Arms of an angel

by

Linda Boulanger

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

TreasureLine Publishing on Smashwords

Arms of an Angel

Copyright © 2011 by Linda Boulanger

All rights reserved.

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the authors, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only or provided by the author of publisher, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, to factual events or to businesses is coincidental and unintentional.

* * * * *

There are certain people

who will cross your path.

They’ll change the course for the good or bad.

Those who change it for the better –

you have to wonder if they were sent by God.

Those are the people we call angels.

Perhaps an earthly angel of sorts…

that’s who he was to Claire.

* * * * *

Sometimes it’s hard to tell where one set of wings ends and the other begins…

Claire wasn’t exactly the type of girl a guy would normally choose to take home to meet Mamma. Yet there she was, on her way to meet Garrett’s parents. Her heart slammed against her chest hidden, in part, by the sweetheart neckline of her blue Carin Morrow. It was the most modest dress she owned and, still, it showed an ample amount of flesh. She’d tried to cover a bit more with a simple sweater, but wasn’t at all sure if she’d been successful. Her wardrobe had been purchased to enhance and show off her assets, not hide them. Dressing to meet parents was not a priority…at least it hadn’t been until now, and in such short notice! Drag her out of bed and tell her to get ready to go to his parents’ farm! Claire teetered between anger and disbelief; all of it mixed with fear. She was sure Garrett’s parents would see right through her. The thought of their disapproving faces filled her with an even greater sense of dread. She wasn’t fit for any man, let alone one as virtuous as Garrett. He was her angel. He’d saved her, yet she didn’t deserve him. Or, perhaps, he didn’t deserve to be saddled with a woman like her. Claire leaned back against the seat, her mind wandering as the passing view changed from steel and concrete to green hills and pastures.

Unwise decisions. That’s what Claire seemed best at making. Incidents in her own life were what she’d chosen to blame - two to be more precise. She lost her parents in a car accident and battled cancer, both at the sweet age of nineteen. Not only did she find herself alone, the cancer had left her without the body parts to ever carry her own child, furthering her sense of being forsaken and useless. She’d blamed God and turned as far away from Him as she could. Fast men and free liquor had been her choice as she’d commenced to working hard at partying through her inheritance.

For four years, one indulgence after another had been sought in an attempt to make the hurt inside subside. Nothing seemed to work. Oh, she’d come close a time or two. On occasion, her senses numbed to where she felt little more than a dull ache, but the piercing pain always returned after too short a time. Hope vanished as did her desire to go on. She’d decided life was no longer worth living, and that’s the point where Garrett had come into her life.…

* * * * *

Claire could feel him watching her in the mirror, knew his eyes were assessing her, undressing her. She didn’t mind. Knowing men desired her made her feel alive, worthwhile…most of the time.

He looked away as she turned her face toward the front of the limousine, though his gaze returned as soon as he realized her focus was not on him. She was pensive - an unusual disposition for this particular client. He smiled. Unusual was the perfect word to describe Claire, regardless of her mood. Of all his filthy rich, high society clients, there was none who could compare to Claire Orion. Of course, there weren’t many who had allowed him the liberties she had, either…none, actually. The thought of their last encounter left him yearning. He was hungry, yet she wasn’t biting. He’d tried to engage her several times throughout her afternoon shopping spree to no avail. He wondered what had captured her. She was definitely a woman looking within.

Claire moved from his line of vision as she leaned toward the passenger side window. The driver couldn’t see the look of pain that pulled her finely arched brows toward her beautiful blue-gray eyes. He didn’t see her hand press against the tinted window as she watched a little girl walking hand in hand with her father. He didn’t know Claire well enough to know how much she’d yearned for acceptance from her own father or how it had affected the woman she had become. Ranauld, like most, only knew the larger than life persona in the pretty little package that his passenger most often presented to the world. There were few with even an inkling of a notion that beneath her flawless exterior lay a woman with scars she believed incapable of healing.

Ranauld missed Claire’s heavy sigh as he focused his attention on the circle drive in front of her historic building. With the ease of a man used to handling the large automobile, he maneuvered through the traffic and pulled to a stop outside the large double doors. By the time he opened the door for her, Claire had masked her bitterness. Her father was gone. There’d been no one to bridge the gap between them; no one he respected enough that was willing to step in to help.

“Perhaps I can be of service to you later, Ms. Orion? I could make arrangements to see that you make it home safely this evening.” Ranauld’s eyes begged as he helped her from the limousine.

Claire smiled in that mischievous way that made her nose crinkle; the one that should have alerted a man he was about to be toyed with. “Why, Mr. Ranauld, I’m afraid you’ve made a dreadful error. I can’t imagine what would make you think I’m planning to go out?”

“My apologies for the assumption. I was thinking of your shopping, the packages…they usually accompany an evening out.” He continued to fish. “So you’ll be home? Alone?”

“I didn’t say that.” She knew what he wanted. He knew she knew. She ran her hands through her dark hair in a way that reminded Ranauld of how it felt to have his hands entwined in the soft lushness of her beautiful curls. Her eyes danced as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before continuing. “But…I’ve got your number. I’ll call if the need should arise. A woman can’t be too careful about who she lets take her home…or who she lets stay…”

The building doorman chuckled as he held the door for her before retrieving her packages from the wilting chauffer. “Perk up, man.” The older gent clapped Ranauld on the back as he took Claire’s bags. “She’s got your number.”

Charlie went away laughing, wondering how many other hearts were hurting over the unpossessable Claire Orion. He wasn’t sure if that was a word even. What he did know was that Claire Orion was her own woman. The only man who’d ever had a hold on her had been her father and he’d never given her an ounce of anything except heartache. He snorted thinking of the number of times she’d left the building crying over something he knew that man had said to her. A quick death behind the wheel of a car was too good for him. It was far better than he deserved after the way he’d killed Claire’s dreams and sense of worth. It was more than he’d given his daughter who had been dying inside for a good many years.

Charlie could only hope she’d live long enough to learn to believe in herself. She was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold and a generosity to match, but the way she lived…He shook his head and looked up toward the heavens. Claire needed to find her place in this world. She needed someone to help her, and fast.

* * * * *

Claire caressed the bottle of pills, feeling a wave of euphoria as she placed them on her nightstand and patiently dressed, taking great pains with every detail of her appearance. She wanted this last meal to be special. She wanted all eyes at the restaurant to be on her. She wanted to look spectacular when she was found.

Her mouth watered as she thought of the titillating array of scrumptious delicacies that awaited her with her last minute reservation at the extravagant Minuet. It had surprised Claire that she was able to get in on such short notice. The Maitre d’ had assured her when she’d called and he’d taken her name that she need not worry.

“I’ve got it right here. Check and double check,” he’d told her.

Claire had decided it was an omen. The meal was to be the beginning of her end. She smiled as she went down to meet the cab Charlie had called for her. She hadn’t wanted Ranauld returning – hadn’t actually desired his services earlier in the day either, though a cancellation by Mr. Donovan in 3C had placed him at her disposal.

She arrived at the restaurant dressed in her finest. Black Fuarento cocktail dress straight from the racks of Italy, black lace hose, black designer heels in the latest French fashion. Heads turned as she walked by. Claire Orion looked good and she knew it.

“Table for Orion,” she smiled disarmingly at the man who immediately recognized her voice from the phone.

He eyed her appreciatively. “Check and double check,” he said as he asked if she’d like to be seated or wait.

“Hmm.” Claire ran a painted nail across her lips bringing attention to their fullness as she flirted with the Maitre d’. “If I’m to eat, I shall need to sit, and preferably at one of your finely set tables.” She trailed the same finger along the buttons of his tailored jacket causing his voice to catch as he answered her. Claire smiled as he offered her his arm.

“Away we go then, my lady.” He escorted her to a cozy table toward the back.

“Perfect!” Oh how Claire loved the fineries of life. If only she could enjoy them with out the pain.

Claire ordered appetizers and wine: calamari, sautéed zucchini, and a nice California Pinot Noir - the best money could buy. Sitting back, she scrutinized the other table occupants as she waited for her hors d'oeuvres. People watching without seeming overtly rude and obvious. It was a pastime she’d managed to perfect through years of being hauled from one boring event to another at the side of one parent or another.

An older couple, undoubtedly celebrating an anniversary, sat nearby holding hands across the table. Claire smiled as she watched the gentleman bring his love’s aged fingers to his lips. There was an edge of regret knowing she’d never experience such love. After all, what good was a woman who could not have children? She was good for one thing only and Claire was quickly growing tired of the revolving door of partners who offered little more than momentary diversion. Oh, she’d have liked to have found one who looked at her, even for a moment, as the older gentleman was looking at his wife but the ones she’d been with were all the same. They cared only for what she could offer them at the moment she was with them.

Claire shrugged. Se La Vie - such was life. And for Claire, it was over. She returned to the people around her, finding one level down and several tables over, a group of business colleagues discussing strategies, their hard driving boss, and their annoying counterparts in various companies and even within competing groups within their own organization. Claire was thankful she’d been well provided for and able to avoid the doldrums and politics of the work-a-day world.

She had just turned her attention to another table where a man sat with two women when Anthony, as her waiter had introduced himself earlier, returned with her pre-meal delicacies. She smiled knowing he was appreciating the view, leaning toward her just a bit more than he needed as he placed her platters and filled her wine glass.

“Thank you, Anthony. Perhaps you should consider returning a thank you to me as well.” Claire laughed as the man’s cheeks burned and he realized he’d been caught.

“I’m so sorry…” He wrestled with the words of his apology. Undoubtedly he could see his tip and perhaps even his job disappearing.

Claire winked at him. “No harm in being appreciated. The dress was chosen for such. Simply be more discreet in the future. There are those women who are not nearly as kind about it as I am. Some are flattered. Some are not. Some will make a scene merely because they can.” He nodded, smiled graciously, thanked her, and walked away.

Claire turned her attention back to the other table as she tasted the calamari. Splendid, she thought. The eyes of the man at the table with the two women echoed that thought about her. Claire had indeed succeeded at the one thing in life; making herself desirable. It was all a woman like her could be. Without the ability to give a man children, she’d be nothing but a playmate; certainly not a proper wife.

The woman on the opposite side of the table from Claire’s admirer suddenly realized he was flirting with someone besides her friend. She glared at Claire and then the man before kicking him under the table. Claire could not suppress quiet laughter as his flirtations turned to painful surprise. She shrugged her bare shoulders and smiled as the woman again looked at her and shook her head as if it was all Claire’s fault. Perhaps his female counterpart should try being less talkative and more attentive to her own appearance. He braved another glance in Claire’s direction as his date’s friend busied herself with finding something in her bag. Claire pretended to drop her napkin and leaned over to retrieve it. She may as well make his risk worthwhile.

As she righted herself, her attention was captured by the Maitre d’ chattering away to a rather attractive gentleman as they neared her table. She’d missed his hasty, breathless arrival and attempt to “pretty himself up” as he’d rushed in, late as usual. He was surprised when the Maitre d’ had told him his date had already arrived; especially since not so many minutes before she’d called to let him know her baby was feeling poorly and she simply couldn’t leave just yet. Poor thing must have gotten better rather quickly.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. O’Bryan, to have such a lovely wife.”

They stopped beside Claire’s table. Garrett’s brows dipped. Claire stared up at the two men in confusion. The Maitre d’ smiled.

“Is there a problem?” Claire asked, though her words were partially covered over by Garrett’s voice.

“Wife?” he said in surprise. “I’m not married.”

Now the other man’s face registered confusion. He looked from Garrett to Claire and back again.

“You’re sure she’s not your wife?” he asked hopefully. Garrett shook his head. “O’Bryan?” He turned back to Claire in despair. She shook her head.

“Orion,” she answered trying hard to suppress her mirth. It was obvious now why she’d gotten a table so easily.

