Remember Me (25 page)

“What is that, Brandon?” His mother’s voice was cool.

“Did either one of you make any attempt to find out about Lucy following the plane crash, to find out if she was even hurt?”

Silence greeted his question.

“You were so injured, Brandon,” his mother responded. “We needed to get you to a competent surgeon without any undue delay.”

He glared at her. “I’ll take that as a no.” His stomach hurt like hell.

His father cleared his throat. “When I learned her name, I did try to contact her, but she had already left the resort. I didn’t pursue it.”

Brandon nodded. “Well, that’s honest at least.”

“Brandon, we must be concerned about how all of this reflects on our family…”

“Spin it any way you like, Mother, but any reflection on our family is your concern. Not mine. Because I was angry, I did something stupid, and in the process I may well have destroyed Lucy’s life.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” his mother snapped. “The woman is a stripper.”

“The woman is a potter with a master’s degree in fine arts…from Georgetown. She danced to pay for her education and to support herself while she pursued her art. She had just gotten her break…and my actions may have screwed that up.”

“She will survive,” his mother commented. “Her kind always do.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed. “Like Tessa?”

Her chin lifted a notch and he knew he’d scored a hit. His mother had taken to Tessa the moment Seth showed up with her because Tessa had possessed the requisite family background. Although she had cooled after the trouble between Seth and Tessa, they were still cordial, which said a lot about how his mother regarded Seth’s wife.

“Tessa has nothing in common with your stripper.”

“Really? Perhaps you don’t know your family quite like you think you do, Mother.”

“That will be enough, son,” his father cut in. “I think we can agree we owe Lucy. Can we help her find employment? Write her a check?”

Brandon almost choked on the bourbon he’d poured. “You have no idea how ludicrous that is. If you knew her–no, you can’t find her a job or write her a check. She’d be as apt to take your head off if you tried.”

“Then what can we do?” his dad asked.

Brandon rubbed his forehead. “Something that will be infinitely harder, I’m afraid. You can accept her.”

“What do you mean, Brandon?” Now his mother sounded appalled.

“She was much more than a passenger in the plane,” Brandon admitted. “We fell in love. I’m not sure I can ever get that back, but I’m damn well going to try, if I can find her.”

“You cannot be serious!” his mother snapped.

Jamming his hands in his pockets and looking more than a little uncomfortable, his father said, “Tricia, leave it.”

Brandon didn’t know for a moment who was more shocked–him or his mother. Alexander might have ruled the board room, but Patricia was the one in control at home.

Before she could respond, Forbes stepped into the room. “Dinner is served, madam.”

His father took his mother’s arm and preceded Brandon into the dining room. After seating her to his left, he waved Brandon to the chair on his right. Just an intimate little family gathering.

Once the first course was served, his father looked over at him. “Does Miss Cameron have any family around the area?”

Brandon shook his head. “Her parents died when she was young. She was raised by a grandmother, also a potter, somewhere along the bay I believe. Lucy mentioned sailing when she was a child.” As he anticipated, both his parents’ interest picked up. Sailing was a Barlow-Barrett tradition.

“That must have been pleasant, being so close to the water.” Brandon had to give his mother credit, she was making an effort.

“I believe she has fond memories of those days. Unfortunately, her grandmother suffered a stroke when Lucy was twelve. She was shuttled around to various foster homes and schools.”

“Well, some of them must have been okay,” her mother remarked, “if she had good enough grades to get into Georgetown.”

“I think her success was a function of Lucy, not her foster placements. She told me she realized if she was ever going to have a decent life, she had to be an excellent student.” Brandon pushed his plate away. “Look, I’m not trying to get your sympathy, but you need to understand where she came from. She had to switch homes so often because she was a very pretty teenager. There were problems not only with foster brothers, but also with foster fathers. I think there’s more she didn’t tell me. We didn’t have a lot of time together when it comes right down to it.”

“I was told she was treated and released after the plane crash,” his father said, “but no one would explain what had happened to her.”

“Bruises. Physically that was the extent of it.”

“Physically?”

“I think she’s seeing a psychologist…something that’s started just since the crash.”

Forbes cleared their salads and a maid delivered their main course. Once the door had closed again, his father inquired, “So are you saying she’s having some sort of stress reaction?”

Brandon nodded. “She’s thinner than she was in Colorado. Look, I don’t know if you read the crash report or not but, Dad, she went through the aftermath all alone. I might have been alive, but I wasn’t functioning…and Tom didn’t make it. She had to see that, had to deal with it, and then had no one to talk to about it. I didn’t even remember her.”

He set his knife and fork on his plate and stared at his food for a minute while he tried to control the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to choke him. When his father reached over and squeezed his forearm, Brandon put his hand over his eyes.

“I keep thinking how she must have felt, what she’d been through.” His voice was tight. “And all I’ve done since then is make it worse for her. Look, give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

He stood and left the table. He needed to pull himself together. He’d been straddling a fine edge ever since the crash, and remembering everything had made it more difficult.

“Son?” Brandon turned away from the window in his father’s study to see Alexander standing a few feet away. “I haven’t told you how proud I am of the job you’ve done since Seth left, how proud I am of the way you’ve stepped up to the plate during my illness.”

Brandon’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. I’m not seeing that right now, Dad.”

“I know you aren’t. You and Seth have both done a great job handling the story with Lucy. I read the papers and I think the company will come through this just fine. As far as the family is concerned.” Alexander paused. “Well, I’m discovering I can’t orchestrate my children’s lives. I nearly lost Anna because of that. I’m still on shaky ground with Seth. I don’t want to be in the same spot with you.”

