Wildfire (20 page)

God, that bluff was high. What if she’d fallen along the path or, worse, gotten too close to the edge and slipped. The possibility alone was enough to send him rushing out into the winter night. He slid behind the wheel of the unmarked squad car, using its siren to hasten his way. At the speed he was traveling, it didn’t take long to reach the pull-off he’d shown Amanda.

Her Porsche was there, spotlighted by his car’s headlights. Grabbing a flashlight from the dash, he rushed over to her car, but it was empty and unlocked. Brady grimly noted Amanda’s purse still sitting on the passenger seat. His cautious Mandy must have been in one hell of a state to leave her purse behind and the car unlocked.

Wasting no more time, he hastened up the path leading to the bluff, calling Amanda’s name all the while. There was no response. His heart was in his throat, his thoughts filled with dread. Then he saw her.

She was standing near the edge, her back turned to him, seemingly blind to her surroundings and the possible danger of her proximity to what amounted to a sheer drop.

“I thought I might find you here.” Brady spoke calmly, knowing that it might be dangerous to startle her. “Come away from the edge, Mandy.”

She slowly shook her head.

“I checked with the hospital,” he fibbed, stealthily moving closer all the while. “Helen is going to be all right.” This wasn’t the time to worry about ethics; he had to get her away from that dangerous precipice.

Amanda slowly turned, taking a few steps toward him.

“Helen’s going to be all right,” he repeated, desperately hoping it was true. “How about you? Are you all right?”

Amanda again shook her head.

Brady stealthily positioned himself between her and the edge of the bluff before continuing. “It’s late, Mandy. Time to come home.”

“It was my fault,” she whispered in a choked voice that tore at his heart.

“What was?” he asked, although he already knew what her answer would be.

“Helen’s heart attack.”

Brady now stood close enough to reach out a hand and stroke her honey-gold hair, but in light of her obviously fragile state he restrained himself, letting his voice do the soothing. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I told her those books had to be shelved today and I made her do all that heavy work.”

“Mandy, you had no way of knowing—”

“I should’ve known,” she interrupted fiercely. “I should’ve noticed how tired she was. There must’ve been
signs and I should’ve seen them.”

“Mandy.” He cautiously took her hand, wincing at its iciness. “How long have you been up here?”

“I’m not sure.” She stood before him as docile as a child, yet despairing as only an adult can.

“It’s time to go home,” he told her again.

She numbly shook her head.

“Mandy, listen to me.” He reached out to cup her chin with his hand, ensuring her attention. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. You’re not all-knowing. And while it’s natural that you might be feeling guilty right now, this wasn’t your fault. You didn’t wish this on Helen and you can’t keep blaming yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” she cried, trying to escape his hold.

“Don’t I?” was his bitter reply. “Don’t you think there are things in my life that I feel guilty about? Things that I would’ve done differently?”

“But Helen could’ve died because of me,” Amanda sobbed, her voice strangled with guilt.

“She’s still living because of you. Beth told me that you administered CPR until the paramedics arrived. That probably saved Helen’s life.”

Amanda turned away, refusing to surrender her guilt. Brady’s grip shifted to her shoulders, not allowing her to move. “Listen to me, Mandy. You can’t give in to this. I’m not going to let you wallow in guilt.”

“How do you know how I feel?” she flared.

Brady’s voice was flat as he replied, “Because I know what it’s really like to be the cause of someone’s death.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

His words stilled her attempted flight. “Brady?” His name came out in a twisted croak.

“It’s too cold up here to hold a discussion.” He held out his hand. “Come back to the car with me, I’ll tell you then.”

She allowed Brady to guide her down the path to their parked cars and didn’t demur when he hustled her into the police department’s car. Brady turned the heater up and the two-way radio down. Only then did he begin his story.

“It happened when I was a kid.” He paused to take a deep breath. Obviously, even now, this was a difficult matter for him to discuss. “You know that deserted stone quarry outside of town?”