The Maitre d’ closed his eyes, undoubtedly shuffling through options. The house was packed with no available tables. His musings were interrupted by Garrett’s cell phone.

“Donna? Where are you?” Garrett asked the unseen. “Oh. Right. I’m sorry to hear that. Okay. Yes. Another time, perhaps. Well, if she’s still ill, of course you must stay and take care of her. Good-bye.” He placed the phone back in his pocket then looked at the two sets of eyes that watched and waited.

“Well, Mr. Ballard. It looks as if it’s your lucky evening. My date has had to cancel. I won’t be needing my table after all.”

Obvious relief washed over Mr. Ballard’s face.

“I’m sorry to have interrupted your dining experience, Ms. Orion.” Garrett nodded to her as he started to leave.

“Mr. O’Bryan?” she called, the caress of her voice causing him to turn back. He raised his brows in answer and waited. “Since you’re already here and undoubtedly haven’t eaten yet, would you care to join me? My treat. It’s the least I could do for taking your table.”

Garrett studied the beautiful woman as he contemplated her proposal. He felt eyes on him from all directions and knew there wasn’t a man in the place that didn’t wish he was in Garrett’s shoes.

“Well?” she smiled. She knew it too.

“I’d love to.” He returned to the table. “And, you’re right. I’m starving.” He slipped into the seat across from her.

“Perfect. Shall I pour you a glass of wine or request a bottle of champagne to add to the conversational fodder?” she asked in her most conspiratorial tone. He glanced around and eyes quickly turned away.

“Oh champagne , of course. We shall toast our unique beginning…” he played along to her delight.

“You heard the gentleman, Mr. Ballard. The finest that you have to offer and quickly before the magical moment passes by.”

“Of course! And on the house,” the Maitre d’ told her as he rushed away.

“Our meal will be free as well, no doubt. Oh don’t worry,” she said at his look of concern. “I’ll leave a tip that will more than make up for whatever might come out of our dear Mr. Ballad’s own pocket.” Claire laughed freely.

“You’re an ornery one, aren’t you?” Garrett shook his head though the corners of his mouth curved upward.

“An honest mistake, I suppose. Though these shenanigans have caused my hors d'oeuvres to grow cold. You wouldn’t mind skipping right to the main course, would you, Mr. O’Bryan and perhaps offering me a first name?”

What a delightful, to-the-point young lady, Garrett thought as he properly introduced himself. “Garrett O’Bryan.”

“Claire Orion.” She took the hand he offered across the table. “My pleasure.”

Her skin was pleasantly soft though her grip was firm. He was impressed. Obviously she was well bred; good blood and great training. His unexpected companion was a stunning package all the way around. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been in the company of one so lovely; if he ever had. Indeed she was rare on many fronts.

She laughed and Garrett realized he’d held her hand in his just a little longer than protocol deemed reasonable.

“I was admiring your ring.” He tried to cover his embarrassment at being caught up in the sheer enjoyment of the feel of her hand in his as she chuckled and pulled her hand away. It really was a lovely ring. Thank goodness she was wearing it or he didn’t know what he’d have said about holding her hand so long.

“It was my mother’s; a gift from her grandmother,” Claire offered as she gazed lovingly at the ring on the hand he’d just released. “Her wedding set is equally as stunning,” she told him, as she thrust her left hand across the table.

Garrett looked at the rings and nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“For?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him.

“For the loss of your mother, and at such a young age.”

She eyed him suspiciously and grew noticeably tense as she asked, “What makes you think my mother is dead?” She was immediately on guard.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to appear prying. Goes with the profession I suppose.”

“And that profession might be…? Her chin was set in a defiant tilt that he didn’t understand.

“Psychologist,” he told her after a long pause. Her sudden change in demeanor made him hesitant to tell her; fearful his lovely companion would bolt and he’d find himself finishing the meal alone. “Don’t worry,” he added as her lips tightened into a thin, straight line. “I don’t spend my off hours analyzing those around me, especially when the company is so pleasant.”

“Yet you did.” She waved her ringed fingers at him.

“Ah, not fair.” He pointed at her. “You as much as told me yourself!”

“Really?!” Her voice was riddled with disbelief and distrust. “And I did that by …?”

“The rings. Your mother might have given you the wedding set had she divorced, though not likely. Most women are peculiar about those things. They either use them to create a different ring or, more times than not, lock them away. Certainly she would be a rare woman who would accept her daughter wearing them and on her left hand at that. Your other ring as well… You said it was a gift to her from her grandmother. Why else would she have parted with them both?” He shrugged, hopeful his explanation would suffice. His eyes pleaded with her to accept it.

At last she nodded and relaxed, though she couldn’t help commenting. “That would still be analysis and I’d certainly better not receive a bill.”

He laughed; delighted she wasn’t going to hold his profession against him. Claire smiled and reminded herself she’d best watch her words and her actions.

“So, your date’s daughter became ill?” she asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.

Garrett laughed. “Her daughter? Not exactly. Her dog! Though she treats her better than most people treat their children.” He rolled his eyes and Claire raised her finely plucked brows in seeming disapproval. “Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re one of them – the pets are equal or above people people! And I thought you so nearly perfect.” He grimaced and Claire laughed heartily.

“Far from perfect and I don’t have a dog. I was thinking though…” she stopped, unsure of whether her words could cross boundaries of butting in. She barely knew this man, after all. Truly it was none of her business. She certainly didn’t want to find herself being analyzed again.

Garrett waited for her to continue. “Thinking what?” he asked when she did not.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“I promise I won’t take it that way. You’ve piqued my interest. Don’t leave me hanging!” Garrett pretended to pant and beg at the same time.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Well, you don’t seem overly thrilled with your girlfriend and her doggie situation. In fact, you don’t seem that into her at all.” She shrugged.

“Fair assessment. Although she was to be my dinner companion, she’s not my girlfriend. We’ve been out a few times. I wasn’t sure it was clicking. Tonight pretty much confirmed it for me.” He watched Claire as she put all the pieces together. “Does it all fit?”

She nodded.

After a moment of silence between them he asked, “May I inquire without you believing yourself under scrutiny, as to what it is that you do, Ms. Orion?” He was amazed by the almost instantaneous look of mischief that covered her face.

“I do as I please, Mr. O’Bryan. Nothing more. Nothing less.” She shrugged at his lack of surprise and laughed. “You’re right. My parents are both dead and I inherited a vast fortune at a young age. Therefore, I’ve never had to do anything.”

“And you’re okay with that? No dreams you’re pursuing? No cause you stamp as your own?” he questioned.

“Now, now! That sounds very near analysis to me,” she teased with an edge of seriousness.

“Mere conversation, my dear. You’re not exactly dressed for me to request that you lie down on my couch.” He regretted the words as quickly as they’d spewed from his mouth. The look on her face made him blush and he could tell she was toying with her come back.

“Fair enough. Couches aren’t exactly my first choice for… reclination, relaxation, or recreation, let alone the reading of my mind.” He expelled the breath he’d held making her laugh. “Do I scare you… is it actually Mr. or should I be calling you Doctor?”

“I believe I have seen enough in these few minutes to realize I should be on guard. I have told myself that a time or two since I sat down, yet I continue to fail to heed my own warnings. And I am addressed most often as Doctor though Mr. is perfectly fine with me. I do happen to be that as well. Although, to my patients and around the office Doctor seems to be the name I go by.”

“Remind me to never ask you a simple question if I’m in a hurry,” she laughed.

What sweet melodic laughter. It seemed to come so freely from her, yet there was something guarded about her as well. Was there a hint of sadness, of longing, behind the beautiful, mischievous sparkle of her blue-gray eyes?

“Stop staring. You’re giving me the creeps. It’s as if you’re trying to look into my mind.” She didn’t want him in her head, especially tonight of all nights.

He shook his head. “It’s just your eyes; they’re such an unusual shade of blue. I didn’t notice at first. It’s almost as if they…”

“They change color…with my moods and feelings or most probably with my blood pressure,” she finished his sentence. “Another gift from my dead mother.”

She was poking fun at him. At least she could find humor in an undoubtedly trying situation. He wanted to inquire about the particulars of their passing, though he knew she’d accuse him of practicing his profession. He chose a hopefully less sticky subject.

“Ms. Orion, do you suppose we might dispense with the last name formalities? I believe as the champagne loosens my tongue the Orion/O’Bryan similarities may provoke me to an awkward slip. I’ll forget which of us is which.” They both laughed.

“Garrett, correct?” He nodded. “I shall welcome the switch. Last names are so formally tedious at times; especially when we forget which one belongs to us.” Free laughter flowed again.

“Claire it is then.” He liked the feel of her name on his tongue. The thought made his brow crinkle. She intoxicated him much more than the champagne. He wondered why.

The meal progressed quite pleasantly, capped with a shared, decadent, raspberry chocolate dessert.

“Why are we celebrating?” he asked as she dipped her fork into the corner closest to her.

“What would make you say we’re celebrating?” She was surprised by his suggestion.

He shrugged, not wanting to ruffle her again in any way.

Reading his thoughts, she smiled. “You’re suddenly wondering, as you did in the beginning, why a woman would get all dressed up and take herself out to a fancy restaurant to dine alone. It seems… dysfunctional? Emotionally unstable? Downright coo coo?”

He shook his head then laughed.

“Perhaps I was stood up as well…”

“Nope. You called in for a table,” he reminded her.

“Right.” She tried to think of something else, though the quantity of champagne they’d consumed made anything short of silly hard to formulate. “We need coffee. I do anyway. Or maybe just a cab. It appears we’re about the last ones in here.”

Garrett looked around, surprised at the number of empty tables. He looked back at his bewitching dinner partner, remorseful at the thought of this evening coming to an end.

“I have my car. Perhaps I might offer you a ride?” he asked, holding his breath in hope.

“It’s a big city. How do you know I’m not far out of your way?”

“Statistically people don’t venture far from their own zone for a meal.” He shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

“Actually I live at the Grange. So your statistic stands, at least for me.”

“So? The ride?” He could tell she was debating within herself. After all, she really didn’t know him. It was one thing to have dinner with a stranger in a full restaurant. A ride all alone changed the playing field completely. Though as he watched her, secretly analyzing because that’s just what he did, Garrett got the distinct feeling his was certainly not the first offer to be taken home she’d received nor accepted.

He smiled as she nodded. “Good,” he said. “I wasn’t quite ready to part with such a mesmerizing companion.”

Claire raised her brows; her eyes and lips teasingly questioning.

“Oh dear!” he stammered, a bit embarrassed she’d think him so forward. “I didn’t mean to imply… I never expected… I didn’t think…”

Claire began to giggle at his uneasy moment.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finding humor in the moment.”

“I apologize,” Claire sputtered through her laughter. “Oh we do clearly travel in different circles, my new-found friend.” She dabbed her mirth-filled eyes with a tissue she produced from her bag. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stumbled across anyone with your quality of innocence, Garrett. It’s…refreshing, actually.”

He studied her again. “How old are you, Claire?”

“Is there a qualifying age?” she joked.

He shook his head. “Just curious. You seem to have lived an awful lot for one who I’d say has to be on the lower numeral side of her twenties. You’ve got a lot going on inside of you.”

Their eyes locked. Claire was quiet. Had it not been for the champagne she might have bolted. She didn’t want him to see inside of her; at least she thought she didn’t.

Her moment of seriousness was replaced by that mischievousness he’d glimpsed earlier. “Experience is a great teacher. You should know that, Mr. Analyst. And a ride home only will suffice, if the offer is still on the table.”

“It is and glad I shall be for the continued gracing of your company,” he said and they both laughed. Claire was thinking he’d have made quite a gallant knight in shining armor.

* * * * *

Garrett didn’t see it, though Claire must have indicated that they were ready to leave. Anthony appeared and leaned toward her, whispering that there would be no check.

“Your meal is on the house due to the mistake,” he told her quietly.

