Whispers of the Heart (16 page)

“What does Spring say?”

“Um…I haven't told Spring much about Brent. If I did, if I said anything to her that even hinted I'm pushing the love of my life out, she'd likely come
running home before she's ready, thinking I need her protection or help. I have to stand on my own here, Curtis. I'm making my own decisions.”

“Well, that's a plus,” he muttered under his breath. Autumn heard him, knowing his caustic attitude only hid his real concern and affection for her. He'd been a second father to her and Spring for a long time, sometimes when Uncle William couldn't be.

“Have you asked Brent about that? Have you told him about your feelings of inadequacy?”

“No, and I won't. Brent would never admit I wouldn't be good for him. He'd find excuses for me or curtail his activities.”

“Don't you think he has a right to make that choice?”

“Not this time. I'm making mine. I don't want to marry a man where I feel guilty because he can't pursue his natural abilities and talents. He's a leader, Curtis. He wants to be involved in city affairs, and maybe even state politics one day.”

“Has he confided his ambitions to you?”

“No, but Catherine has. Even Laureen Shore has mentioned how far Brent can go if he continues on his present path of involvement. He's slated for good things, for important things. He needs a wife who can stand beside him at rallies and meetings, and attend dinners and other events. I can't do any of that, Curtis.”

“So you don't love him enough?”

“Oh, please…” she beseeched. Her heart in her eyes, she told him, “I love him enough to let him
go when I can, can't you see that? Before it goes too far and it tears me apart. Please help me do that.”

“Hmm…” he said, dropping his gaze. “I'll do what I can, Autumn. I can give you more hours here, if you want them.”

“Yeah, Curtis. That's what I want.”

Refusing Brent was one thing, but when Timmy's voice came over the phone on Saturday morning, Autumn didn't quite have the heart to tell him she had no time for him.

“Can you go on a picnic today, Autumn?” he asked. “It's not raining.”

“I can see that,” she replied, thinking fast. “But I promised I'd help Curtis in his gallery today.”

His tone plaintive, he asked, “All day?”

“Well…”

“We'll set our time around when you expect to be through at the gallery,” Brent said, coming on the line. “The dogs could have a real run.”

It left her little room to wiggle.

“All right.” She caved in without a whimper, telling her leaping heart she couldn't just suddenly cut off all their association without causing Timmy real hurt. It would work better if done gradually.

Oh, fine. Now she could count telling herself lies into her cowardice, too. Couldn't she be strong about
something?

But she didn't
want
to say no. She had no willpower to say no.

“Autumn?” Brent said.

“Um, yeah, I'm here. I was only thinking.” She took a big breath, then said on a rush, “I'll be
through at the gallery around noon, I guess, and home ten minutes later.”

“Good. We'll pack a picnic lunch and pick you up there. How about a run out to Lake Jacomo? We can watch the sailboats and fly a kite.”

She tried not to let her uncertain emotions show. “That sounds fun, but…”

“We'll pick a spot that's quiet.”

He was doing it already. Again. Making life work to accommodate her…weakness. How long could he continue to do this without resentment over what it did to him? How it confined his activities? And Timmy's?

“All right.”

“And Autumn?” his voice dropped to an inclusive purr. “The church is having an evening service tomorrow night. As you know, David hasn't begun morning services yet and not many people will attend. I'd like to show David and Wendy our support and go.”

“Will you sit with me, Autumn?” came Timmy's eager voice. “I'll be real good.”

Absolutely no excuse came to mind of why she couldn't. How could she refuse?

B
rent read his Saturday morning newspaper with only half an interest as his son dawdled over his breakfast. Timmy chewed his cereal, cheek against his palm while leaning on an elbow, and tapped his spoon against his bowl with a four-year-old's total indifference for someone else's desire for quiet.

Brent didn't rebuke his son or tell him to sit straight; there were times when that was necessary, but as long as there were only the two of them, he didn't mind the noise. The boy would have years of learning to be quiet and correct.

Sipping his coffee, he toyed with his own sweet roll.

He should use the morning to work, he supposed. There certainly was enough of it to do. But he was in no mood to concentrate on something routine when his thoughts constantly jumped to Autumn. He might have more of an interest in breakfast if she sat opposite him. He pictured her here often lately, mov
ing about his kitchen with her particular grace and style. He liked the feeling it gave him—her in his kitchen, in his house.

Restlessly, he set his mug back on the table. It seemed every time he took two steps forward with Autumn, he slid back one and a half.

Was he pushing her too much? Too fast? Wasn't she ready to accept his love?

Were there more fears, hidden and demanding, that he didn't know about? Robbing her of a fuller life.

The weather had given way to summer rather abruptly, and already the sun streamed through his window with heat. He stood to raise it, welcoming the fresh air on his face as he thought about Autumn.

Laureen had called him yesterday. She'd been put out with him when he refused an invitation to dinner tonight at the home of some of their mutual business friends. He'd heard the brittleness in her response when he'd told her that he, Timmy and Autumn had plans for Saturday.

“All day and evening, too?” she'd demanded.

