Tapestry of Trust (22 page)

Brenda put her hand on Isabelle’s sleeve, stalling her a moment. “It won’t take you but a few minutes to let Charlie know that you’ve spoken with Erica. His attorney might be interested.”

“Attorney?” Isabelle dropped her hand and looked at Brenda.

Brenda nodded. “Charlie spoke to him this morning.”

Well, that washed her
no-rush
theory down the tubes. She glanced at the blinking numbers above the door as the elevator ascended. She didn’t want to do this. “Maybe you could give him a message for me.”

Brenda waved a hand. “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that. I’m not privy to his personal business.”

Really?
This woman knew about the attorney… and about her.
Never mind.
She shoved those thoughts aside. “OK. Let’s get this over with.”

****

The office phone buzzed. Charlie finished penciling a change on the marketing graph and reached for the receiver. “Yes.”

“I’m sending someone in to see you.”

Was Brenda kidding? He’d told her to hold all calls and messages. “Actually, I’m busy now.”

No answer. “Brenda, did you hear me?”

He dropped the phone into the cradle.
Great.
It better not be a vendor. He shook his head, looked down, and flipped the report to the next page.

“Charlie, I hate to bother you.”

Charlie jerked his head up. “Isabelle…what a surprise.” He leaped out of his chair so hastily he caught his foot on a caster, lost his balance, and nearly toppled over. He grabbed the edge of the desk for support.

“Are you OK?” Isabelle moved toward him.

“Yes. Yes.” He pulled himself upright, squared his shoulders. “I’m fine. And you?”

Color flushed her cheeks, and only then did he realize something about her had changed. Warmth filled her eyes. She looked poised, relaxed. Like years of hostility had been washed away. “I’m OK. In fact, I’m doing better since I spoke to Erica Huss.”

“Erica?” He moved to the front of his desk, crossed his arms ready to listen to what she had to say.

She recounted the events of the previous evening.

“No kidding?” What luck. No, a blessing. For the first time in months hope suffused Charlie. If Isabelle cared enough to help him, maybe there was hope for them. “Isabelle, I can’t believe you did that for me.

****

Isabelle nodded. “Well, I do owe you one. Actually two. Humphrey and Rusty, although…” Words died in her throat as Charlie moved closer. Inhaling, she caught the scent of his musky cologne. Distinctly masculine. Distinctly Charlie.

“You don’t owe me anything.” He brushed his finger over her cheek. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. “But thank you.”

“No, problem,” she managed, desperately trying to breathe. He wasn’t making
moving on
easy. She wondered, as she worked to rein her emotions, if she ever really could forget about Charlie.

“Isabelle, I’m sorry, for being afraid. For procrastinating about facing the pregnancy.” She saw pain in his expression, heard emotion in his voice. The sincerity of it made her eyes sting. “But mostly, I’m sorry you thought I abandoned you.”

Isabelle nodded. “I understand. It was a tough time for both of us. In fact, I’d like you also to forgive me.”

“Forgive you? Why? You never knew I tried to get in touch with you.”

“I didn’t believe you when you told me.” There she said it. She felt better.

Charlie bent his head and looked into her eyes. “Isabelle. Not only will I forgive you, but I’d like to start fresh. Put the past behind us, get to know you again.”

Nothing scared her more. She held her breath. Her pulse sprinted. They once had a future planned, a promise to love and to trust. And where did it get her?

Emotionally bankrupted. Heartbroken and alone. She swallowed. Still, his fervent words tugged at her heart. She wasn’t ready for this.

Charlie took her hand and squeezed it as if he sensed the path of her thoughts. “I’ll wait Isabelle, as long as it takes.”

Isabelle’s lower lip trembled. She started to tell him it would never work. That she could never trust him, but as she considered all that had transpired in the last couple of days, she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

Someone cleared their voice. Isabelle jumped, spun around, and found Brenda leaning against the wood frame.

“Hey, sorry guys, but, Charlie, you had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Huss and Mr. Wilson about five minutes ago.” As Brenda tapped the face of her watch, Charlie swung past Isabelle, grabbed a file from his desk, and was halfway to the door when he stopped and looked back at her.