“As expected,” she answered, discreetly handing him a couple of large bills. “There will be no need for change.”

The waiter stared at her for a moment before realization set in and a look of gratitude and delight covered his features. “Thank you.” He half bowed as he went away. Claire merely glanced at Garrett who watched her with a look of awe. A class act with an unmistakable edge of sheer rawness all rolled up into one perfect bundle.

“Shall we?” she asked when she was finished with whatever it was she was doing beneath the edge of the table.

Garrett nodded. “You know,” he said as he scooted her chair back, “you really should let me take care of our dear Mr. Ballard. I didn’t realize you’d already made arrangements with the waiter. I’d have protested but you seem the type not to take interference lightly.”

“You’re right,” she teased. “Never undermine or second guess me and all will go well between us,” she continued in a silly English accent, “and I shan’t hear anymore of your nonsense. Now come along and watch the pro in action.” She crooked her finger and winked as she walked away. Garrett followed, unsure if he was bemused or bewitched. He felt fairly certain about one thing, Mr. Ballard was about to find himself asking the same question.

Secured within Garrett’s jet black Lexus, Claire and Garrett both burst into laughter.

“Oh, that was priceless, my dear.” Garrett was able to speak only as his laughter subsided somewhat. “That poor man… Oh, Claire, you really had him certain his job was on the block. And such a pleasant look upon your angelic face as you delivered the blow.”

“Oh, I’m truly evil in heels, aren’t I?” She looked apologetic for a full split second before breaking into more laughter. “Oh, bah. He was happy when I kissed his cheek and pulled my hand free of his.” She waved her hand back and forth.

“Yes, once he realized you were putting him on.”

Claire shrugged. “Evil!”

Garrett shook his head. “Playful and, perhaps, a bit ornery. Evil? No!” He smiled at her as Claire studied his face. Uncertainty clouded her beautiful features. She looked away, staring out her window as they drove a couple of blocks in silence.

“How long have you lived at the Grange?” he asked. “I heard they’re very hard units to get hold of.”

Claire nodded that they were. “We’ve had the unit forever,” she told him then laughed. “Well, Dad had it. Acquired it many years ago, along with his first mistress.”

Garrett’s mouth fell open. Claire nodded again and laughed. “You’re surprised that I know, am so nonchalant about it, that she was his first, or that we’d keep the unit?”

“Yes… all of the above.”

“Boy! For a psych you sure are naïve,” she poked. He started to protest then decided she was right.

“The woman faded away, my mom liked the unit, and it became our place to stay when we came to town. He loved my mom, Garrett. The other women were mere diversions. My mom was the only true wife he had.”

Garrett couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had he known her better he’d have told her that was crap. He’d have asked her what about vows and respect? “Well, it’s a beautiful building, at least from the outside. I’ve never been in,” he said instead.

“You want to come up? We can have that coffee we never ordered…” They were stopped in front of the building waiting for a clearing to turn into the circle drive where the doorman waited. Their eyes locked and a bucket of emotions passed between them.

He reached over and touched her cheek. “I want to, but I won’t. Besides, I have a brunch date at my parent’s farm in Morgan’s Falls. It’s late and I’ll have to get up early to make it on time.”

“Oh.” Claire nodded, the corners of her lips turning down. “A decent reason I suppose.” She chuckled. “I’ve never been turned down for parents.”

They smiled at one another as he pulled in and the doorman approached. “Another time perhaps?”

Claire gave a noncommittal half shrug. “Perhaps.” She was silent for a moment, signaling the doorman to wait. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening, Garrett. I’m pleased our paths crossed.” She started to reach for the door and he grasped her arm. She looked at his hand then at him.

“I have this overwhelming feeling that I’ll never see you again once you get out.” His brows were drawn down, his face concerned.

Claire was sure he could hear the loud thud of her heart. She felt the need to throw him off.

“Let me have your phone.” She held out her hand and he produced it with out question. She stared at it for a moment then keyed in her number. “There.” She handed it back.

“Thank you.” He smiled, rubbing the phone between his fingers as if it was her hand. “We’ll have that coffee… and sooner than you think.

“Would we have had coffee, Dr. O’Bryan?” she asked, kissing his cheek and bolting from the car before he had time to recover.

When she waved and smiled mischievously from the lobby doorway he shook his head and laughed. The thought of her would not easily be shaken, he was sure of that.

“You’re home early, Ms. Orion,” Garrett heard the doorman saying to her as he pushed the button that rolled down the window. “And alone! You ruffled somebody’s feathers again, girl?”

Claire started to respond but was cut off by Garrett’s voice calling her name. She turned toward him and he was struck momentarily silent by her beauty. Uncertain of his intent, she walked back to the car and looked through the open window.

“Change your mind?” she teased. “No, I suppose Morgan’s Falls still has you bound. What then?”

“Sunday brunch? 10:00ish? And we’ll have that coffee then. Scouts honor.” He held up two fingers.

“Wouldn’t you know. Friday night and I get stuck with a parent whipped boy scout.” She laughed, letting him know she was still teasing. “Make it 10:30 and I’ll accept with expectation.”

Garrett nodded. “Claire,” he called as she began to back away. “You are a woman of your word, right?” When she didn’t respond he added, “You seem as though you would be.”

Claire breathed in and held it for a moment as she looked into the distance. The night had not gone as she’d planned. Now she was being asked for her word. Yes, she was a woman of her word…most of the time, and especially when pressed. Why was he asking? Did he inherently know? If she said yes, under the circumstances, was she bound by her word? Yes, she supposed she was. At last she nodded. “My yes is yes. I’ll be waiting and watching. 10:30 sharp on Sunday morning.”

Garrett smiled. “Thank you.”

“You may change your mind. You don’t really know me.” She pushed away from the car with a laugh.

He shook his head. No, he didn’t know her at all. He’d lived enough of life, however, to believe their paths must have crossed that evening for a definite reason. He wondered if he’d ever find out why.

“You losin’ your touch, Miss?” Garrett heard the doorman teasing her again.

“Nah, Charlie. I got lucky in a different way tonight.” She elbowed the older gentleman. “I found me an angel. What was his name? Clarence maybe? Oh listen… I think I hear a bell ringing.”

He heard the doorman chuckle as Claire disappeared behind the heavy wood and beveled glass doors of the grand building.

“Not an angel with these thoughts!” he whispered as he drove away.

* * * * *

Claire sat down on the edge of her bed to remove her shoes. She laid her phone on the nightstand next to the two waiting pill bottles then pulled off her earrings. She placed them next to the phone and picked up the bottles. She put her empty hand over her heart and realized for the first time in a very long time she hadn’t thought about the hurt inside for many hours. Maybe Garrett really was an angel. She considered the idea. Either way he’d altered the course of her life. She opened the nightstand drawer and dropped the bottles inside. She was suddenly very tired. Garrett was right. It was late. She looked at her phone and shook her head as she realized she hadn’t gotten his number. Now the true question… was he a man of his word? Would he show on Sunday morning?

As she stood to prepare for bed, her phone began to play its jingle.

“Hello?” she spoke into it.

“Funny thing... as I was driving home, I realized two things,” Garrett’s voice sounded through the phone.

“And those two things would be what, Dr. O’Bryan?” Garrett could tell Claire was smiling as she spoke. It made his own lips curve upward.

“You left your scarf/wrap thingy in my car. It smells wonderful, by the way. And you have no way to get hold of me should the need arise.”

Claire’s laughter sounded gaily through the phone. “I thought perhaps you were an angel, Dr. O’Bryan, but I think you’re a mind reader instead.”

“Perhaps,” he answered. “Most likely I was thinking how nice it would be to hear your voice and what an ego booster it would be if you called when I realized you didn’t have my number.”

“Well, now I do, and I thank you for thinking of calling. But I do have to ask… how do you know my wrap smells good?”

Garrett laughed. “I knew you’d catch me on that one the moment the words left my mouth. You never disappoint, do you Claire?”

“I certainly try not to…”

The conversation continued with the expected tones and volleying banter for a few more moments before they again said farewell. Each stated again how much they were looking forward to Sunday brunch.

“Good night, Garrett,” Claire’s voice caressed his ear.

“Yes it was,” he said. “See you Sunday.”

* * * * *

Claire was surprised to see it was nearing 10:00 the next morning when her eyes finally fluttered open to stay. After but a moment’s hesitation she threw back the covers and climbed from the comfort of the silky sheets. The carpet was soft beneath her bare feet. Her robe caressed her body with a velvety delight and Claire realized her senses were on edge. She was feeling life full out. No drugs, scant alcohol, no man to share her bed. This was reality.

Another reality hit her as she entered the bathroom and met her own reflection in the etched glass mirror. The deeply cut lines framed her like a beautiful portrait. As she stared at herself, she realized how easily she may not have awakened that morning. Had it not been for the chance crossing of paths with Garrett… he really was her Clarence.

“Oh God,” she whispered, “forgive me. Make me see that I am not worthless. No matter what he told me…I can be something to someone…” A sob replaced her words as tears began to fall. She didn’t bother to stop them. It had been a very long time since she’d cried.

Throughout her long, steamy shower the tears came. Though thought did not accompany them, Claire felt refreshed, purged when she emerged from the glass cage. She had the overwhelming desire to do something she hadn’t done in years…paint. With a smile she toweled off, dressed quickly and headed to the sunroom.

Claire opened the double doors that led into the spacious corner room. The light filled her eyes, flooding in from the floor to ceiling windows on two sides meeting in the far corner. Claire had always loved this room. It had been her favorite place as a child; a haven and a place where fond memories were made. This was the one room Claire had left untouched after her parent’s death when she’d moved into the unit full-time. The sunroom needed no redecorating to reflect her. It had always been her room.

She pulled open the carved wooden doors of the spacious storage closet and marveled at its contents just as she had as a little girl. She looked over the vast array of art supplies, so well stocked it rivaled the local shop. She wondered how many had gone bad after years of non-use.

With a deep breath she picked up the old market basket and began to fill it with whatever she believed she’d need. Brushes, jar, pallet, paint tubes… She tucked a canvas board under her arm and grabbed a folded tabletop easel. Satisfied she pushed the doors closed with her foot and went to the table by the windows.

What a view, she thought as she looked out over the city with a renewed love for the sights. She wondered if Garrett had met his destination and was now in the throws of a country brunch. She smiled as she turned back to setting up her table.

Two hours later, Claire was satisfied with her creation. It was different and perhaps not as good as some of her past work. After all, it had been years since she’d painted; not since her father had said it was a worthless pursuit and would take her nowhere. The cancer had hit right after that; another blow to her usefulness in life, according to dear old Daddy.

Claire fought against the pain. Her whole life she’d tried to please him. And then she’d tried to show him he was right. That had almost resulted in her own end. She looked at the painting; an angel slightly resembling Garrett reaching out to an unseen victim. Only her hands were visible. They were Claire’s hands, wearing her mother’s rings. The fingertips of the left hands were barely touching.

Claire was suddenly starving as well as being struck with an overwhelming desire to see an old friend. She quickly rinsed her brushes, returned her supplies to the closet, and busied herself with the task of looking presentable.

Old Joe…she thought about her friend. She wondered if he’d remember her. Five years was a long time.

A quick bite was eaten at the corner deli as she watched the crowd bustling by. She wondered if there was ever not a crowd in the historic neighborhood. She looked across the way to her building and counted up the rows of glass windows to where she’d sat not long before. She was glad to belong to the history; to be a living part.

With intentioned slowness, Claire strolled the three blocks to Old Joe’s art gallery. She knew it was still there. She’d seen it, even seen him a time or two from behind the windows of a cab or looking out of a would-be suitor’s car.

The chimes jingled as she opened the creaky old door, pressing hard as the sign directed.

“Be right with you in a couple,” the familiar voice called from somewhere in back. “Feel free to look around.”