“Pretty much,” he'd quipped without guilt, leaning back in his office chair. At least he hoped the day would include an early dinner. He also hoped Laureen would finally realize his interest in Autumn was more than casual.

He swiveled his chair so that he could gaze out at the street. As had become his habit, he looked for any sign of Autumn, coming or going.

“That's nice,” Laureen had returned with a snap. “But you should consider the direction Norris's lat
est proposal is taking, Brent. Tom Norris is interested in investing big money there. Now if you could…”

For almost ten minutes he'd listened to her racing ambition as she explained how he should do this or that to capture more political attention. And money. Tapping his pencil on his desk, he'd waited for her to wind down.

If she hadn't been a long-standing friend of Felice's, he'd have firmly pared the friendship to the level of casual acquaintance years back. Most of the time he didn't openly dislike her, he simply couldn't buy into her grab all the money and power you can with both hands approach to life. Maybe he'd thought that way to some extent while Felice had lived, but for a long time now, he'd felt his life going in the opposite direction. There was more to life than this existence.

Oh, he still wanted to be involved with civic and city affairs and the economic renewal of the downtown, but he thought he'd be happier focusing behind the scenes. He didn't want to become so involved that he had no time for his son.

He didn't recall, now, how Laureen had led into talking about Autumn, but she'd gone on and on about how “different” the woman was, how “troubled.” Why, she knew for a fact from the real estate agent the twins had used, that Autumn had been unable to function normally in school. Her uncle had pulled the girls from the public school system when they were about twelve and taught them at home, or hired tutors.

While Brent conceded he hadn't known that fact, he thought it had little to do with either Laureen or
the current client base they sometimes shared and had said so.

“Well, I know how you love to rescue people, Brent,” Laureen had insisted. “You love to play the white knight on a white horse. Believe me, Autumn isn't for you, no matter how much you may feel sorry for her troubles. She'd be a drag on your activities, you'd find you couldn't take her with you as you climb—”

“Ah, Laureen,” he'd interrupted. “I'm sorry, but I really must go. My assistant, Sheila, needs my attention.”

Through the glass that partitioned his office from the main reception room, he'd seen Sheila's mouth curve at mention of her name. He'd noticed before how his voice easily carried through the open door. He'd beckoned.

“Well, all I want to say, Brent, is you can't be too careful about that woman. She isn't—”

Sheila rose from her desk and came into his office, pointedly glancing at her watch. “You don't want to be late,” she'd said clearly, tapping her watch.

“Laureen, I have another call.” Brent hated to be rude, but he hadn't wanted to hear another word disparaging Autumn.

He'd finally ended his connection, then strolled into the outer office, saying, “Thanks, Sheila. As my mom would say, “Sometimes a timely interruption is the kindest of happenstance.”

That was yesterday. He wondered how long it would take Laureen to call again, looking for his help or escort. He didn't believe she'd given up yet.

“Can I watch cartoons?” Timmy asked, pulling Brent's thoughts back.

“Sure, son. For a little while.” He refilled his coffee and carried it into his tiny home office off the kitchen. He sat at his corner desk, still thinking of Autumn as he picked up a handful of household bills. He didn't care what Laureen said, Autumn attracted him in a way no other woman had since Felice, and it had nothing to do with his “rescuer” traits.

He liked the way she laughed, a delightful sound he could enjoy for the rest of time.

Her lips had a taste that would do him for at least a hundred years.

She had a sweetness often missing in the rush-to-career women among his acquaintances, yet she had her own interests. She'd never be a clingy wife or one easily bored.

Her soft, questioning gaze still held a mystery, though. He wanted to know what lay behind it.

He'd thought he'd breached all her barriers when he discovered her fear of crowds. Although the problem was real enough, it held no frightening roadblocks for him; he'd been thinking they could work on her fears together. Surely Autumn knew how desirable he found her. And he and Timmy had gained her trust.

Well, Timmy had.

What had
he
gained? Her eager response when he kissed her. A knowing they both wanted more, wanted to finish what they'd started. That, strictly on a physical level, they'd be very compatible.

Brent shuffled through his bills a second time. He even went so far as to pull out his checkbook, trying
to pull his thoughts together to write a few checks. Away from the dangerous direction of recalling how Autumn's long body felt against his.

It was of little use. He could hardly wait to see her this afternoon.

Yet he wanted more than merely a physical partner. Did Autumn? What did she want in a man? He wanted a woman with whom he could build a real home for a lifetime, with the same values he had. Someone who had a faith to match his own.

Suddenly, he reached for his Bible from the shelves built against the wall. He opened it to one of his favorite passages. Hebrews. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

Carefully, he laid the open book on his desk and studied the words while he thought of how alive he felt every time he read them. How sure he was of his path in supporting David's vision of rebuilding the church. Of other choices he'd made. He'd never questioned his faith in the Lord or His ability to fulfil His promises.

He felt less sure of Autumn.

Autumn hurried to shower and dress again. She'd enjoyed her work in Curtis's back room, and felt surprisingly relaxed. Then she'd rushed home at noon as though racing a fire truck.

Buttons, sensing Autumn's excitement, watched her apply lipstick and sun lotion, then danced at her feet as she searched her closet for a sun hat.

