A Forever Masterpiece (The Masterpiece Trilogy Book 3) (9 page)

Thinking of Becca and how he wished she was by his side now, Hunter explained everything that he knew. The attack, the words the man said, and how Becca had completely panicked and then became calm when they arrived home. He told him about the painting he'd come across, which Becca insisted she didn't want anyone to see because it wasn't finished. "I'm wondering if she'd be able to come talk to you? Does she need a referral to come here?" Hunter hoped that it wouldn't be a big process to get Becca here, if she'd even talk. Despite her saying she was fine, he knew it was a matter of time before Becca's strength broke and all the walls crumbled.

"Get her a referral, but I'm not the right doctor for her. In the meantime, see if you can schedule your appointments when she's available, too. Why don't we talk about you resuming flying next time? Talk to your boss, see what he thinks."

Hunter stood and shook his hand, a ritual they'd always done after each appointment. "You know, I was thinking. Since I went to Maryland and found memories just by being at the house, I wonder if I should go to the island where the crash happened. I did have dreams of Sylvia there. Maybe something will spark a memory so I can piece the rest of this together. Becca wants to give up and let it go, but I'm not sure I can. We know how my mind gets."

Dr. Ryan pressed his lips in a thin line. He took a while to respond. "Do you think it'll be helpful?"

"I don't know. If I could remember things from my childhood home, maybe something will come up on the island. Sylvia holds the key to stuff. She knows something. Why do I keep dreaming about her on the island if she wasn't there? I know some of my dreams are based on reality. We've learned that."

"The island is also a trigger."

"I know. The last time I went around major triggers, I was hit by a car. But I'm better now. I know what to look for. If I can find the answers for Becca, and for myself, we'll have a better chance at letting go. She might be easily willing to go on without knowing, but I'm not sure I can. My family was involved in something, and I want to know what."

Becca faced the inevitable that day at work. She bumped into Vince. Literally. Not paying attention and carrying a handful of paint jars, she plowed right into him. One of the jars fell, shattering glass and red paint all over the floor. A vivid memory jolt seized her, and it was like she was back there again, the night a man died by her hand.
Don't go there, don't go there!

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, scrambling to grab a roll of paper towels.

"Rebecca, it's okay," the all too familiar voice said, sending the heebie jeebies crawling down her spine. Vince. Oh, of all the people to bump into and nearly freak out in front of!

"I'll clean this right up. Sorry about your shoes." She glanced down and cringed. "And your pants." Becca continued to stay cordial around Vince, but all she really wanted to do was run and get away from him. Ever since the events in Rhode Island, she wanted even less to do with the man.

"I'll help. How are you, Rebecca? I heard about what happened." Vince fell into step beside her as she darted to a nearby cleaning supply closet.

How had he heard already? She hadn't told her grandparents, and Rissi never spoke to any of them. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Becca grabbed a bottle of cleaner, paper towels, and a trash bag and stuffed them under one arm. Then she searched for a pair of gloves and a small broom to clean up the glass.

Vince moved out of her way as she ventured back to the mess. He took the paper towels from her hand and crouched down to clean up. She had to admit, it was nice to get a little help, but why did it have to be from Vince?

She wiped up some of the paint. Red stained the white paper towel. Blood red against white. Her pulse quickened. Sweat formed above her brow. No! Not now, not here, not in front of Vince.

I. Am. Fine!

Screaming it in her head was much better than the alternative.

"Because you ki-"

"Don't say another word! If you're going to help with this mess, do it in silence!" Becca snapped, raising her voice. She avoided looking at Vince.

They cleaned up the paint and glass, saying nothing. Becca tossed the bag of glass and paper towels in the large trash bin. She inspected the spot to make sure she got it all. All clean. No glass, no paint, no evidence of a mess.

"If you'll excuse me..." Becca brushed past him, but Vince was faster. He stepped in front of her, his large frame becoming a blockade.

"I just want to know how you are. Is that so wrong?"

Why? Why did this man have to pretend like he didn't have so much to do with her past? Why did he have to be everywhere when all she wanted was to get away from him and her grandparents? Damn him for using Hunter the way he did, which now left an open door for Vince to appear in her life over and over again. Anger fueled her, but she tried to keep calm. This time, it wasn't working out as well.