“Take your time. I’m in no hurry,” Claire hollered back. Joe immediately came through the drape covered doorway.

“Little Claire Orion. I thought you’d left me for good, Angel.” He came toward her and she hugged him tightly. Claire blinked to hold back tears.

“Just took a wrong turn, Joe. Thanks for welcoming me back on course with open arms.” She patted his scruffy cheek as he released her. “It looks like you’re doing well, old friend.” She gestured to all the pieces of artwork and the vast number with sold tags.

Joe smiled and nodded. “Thanks to you,” he chuckled. “From a street vendor being told to pack up or else, to a shop owner. All because a perfect little girl made mighty demands upon her wealthy father.”

“This old shop was sitting idle because it wasn’t pretty enough for one of his own ventures and, quite frankly, he paid me off because I knew who the woman was who had vacated it.” She elbowed Old Joe. “It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know his only interest in an artist would be the pictures she could paint in his bed.”

“Now, now Missy. No speaking ill of the dead. I worried about you after. Tried to get in touch with you but they shooed me away up there at your big fancy building. Think they thought Old Joe was a gold digger when all I wanted was to check on my angel. No Ma’am - always wanted to make my way doing just exactly what I love. And thanks to you, I been doing just that for nearly thirteen years now.” He hugged her again.

“I’m sorry I never came back, Joe.”

“Ah. You’re here now. Let it go. Always look forward, Angel. No matter what you’ve been through or what life throws at you, the future has the potential to hold greatness. Don’t you ever forget that.” He led her to a small table in the back. “I don’t suppose you want milk and cookies anymore. Look at you. What a fine woman you made. Though there was no doubt in that coming about.”

Claire laughed. She felt like the same little girl inside, especially here with Joe. “How about tea? You always had tea when I had my milk?”

Joe nodded and began preparing their drinks. “You still paint, Claire? I still have requests for your work. I kept the last three, marked sold but still on display. People always want them…”

“I painted this morning for the first time in five years, Joe. Not a great job, but a beginning still.”

Joe nodded. Claire looked away.

“When they took away my ability to make babies, I thought I could still leave a legacy with my artwork. Then he told me it was all worthless, all of it. Then he died… and I wanted to die. But, instead I threw myself into becoming numb… until last night.” She looked back at her old friend. She’d always talked openly with Joe. He’d listened without judgment for all those years while she harbored the pain of her father’s rejection. He’d tried to be a positive male role model in her life. But a father’s love and approval, or lack thereof, was hard, if not impossible to replace.

“And last night?” Joe prodded gently.

Claire smiled. “I’d planned to end it all. Instead I went out for a final meal and met my own angel… I don’t know how it will all end, Joe. I don’t even know him. All I know is that I didn’t do what I’d planned… and I got up this morning and painted, then came to see you.” They stared at each other then laughed. Old Joe handed her the tea and hugged her again.

“I’m so glad you did.”

“Me too.” She nodded. “Me too.”

They talked for over two hours with little interruption before a group came in that Joe knew would require his full attention.

“You know, Claire, I’ve got a couple of kids I’d like you to meet. They come by every now and again…live just down the street. They remind me of another little girl I used to know,” he told her as she helped him clear their dishes.

Claire was quiet as she rinsed the glasses. Joe couldn’t tell what she was thinking but he knew he’d piqued her curiosity.

“There are others who, to those looking in, seem to have it all. But, they’re eaten up with self-doubt and hurt. Sometimes all they need is someone to help them learn to believe in themselves. You rich kids…nobody ever seems to think you have a care. And, even if they did know, nobody knows how to help.”

“What can I do, Joe?” she asked, her voice quiet, thoughtful.

Joe shrugged. “Look inside, Angel. What could have helped you make that turn before last night?”

Claire seemed distant. She was wondering whether it would have made a difference for someone within her own ranks to have told her that her dreams mattered, that what she wanted to pursue was all right. She’d had Joe. But her dad didn’t respect him. Would it have mattered?

“Think on it,” Joe whispered as he steered her toward the front of the shop and changed the subject. “Can I expect more paintings then, my dear? I’d like to take the sold sign off those three up there. The gentleman in the dark blue has been after them for a while now.”

Claire was hesitant. “I’ll try Joe. I may have lost my touch along with my heart. What say we let him have two? Keep the one with the little girl. I’d forgotten all about her, but for some reason, I don’t want to let her go.”

“Artist’s whimsy,” Joe chuckled and motioned for her to go before him. The group eyed them as he hugged her at the front door. “When do you see him again?” he whispered.

“Who?” Claire asked. She was watching the group admiring her painting, though the gentleman in blue was openly admiring her. She smiled at him which, of course, he returned.

“Flirt!” Joe teased. “Shall I introduce you? No, no. You’re to meet your angel. When?”

“How did you know?” she asked, the surprise causing her to step back.

‘It’s Old Joe, Claire.”

She hugged him tightly. “10:30 tomorrow. Sunday brunch.”

“Come see me soon, angel.”

Claire nodded and left. She saw Old Joe removing the sold tag from her paintings and knew he must have told the group she was the artist because they all turned to stare at her through the window. She kept walking. She’d return in a few days to give Old Joe her phone number. He’d surprise her with a request for new pieces at a rather healthy price. She wondered if Old Joe remembered their deal. Half to him and half to the childrens’ center. He’d remember. He was Old Joe.

* * * * *

Sunday morning found Claire unusually nervous as she watched the clock, waiting for the minute hand to tell her it was time to go down to the lobby. She’d actually done a little more painting after she’d left Old Joe the day before. Her artwork seemed different to her now. Something had changed. It lacked the lightness of her younger work, yet it held a depth she’d never before noticed. She thought of the painting of the little girl she’d told Old Joe to hold. It held qualities of both. Claire smiled to herself as she remembered what she’d told Old Joe when she took the piece to him.

“That’s my little girl, Joe,” she’d said.

“You with a blondie with all those dark curls of yours? Hmm. I don’t see it angel.”

“I’m not an angel, Joe. They’re only in Heaven. Besides, I can’t be one. Just ask my dad. He says I’ve got the devil in me and, like all women, I’m already learning to use it to get my own way.” Her scrunched face a pretty good indication that she was hurt and confused by her father’s statement.

“Ah little lady, you’re both right and wrong, but either way I can’t see an ounce of the devil in you. Seems to me you’re just acting like the adults around you.”

She nodded, her young mind trying to process what he’d said. “How is that right and wrong?”

“Well,” he began, sitting a plate of cookies and glass of milk on the table before her. He sat down across from his beautiful angel. “True angels are in heaven. But they’re also all around us.”

“Really?” Her wide eyes held both concern and uncertainty.

“Really. Read your Bible sometime, Claire. You’ll see I’m telling you true.” He nodded. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got one standing beside you right now.”

Claire’s eyes got big a she turned to look and, of course, saw nothing. Still she shuddered a bit and kept glancing to her side.

Joe chuckled as he continued. “Then there are those certain people that will cross your path along your walk of life. They’ll change your course for the good or bad. Those who change it for the better - you have to wonder if they weren’t sent by God. Those are the people I call angels. Perhaps an earthly angel of sorts… that’s what you are to me.” He reached across and touched her cheek. She smiled, kissed his weathered old hand splattered permanently, it seemed, with paint of varying colors.

“I think you’re one too, Joe. For me at least.”

“Nah.” He looked at her with such intense wisdom she couldn’t help but believe his words that followed. “You’ll have your angels, Claire. Old Joe isn’t one of them. But they’ll come. You watch. You’ll see.”

“I think you’re wrong… about you, I mean. But I’ll watch for the others too.” She smiled the smile of a contented child and went back to devouring her cookies. Joe smiled his own smile as he leaned back and took a long sip of his tea.

And there it was, years later, her without the ability to have children and him still holding the painting…the painting of her little girl. Claire thought for a moment, her face masked with disappointment. Maybe the girl in the painting was the only little girl she’d ever have.

Claire glanced over the other works she’d painted the day before, fixating momentarily on the one of Garrett as the angel. Joe had always called her his angel because she’d helped him get set up in his business location and even talked her dad into signing over the deed to him and paying the bills until the old artist was able to stand on his own two feet. Claire wondered if everyone in life had someone who’d been sent to save them.

She grabbed her wrap and headed down to wait for Garrett. “Please be real,” she whispered as she rode down in the elevator. As the doors opened she was greeted with his smiling face. She glanced at her watch.

“You’re not late,” he told her as he offered his arm which, of course, she took.

“I thought perhaps a stroll up the street to Hannigans?”

“Good choice.” She smiled up at him and squeezed his arm.

“What’s that for?”

She shrugged. Just checking to make sure you’re real.” They both laughed as they stepped out into the late morning air. “I’d half expected that I’d dreamed you up and you’d be a no-show this morning.”

“I think I’m the one with the dream.”

“Careful now. You know what they say about flattery, my dear…”

They continued with the playful flirtations as they walked; each content with the reality that held them.

“So how was country brunch with Mum?” she asked when they were seated and the waiter had moved on so they might peruse their menus.

”Mum…and the rest of the family. It was delicious. Can’t beat homemade country cooking. You’ll have to join me sometime.”

Claire nearly choked on her response. “That’s a bit presumptuous for two people who have just met, don’t you think?”

Garrett shrugged.

“Let me guess. You already told your mom about me?”

“Guilty.” Garrett winced. “Am I that transparent? Is that a bad thing? That I told her I mean?”

“Again presumptuous, but flattering. I have that effect on people,” she teased.

He smiled at her as the waiter returned. It was a smile that told her she’d had an effect on him, all kidding aside.

Claire liked the way he was looking at her. She liked that he’d told his mom about her and even the fact that he’d consider taking her home.

“Did you grow up in Morgan’s Falls?” she asked over casual eating conversation.

“No. We had a place just off of Shay and McCarthy.” Claire nodded indicating she knew where it was. “I’m not too far from there now. There’s a school nearby and they have that great park…”

“I know the one. It’s been there forever. My mom and I used to go back when swings and merry-go-rounds weren’t lawsuits waiting to happen. So, your parents…they just up and moved? How long ago?”

“A couple of years.”

Claire was puzzled by his sudden stiffness. It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss it further. She thought it odd and welcomed the waiter’s return to take their order. The conversation would undoubtedly take a different course when it resumed.

As the waiter left their table Claire’s attention was caught by a small child two tables down. Garrett watched her watching the little girl’s animated antics. She turned back to him with an amused smile.

“They undoubtedly have their hands full”, she laughed.

“That’s a two year old for you,” Garrett agreed. “So I suppose you see yourself with a whole passel of kids,” he teased.

She shook her head. “No worry that’s going to happen.” She looked back at the little girl still giving her parents a run for their money. “I wouldn’t have minded one or two…” Her voice was noticeably more quiet. She sighed then looked back and shrugged.

“So, Claire, tell me more about yourself.” The you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look on Claire’s face caused Garrett to burst into laughter that garnered looks from the occupants of the tables nearby. “Too psychologistish huh?” he said more quietly.

“Quite!” she teased. “You do have a way of pulling out that couch, don’t you?”

He nodded and shrugged his apology.

“What could I tell you? I’m quite shallow actually.” He began to protest, which she ignored and went on. “You already know I’m a poor, orphaned, rich girl and that I don’t do much of anything… Oh! I know something you’ll never guess… I paint.”

“Really? Paint as in …” he tried to coax her along. She knew what he was doing and decided to toy with him. “Walls and stuff,” she shrugged. “As in houses and such. A little subway graffiti every now and again.”

She was so serious, he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not, no matter how unrealistic it seemed. He worked his lower jaw as he tried to picture her with a roller in hand decked out in painter’s overalls.

“Oh what a priceless expression. Almost as good as the look on Mr. Ballard’s face when he thought his job was on the line,” she laughed then reached over, without thought, to pat his hand. He jumped at her unexpected touch. They stared at each other, then he surprised her by grasping her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips.

