? Was Greg going to die because he loved her? Was that why she had lost her father? And later her mother? Did she carry some sort of curse that caused the deaths of those she loved?

They wouldn't let her get near him, but one of Greg's associates, who had been sitting in on the proceedings, came over to her and guided her away when the ambulance attendants arrived.

"Mrs. Duncan? Let me drive you to the hospital. We can follow the ambulance."

She looked at him blankly.

"I'm Jack Stem, Mrs. Duncan. We met when Greg brought you to the office. Remember?"

She nodded uncertainly.

"Will you come with me?"

"I want to see Greg."

"I know you do. We'll get there as soon as we can, all right?"

The rest of the day was a blur to Brandi. People were talking all around her. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere. She vaguely remembered watching the traffic on the way to the hospital and hearing the soothing voice of Greg's associate talking to her, trying to calm her.

She felt calm. She felt numb—cut off from the world. It was her fault. She knew it was her fault. She had done this to him. She had known better. If she hadn't fallen in love with him, he would be safe.

Later she remembered them saying that he had been rushed into surgery to remove the bullet. A doctor had taken one look at her and treated her for shock. People kept asking her questions, but she didn't know how to respond. She didn't know what had happened.

When she tried to find out how badly Greg was hurt, she got only guarded replies.

Someone finally asked if she wanted anyone notified and she remembered Tim. Frantically she searched through her purse until she found his number.

She lost track of time. The doctor must have given her a sedative, because she woke up at one point and found herself lying in a quiet, shadowy room. She sat up, staring around wildly. "Greg? Where is Greg? Greg!"

A darker shadow rose from a chair beside her bed. "Try to stay calm, Mouse. I'm here."

"Tim? Oh, thank God you're here! Where is Greg? How is he? What is going on?"

"They've had Greg in surgery for several hours, love. You're going to have to be brave and hang in there."

"Oh, my God! He's going to die, isn't he? And it will all be my fault!"

Tim sat down on the bed beside her and held her close. "Your fault! What are you talking about?"

"I should never have married him. I should have known better. Don't you see? People around me die. I can't love anybody. Why didn't I remember that?"

"Brandi, get hold of yourself. You're not thinking rationally. You are not to blame for what happened today, do you hear me?" He stroked her hair. "lt never occurred to anyone to search the man. So he walked right into the courtroom carrying a pistol."

"What did they do to him?"

"What they should have done before now—put him behind bars and ordered psychiatric testing. He's mad."

"That's what Greg thought, too. But he was always able to control himself around most people."

"Until now."

"But why did he shoot Greg?"

"Who knows? I personally think he was aiming for his wife. He was shouting at her, from what I can gather from the eyewitness accounts. I think Greg just happened to get in the way."

"How bad is he, Tim? Please tell me."

"I would, Mouse, if I could. I don't know anything except they've been in surgery for several hours."

"When did you get here?"

"A couple of hours ago. I chartered a jet as soon as I got the call."

She glanced around. "How long have I been in here?"

"I'm not sure. You were sound asleep when I arrived. The doctor admitted to giving you a fairly strong sedative. He said you were taking the shooting hard."

"Hard? Is that what I was doing? They wouldn't let me see him, they wouldn't tell me anything about him, I couldn't find out anything."

"I know. Mouse, I know. But I'm here now. I won't let them give you a bad time."

She felt herself relaxing against him. Thank God for Tim. What would she do without him?

They sat there quietly for a long time. Eventually Brandi stirred and said, "We've only been married a few days." She looked up at him. "Greg tried to let you know, Tim, but he couldn't reach you." She rested her head against him once again. "Neither of us wanted to wait."

Tim glanced down at her as she continued to lean against his chest. "And here I thought I was going to be part of the ceremony. Now I won't even get to be the maid of honor or the flower girl. I'm crushed."

"We'll do it again if you want. I'd be willing to do anything, if only he was going to be all right."

"Then do me a favor, will you?"

