Whispers of the Heart (11 page)

She nodded. “Yes, summer isn't far away.”

“How long has Timmy been sleeping?”

“About an hour, I think.”

“I suppose Mom told you it was my fault for keeping him up too late.”

“Well…”

He moved his shoulders, flexing his muscles beneath his shirt as though to shrug off an undesirable thought.

“I know she's right.” A slight frown puckered his brow. “But sometimes it can't be helped. Last night's sitter canceled out on me at the last minute. I had to take him with me, the meeting was too important to miss.”

“You could've called me.” Oh, yes. He could've called on her. She'd never have turned him down.

“Autumn, I can't expect to take up all your time. What about your, uh, social life? You might want to date sometimes.”

“I don't have a social life. I'm not seeing anyone but—”

She wanted to laugh, except she abruptly realized it was no laughing matter. Functioning alone was becoming easier every day, living alone not an impossible task. She was not unhappy. Many things brought her contentment.

Yet it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She didn't want to remain alone forever. All her life she'd felt a hunger to belong to someone, to be cher
ished and loved beyond what she'd known. Spring felt the same; they'd talked of it endlessly on many a lonely night when Uncle William left them to their own amusement. To have someone who would never leave them, never desert them.

Autumn wanted that more than life. To give love and give herself to a mate…

Glancing up at Brent over her shoulder, she felt more vulnerable than she had in years. Her protective wall had been breached. She wanted to be loved by Brent, and something reflecting in his gaze told her he knew exactly what she wanted and he desired the same.

Who moved first was never clear to Autumn afterward. She only remembered she barely set the pan down before they met at the counter edge.

His arms reached for her while she went up on her toes to give him her mouth. His lips tasted strawberry-jam sweet. They joined hers as no others ever had, fitting hers with precise exactness while sending a message of longing and heady desire all through her body.

It seemed to last a lifetime. It seemed over all too soon.

He stepped back a few inches. She stared into his eyes, wondering if he saw the same raw yearnings reflected in hers. It rocketed through her, shaking her, making her totally conscious of his hands resting along her bare arms, of where each finger warmed her skin while his palms sent a burning up through her shoulders.

“Autumn…” Her name came whispering in her ears with a passionate plea.

And interrupted by a little boy's, “Daddy?”

For a scant moment, neither of them responded. It took another for Brent to swallow and drop his hands, but not before his gaze softened into a promise. An unspoken promise, but one she wanted with all her heart to be kept.

“Yes, son. I'm here. Right here.”

O
n Friday, after most of the evening traffic had left the downtown area, Autumn picked up Curtis and drove the few blocks to the church. They still had at least an hour of daylight, and she wanted to show him the mural before they lost the natural light.

The small parking lot held no cars. Everyone had gone home for the day, she guessed. It was what she'd hoped. She was eager to show Curtis her progress and gain a critique before she progressed further, and she'd just as soon hear that without company.

Autumn opened the side door with her key, snapping on lights in the immediate hall. She led Curtis down the long passageway and into the corridor she was coming to think of as her own. Early evening sunlight shadowed the area differently from the morning.

Their footsteps echoed louder than usual, she noticed, and the silence around them hung with an ex
pectant air. The empty church gave her a hollow feeling, and her wall, under new shadows and slanted light, a new perspective.

Curtis didn't seem to notice. He strode up and down, then stood as far back as he could against the opposite windows, half closing his eyes. Hands dangling from his hips, he tipped his head left, then right, then nodded, making his humming sounds. “Yes…mmm-hmm…and that…uh-huh.” He nodded again. “Yes, I think it's good. Very good. Now the colors…”

They talked of her plans. He pointed to a couple of areas and made suggestions.

Somewhere from another part of the building, they heard a door slam, and footsteps approaching. Within moments, Brent came around the door frame, Timmy a step behind.

“Thought I recognized your car, Autumn.” His eyes lit with warmth as she looked up, and his voice took on a velvet quality. “I tried to call you.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, knowing her own smile answered his with a new intimacy, feeling the kiss they'd shared still with them. “I've been lending a hand in Curtis's workroom lately. When I'm not here, that is.”

“That's why, huh?” He turned toward Curtis. “Hi, Curtis, nice to see you again. What are you two doing here so late?”

“I brought Curtis to see my progress,” she said. “Hi, there, Timmy. How's Samson?”

“He's fine, but Dad wouldn't let me bring him inside the church. We hadta leave him in the car.”

Smiling at Timmy, she offered a consoling, “Well,
perhaps Samson is just as happy waiting for you in the car for a few moments.”

“We're going to get our burgers later and I promised Samson a treat if he's good.”

“That's nice. I had to leave Buttons home tonight, too. Do you think I should give her a treat when I get home?”

“Uh-huh. Grandma always gives me one when I'm good.”