She laughed, the sound coming out bitter. "Is that wrong? You're seriously asking me this? It's so many levels of wrong! I'm fine, Vince. Never been better. Do you know why? Because I'm finally surrounded by people who genuinely care about me. No lies, no secrets, no hidden agendas. You wormed your way in here and caused so much trouble months ago. I'm glad your niece is getting the care she needs, but you'll do best by leaving me alone. I don't want to see or speak to you!" She spun on her heel and headed in the complete opposite direction she'd come from, leaving behind the papers and the rest of the paints she'd had with her from the beginning.

"Your grandmother isn't well, Rebecca. You should give her a call sometime."

She stopped and whirled around. "Like she'd care to hear from me?" Okay, so it did concern her. "And we've already established she isn't my grandmother. Not by blood, anyway." God, she sounded callous, but Becca wasn't sure what else to say. The whole thing still came as a shock to her, and she continued to struggle on what to call the Langes.

"You still have a heart in your chest, do you not? The woman raised you for years-"

"Raised me? More like used me. Kept me from finding out the truth because she wanted to keep her family name out of the limelight. I'm sorry she isn't well. Good bye, Vince." Without another word, she walked into a room and closed the door, hoping Vince wouldn't decide to follow her.

"Becca?"

Oh crap, she'd come into a room without even looking, not knowing who or what was going on in here. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she looked up. The man from the other day, Brock, stood across the room with concern written all over his face.

"I'm so sorry for barging in! I needed to get away from-" Oh, why was she telling this man her life story? "I'm sorry. I should go." She turned the doorknob, wishing she could erase the last twenty minutes and get a complete redo.

"No, it's okay. They're bringing my daughter back in a bit. I was just waiting." Brock approached her. "You look so upset."

"I ran into someone I wasn't expecting to, and he bombarded me," she admitted, gripping the knob tighter.

"I'm really good at kicking boys' butts. Want me to take a crack?" The corners of his lips twitched up.

Becca laughed. A total father comment, but she loved it. "No, he's not worth it."

"Good. I've got you smiling. While I have you here, will you have dinner with me?"

She gasped, completely flabbergasted, and held up her hand with the ring on it. Why in the world did he ask her to dinner?

"Oh, that came out all wrong!" Brock laughed. "I know you're engaged to Hunter Beckman. I meant have dinner to discuss your art. I think you have an amazing talent, and I'm wondering why you aren't selling your work anywhere."

"You sound just like my fiancé." Becca's heart warmed.

"Well, I like him already. For multiple reasons." He gestured around the room. "How about Friday night? Bring Hunter with you, if you can. I'd love to meet him as well."

"You're serious?" She squeaked.

Again, he laughed. "I'm very serious. I'm always looking for unique talents, and your background story intrigues me as well. We'll have dinner and go to my gallery. I'd also love to see more of what you have, though the Lange Center seems to have no problem displaying your work."

Becca grinned sheepishly. "Hunter's been a fan for years. I had no idea until recently that he displayed these here."

"The man has good taste. Friday night. Six o'clock. How about at Cider Ranch?"

"I don't know where that is offhand, but I'll ask Hunter." Becca let go of the doorknob, feeling more confident and comfortable. "I only moved here a few months ago, so I don't know my way around yet."

He wrote something down on a piece of paper lying around. "Here's the address. I look forward to showing you the gallery and meeting Hunter in person."

Becca's fingers trembled as she picked the piece of paper from the man's outstretched hand. "Thank you. I'd better go. I was on my way to clean up and clock out for the day when I ran into someone I wasn't expecting." Hopefully Vince went off to see his niece and wasn't lurking around to talk to her again.

"How about I walk you out? That way whoever it is won't bother you if we get lost in conversation."

Becca thought about it. Brock was waiting for someone obviously, and she didn't want to seem needy. But she definitely didn't want to have Vince approach her and get her to talk.

"Come on." Brock's smile grew. "No hesitation. We're possible future partners. Who are we avoiding?"

Becca forced out a laugh, feeling the nerves multiply. She so did not want to get into this story, the long complicated history of Vince and why she wanted to avoid him. Plus Vince's niece was here, and Becca didn't think talking about other patients and their families was a good idea. "A man who has interest in me in ways I don't want." Not the best answer, and it wasn't the most elaborate, but it seemed to satisfy him.