“Would it be OK if I called you later?”

Instinctively, Isabelle nodded, just before a shudder worked its way through her body. Things were moving too fast.

“Wait, actually,” she quickly amended, “I’ll be busy with Kate for the rest of the week. We can talk at the wedding on Saturday.”

Five days to ponder. Five days to pray.

****

Once Charlie was out of sight, Isabelle said a quick thank you to Brenda, and then headed down the hallway. She’d accomplished what she’d come for but was leaving with a lot to consider. So, much for closure.

Brenda moved quickly to keep up beside her. “Let me walk you to the lobby.”

Isabelle exchanged a brief glance with Charlie’s secretary. “That’s not necessary. I remember the way.” And the sooner she got out of there, the better.

“Well, I don’t mind at all.” The woman’s footsteps fell in sync with hers.

They boarded the elevator and when it opened on the first floor, Isabelle took off for the exit. “Thank you again, Brenda. I appreciate everything.”

“You’re not leaving so soon, are you?” Brenda called after her. “At least have a cup of coffee before you go.”

That put a momentary hitch in Isabelle’s stride. She needed to go. Wanted to go. But something about this woman made her curious. Persistent, helpful, and definitely privy to Charlie’s life. She swiveled back. Maybe a little chat with Brenda might set her mind straight. “Coffee would be nice.”

“Great.” Brenda skirted around her, and swung into a small room to the right. By the time Isabelle followed her in, she’d already set the coffee to brew. “Plain or French vanilla?” She held up two foil bags.

“French vanilla, please.” Isabelle sunk into one of the chairs. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was. Coffee sounded better all the time.

Brenda pulled out two mugs, filled them and handed one to her.

Isabelle blew on the hot beverage.
After sipping her own, Brenda settled into a chair opposite hers. Crossing one leg over the other, she swung her clunky pump back and forth. “So what do you think of Charlie?”

First Erica, now Charlie. Shrugging, Isabelle lowered her cup. “He’s a nice guy.” A benign response, but she really preferred to hear Brenda’s insight. Hopefully, something to tamp down the perilous hope growing inside.

Brenda’s eyes slid to hers, brows lifted. “Yep, he is a nice guy.” She nodded then took another sip. “That is, since he got right with God and away from Erica.”

Isabelle pondered Brenda’s words for a moment. Words that should have brought comfort. However, just the thought of Charlie in a relationship with Erica, or for that matter, anyone else, made her heart sting. Illogical, of course, but tell that to her haywire emotions.

“You know.” Brenda babbled on, her eyes rounded. “I never saw anyone change so quickly. Like day and night.”

Isabelle blinked and segued back to the moment. “How so?”

“He got rid of the gunk in his life. Smart mouth, rotten attitude.” Brenda leaned in. “Erica.” She winked. “The boy became a man. A good man.”

“I’m sure he is,” Isabelle muttered. “Too bad we have so much sad history between us.”

Brenda set down her cup. “Great relationships are built on history.”

“Good history,” Isabelle corrected.

Brenda lifted a finger. “Not so. Not just good history, but also forgiveness. There are mishaps in everyone’s relationships.” Brenda narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Snips and snails and puppy dog tails, that’s what little boys are made of. You know what men are made of, don’t you?”

Isabelle shook her head.

“Testosterone.” Brenda barked a laugh and slapped her knee. “But of course that’s a whole ‘nother issue. Either way, boy or man, they just don’t think like us women.”

No kidding.

“Honey, you just gotta forgive men for being, well, men. They tend to lag behind some when it comes to growing up.”

Isabelle cracked a thin smile, trying to put things into perspective.

Brenda shot her a wink. “Looks like you’re coming around. Now it’s time to follow your heart.”

****

The traffic moved along smoothly, and Isabelle was fortunate to get back to Austin’s city limits before rush hour. Ina few minutes she would arrive home with a whole new outlook for her future.

Maybe.

Isabelle nibbled the corner of her lip and gripped the steering wheel. Emotions overwhelmed her, but she didn’t fight them. For the first time since Charlie stepped back into her life she was ready to admit she loved him. So why did the thought of starting a new relationship with him scare her to death?