When the bell sounded, the puppy barked and looked at her expectantly as they went to the door.
“Yes, yes, Buttons, we're going out with Timmy and Samson today.”

And Brent,
her heart sang.

All her reasons for ending their budding love relationship still clanged in her head, and she promised herself she'd eventually keep her good resolutions about letting him go. She would.

But not today. Today she would grab all the memories she could stack into a single afternoon to hold close for later.

“Hi, Autumn.” Brent's eyes lit with approval over her ponytail and loose T-shirt and jeans when she opened the door. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she murmured, unable to prevent herself from gazing a long moment into Brent's eyes. A spark, a flickering glitter from those ginger-brown depths brought their last embrace rushing into her thoughts. However much she tried, there was no way to prevent the flush that filled her cheeks.

“Where's Timmy?” she asked to divert herself from throwing her arms around his waist and clinging. She dropped her gaze.

Timmy hunched behind his father, making himself as small as he could. Although still, his little body exuded teasing excitement. Hiding had been a game she and Spring had loved when they were small.

She barely held back a chuckle at the child's fun and Brent's quick wink.

Buttons took the opportunity to run into the hall and sniff at Timmy's feet.

“Where is he?” she asked again with mock innocence as Buttons barked a hello.

“Dunno.” Brent shrugged, imitating her attitude
in spite of a wiggling body behind him. “He was around here a minute ago. Shall we go?”

“Oh, dear.” She bit her lip. “We can't go without Tim. I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

“You did?” Brent's grin spread wider as a smothered giggle burst out. “Yum.”

Buttons parked herself, staring at Timmy, and tipped her head. Her gaze puzzled, she whimpered for attention.

“Chocolate chip, huh?” Brent shifted his weight to one leg and leaned against the doorjamb. Behind him, Timmy shifted to make himself conform. “Too bad we can't find him. They're his favorite.”

“Yes, I do remember.”

Brent let his gaze flicker downward, then back at her, pursing his mouth. “If we can't find Tim, can I have his share?”

“Well, do you suppose Timmy—”

“No, Daddy! You can't eat mine.” Timmy said, jumping from behind his dad. “Here I am.”

“Hiya, tiger.” The gentleness in Brent's face toward his son at that moment imprinted itself in Autumn's mind. “Thought you changed your mind and didn't want to go.”

“Ah, Daddy. You're just teasing.” Timmy's giggle infectious, Autumn joined in the laughter.

“Now we can go,” Brent said. “We don't want to be too late.”

Still laughing, Autumn grabbed her covered tin, sun hat, and Buttons's leash, then closed her door. “Okay. I'm starved.”

Brent gave her a quizzical glance. He'd never heard her say she was actually hungry, and often
wondered if she ate sufficiently. No doubt about it, his son had a wonderful effect on Autumn.

They drove for thirty minutes before Brent mentioned that David and Wendy would join them at the cove where the sailboats were kept.

“David and Wendy?” she questioned.

“Yeah. Thought they'd like a picnic, too. And we have a surprise waiting for us.”

“A surprise?” Timmy scooted as far forward as his seat belt would allow. “Are we going on a boat, Daddy? Is that our surprise?”

Brent chuckled and glanced into the rearview mirror. “Can't put one over on you, can I, sport? Yeah. We're borrowing a sailboat from Wendy's brother for the afternoon.”

“Yaaay!” came from the back seat.

As he left the interstate and stopped at a red light, Brent glanced Autumn's way. Her profile showed the soft curve of her mouth, relaxed and inviting. The news didn't seem to affect her. Obviously, this wasn't one of the things that caused her concern. “Do you like sailing?”

“I've never had an opportunity to find out, but it sounds like fun,” she said, turning to look at him as she answered. No hint of anxiety lurked in her gaze. “Is there anything I should know before trying?”

“Nope.” He returned his attention to the traffic, his hopes rising. “We'll let Wendy instruct us.”

David and Wendy sat on a picnic bench waiting for them as they pulled into the parking lot at the sailboat cove.

“Hi, folks,” David said. “Isn't this a glorious day the Lord gave us?”

“This was a wonderful idea,” Wendy remarked, coming forward. “We needed an afternoon out. Who thought of it, anyway?”

“Me,” Timmy said with childish glee.

“We were already heading for a picnic when Tim asked if we could go boating today,” Brent expanded.

“Well, lucky us,” Wendy said, tousling Timmy's hair, “my brother isn't using his boat this weekend. He's out of town, but we have permission to use it any time we want to when he's gone.”

They spread out their lunch on a picnic table under the park shelter house. “Let's see, we have chicken salad sandwiches and beef subs and cole slaw.” Brent announced as he pulled everything out of the basket.

“Mmm, all my favorites, and I didn't even have to cook,” Wendy said.

“Me, either,” Autumn agreed. “But then, I don't cook a lot these days anyway.” She glanced at Tim. “Except for an occasional batch of cookies for one of my favorite people.”

“For me,” Timmy said, his eyes alight.

“And me,” Brent added, his voice caught in a chuckle. He set a glass of lemonade in front of her, his eyes sparkling with the knowledge of her wanting to please him.