“The hand of an artist. You shall have to show me your work sometime. And I shall have to remind myself of that which I forgot that first night.”

“And what was that?” she asked enjoying the continued warmth of his gaze.

“That I must always be on guard around you!” He kissed her hand again then released it.

The warm feeling remained as she clasped her hands together beneath the table and the date lapsed into casual comfort.

It was nearing 1:00 when they left the restaurant and headed slowly back toward her building.

“Ah! You found a spot to park. Amazing. They’re not always easy to come by,” Claire commented as they paused beside his car a few spaces down from the circle drive that marked the entrance to her building. “You can always tell the doorman you’re here to visit me and they’ll give you a pass for the garage.”

Garrett smiled sheepishly. “So…does that statement serve as permission to call on you again?” he asked.

“Hmm. I suppose perhaps it does…as well as alleviating the awkward situation of you trying to figure out how to ask me.”

He shook his head. “You really are borderline wicked.”

She nodded in agreement and they both laughed.

“So? Are we making another date or is it just an open invite; the old I’ll call you - sometime approach?” she asked.

“You know, Claire, you should really try being less bashful. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind,” he teased.

“Oh, my dear, if I truly did speak my mind even your psychologist training wouldn’t keep you from being shocked.” Claire smiled her most wicked smile as she leaned toward him.

Garrett swallowed hard. She ran her hand down his arm and he shuddered.

“Women in your circles aren’t so forward?” She tried to sound demure. “Perhaps they just don’t know how to ask for what they want.” She reached up and kissed him.

“Oh Claire.” He gazed down at the most delightful woman he’d ever come across. “As much as I’d love to pursue your train of thought…”

“I know. It’s that darn boy scout blood of yours.” She looked away to hide the feeling of rejection. Men never told her no.

“I don’t want to sound preachy but doesn’t what you’re suggesting entail even a smidgen of commitment?” he blurted out.

“Why?” she asked. “It takes a lot less of the getting-to-know-you conversation than the dates we’ve had,” she told him.

“But…intimacy! It’s so…” he fought for a word.

“Intimate!” she added sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. “Come on Garrett. Tell me you’re not just a little bit interested.” She pressed against him, molding herself to him, surprised he didn’t immediately step away.

“I never said I wasn’t interested, Claire. I just prefer getting to know a woman starting here.” He pointed to her head. “And here.” He tapped the exposed flesh above her heart. “Then…” He kissed her; a passionate kiss that left her breathless.

She stared up at him for a moment, fighting for air in shallow gasps. “You confuse me,” she said as she pushed away from him.

“Seems pretty straight forward to me,” he laughed. “And, how about lunch Wednesday? Can you meet me at Louie’s at 1:00? I have the afternoon free.”

“Free for?” she asked with the same sarcastic tone.

“Free for not having to rush away if we end up having another 2 ½ hour meal. If our history holds true, we seem to need a couple of hours minimum to make it through a meal.”

She smiled. “Are you sure you’re not an angel in a handsome man’s clothing?” she asked as she kissed him again, a light peck on the cheek.

The desire in his gaze gave her the answer. Another smile and she walked away.

“See you on Wednesday,” she called over her shoulder knowing he’d remain where he was, watching her go, until she’d disappeared behind the heavy doors of her building. A quick glance back as Charlie opened the doors told her she was right.

* * * * *

Just inside the door of Louie’s Pub and Grille, Garrett waited, pleasure evident on his face as Claire crossed the threshold.

“Do you ever not look like a million bucks?” he asked as he kissed her cheek.

“Only when I look like a trillion,” she teased. As always happened, heads turned as they were escorted to their table.

“I presume you can’t tell me about your day, so I won’t even ask. How about whatever it is you do to fill your hours when you’re not at your office?” she asked as they waited for pre-meal salads.

“Well, I spend a lot of time reading and going over cases...”

“No. I mean in your off time. When you’re not working,” she interrupted as she squeezed lemon over her freshly delivered salad.

“No dressing?” He scrunched his face ignoring her question.

“Not as healthy,” she told him, “but feel free. I won’t lecture if you slather your rabbit food in mouth watering goodness. Gee. It does sound better that way. Okay, you’ve convinced me.” She reached for the bottle of dressing and poured it on. “What?”

He was shaking his head. “You know people who manage to be easily persuaded or talk themselves into things are good candidates for my services,” he teased.

“Very funny. I’m trying to be more receptive to new and different. I took a chance in meeting you again, didn’t I?” she teased. “And you never answered my question.”

“That is what I do. What? It can be enjoyable,” he protested when she rolled her eyes. “What should I be doing? Frequenting clubs and seducing beautiful women – a different one for every night of the week? Not sure that would be good for my practice.”

“Point given,” she conceded. “So you just read all your notes…”

“Not exactly. I look over them or think about sessions. I try to come at them from all different angles. I have to admit it’s quite a rush seeing the light of change or realization come across someone. That’s when I know I’ve truly helped them and they can continue on with normal life.”

“What is normal, Garrett? Isn’t that a hegemonic reality? One man’s normal may be total chaos and lunacy to another.”

“You’re right, of course, and that’s partly why I look for alternate ways of helping people find the bridge. I enjoy it.”

“So I suppose you always wanted to be a psychologist?” she asked.

“Actually, I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to be. I knew I liked helping people and getting inside to see if I could figure out what made them tick. My parents were great about helping me explore alternatives and understanding where my passions lay then grasping hold of those passions to fulfillment.”

Claire couldn’t help but feel his excitement. She also felt a twinge of envy that he had been so nurtured by his parents. She wondered what it would have been like had her dad embraced her love of art and helped her pursue it. Her mom, of course, loved everything she did and helped as much as she could - so long as it didn’t ruffle Daddy’s feathers.

“Of course, I also wanted to be a gymnast,” he told her.

“You’re joking!” She eyed him. Surely he couldn’t be serious. “Garrett, I think you lie as well as I do!”

He laughed. “Actually, I did take gymnastics as a young boy and loved it, but… well… my height kind of got in the way as I aged. I enjoyed horseback riding too. That old stables on the far side of the river front. Dad and I used to go there nearly every Saturday. He always loved horses.”

“Is that why they moved to the country” It seemed reasonable.

Garrett shook his head no. “That was his dream, but…”

“Dr. O’Bryan!” The excited female voice cut him off.

“Victoria. How nice to see you. You look well. How are things going?” He stood and clasped hands with the young woman around Claire’s age. She leaned in forcing him to kiss her cheek to avoid an obvious snub.

Claire rolled her eyes. He shrugged, though slight enough that only Claire detected it.

“I’m splendid, Dr. Dreadfully splendid. You know how it is for me.” She made a roller coaster wave motion with her hand indicating life’s ups and downs. “I probably shouldn’t have stopped seeing you,” she spoke in a more quiet, conspiratorial tone. She put her hand to her mouth as though she had an intimate secret then glanced for the first time at Claire.

“Hello, Tori.” Claire’s voice was cool.

After a momentary loss of composure the other woman regained herself. “Claire. Darling. What a surprise. I had no idea you knew Dr. O’Bryan.”

“A mutual shock,” Claire glanced at Garrett who was assessing the situation with an air of surprise himself. She bit her lip to keep from laughing so that she might maintain her position of toying with poor Tori. How transparent Garrett was to her. It was as if she could see perfectly the thoughts inside his head. He was wondering whether he should step in to diffuse any biting and clawing that might accompany the hissing and raised backs. He waited.

“So, I never realized you did lunch appointments, Dr. Is that something new? What a novel idea.” Tori tried to cover her disappointment.

“Actually, Tori, darling, I’m not a patient. I’m a date.”

Garrett closed his eyes as the words were spoken by his beautiful companion who had just been handed the perfect opening for a wounding bite.

Tori was stunned, her jaw slack with disdain as she looked from Claire to Garrett and back again. Claire smiled ever so very sweetly, then commenced to eating her salad again.

“You… are… a … a work of art, Claire Orion. You just have your finger in everybody’s pie,” Tori fumed. “And you!” She turned to Garrett. “I’d have thought you smart enough to know better.” She turned, nearly tripping in her too-high heels and marched from the restaurant.

Claire continued to eat her salad without so much as an ounce of remorse. “What?” She scrunched her shoulders. Garrett had not stopped staring at her since Tori left.

“You do realize you managed to undo months of therapy in a matter of minutes, don’t you?” he asked her.

“Oh fooey! Tori Johansen doesn’t need therapy. She’s nothing’ but a spoiled, rotten bi… bi, ba, be, buh, buh bazillionaire heiress,” she fished for a replacement word at his look of reproach. “What she really needs is turned over someone’s knee and delivered a good, hard swat!” She forcefully placed her fork down on her plate, pushed back slightly from the table and crossed her arms over her chest.

Garrett shook his head, trying hard not to laugh. “Opinions aren’t allowed in the world of psychology, you know.” He smiled and she softened up a bit. “I do have to ask because I’m dying of curiosity. You were the other woman in the boyfriend incident, weren’t you?”

“You’re not supposed to discuss cases. Patient/doctor privilege or something,” she dodged.

“You were!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I did her a favor with that one. He was no good,” she glanced away and continued under her breath, “in more ways than one.”

Garrett laughed. “You really are a work of art,” he told her.

“I like art. You?” she teased as their meal continued with a light air.

“You like movies?” Claire asked as they talked. “You mentioned the old stables at the park. What about the refurbished theater? They just happen to have a Wednesday afternoon matinee…” she fished.

“I forgot all about that old place. What do they show?” He seemed genuinely interested.

Claire smiled. She’d allowed him another easy bridging of events. They were both pleased to find they shared an interest in older movies and that two of the Grand Lady’s screens were reserved for exactly that.

“… but you’re not really dressed for a stroll around the park and a trip to the theater,” he commented on what seemed the obvious.

“Oh, come on! Here, watch this…” She pulled the clips from her hair and fluffed it about her face and shoulders. She readjusted the neckline of her shirt as he watched with gaping mouth, then stood to reposition her belt and pull her leggings to expose more flesh. “Now all I need is a piece of gum and everyone will think I’m one of the park hookers.”

“You really have no restraint, do you?” He stood and reached for his wallet. ”And we need to get out of here because everyone is staring.” He took her arm and they began to walk toward the cashier.

Claire laughed then whispered, “You do know what people do with hookers, don’t you? We could bypass the movies all together.”

He shook his head. “You look perfect for the park, Claire. Absolutely perfect.”

“Put your wallet away then before people think you’re getting ready to pay me off.”

“But… the meal…”

“Already taken care of,” she continued in their whispered tones.

“Thank you, Ms. Orion,” the cashier called as she steered Garrett toward the door.

They secured Garrett’s car and drove the short distance to the old theater to find it a good thing they’d driven and foregone the stroll. The movie schedule had changed. They had about fifteen minutes to spare.

“Garrett?” Claire whispered after they’d settled into their seats.

“Hmm?” He leaned closer to hear her.

“How much time did you spend mulling over Tori’s file?” she asked.

Garrett couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “None. In fact, I quickly came to the same conclusion you did.”

“What was that?” she giggled knowingly but wanted to hear him say it anyway.

“That she was a spoiled little rich girl that needed a good old fashioned spanking. Not too unlike another young lady I know that needs to quit paying for everything. It’s getting a bit embarrassing.” He raised his brows as he looked down his nose at her.

“Oh! The Dr. doesn’t like being a kept man?” she teased.

“Careful now. Kept implies commitment which we both know you’re highly allergic to.”

She laughed again and wound her arm through his as the lights dimmed. She laid her head against his shoulder with the beginning of the movie and he kissed the top of her curly haired head. She’d left it free though she’d repositioned the rest of her attire. Park prostitute indeed, Garrett thought. Claire Orion was lady through and through no matter whatever else she tried to be.