Brandon nodded, his lips tight.

“If Lucy is who you want, then you need to go get her.”

“I don’t know where to find her.”

His father raised his brows. “Really. You’re smart enough to run a multi-billion dollar corporation, I think you can figure out how to find one woman. I want you to take the time to do what you must. Seth and I can hold the fort for a while, and maybe I can even convince him to come into the fold while we do.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, pun intended. I’d like to live long enough to enjoy my grandchildren. I’d also like to learn how to quit alienating my children so they’ll give me access to the next generation.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Alexander smiled. “Let’s finish dinner before your mother quits speaking to me.”

Chapter 16

The dreams were back. Lucy wasn’t sure what had triggered them, but every night she relived the crash, only Brandon was the fatality. She would wake up gasping for breath, still seeing his gorgeous eyes possessed of a vacant, dull stare. She knew she should call Angelina, but wasn’t that wimping out? She should have been past this. Brandon was past the crash and her, so she would push her way through too.

She drove herself hard during the day, hoping to exhaust herself to the point where she either wouldn’t dream or wouldn’t be able to remember. So now as the weekend approached, she was returning from an early morning run. Leaning on the porch railing, Lucy sucked in air, staggering a bit when a wave of dizziness washed through her. She wondered if part of her problem was no longer having the release of her dancing. Sure, she was working out, but she hadn’t danced. After all, it wasn’t like Mason had a pole set up in his basement. She smiled at the thought and trudged up the steps. The smell of coffee greeted her, followed by the sound of her cellphone ringing. While she poured a mug with one hand, she flipped open the phone with the other.

“Hello.”

“Good morning. You up for a visitor?”

“Hi, Mason. I guess. Company would be nice.”

“Sound a little less enthusiastic, I might get a big head.”

“Sorry. I just came in from a run. It’s your house and God knows there’s plenty of room. However, I’m guessing you have an ulterior motive.”

“I want to see how you’re getting along, and if you have anything for me to bring to the gallery, I can take it with me and save you the trip.”

She laughed. “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“More than you know,” he muttered.

“What’s that mean?” Lucy pounced.

“Brandon has been by here every day.”

“You haven’t told him where I am, have you?”

“No, but honestly, the guy looks desperate. I think you should take pity on him.”

“Don’t go to the dark side, Mason. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Yeah. I’ll be down this evening in time for dinner. You like oysters?”

“Love ’em.”

“Great. We’ll grab some, maybe some crab cakes too.”

After hanging up, Lucy forced herself to eat a couple slices of toast and finish her coffee. She would work until lunchtime, then pack a sandwich and take the dinghy out. She’d already inspected it and had even taken it for a short sail to get her sea legs under her. Sailing was something she had missed since she’d left the coast.

With something to look forward to, the work flowed. She removed a load of dishes from the kiln and began setting it up for another batch of cups and bowls she had finished glazing. There wouldn’t be enough to fire until tomorrow. Once she finished glazing what was ready, she turned her attention to the wheel for a while. For now at least, the fine art projects were on hold because she needed the rhythm and the routine of working with the wheel. There was no thinking, simply the memories of tasks she’d learned at her grandmother’s side.

She would be able to send plenty with Mason, even a couple pots he would be able to put into his fine art section. Those were pieces all she’d needed to do was glaze and fire. When the clock showed noon, Lucy removed the bat with a finished bowl on it and set it on the drying rack before cleaning the wheel and her other materials. Only after everything was spic and span did she shower and change clothes.

Although the weather on shore was warm enough for shorts, once she got out into the wind on the bay, it would be cooler. Wearing jeans and a lightweight windbreaker, her long braid pulled through a Nationals cap, she grabbed her sandwich and a bottle of water and all but jogged the length of the deck. She was looking forward to this. Maybe she’d hit on the thing that would keep her mind off Brandon and the crash.

Mason’s dinghy was a newer, shallower-hulled style than what she’d sailed as a kid. She’d always joked with her grandmother that the little boat was like the wooden shoe in the nursery rhyme and they would both laugh.

“
She’s an oldie, but she’s a goody
,” her grandmother would tell her. “
I don’t worry when you’re out in her that you’ll tip over.
”

Well, that had been a fact. The little boat had barely tilted in even the stiffest wind. She hadn’t been fast, but she’d done everything Lucy wanted. Mason’s boat would be a bit more of a challenge in the brisk wind out on the bay today. But it would be fun, and maybe getting her adrenaline going was what she needed.

* * * *

Brandon wasn’t keen on Stacey’s boat, but she seemed happy with her. The sailboat had been a gift from her husband of six months. Being the annoying brother he was, he started to ask her why her husband wasn’t the one out sailing with her, but decided against it. Something in his sister’s expression had made him slam his mouth shut before the question popped out.

Stacey had known her husband for most of her life. They’d run together in the same circles through high school and college. He could remember them hanging out together around the pool at the country club and then at the yacht club once they got a little older. It seemed to him, though, ever since their marriage last fall, Jason Winchester had all but disappeared except when it came to any functions involving their parents.

Now, here it was a beautiful weekend for sailing and he was crewing for his sister while her husband was God knew where. Sticking his cap on backward, Brandon slapped on his reflective wraparound sunglasses and zipped his lifejacket.

“Ready when you are, sis,” he called. “Where are we going, Captain?”