Borrowed Dreams (Debbie Macomber Classics) (12 page)

*  *  *

Carly spent Saturday morning shopping for a dress for Diana’s wedding. Although she spent several hours browsing, she couldn’t find what she wanted. Problem was, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But she knew she’d recognize it when she saw it. Shopping had never been her forte, and she decided to leave it until she arrived in Seattle. Diana would know exactly where to go.

The rest of the afternoon was spent answering Jutta’s short letter. The woman hadn’t said much. Few personal details were given in the note. Carly had no idea of her age or background. In her reply, she explained that there was a possibility that she would be able to visit Jutta the following week. She mentioned that she’d like to look at the charcoals then.

With the letter finished, Carly glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was dinnertime. Not having heard from Brand, Carly assumed that it would be another late night for him.

He showed up around nine, declined her offer for dinner, and promptly fell asleep on her sofa. This time Carly decided to wake him. Enough was enough.

“Brand.” Her hand on his shoulder shook him lightly awake.

He bolted upright and blinked. “What happened? Did I fall asleep again?”

Arms crossed, Carly paced the floor in front of the sofa, unsure how to express her frustration.

“What’s wrong?” He was awake enough to recognize that she was upset.

“Plenty, and—and don’t tell me that you don’t want to argue, because this time you’re listening to me. Understand?”

Brand wiped a hand across his eyes and nodded. A wary look condensed his brow as his eyes followed her quick, pacing steps.

Without preamble, Carly began. “I won’t be a pit stop in your life, Brand. Maybe some women can live like that, but I’m not one of them. I want to talk to you when you’re not so tired that you’re rummy. And when I leave the room I want to come back and find you awake.”

“A pit stop?” Brand repeated blankly. “Carly, it’s not that. Seeing you, being with you, is more important to me than anything.”

“Then why am I stuck with the leftovers of your life?” The hurt was impossible to hide.

He rose with the intention of taking her in his arms, but Carly wasn’t in any mood to be kissed. She sidestepped him easily. “Go home, Brand. Get a decent night’s sleep, and maybe we can talk later.”

Sitting back down on the couch, Brand rested his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands together with his index fingers forming a small triangle. “I don’t want to leave. We need to talk this out.” His eyes showed the strain of the past week.

“As far as I can see, there’s nothing more to say. I understand why you work the hours you do.” She took the chair opposite him. “You can’t start a new life with me or anyone else while Sandra’s medical expenses are hanging over your head …”

“I paid those off six months ago,” he announced in a tight whisper.

“Then why are you pushing yourself like this?”

He didn’t answer; instead, he stood and walked to the far side of the room. He paused with his back to her and smoothed the hair along the side of his head. “You’re right, Carly. You deserve more than what I’ve been giving you.” His look was sober as he turned, his eyes searching hers. “I love you, Carly. I thought those feelings within me had died with Sandra. But I was wrong.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I love you, my sweet Carly.”

Brand didn’t need to tell her that he’d said those words to only one other woman in his life. Carly’s fingers were trembling so badly that she clenched them into fists at her sides. Everything that she wanted and everything that she feared was staring her in the face.

“Well?” Brand was waiting for some kind of reaction.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so tight it was hardly recognizable. “I’ll always treasure that.”

“You don’t know how you feel about me?” Brand asked.

“I … know what I feel.” Swallowing was difficult.

“And?”

“You’re waiting for me to declare my love. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She was speaking loudly and being obtuse because she was afraid.

“Only if that’s what you feel.” Everything about Brand softened, as if he recognized the
turmoil taking place within her.

“All right, I love you! Are you happy?” she cried out on a sob. Her whole body was shaking.

“I’m not, if it makes you so miserable.”

“It’s not that.” Oh no, she was going to cry. Her throat ached with the effort to suppress the tears.

“Carly, I want to marry you.”

“No.” The denial was torn from her in shocked dismay. This was the one thing she’d feared the most. Tears slid down her face and scalded her cheeks. A hand covered her mouth as she shook her head violently from side to side. “I can’t, Brand. I won’t marry you.”