Brock followed Becca out of the room. She scanned the hallways, satisfied that Vince hadn't waited around. Good. She could get out of here without another confrontation.

"All clear?" Brock asked.

"Yes, he's nowhere in sight. I can go clock out real quick and head home. Thank you for everything. I'm looking forward to Friday." Becca tried to coax him into not following her.

"I'm a man of my word. A small walk will do me good. It's hard sitting around a small room. Not that it's a small room, but when my mind is full, the walls seem to close in on me." Brock continued to follow, rambling on.

"I know the feeling," Becca said softly. They rounded the corner to the front office. She stepped around the desk. "Thank you. I'll be right back." Five minutes later, she carried her purse, all clocked out and ready to go. Once at her car, Brock reached out to shake her hand.

"You're a bright young talent, Becca. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You have an amazing story, and I think you can explore it more. I sense your hesitance, but please know while I want to showcase your work, I won't push for anything you aren't comfortable with."

"T-thank you. I'm not used to this," she stammered again.

"Modesty. I love it. I'd better get back inside. Until Friday?" He let go of her hand, then turned and walked away.

"Dr. Ryan asked me today if I'm ready to go back to flying," Hunter said to Becca at the same time she spoke.

"I saw Vince today and he-"

They both stopped and laughed.

"You first," Hunter said softly, taking her in his arms. "Vince? Is this the first time you've run into him since his niece got in?" That man still pissed him off. Good thing he hadn't been the one to run into Vince.

"Yes. Here's the weird thing." Becca took a deep breath. "He knew about what happened in Maryland."

"Okay..." Then it dawned on him. "Wait ... But the only person in Vermont who knew about it is Rissi, right? You don't talk to your grand- The Langes?" How the hell did he refer to her grandparents? And how the hell did Vince know, unless he had part in it? "Bec, do you think he had anything to do with it?"

She gasped. "I didn't even think of that!"

"Considering what he told you in Rhode Island about his father and Joe, and my father. Damn it! And Vince has an in right now because he comes out here for his niece. That's it. We're going to hire someone to protect you. I don't trust Vince." Hunter reached for his phone.

"Hunter! He wouldn't do anything to me!" Becca protested.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked softly. Becca trusted easily, even people who were less than honorable.

She hesitated. "Fairly certain." Becca averted her gaze.

"Fairly isn't good enough, angel. I know you like to see the good in people, even after what we know about Vince. How else would he know about Maryland? It's not like it made national news." Why wouldn't she look him in the eye?

Becca backed away to sit. She cradled her head in her hands, then raised her gaze. "Do you think my grandparents knew about all this before trying to set me up with Vince?"

Hunter thought about it carefully. "I don't know. I almost thought Sylvia had something to do with the attack, but I'm rethinking this heavily."

Becca shot to her feet. "I wanted to be normal! Then this stuff happens, and I have to think about it!" She shoved the chair roughly.

Hunter hesitated, startled by her reaction, then he pulled her toward him again. "I know, angel. Believe me, I know. We'll get there, but we can't ignore this. You of all people should know." Remembering what Shara and Beverly told him about Becca's emotional breakdown while dress shopping, he held her close. "You're going through a lot of feelings lately. Don't hold back with me, no matter what. I want to know everything you're feeling."

"Sometimes," Becca sniffled, "I don't want to feel. The emptiness of my past, the events in Maryland ... I want to block it all off."

He ached inside for her. Hunter knew the feeling well. "Don't block it. Talk about it. Get everything off your chest. You won't fall back in that panic period you had after Sylvia took you on the plane. Come with me to see Dr. Ryan, and we'll work through everything." Pressing kisses in her soft hair, he hoped she'd agree. "Tell me what you know about Vince. Have you met his father? Has Vince or his father ever done anything before all of this that would make you question them? I'm beginning to wonder if Vince's father was the one who pushed the idea for you to marry. If he's best friends with your grandfather, who knows what kind of scheme they had planned?" All the lies and deceit on so many accounts, Hunter had a hard time keeping track of where the problems originated. How were all of these people involved? Did it all stem from the crash? Something happened before that led to it?