“Ah, that's right, she does,” she said. “I guess I should reward Buttons when she's good, too.”

“Well, do I get the same privilege?” Brent asked, his eyes twinkling at her while his mouth curved in a half grin.

“What, a treat if you're good?” She let her eyes flash directly at him.

Now what made her say a thing like that, she wondered. Open flirting wasn't usually in her nature; maybe she'd caught it from David and Wendy.

A comforting thought, but that wasn't it, she admitted. It was that earthshaking kiss that had her acting like a silly youngster who'd just learned about the opposite sex.

Their kiss had opened up all kinds of new feelings and reactions and uncertainties. Scattered thoughts of him invaded her dreams and waking moments alike, and she shamelessly wanted to repeat it.

But to flirt in front of Curtis and the boy?

She bit down hard on her under lip while trying to ignore the flush she felt climb her cheeks.

“I'm hoping for a firsthand look at the work in progress,” Brent answered, smiling into her eyes. She couldn't look away and didn't want to.

“Well, this light isn't what the morning light is,” Curtis said, ignoring their byplay. “But it's good to see it now, as well. I assume that when the church is in full use again, there will be lots of traffic through here.”

“Yes, that's what we pray,” Brent said, his attention diverted.

Brent explained how the committee had voted to do a variety of scenes to show the different sides of Jesus' ministry. Autumn flashed him a questioning glance. He spoke as though he'd been a part of that committee.

“Mmm…” she agreed. “Each one is smaller than the original concept, but the whole will be lovely, I think. I expect it will take longer than I first thought.”

“Do you mind about that?” Brent asked.

“Not really. I'm comfortable working here in the mornings.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Brent said. “Well, if we're through here, why don't the two of you come have supper with us?”

“Oh, I don't think so,” she answered automatically. Friday nights were always jammed everywhere. She'd learned long ago that even trying to eat out on a Friday night would be the height of folly for her. “Curtis has to get back, don't you?”

She turned toward Curtis for confirmation, then frowned at him when he denied her statement.

“Uh-uh, not tonight. Wouldn't mind a big fat double cheeseburger. And a pile of onion rings.”

“Well, why don't the three of you—” she began with her usual self-defense action.

“Do you have somewhere else to be or something?” Brent asked squarely, unwilling to be put off.

“No, she doesn't,” Curtis answered for her before she could. She threw him a swift scowl.

“Um…I don't think…”

“Autumn can't abide crowds,” Curtis said baldly. “They make her nervous. So she won't go where she'll be caught in an upsetting situation.”

Her mouth dropped as she stared at her old friend, unable to prevent her hurt from showing.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you can't hide it forever,” Curtis muttered. “And it isn't likely Brent hasn't already noticed.”

True, she'd said as much to Brent before, but coming from Curtis it sounded much worse than a casual dislike. She caught her breath with the sudden truth of her phobia, and the embarrassment of having Brent know it. It felt like a basketball-size stone in her chest for him to think of her as flawed.

Now she couldn't look at Brent at all, when only a few moments ago…

Curtis wasn't usually so blunt, or unthinking, or unkind. So, why had he said it now? How could he? Perhaps to save her explanations later? To help her deal with it? He'd told her often enough she needed to.

Well, now it was out in the open. If Brent hadn't guessed how serious her problem was before, he knew now. Mobs of people caused her to panic. Sometimes even small groups in cramped spaces.

“Oh?” Brent said offhandedly. She felt rather than saw his searching gaze. “Hmm…in that case,
let's run by and pick up a bag and take them back to the house. We've already rented a movie.”

“I don't have a television,” she reminded him barely above a whisper, her mouth dry. She wanted to cry. He must think her so weak.

“That's all right,” Timmy said in consolation. “We do. But we have to go get Buttons so she can play with Samson, okay? I'll bet Buttons has been lonesome to play with him.”

Autumn couldn't say another word in protest. Or explanation. Looking into Timmy's eyes, she had nothing to say. She didn't have a clue when she might gain the courage to tell Brent the whole of her anxieties.

His knowing would probably put an end to his personal interest. Her panic had ended several dates over the years, and relationships with promising boyfriends. Then there had been a couple of jobs she couldn't stick with because of her fears.

“Sure, we can do that,” Brent said quickly. “Tell you what,” he reached into his pocket for his keys. “Curtis, you run by and pick up the burgers, and Tim and I'll run back with Autumn to get Buttons. We'll both make it back to my house about the same time, okay?”

“That'll work. Nice of you to trust me with your car, old buddy.”

But Brent didn't trust her to follow through with the plans to eat at his house if he let her go now, Autumn surmised.

Rightly so. If she'd driven Curtis and herself home, letting Brent pick up the fast food, she probably would call with an excuse not to go.

“No big thing.” Brent handed Curtis a twenty and a ten-dollar bill, his keys, and his card. “Oh, and here's my home address.”