Thus began their Sunday brunches and Wednesday lunches with an occasional matinee and usually at least one dinner a week thrown in. It was an easy, enjoyable relationship. Garrett was always amazed with her wit and ability to challenge him in thought and conversation. And in such a lovely package to boot!

A good three months flew by before he approached the subject of her making the Saturday trip with him to his parents. He was met with immediate rejection and let it die quickly. In those few months he’d already begun to think futuristically, though he knew her feelings well enough not to push it. For some reason, she openly admitted that she was unfit to play the part of a proper wife. Garrett felt sure he could change her view, in time. Until then, he’d proceed carefully and simply enjoy being with her.

* * * * *

“I’m not seeing anyone else, Garrett,” she told him one day, rather out of the blue.

“Me either,” he teased, though his heart was overjoyed. He was glad she’d chosen to share that bit of information with him. She could tell, though she really couldn’t understand it. Commitment still remained an allusive part of her vocabulary…at least, she thought it did. She wondered what made Garrett stick around, considering he really seemed as if he’d be the settling down type. Then again, his weekly trips to the country…he obviously hadn’t managed to untie the bands of childhood. Maybe the relationship fit him as well as it did her. There was only one thing lacking as far as Claire was concerned. She smiled, confident that too would change in time.

“Will you come up?” she whispered as he kissed her lips, cheek, neck. Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened again. She was sure he’d say yes tonight. His kisses and caresses had a sense of urgency she hadn’t felt before. She was surprised when he pulled away and shook his head.

“I can’t, Claire.” There was a hint of sadness in his reservation.

“I don‘t understand.” Her eyes pleaded. “Garrett… Please. I‘m not asking for forever… just one night. You know I don’t want you to make me any promises. I don’t want anything beyond what we have. I just want you to hold me. Now, only now. Tonight.” Tears filled her eyes. “Why don’t you want me?”

“That’s just it, baby.” He touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. “I do want you. But one night isn’t enough. I need you to want this, to want me enough to say we’ll try to make it last.”

Her lips quivered as she held them tightly together. “Garrett, I can’t have children. I’ll never make a suitable wife. I can’t be what I’m not. Don’t ask me for more than I can give.”

“Oh, Claire. Who ever told you such a foolish thing?” Garrett wanted to laugh with glee but held it in check because he knew she wouldn’t understand. So that’s why she was holding out on him, why she refused to let their relationship advance beyond casual dating and her continued request for what he knew would spell the end because she wouldn’t let it progress afterwards.

“It’s why my dad took his first mistress. After my mom had me… there were complications. He blamed me for her inability to give him a son and, in his eyes, she was no longer whole. And then it happened to me… I ruined his chances for his bloodline to continue through grandchildren.” She laughed bitterly. “Irony of ironies, he never fathered a child with any of those women either. None of us measured up to his expectations.” She was crying full out now. Garrett’s heart hurt for her. He understood why his wanting her was so important. He reached for her but she pulled away.

He didn’t pursue her. Instead he told her quickly, “I don’t need another child, Claire. What I need and want is you and for you to need and want me in return. Come to my parent’s farm with me tomorrow, Claire. Please?”

She was already shaking her head. I’m not the type you take home to meet Mum. Look at me, Garrett. I dress like a high dollar hooker, carouse as I please, live for the moment… entice innocent men into my bed.” She looked at him. “I’m not good like you, Garrett.”

“You’re wrong, Claire. Come with me.”

“No. I have to go. Goodbye, Garrett.” She stepped from the car before he could protest. He didn’t try to stop her even though his very being screamed for him to do so. He knew she was not in a state of reasoning. She needed time. He’d return in the morning and insist, even if it meant dragging her kicking and screaming from her fancy home. He drove off knowing it would be a long night.

* * * * *

Claire pushed past Charlie and headed as quickly as possible to the back hallway, just as she had when she was a little girl and life had upset her. She didn’t care about the lobby occupants who watched with gaping mouths and looks of disapproval as a grown woman in heels and bared shoulders ran past in a whirl, knocking those who barred her path and ignoring others who tried to speak to her. All she cared about was escape, the escape she should have taken months ago.

“Fool. Idiot. You’ve never been able to accomplish what you’ve set out to do. You’ll never amount to anything if that’s the road you choose to follow,” she chided herself.

Those last words were her dad’s. He’d said that to her when she told him she wanted to pursue art, not college. He’d said she needed a degree. She could paint and teach or… He went nuts. Made her feel worthless; showed her again what a disappointment she’d been to him.

Why couldn’t he just love her? And why couldn’t Garrett just want her, stay with her sometimes, and nothing more. That way when he found someone who could give him what she couldn’t, there’d be no strings attached. He could simply walk away.

She hadn’t been completely truthful with Garrett. There had been another baby once. Her father had a son. It was several years after the artist. Claire was almost sixteen. That other woman, the boy’s mother, had wanted Claire’s dad to leave his family and be with them. He’d told her no. He couldn’t. But he wanted her to give up the boy and let Claire’s mom raise him. Can you imagine? Requesting that your son with another woman be raised by your wife? Not only that, expecting a woman to walk away from her own child? What kind of woman could do either of those things? Her father was an obsessed idiot.

The mistress had refused and left with the baby. Her father had been devastated…for a while, though slowly he recovered…with her mother’s help. That was the one thing Claire had never understood. The whole event had brought her parents closer. She’d held out hope it would tear them apart and then it would just be her and her mom. But somehow his refusing to leave had made Claire’s mom overlook his faults and love him even more. He’d chosen her and, to her, it meant he truly did love her.

Claire supposed that made sense. Still, she hated him for how he made her feel.

Claire rode up the staff elevator, thankful to be alone. A perk of having been around this old building as a child, she knew the inner workings. If only she could figure out her own self as easily.

No figuring out left to do. There was too much turmoil, too much pain. It was time to go. She wondered briefly if perhaps she’d never really been meant to be.

She was calm by the time she reached her floor, her decision having been made. Undoubtedly she looked a mess and was again thankful for a vacant hall. There was only one other unit on this floor, so she wasn’t surprised. Still, she was thankful. A chance encounter might deter her as it had when she’d stumbled across Garrett.

Garrett! She snorted as she clicked on the light and several of her paintings were illuminated, including the one of him as her angel. She’d sat her favorites out in hopes of showing him should he have joined her that evening. There was the angel one, a farm scene with a happy family in the corner, a couple, mother and child, and the little girl she’d taken back from Old Joe.

Joe! Her heart twinged. He’d miss her. She gathered the paintings into a pile in the sunroom closet and hastily scrawled a note that directed her finder to take them to Joe’s shop. She wondered if he’d sell them or keep them. No matter. At least he’d appreciate them. He was the only one who’d ever appreciated her.

Claire looked out over the city, taking in the lighted night sky. False illumination, she thought. What a hollow place; beautiful on the outside, broken on the inside. Just like her. The whole world was the same.

She went into the living room and poured herself a large glass of wine, kicked off her shoes right there at the bar and left them. Her dad would have been livid. All things in their place.

She trod silently to the bedroom in her stocking feet. How anticlimactic, she thought as she opened the night stand drawer and pulled out the bottles. She studied their contents as she reclined against the stack of silk pillows piled neatly at the headboard. At least they were pretty little pills, she thought, which caused her to begin to laugh hysterically, ending in a sob. God, she was tired. She reached for the throw at the end of the bed and pulled it up over her and closed her eyes. So, so very tired.

* * * * *

Garrett tried to call three times throughout the night, to no avail. She must have turned off her phone. By 9:30 the next morning he’d gone way beyond worry. He wondered as he drove if they’d even let him in the building.

His heart raced. He held his breath as he pulled into the circle drive; exhaled deeply in relief when he saw the man Claire called Charlie. He’d been there the night before. Seen how upset she was. Perhaps he’d listed to reason.

“No sir. Been on duty since 6:00. No way she could have slipped past. She’s up there, sir. Just not taking your calls.” The doorman raised questioning eyebrows to Garrett.

Garrett shook his head. The old man was guarded, protective. How could he convey the urgency without letting him know his fears? A quick mental rundown told him he couldn’t.

“Look,” he told him, “Claire was very upset last night. I’m worried she may have… she was pretty shaken and talking irrationally. I thought a good night’s rest was in store for her but since I can’t get a hold of her… I’m a psychologist. I should have known better… can you let me in to check on her? We’ll believe the best, but ease our minds,” he implored the gentleman.

“If you’re wrong… she could have me fired on the spot.” Charlie’s eyes showed concern as he wrestled with his job and with Claire’s well being. She had been pretty emotional the night before. She’d also been acting differently as of late, but not in a bad way; more like the old Claire instead of the over zealous party girl, bringing home strange men at all hours. Charlie felt confused. He studied the face of the man before him; a face filled with concern, compassion. Even if he was wrong, especially if he was wrong, that was exactly the face Claire needed, whether she realized it or not.

“Come on,” he told Garrett. “Follow me.”

“Thank you,” Garrett said quietly as he obeyed.

Charlie nodded, “Jack! I’ll be right back. Cover for me, will you?” he hollered to a younger man working in the lobby.

The two men were silent as they rode up the elevator. Any other time Charlie would have been filled with small talk and Garrett would have welcomed the insight into the finer details of the grand building, but not then.

Charlie fumbled with the key when Claire didn’t answer their knocking. His face was washed with concern as the lock finally gave way and Garrett pushed past him. He pointed to the door that let to the bedroom when Garrett turned back and scrunched his shoulder indicating he was lost.

Garrett stopped at the door and closed his eyes as his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. He opened them and slowly surveyed the scene before him; the half-empty wine glass, beautiful Claire, still and lifeless, laid out on the bed with the pill bottles beside her. His breath began to come in quick, shallow gulps. He’d known, yet he’d refused to believe…

“Oh Claire,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.

The pain bottled inside for the past 2 ½ years surged through him. A loud guttural “No!” burst forth; a deep sound that startled Charlie who stared at the scene over Garrett’s left shoulder. The doorman stepped back, missing a startled Claire scurrying up and pressing against the pillows in complete fear.

“Garrett?!” she said as she took in her surroundings and gained her bearings. Her eyes darted wildly about; confusion reigned. She looked from a frozen Garrett to a fearful Charlie who had returned to the doorway at the sound of her voice.

Claire stiffened, her chin set as her eyes register absolute anger. “Why are you here? Either of you?”

Charlie began to stammer an apology. “I’m sorry miss. You were just so upset last night. And when he suggested… I wanted to make sure you were all right. He couldn’t reach you and…”

“Save it!” Claire said, her voice edged in angry contempt as she shook her head.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Garrett intervened.

“I told you I could lose my job over this, man!” Charlie whispered to Garrett.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Go ahead and go. Don’t concern yourself. You did the right thing. Thank you.” Garrett’s eyes never left Claire. She returned the stare with unguarded hatred.

“The right thing.” Charlie heard her mock Garrett with his own words. “What exactly is the right thing Mr. O’Bryan? Is it right that you’ve disrupted my private affair? Tell me what right you have to be here? Do your credentials give you that right?”

“The fact that I care about you gives me that right,” he returned calmly.

“Oh now you care, huh? Is that why you pushed me away last night?” Her words were a mere hiss.

“Oh, Claire! You have got to be kidding. I’m not the one that keeps pushing you away!” His emotional roller coaster took a turn to anger as he advanced toward the bed. Claire tensed as if to scurry off the other side then chose to stand her ground. “You’ve done everything you can to keep this relationship from going forward. I don’t know exactly what your game is, but I’m tired of it. Now get out of that bed and get changed,” he commanded.

Claire stared at him with open-mouthed disbelief. “You can’t tell me what to do…”

“Then you’ll go as you are.” He returned her angry glare without so much as a flinch.