“Why not?”

There wasn’t any explanation that made sense, even to herself. How could she possibly hope to make him understand? “You … you had Sandra. You have children.” Her voice wobbled, and she tried desperately to control its quivering but failed.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Carly moved into the kitchen and picked up the low-heeled loafer from beside the garbage pail. “I’m throwing these away because … because there was never enough money for me as a child and everything had to be fixed and repaired until it was beyond rescuing. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Carly, you’re not making any sense.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. But I am what I am. You’ve been married and you’ve loved.” She swallowed down the hurt. “I want to be a man’s first love. I want a man to feel for me what you did for Sandra.”

“Carly, I do.”

“But I want to be your first love,” Carly cried. “Don’t you understand? All my life I’ve been forced to take someone else’s leftovers. I’ve always been second and I won’t be again, not with a husband. Not with a man.” Brand looked as if he might come closer to her, and she held out a hand to warn him to stay away. “You have beautiful children, Brand. A boy and a girl. Don’t you see? I can’t give you anything you don’t already have. You’ve had a wife. You have children.”

The grimness of pain returned to his eyes. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“Must we do anything?”

“Yes,” he said, and then repeated softly, “yes. When two people love as strongly as we do, they must.”

Carly lowered her eyes under the intensity of his. “I don’t know what to do, Brand,” she said, her voice low and throbbing. “Maybe we could be”—the word stuck in her throat—“be lovers.”

A sad, wry smile slanted Brand’s mouth as he shook his head. “Maybe that kind of relationship would satisfy some men. But not me. I’ve never done anything halfway in my life.” His pause demanded that she meet his gaze. “There’s so much more that I want from you than a few stolen hours in bed. What I feel goes beyond the physical satisfaction your body will give mine. I want you by my side to build a new life here in Alaska.”

“Please,” Carly pleaded, struggling to speak, “don’t say any more.”

Brand ignored her. “Together we can give Shawn and Sara the family life they crave. And, God willing, we’ll have more children.”

Her pain was real and felt like a knife blade slicing through her. “No. I’m sorry … so sorry. I can’t.”

He took a step toward her, and Carly backed up against the kitchen counter, unable to retreat farther.

“You’re reacting with your emotions.”

She glared at him, wanting him to give her some insight she didn’t already have. “None of this makes sense to you. I realize that. I’m not sure I can even fully understand it myself. All I know is what I feel. I won’t be a secondhand wife and a secondhand mother.”

“Carly …”

“No.” She shook her head forcefully. “We’ve said everything that’s important. Rehashing the same arguments won’t solve a thing.”

He clenched and unclenched his hands with frustration and anger.

“Please,” she whispered in soft entreaty. “We’re both tired.”

Wordlessly, Brand turned, grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa, and left. When the door closed behind him, Carly began to shake with reaction. If it wasn’t so tragic, she’d laugh. Brand was so far ahead of her in this relationship. He wanted to marry her—and she had gone only as far as admitting they were dating.

*  *  *

It was nearly two a.m. before Carly went to bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, and she lay waiting until exhaustion overtook her troubled thoughts. Tomorrow was soon enough. Maybe tomorrow some clear solution would present itself. Tomorrow …

But the morning produced more doubts than reassurances. Loving someone didn’t automatically make everything right. And yes, she loved Brand. But Diana was right, as her friend almost always was when it came to understanding Carly. Brand and Carly were two wounded people who had found each other. The immediate attraction that had sparked between them wasn’t physical but spiritual.

When Carly hadn’t heard from Brand by Monday afternoon, she realized that he was giving her the room she needed to think things through. His actions proved more than words the depth of his love. Arguing with her would do nothing but frustrate them both.

At any rate, on Thursday morning she would be leaving for Seattle and Diana’s wedding. With all the stress Diana was under, Carly couldn’t unload her problems on her friend, but at least she would have some time away, close to the only people she had ever considered real family. And Carly needed that.