He waited for her nod before continuing. “A group of older kids used to go there to swim and one day I tagged along. There were signs posted warning that swimming was forbidden, but they were ignored. When I got out of my depth and started going down, the other kids panicked.”

Caught up as she was in the traumatic chapter from his past; Amanda found her own pain subsiding.

“A guy fishing nearby heard them yelling and came to check out the commotion. He immediately jumped in to save me. Somehow he got me to the shore, but he…” Brady’s voice roughened with pain. “…he didn’t make it. You see, he hadn’t stopped to take off any of his clothes and they weighed him down.”

Amanda felt his suffering. It gripped her throat, blocking her speech. But there was still more to come.

“The man who saved my life at the cost of his own was an off-duty cop. I spent years blaming myself and wallowing in the guilt. I felt there was no direction to my life. I joined the army hoping to find some purpose, but it wasn’t the answer.”

Brady shifted in his seat, resting one arm on the steering wheel. “My dad was the one who finally brought me out of it. He was the smartest man I ever knew. He didn’t have a college degree, but he had more common sense than any scholar. When he discovered he had cancer, he sat me down and told me some things I’ll never forget…”

Brady’s voice trailed off, his thoughts obviously on his deceased father. “He told me that guilt was one of the most devastating of all human emotions, and that I had two choices. I could either let it kill my spirit or I could learn from it and go on. After he died I went to the police academy, then came back to Deerfield. I had found my purpose in life.”

“That’s why you stayed in Deerfield and joined the police department?” she softly questioned.

Brady nodded. “I felt in some way that I was repaying the debt I owed to the guy who gave his life for mine. So you see, Mandy,” he quietly summed up, “I do know what you’re feeling and I know how paralyzing that load of guilt can be.”

Amanda could hold back the tears no longer. She sat there, her face buried in her hands, and she cried. Cried for Helen’s age, for Brady’s youth, and for her future—a future with Brady that she’d given up.

Brady winced at her outpouring of emotion, regretting the cause for it, but knowing that this was nature’s way of cauterizing the pain. His wide hand came out to softly rest on her down bent head, directing her tear-blinded figure into his comforting embrace.

Brady waited until her sobs had subsided and her tears had dried before saying, “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“What about my car?” Amanda’s voice was husky from crying.

“Give me the keys and I’ll go lock it.”

While she reached into her coat pocket for the keys, Brady leaned forward to turn up the radio and inform headquarters that he’d found Amanda. Before hanging up the microphone, he asked them to relay the message on to Beth.

Amanda felt numb, the flood of tears leaving her drained. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble,” she wearily apologized, handing over her key chain.

Brady secured the Porsche after he picked up her abandoned purse. Amanda mumbled her thanks as he silently placed it on her lap. Sensing her emotional exhaustion, he made no conversational demands during the drive to her house. He accompanied her inside, whereupon he issued the gruff order that she take a hot bath and change into some warm clothing. Amanda made no protest, her expression still dazed as she trailed upstairs.

As soon as she was out of earshot Brady dialed the hospital to check on Helen’s condition. He breathed an audible sigh of relief as the nurse informed him that the older woman was indeed in satisfactory condition and out of danger. Unknowingly Brady had told Amanda the truth. Helen was going to be all right. Now he hoped his Mandy would also recover.

Remembering his mother’s cure-all, Brady went into the kitchen and returned with a tray just as Amanda was descending the steps.

She looked at his appetizing offering in surprise. “Chicken soup?”

“You had a package of instant mix in the kitchen,” Brady explained somewhat defensively. “Go sit in the living room and drink it.”

Amanda complied. “Thank you for making this for me.”

He watchfully stood over her, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans in that characteristic stance of his. “I checked with the hospital and Helen’s condition is still stable. She’s out of the woods.”

Amanda’s hand trembled so badly at the good news that she slopped a spoonful of soup back into the bowl. “Thank God,” she murmured in a relieved voice.

“Keep eating your soup.”