“And just exactly where am I going?” Besides crazy, she wanted to add. Perhaps he was taking her to the Looney bin. He had presumed she was a threat to herself. She looked at the two bottles of pills he had picked up as he came to the edge of the bed. She supposed it was pretty obvious he’d have been right.

“To my parents farm.” His tone and his face had both softened as he too looked at the bottles.

Claire gave a sarcastic laugh as she reached for the bottles. “Hey, those are mine,” she said as he took as step back.

“Get ready, Claire,” he commanded again.

“I’m not going to meet your parents on some lovely little country estate called a stinking farm, so they can stare at me with that look of guarded disdain that always comes when they know their near-perfect child is on the path to making the biggest mistake of his life.”

Her tone was so bitter. Garrett chose to ignore it. “Get changed,” he said again, quietly yet sternly, as he leaned toward her.

Claire glared at him for a moment with out moving. “Oh fine! Whatever it takes to make you feel good, Mr. Psychology Man. But I’ll tell you right now, this is a waste of time.”

“I know. I know. Meeting parents is one step closer to commitment and you can’t commit because you have some crazy notion that you have to be able to give a man a son to count for anything…which you can’t do,” he placated as she jerked articles of clothing from their resting places in her closet and drawers, “and you can’t do that because…?”

“Stupid doctors.” She went into the adjoining bathroom and he heard the shower water turn on. “A false positive report and an over zealous physician, and my life was forever changed within a matter of days,” she hollered out.

“You didn’t get a second opinion?” he asked from his position just outside the cracked door.

She didn’t answer for a moment. “I was nineteen years old, Garrett. I was scared and I was stupid. My parents were away. On a trip to Africa, of all places, and I couldn’t get a hold of them. I didn’t want to die! I was afraid to wait.”

He looked down at the two pill bottles he still held. How ironic. The very thing she hadn’t wanted had led her down a path that was now driving her to live a life that wanted her to take her own. He put the bottles in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Well it’s time you quit walking in self pity and realized there are people out there that could not only love you as you are but need you as much as you need them.”

He heard her response of exasperation and then muttering under her breath as the water ceased it’s running. He didn’t press any further as he waited. The moments ticked slowly by; him listening to the sounds of her doing all that women do to get ready. He’d missed having those sounds in his life.

The door opened fully not giving him time to delve deeper into his own thoughts. He looked her over as she emerged. He was always, always taken with her beauty.

“Glad you approve. Sorry I’ve got nothing country,” she said sarcastically.

Garrett looked down at his own clothes. “And I look like a bumpkin?” he muttered as he watched her slip into calf-height high-heeled boots. “You’re the one wearing boots!”

“Very funny!” she retorted. “You’re quite the comedian.” There was no humor in her voice. Garrett sighed and dropped his head as he followed her from the room to the front door. This was going to be a long drive.

* * * * *

An hour and forty minutes later they pulled to a stop outside his parent’s home. It had been a silent trip. Garrett wondered momentarily if she would even get out of the car, though his mother stepping out onto the porch garnered both of their attention. He glanced at Claire. Her stony expression had changed to fear and humility. Garrett wanted to assure her, but he knew his words would be unwelcome. Instead he got out of the car and met his mom as she came forward.

“Hi Mom.” He kissed her cheek and she patted his.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered as she walked on toward the car. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Garrett didn’t look back, turning only after he was on the porch.

Claire took a deep breath and opened the car door as Garrett’s mom approached. She stepped out feeling completely awkward and uncomfortable in her tight fitting, low cut, designer dress, sweater, leggings, and boots. She pulled the flimsy sweater tighter about her, trying to somehow hide what lay beneath. Perhaps his mother wouldn’t see past her outer exterior, Claire thought. Though women notoriously knew what was inside.

Margarette O’Bryan smiled a most welcoming smile at the lovely creature that stepped from her son’s car. She was every bit as beautiful as Garrett had said. Margarette took in the high-brow glamour of her clothing. Everything about her spoke of a woman of society and wealth. She looked like she might have stepped from the pages of a high dollar fashion magazine. Margarette knew it was a façade, though deep inside she was sure there was a woman every bit as beautiful that simply needed help in believing herself worthy.

“You must be Claire.” She extended a hand to the younger woman. “Garrett sent me a text that said he’d invited you. We’re so very glad you decided to come.” She kept Claire’s hand in hers as she began the journey back to the house.

Claire eyed Garrett as he held open the door. He smiled and shrugged. She was wondering how much about her he’d shared. God, his mother seemed so kind. Claire saw no signs of disapproval. Please, please she thought glancing up, please let her like me.

“James?” Margarette called as they entered the house. Claire breathed in and held it for a moment, foretelling her nervousness. Ah yes, the father test. Margarette patted her hand reassuringly as an older version of Garrett entered the room carrying a rather squirmy little girl. He tickled her and smiled as he sat her down.

“Daddy!” she shrieked in excitement as she ran to Garrett.

He scooped her up in his arms and smothered her with kisses as she giggled.

“How’s my girl?” he asked her as he glanced cautiously at Claire.

“Happy,” she told him as she grasped his face in her tiny hands and rubbed noses with him. She then turned her cherubic face to Claire, “Hi!”

“Hi,” Claire returned quietly. Garrett’s mother released her hand and nudged her gently in the direction of father and child. Margarette had carefully watched Claire’s reaction as the scene had unfolded. She knew the younger woman was shocked. She’d told Garrett he needed to tell her about Chloe but he’d insisted she just needed to see. Too many women were scared off from a man with another woman’s child. Claire, on the other hand, needed that child as much as she needed the man, if only she’d let herself realize that.

Claire glanced at Garrett as she approached. “Daddy?” she whispered.

He nodded. “She’s all mine,” he said. “Chloe, this is my friend, Claire,” he told the little girl. “I’ve been wanting her to meet you.”

Chloe held out her hands for Claire to take her, which Claire did, of course.

“Chloe.” She tried the child’s name. Chloe nodded and smiled as Claire ran a hand across her silky, blonde hair. Chloe patted Claire’s cheeks, studied her mass of dark curls then became fixated on the blue pendant around Claire’s neck.

“Pretty… like you,” Chloe told her.

“It matches your eyes,” Claire told her. It was obvious she was completely absorbed by the tiny figure in her arms. Garrett looked at his mother. She inclined her head toward the living room.

“Let’s go this way,” he whispered to Claire as he took her shoulders in his hands and directed her to the other room. She didn’t resist. Chloe continued to play with her necklace.

“Here,” Chloe said pointing to the big rug in front of the fireplace.

“Chloe,” Garrett jumped in, “Claire may not feel comfortable on the floor…”

“It’s okay,” Claire protested as she sat the little girl down and lowered herself to the floor beside her. Delighted, Chloe reached for her toy basket and began to share her favorites with Claire. Garrett went to sit in one of the two big chairs across the end table from his dad. James tried to ease his tension with general talk. Margarette went off to start their lunch. Garrett could hear her humming from the kitchen. He tried to concentrate on the conversation with his dad though his eyes and attention wandered constantly back to the two in front of the fireplace.

As they played, Claire occasionally touched the tiny girl’s golden hair or ran a hand down her petite arm. Her eyes were warm. She was savoring every moment.

Chloe returned time and again to the pendant around Claire’s neck.

“You like that, don’t you?” a crossed-legged Claire asked the little girl who sat on her lap once again fingering the bauble.

Chloe nodded, looked at it and then into Claire’s eyes. “Your eyes. Same too.”

“Sometimes,” Claire agreed. “Though not as pretty as yours.” She tickled Chloe as she spoke and they both laughed. Chloe rubbed noses with her, making Claire teary eyed. Claire pulled her into a tight hug.

“Lunch is ready,” Margarette announce from the doorway. Claire felt suddenly embarrassed. She’d been so completely mesmerized by the child she’d nearly forgotten the others. She glanced at Garrett as he came toward them and held out his hand to help her up.

“Chloe girl, I’ll race you to the sink,” James told his granddaughter. “Let’s get washed up.” Chloe bounced up quickly and ran from the room with James in her wake.

Claire stood before Garrett fighting back unwanted, unexplained tears. They stared at one another until he pulled her to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered against his chest as he stroked her hair.

“I wanted you to see her first.” He shrugged. “I guess I was afraid…” He tipped her chin up to him. “I thought if you met her… maybe you’d realize we need you.” He kissed her. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Claire. With you, as is. I think we compliment each other pretty well with what we have to offer. I think it’s a pretty good fit.” He paused for a moment. “Will you let us in?” He placed his hand over her heart. “Both of us?”

“I wanted to let you in for a long time now. But I was so scared. You really want me… as is?”

He nodded and smiled as his hand felt the pendant.

“Pretty,” he told her. “Like you.” They both laughed. He kissed her again as she hugged him tightly. “We’d better get in to lunch before they send out a search party in the form of a 2 ½ year old.”

They walked from the room arm in arm causing both Garrett’s parents to beam in approval as they entered the kitchen.

“Sit here, Claire,” Chloe pointed to the chair next to her. “Okay Daddy?”

“Of course.” He pulled out the chair for Claire, then went to sit on the other side of the table, across from his two girls.

Chloe seemed concerned as Garrett and Claire began to prepare to leave.

“You come back?” she asked as she clung to Claire.

“Oh yes, Chloe. I’ll be back, and soon, I hope.” She wanted to tell Chloe she hoped it wouldn’t be long before Garrett took her and Chloe to live with him as a family, but she still wasn’t certain of his exact intentions, even after all he’d tried to convey before the fireplace in his parents’ living room.

“You sure?” Chloe questioned.

“Cross my heart.” It was an assurance she’d received often from her own mother. Her finger caught on the pendant chain as she made the criss-cross on her chest. She sat down on the chair nearby with Chloe on her lap and removed the necklace. As she placed it around Chloe’s neck she asked her, “Will you watch this for me until I come back?”

Chloe nodded as she fingered the bauble. “Gram! Look!” She held it up for Margarette to see.

“Come show me, baby.” Margarette held out her hands and Chloe scurried off Claire’s lap giving Claire the opportunity to finish getting ready to leave.

“Bye, Daddy.” Chloe kissed her dad as he hugged his mother and his child. “Call me.”

“Every day. Just like always.”

“Claire, thank you for coming. Our door is always open,” James told her as he helped her into the little sweater.

“Thank you. It was my pleasure. I’ll look forward to returning.” Claire looked from James to Margarette with gratitude. She blew a kiss to Chloe as Garrett ushered her out the door.

The couple rode in silence for about fifteen minutes before Garrett ventured a comment. “This isn’t going to be like it was on the way up, is it? That was a really long trip.”

Claire had been staring out her widow. She turned to look at him. “How can you bear to leave her?”

Garrett thought for a moment, trying to find the words to explain what he felt in his heart. “I love her enough to know she needs more than I alone can give her. What kind of life would that be for her with me in the city? Spending the better part of her days with a sitter of some sort so I could satisfy my desire for a few short hours with her every evening? I want her with me, Claire… but not without the right woman to share our lives. Did you hear what I said? Not just any woman - the right woman.”

“You’re sure? You’re really sure, Garrett?” She was suddenly fearful. Her inability was still there. It hadn’t gone away. Neither had the pain embedded by the years of rejection by her father.

He reached for her hand. “I’m satisfied with what I have, Claire. I don’t need a son to make me whole. I want a good life for Chloe. I’d like to see you as a contented part of our lives. Besides,” he gently squeezed her hand a couple of times, “I could attempt to fill a house full of children and there’d be no guarantee I’d ever have a son anyway. I’m happy with what I’ve been given. I’d rather spend my time helping others and knowing that gift is what makes me live on. Not my name or my blood line. People that can’t see beyond their own selfish desires are not happy people, Claire. I don’t want to live my life lamenting with what I can’t do or don’t have. I want to enjoy what I do and spread that joy to others who need it.”

Claire was silent again for a few moments. “You really are an earthly angel.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers. “So you’ll let me replace your mother’s rings with a set of your own? No more doubts?”