Autumn waited while Brent, Tim, and Samson climbed into her compact. She had little to say on the short drive to her place. Brent muttered no more than two words. Evidently his new understanding of her fears had silenced him.

Timmy talked.

“I'm teaching Samson to sit.”

“That's nice.”

“He's really smart. He knows what I say to him. I give him a dog biscuit when…”

Their conversation remained stilted as they collected Buttons and drove to Brent's home. Giving her attention to Timmy helped ease some of her stiff resistance to having her worst quality, the weakness of her character totally exposed. That's what Uncle William had always called her problem—a weakness of character.

Spring had sometimes pointed out to her that people lived with other kinds of disabilities all the time, and there was no shame in having one. Only shame in not doing the best she could with it. But she hadn't been ready, she supposed, to tell Brent how deep her fears lay. She realized, suddenly, that she'd wanted to hang on to his interest a little while longer.

She'd been falling in love with him.

Now he had questions and before long, after his curiosity and pity wore thin, he'd be too busy to put up with her silliness. It had happened before. He would view her differently.

Nonetheless, Brent welcomed her into his home, with graciousness and sincerity.

Trying to put the extra awareness aside and enjoy the spontaneous party, she told Brent how much she liked his house. Of three-storied brick, it had an old-fashioned front-to-back layout, with a front hall stair.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Yeah, we've put a lot of hard work into this place, haven't we Tim?”

“Uh-huh. Autumn, you want to see my room?”

Glancing at Brent, she saw nothing but approval in his gaze. Thank goodness, it hadn't occurred to him that she might be a bad influence on his boy.

“I'd love to see it.”

Timmy took her hand and eagerly led her upstairs, the puppies scrambling up behind them. His room, done up in red, white and navy, showed the attention of a loving hand, and she recalled Brent saying his mother had helped decorate it.

After a few minutes, Brent called them back downstairs. Curtis had arrived.

Peeking at the other bedrooms as she passed through the upper hall, she saw that two were nearly empty. Was he waiting to fill them with more children? To begin another family?

She spotted what had to be Brent's room through a half-opened door. Organized, neat and masculine, it still looked rather spartan. What would he do with this room if he married again?

He should marry again. He'd told her Catherine thought he should. A wife to partner his ambitions.

He should marry a woman like Laureen.

Downstairs, Brent suggested, “Let's let the dogs out for a bit, son.”

“Okay.” Timmy answered readily. “C'mon, Samson and Buttons. This way. C'mon, Autumn,” he said, taking her hand again. “You can see where they'll be safe.”

“Right with you,” she answered. His hand was small and trusting; her heart lifted with his eagerness to show her around. At least Timmy didn't think her…odd.

They passed through the kitchen, totally remodeled with new counters and white-painted cupboards, and into the backyard, which had been fenced and landscaped for privacy. The puppies had the freedom to run there, and they let them stay for a while.

Inside again, she folded down on the floor beside Timmy near the huge square coffee table where their wrapped burgers, fries, onion rings and tall shakes waited.

She felt Brent's gaze often as they ate, curious and speculative. The tears of frustration hung behind her eyelids, but she held them off with an iron will, a practice she'd spent years in attaining.

While Timmy watched his movie, Curtis and Brent engaged in a long discussion of the various downtown redevelopment plans, and argued in a friendly way over whether light rail would really be feasible for their midsize city, as some city leaders said. She listened, but offered no opinion of her own.

Later, Timmy fell asleep on the sofa, his head in his father's lap; Brent carried him to bed. Samson followed, his tiny feet sounding like those of elves dancing on the floor. Buttons rose to join them.

“Buttons…” Autumn made a lunge to catch her,
missing by an inch. She flew flat out on the bare floor, sliding. The breath whooshed out of her.

Brent, three steps up the stairs, turned before she could recover herself. He chuckled, throwing teasing sparks her way over his son's head. From the other side of a magazine, Curtis laughed, too.

“Shh,” she cautioned, though she couldn't prevent her own amusement from showing. “You'll wake Tim.”

“Not him,” Brent said shaking his head. “Once he's gone, nothing less than a fire engine at full blast wakes him.”

A last glance her way full of warmth and promise, lifted much of her depression. Maybe her different approach to life wouldn't make such a big gap between them after all. She watched him disappear up the stairs with a tiny renewed hope.

Autumn set Buttons in Curtis's lap to prevent her from running after Samson, then fetched a waste can from the kitchen to gather the remains of their supper.

“Time for some coffee,” Brent said when he returned.

Slowly, she set down the wastebasket. If she stayed any longer, the one topic she didn't want to discuss would come up again. She thought she ought to quit the evening while she had regained some of her hope. Maybe her problem wouldn't seem so bad to him if he had time to assimilate it.