*  *  *

Tuesday morning, at about ten, Carly heard the familiar sound of Brand’s car pulling up outside the office building. Her hand clenched the pencil she was holding, but a smile was frozen on her face when he walked through the door.

“Hello, Carly.” He was treating her politely, like a stranger.

“Hi.” Her lips felt so stiff she could barely speak.

“You’re leaving this week, aren’t you?”

He knew exactly when she was going, but Carly played his game. “Thursday morning.”

He sauntered over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. Without looking at her, seemingly intent on his task, he spoke. “Will you go out to dinner with me Wednesday night?”

“Yes.” There was no question of refusing. The breathing space he’d given her hadn’t
resolved her dilemma. If anything, she felt more troubled than before. “I’d enjoy that.”

He nodded, and for the first time since entering her office, he smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.

Brand took a sip of his coffee. “Where’s George?” he asked, suddenly all business.

“In the warehouse.” She cocked her head to one side, indicating the area to her right.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he announced, his hand on the doorknob.

“Okay.” He was gone and Carly relaxed.

*  *  *

Wednesday evening, with her suitcases packed and ready for the morning flight, Carly dabbed perfume at the pulse points behind her ears and at her wrists. The dress she wore was the most feminine one she owned, a frothy pink thing that wasn’t really her. Diana had insisted she buy it, and in a moment of whimsy Carly had done just that. She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to wear it for her dinner date with Brand tonight. But she’d given up analyzing her actions.

Promptly at seven, Brand was at her door. He looked uncomfortable in the dark suit he wore. His hair was cut shorter than she could remember seeing it, and he smelled faintly of musk and spice.

They took one look at each other and broke into wide smiles that hovered on the edge of outright laughter.

“Are we going to act like polite strangers or are we going to be ourselves?” Brand arched one dark brow with his query.

Carly toyed with her answer. If they remained in the roles for which they’d dressed, there was a certain safety. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “If I return to Carly, the confused woman in love, then the evening could be a disaster.”

“I, for one, have always courted disaster.” He ran his finger down her cheek and cupped the underside of her face before kissing her lightly. “And so have you,” he added.

Warm, swirling sensations came at her from all sides, and Carly had to restrain herself from wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing Brand the way they both wanted to.

He took her to the most expensive restaurant in town and ordered a bottle of vintage Chablis.

“Brand,” Carly giggled, leaning across the table. “You can’t afford this.”

His mouth tightened, but Carly could see that he was amused and hadn’t taken offense. What was the problem, then? She put her niggling worry aside as Brand spoke. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t afford.”

“I do your books, remember?”

“Sometimes I forget how much you know. Now, sit back and relax, will you?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Can’t a man treat the woman he loves to something special without her getting suspicious?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then enjoy!” His humor was infectious.

They toasted her trip and Carly talked about Diana and Barney, recalling some anecdotes from her friends’ courtship.

Midway through dinner, Carly knew what was troubling Brand. It came to her in a flash of unexpected insight. She set her fork aside and lazily watched Brand for several moments.

“What’s the matter?” He stopped eating. “Is something wrong with your steak?”

Carly shook her head. “No, everything’s fine.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Brand watched her curiously as she stretched her hand across the table and took his.

“Running has been a problem ever since I met you, hasn’t it?” she asked softly. “But, Brand, this time I’m coming back.”

Brand nodded, still showing only a façade of unconcern. “I know that.”

“But you were worried?” She released his hand.

He concentrated on slicing his rare steak, revealing little of his thoughts. “Perhaps a little.”

“You don’t need to worry. If I ever walk away, you’ll know when and the reason why.”

He answered her with a brief shake of his head, but Carly noticed that he was more relaxed now. “Do you want to go dancing after dinner?” he surprised her by asking.

“Dancing?” She eyed him suspiciously. He’d told her he didn’t dance the first time they’d gone out for a meal. “I thought you said you didn’t.”