"What?"

"Stop blaming yourself because you lost your dad so young. He had a bad heart. Mouse. He knew that and he pushed himself anyway.''

"But Mother always said he worked too hard to provide for us and that's what killed him."

"Brandi, your dad knew what he was doing and the chances he was taking. It was his choice. He did what he thought was best. Whether you or I agree with him is beside the point. Neither you nor your mother had anything to do with the choice he made. He loved you very much, and I know he would have hated to know that you have insisted on blaming yourself for his death all these years."

"I loved him so much, Tim." She began to cry.

"I know you did. It's all right to love him. It's even all right to miss him. But it isn't all right to limit your life because of something that happened in the past.

You couldn't change it then. You can't change it now."

"And if I lose Greg, too?"

"You're brave enough and have courage enough to accept that loss without taking the blame for it, as well. Don't try to shoulder the problems of the world, Brandi. You can love Greg without feeling responsible for him. What happened today was a freakish, totally unpredictable accident. We can't change it. We can only deal with our reaction to what has happened."

Tim was quiet for several minutes. "Greg has a real fighting spirit, Mouse. If there's any way he can, I know he'll pull through. He has so much to live for. I could see the change in him after he met you. You knocked him right off his feet, kid. He never knew what hit him. And I think you're the best thing that could ever have happened to him."

"I'm scared, Tim."

"So am I, Mouse. So am I. We've just got to leave it in God's hands now, and trust in the belief that He knows what He's doing."

There was a tap on the door, and then it opened to reveal one of the nurses.

"Mrs. Duncan?"

"Yes."

"Dr. Graham ordered a dinner tray for you. May I bring it in?"

Tim stood and answered for her. "That sounds like a great idea."

Brandi shook her head. "Oh, I don't think so. The thought of food right now—"

"Is just what you need. We can't have you in one bed and Greg laid up in another, now can we?"

Before the nurse knew what had hit her, Tim had charmed an additional tray from her. He made their meal lighthearted, keeping Brandi's mind on a multitude of subjects until she had eaten everything that had been brought to her.

Then he excused himself and left the room, promising to be back in a few minutes.

Brandi acknowledged to herself that Tim had been right. She felt better now that she had finally eaten something. She got off the bed and searched for her shoes, then went into the adjoining bathroom.

When she came back, Tim was waiting for her.

"They have Greg in Recovery. There was extensive damage that needed repair, but they feel that they did what was necessary, and he held up very well during surgery."

"Oh, thank God." Brandi burst into tears of relief. "He's going to be all right, isn't he?"

"I hope so. They said that he'll be in Recovery until morning, and they won't allow any visitors until sometime tomorrow. So how about you and me breaking out of this joint, kid, and going somewhere to get some sleep?"

Brandi was torn. She wanted to be close just in case Greg should awaken and ask for her, but Tim was no doubt right. They wouldn't allow her to see him for several hours. Despite the sleep she had gotten earlier, she knew that she needed rest. Once Greg was conscious, she wanted to spend every minute with him. She needed to prepare herself for that.

"I've got a key to the condominium. That's where we've been staying this week. We can go there." She smiled at Tim. "You'll like his place. He has a beautiful view of the river."

Tim took her arm and guided her out into the hallway. "About all I'm going to do is sleep for the next several hours, Mouse. I don't know what it is about you, but whenever I'm around you I lose sleep."

She glanced up at him and smiled. "You know, Greg was making the very same complaint this morning, over breakfast."

Tim began to laugh at the color that rose in her cheeks as she spoke. "Oh, really?" He ruffled her hair. "No doubt that's been good for him."

Her thoughts returned to the present situation, and her color faded. "He's taught me so much about loving a person." Her eyes filled with tears as they stepped into the elevator. "I can't lose him now. Not now, when I've finally found him."

Tim squeezed her hand. "Greg's not going to let anything happen to him, not if he can help it. He'll make it. Just wait and see."