She inhaled and let it out slowly.
Fear of a broken heart.

Could she take the risk?

Her chest tightened, and her stomach knotted in response. Before she garnered any emotional insight from either, she needed to get something to eat. She pushed aside all thoughts of Charlie and filled her mind with ideas for lunch. Something more substantial than the donut she ate for breakfast and since then only coffee. No wonder she felt jittery.

A blast of music yanked Isabelle from her musings. She tugged her cell phone from the side of her purse and flipped it open. “Hello.”

“Isabelle is that you?”

Isabelle hesitated and then answered, “Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Sharon Hamilton.”

Charlie’s mother?
Isabelle jerked the cell phone from her ear and stared at it. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her, or she’d misunderstood the woman. She hoped for the latter.

“Isabelle.”

Isabelle repositioned the phone against her ear. “Yes.”

“This is Sharon Hamilton. Charlie’s mother.”

Isabelle cringed. The knot in her stomach tightened. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“I tried your home number first. A woman named Mrs. Johnson answered and gave me this number. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

The one day Mrs. Johnson visits Kate, and Charlie’s mother calls.
Isabelle gripped the wheel tighter. “No, you’re not interrupting.”

“Good, because, I’d like thank you for helping Charlie today.” A slight catch in Sharon’s voice. “He told me what Erica was trying to do. I don’t know what got into that girl.”

Neither did Isabelle. “Thank you, Sharon. I’m not sure of all the details, but I needed to help Charlie.”

Then came a long, awkward pause.

Isabelle pulled into her apartment complex and parked in her regular spot. She unfastened her seatbelt and pulled out her keys but didn’t budge from her seat.

She’d thought Sharon hung up and then a sigh drifted over the line. “You realize it is important not to misjudge the actions of someone during times of stress. Sometimes decisions are made without considering the final consequences.”

Was Sharon talking about Erica or herself?

“Isabelle, I’ll be in town week after next. I think we should get together and talk.”

About?
Isabelle wanted to ask because she couldn’t bear to rehash the past one more time. Too bad she couldn’t get the words out. The phone slipped from her ear as she tried to catch her breath. After three gulps of air, she pushed the handset back into place. “OK.” That’s all she could manage.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Isabelle flipped the cell phone closed, held it against her chest, and tried to keep from crying. She couldn’t break down now when she needed to think clearly. Decisions needed to be made. “Lord, help me trust you,” she muttered, dropping her head against the seat.

21

Charlie lingered in the doorway of the ballroom at the Harvester Hotel. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he jiggled coins to keep from checking his watch again. As difficult as it had been to sit and watch the wedding ceremony with Isabelle standing at Kate’s side, looking more beautiful than the bride, waiting for the wedding party to arrive was torturous. How many photos could they possibly take?

Charlie shifted his weight and scanned the room, paying little attention to the decorations, even less to Mark and Kate’s guests gathered around festive tables feasting on the buffet dinner. His teeth were on edge. Tonight would either set him and Isabelle on a new course in life, or it might be the night she brushed him off for good.

He hoped not. Prayed not.

He straightened and stretched his back. It didn’t help.

Strains of orchestra music filled the air and greeted his ears. He perked up a little. Looking toward the rear of the ballroom, he watched the wedding party filter in.
Finally.
Charlie joined in the applause as the band director introduced the newlyweds.

Mark and Kate waltzed around the dance floor and Charlie smiled, chuckling to himself. Mark wasn’t as big of a klutz as he imagined.

His smile faded as the music swelled, prompting the rest of the wedding party onto the dance floor. The song changed and Mark’s brother, David, pulled Isabelle into his arms and whisked her around in an impromptu Cha-Cha. Heat pumped through Charlie’s veins. When had Isabelle learned to dance like that? He sagged against the doorframe and crossed his arms. Another part of her life he had missed.

A smattering of applause broke out across the room as the twosome dipped and swirled in perfect ballroom fashion. Charlie wanted to give David a swift kick in the pants. He made a mental note—take dance lessons…if necessary.