“I don’t want any more, thank you,” she politely declined. Taking her courage in hand, Amanda spoke again. “Brady, if you have the time, I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’ve got time,” was his quiet assurance. He sat on the couch, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees.

Taking a deep breath, she launched into speech. “I’d like to explain why I turned down your marriage proposal.”

Brady made no comment.

“As you know, my parents got divorced when I was at a very vulnerable age.” She faltered, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that it wasn’t you I was refusing. It was my own emotions. My parents were very much in love when they got married, yet a decade later they ended up detesting each other. My mother has remarried four times—each time she swears that this is the man for her, that she loves him. But it never lasts. Because of my background I’ve learned to be very cautious of this thing called love, to distrust its effect on my decision-making.”

She risked a nervous glance at Brady, trying to gauge his reaction, but his normally expressive face was masked with restraint. “Why did you come after me tonight?” she asked, for until she knew the answer, she couldn’t continue.

“Because I cared.”

“Cared?” she repeated as though it were a foreign word. “That’s part of loving, caring about someone else’s wellbeing.”

It was certainly part of Brady’s loving. He’d proved that time and again.

“I’m sorry I never told you I loved you,” she regretted.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to lie.”

Brady’s bitter response made it clear that he still was in the dark about her feelings. “It wouldn’t have been a lie,” was her quiet assurance. “I do love you.”

Hope flared in his dark eyes, lightening his gaze. “You love me?”

The uncertainty in his voice hurt her. “Yes, I love you. I stupidly thought that if I didn’t say the words aloud, the feeling would go away.”

“You don’t want to love me.” His statement was flat with disappointment.

“I didn’t want to love anyone,” she softly corrected him. “I didn’t want the pain that loving would bring. Selfishly I only wanted the joy. Instead of which I ended up with nothing but pain; the joy left when you walked out of my life.”

“It’s been hell on me too,” Brady groaned. “Something inside of me didn’t want to believe those things I accused you of, but I couldn’t come up with any other explanation.”

“The difference in our ages has always bothered me more than the differences in our backgrounds,” she felt compelled to confess.

Brady’s glance was wryly self-mocking. “With me it was the opposite.”

“I should have realized,” she berated herself.

“No more guilt trips, Mandy,” he gently admonished.

“I assumed that you understood how I felt about marriage. That’s why I was so surprised when you proposed. I tried to tell you then that it was marriage, and not you, that I didn’t want. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“Your refusal hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought that when we made love, you were showing me you loved me.”

“I was,” she confirmed.

“But you didn’t want to. You wanted the feeling to go away.”

“These past weeks have proved to me they won’t go away. And, Brady, I don’t want them to. I don’t want you to go away. Stay with me. Let me love you.”

“Oh, Mandy.” He was beside her in an instant, removing the soup bowl from her nervous grip and carefully setting it on the side table. Then he tugged her up into his arms, enfolding her in that special embrace that she thought she’d never feel again. “When I saw you up there on the bluff, standing so close to the edge…” he muttered against her temple. “God, you scared the hell out of me. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me being younger; it felt like I aged ten years in that one moment.”

“I never intended to jump,” she quietly assured him.

“Maybe not, but you could easily have slipped. It’s certainly icy enough up there.”

Amanda tried to get his mind off such dire possibilities by saying, “I spent most of the afternoon driving around. I was probably only up on your mountain for half an hour.”

“When Beth phoned me and told me what happened” —he shuddered against her—”I could imagine what you were going through, blaming yourself for Helen’s attack.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your past sooner?” she leaned away to ask. “It would’ve helped me understand more.”

“Understand why I was only a Deerfield cop, you mean?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I always knew that you had the capability to be anything you wanted, to do anything, go anywhere. And I will admit to being confused. Confused,” she reiterated. “Not disappointed.”

Brady pulled her close again. “Would it have made it easier on you if I’d been an accountant?” His words may have been muffled, but her sensitive ears picked up the need for reassurance.

Amanda gave it without hesitation. “No, it wouldn’t have made it easier. Besides, if you’d been an accountant I would never have been able to frisk you.”