“No more doubts…”

“But?” he asked. He could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“Where’s Chloe’s mom, Garrett?”

He shook his head. Claire wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t know or he wasn’t going to answer her. Then he began to talk.

“Elaine and I had been married for five years when she got pregnant with Chloe. She’d finished her education, my practice was just starting to really take off… She loved the society life of the city having grown up a mid-western country girl. Life seemed golden. The timing perfect, so I thought. She was sick a lot during the pregnancy and, of course, the constant barrage of parties and activities practically ceased all together. I knew she was depressed but I also knew it would pass. I tried to cheer her up with talk of how grand it would be once the baby came.” He laughed, a low hollow sound, and shook his head. “One day she yelled at me to shut up about the stupid baby, telling me how the baby was ruining her life and would continue to do so. All her hopes and dreams were over. She’d be saddled with taking care of my brat for the rest of her life.”

“Oh Garrett…how…hadn’t you discussed children? Wasn’t Chloe planned?”

“Yes, she’d talked the talk of wanting a house full of children. And maybe if she’d gotten her fill of social climbing before she’d gotten pregnant it would have been different. Chloe wasn’t planned. But five years…the timing seemed right.” He shrugged.

“Where’s Elaine now? Doesn’t she ever want to see Chloe?” Claire dared to ask.

Garrett was again quiet for a few moments before he began. “When Chloe was three weeks old she asked me to take the baby to my parents’ for the weekend. She said she was tired and needed the rest. It seemed reasonable. My parents were elated to have us and Chloe responded amazingly under my mother’s care. It was then that I realized how lifeless she’d been. I didn’t know much about newborns. I’d figured her lack of interaction was normal until I saw her with my mom. I was suddenly concerned about Elaine. I knew I’d buried my head and all was not well.” He rubbed his face as he looked out the window. “I tried to put down my fears. I fought them all through the night. Then, when I couldn’t reach her by phone the next morning, I told my mom I needed to go.”

He breathed deeply, trying to retain control over his emotions. The tension on his face told Claire this memory was one he’d worked hard to suppress. “Our unit was still quiet when I entered and I full well expected to find it empty with a Dear John note propped against my pillow just like you see in the movies.”

“But you didn’t?” Claire asked when he didn’t go on.

He shook his head. Tears welled in his eyes. “Claire, when I walked into your apartment this morning and saw you laying on your bed with the wine glass on the night stand and the pill bottles on the bed… I felt as if I’d walked back in time.”

“Oh my dear God,” Claire whispered feeling as if she’d been punched in the heart and needed the strength of a higher being.

“Only the scene was not pristine and pretty. She looked a mess, her hair was snarled, her face sunken. She’d put on ratty old pajamas, thrown up all over the bed, and died. There was no happy ending for her and I blamed myself. I should have known.”

Quiet tears ran freely down Claire’s cheeks. ”I’m sorry, Garrett. I’m so sorry that happened to you and I’m sorry it all came back to you this morning.” He nodded, not expecting her to continue, though she did. “But I’m not sorry you found me and that you firmly stood up and made me go with you to your parents’. You’ve saved my life twice, Garrett. Did you know that?”

He looked at her with great surprise.

“The night I took your table at the restaurant… that was to be my last meal. I’d planned to indulge then go home and end it all, because I hated who I’d become. But you made me give my word that we’d share Sunday brunch.”

“I remember. I asked if you were truly a woman of your word. I’d been afraid to let you go that night…” Realization lit his face. “Claire, when I talked to Chloe that evening before leaving for my date she said the strangest thing. She told me to say hi to her mommy for her. I laughed and brushed it off as silly kid talk. Boy! I really need to quit brushing things off.”

Quiet laughter echoed from them both as each retreated into reflective thought.

“What is this place?” Claire asked as they again passed by a grand gated entrance with a big for sale sign on it. It had caught her attention on the way up as well though her anger had made her refuse to ask.

“It’s an old boarding stable. It needs some work but it’s a great place with solid bones. My dad had dreams of buying it and running it after retirement.”

“Why didn’t he?” Claire wondered aloud.

“He gave up his dream for a new one. They knew I’d need help with Chloe, so he took early retirement and put their investment into the farm and living so they could take care of her. He’s told me time and again she’s the joy of their old age and the sacrifice has been well worth it.”

“What will they do once you take her? Do you think he’ll buy it then?” she pressed.

Garrett shook his head. “I don’t think they have the means now. Early retirement took its toll. Then the purchase of the farm. He’s figured everything out to where they’ll live okay, though not extravagantly. Perhaps a trip or two. But certainly no horse ranches.”

“Hmmm,” was all she answered as they lapsed into easy silence, each again with inner thoughts.

“Garrett? Are you tied to having your practice in the city? I mean, I assume you want to continue working in some capacity, although you do realize you wouldn’t have to.”

He didn’t know what she was saying, but it was obvious the wheels were turning in her pretty head. “What are you saying, Claire? I’m not sure I’m following at all… ”

She laughed. Her eyes were filled with excitement and anticipation.

“Something tells me you’re hatching a plan. I’m also pretty sure life with you is going to keep me on my toes.” They both laughed as she ran her idea by him. His eyes were shining as brightly as hers when she finished.

* * * * *

“What time is it?” Claire asked as they neared her building.

Garrett looked at his watch, both seemed oblivious to the clock in the car dash. “A little before 5:00. Why?”

“Keep going. I want you to meet someone. The old artist I was telling you about.”

Garrett looked skeptical.

Please, Claire thought, let me run with my dream. Please don’t begin to tell me all the reasons it can’t be done. Don’t dash my hopes. Please…

Garrett shrugged. “You sure he won’t mind? Does he close at 5:00?”

“For us he’ll be open, and it’s only a couple blocks down.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“What’s that for?” he chuckled.

“For not saying no. For letting me dream.”

“It’s a nice dream, Claire. I like the idea of dreaming it with you.”

She beamed, elated as she’d never been in her life. Acceptance was a wonderful feeling.

“Garrett! Stop. Pull in there.” She pointed to an empty parking space. They almost missed it.

“Claire.” He grabbed her arm before she could bound out of the car. “We walk forward as a team, okay? To make our lives work together we have to do that. It doesn’t mean we’ll always agree, but we have to be willing to see the other’s side in all matters. Don’t ever be afraid to bring them up. I need you to remember, you have to believe your ideas and dreams are just as important as mine. That may mean altering course from time to time. You’ve got a lot of good inside there.” He pointed to her head and heart. “Let me help you out, and you do the same for me.”

She nodded then kissed him. “I love you, Garrett.” It was the first time she could ever remember saying these words to a man. She was glad he was that man.

Garrett’s attention was caught by the sign turning on the shop door. “Looks like someone’s closing up shop.”

Claire turned to see Old Joe walking away from the door. “Oh!” She pushed out of the car and hustled to the door and began to knock. “Joe! It’s Claire,” Garrett heard her call. Seconds later the door opened and the pudgy old man embraced the slender young woman. Claire looked back and motioned for Garrett to follow.

“So you have brought your angel to meet me?” he ventured.

“Of course, Joe. But what makes you think he’s the angel?”

“Two angels go together.” He pointed back and forth between the two of them. “And the old man from your building brought the paintings. They all sold today! Quickly too. Though I pulled two thinking he must have grabbed them by mistake. Let me get them.” He shuffled off to bring back the paintings. He laid them on the table before the couple, first the one of Garrett with his angel wings. Garrett laughed in delight.

“I look pretty good in all white,” he joked. “Amazing work, Claire. Subject aside. I’m impressed. And the other?” he asked Joe. He was eager to see more.

Claire gasped as he laid the painting of the little girl before them. Garrett touched the child’s features then looked at Claire who looked at the painting with tears in her eyes.

“Many years ago, I told Old Joe that was a portrait of my little girl. I didn’t realize until now how much she looks like Chloe,” Claire whispered. “My heart knew…” She looked up at Joe and he nodded, though he had no idea who Chloe was. He simply agreed that there are things the heart knows long before we do.

They filled him in on their lives; their plans to marry, Chloe, the dream…Joe was honored to have been chosen to be a part. The couple left with the assurance they’d return soon with details.

“Thanks for being there for her,” Garrett whispered to Joe as they clasped arms upon their departure.

“It was mutual. We needed each other. She was my earthly angel. She saved me from uncertainty. I merely pushed her to perfect her talent and let her know somebody cared.”

* * * * *

Three months later Claire and Garrett pulled up in front of Garrett’s parent’s home. Margarette laughed as an overly excited Claire bound from the car. Her attempt at country attire still looked like high-dollar fashion with her tight jeans tucked inside her red western boots, upscale black and red plaid shirt tied at the waist with a red lace camisole peaking from the neckline.

“Nice piggy tails,” she teased her almost daughter-in-law as they embraced

“Thanks,” Claire laughed. “Someday I’ll get it right.”

“Oh I hope not, my dear. You’re perfect just the way you are,” Margarette told her and they hugged again.

James and Chloe came around from the back. She was elated to see her daddy and Claire.

“Not Saturday,” she told them.

“Nope. But we have a surprise.” She scooped Chloe up and hugged her tightly.

Margarette raised her brows and looked to Claire’s left hand.

“No, we didn’t get married secretly,” Claire laughed.

“In the car. Quickly,” Garrett commanded. They were surprised to see a seat for Chloe already in the back. Claire and Margarette climbed in on either side of her.

“We’ll need it eventually,” Claire looked almost apologetic.

“And what a joyous day that will be,” Margarette said. “Children should be raised by their parents and spoiled mercilessly by their grandparents - which cannot be done properly when they live under the same roof.” The two women laughed. Claire was as thankful for Margarette as she was for Garrett. She eavesdropped on the conversation between James and Garrett, barely able to suppress her excitement when she heard James mention the stables.

“Yes, I heard,” Garrett answered vaguely when his dad said it had sold. He glanced in the mirror at Claire. “You’re as bad as a child at Christmas,” he told her reflection.

“I didn’t say anything!” She giggled.

“What are you two up to?” Margarette looked from her son to Claire then to Chloe and shrugged as they all laughed.

Garrett eased the car into the stables’ driveway. The iron gates were already open and they could see several work crews milling about in various places on the property.

“Should we be here?” James asked though he received no answer as Garrett got out of the car.

“Help me. Will you, Dad?” Garrett said before shutting his door. James glanced back at Claire who was trying without success to contain an ear to ear smile.

“Go. Go!” she said. She unbuckled Chloe and motioned for Margarette to get out as well.

Garrett worked at the rope that held the heavy tarp in place over the new sign. It slipped free to reveal the barely dried painting of the barns and horses in the meadow. The name stood out distinctly in the blue sky. “Welcome to O’Bryan Meadows,” it read. “A place where dreams are allowed to grow.”

“What is this?” James asked.

“It’s going to be a place where we bring kids that need a little help in understanding they truly do make a difference; a place where they can explore passions like art and horseback riding, cooking, all sorts of things beyond the uppity professions their parents are trying to force them into,” Claire blurted out, her voice rising in excitement. “My daddy’s name and money may not have helped me, but there’s no reason it can’t help others…rich kids without hope - like I was,” she added quietly. She turned to James. “We were hoping you might oversee the stables.”

James looked from Claire to Garrett. “This old place has been a dream of mine for years. I never could figure it out in my mind how it could pay for itself… or even how to pay for it in the first place.” They all laughed. He looked over the place then at the sign. “You two have really thought this through? You know what you’re getting into?”

Claire, wrapped in Garrett’s arms, looked up at him. “I don’t know about Garrett but I don’t have a clue. I know we’ve enlisted the help of a lot of people who are considered experts. And I know a couple of old gents who see these kids day in and day out…they’re already working on a list of those who need our help.”

“We’re buying the old Miller place too,” Garrett added. “We won’t be taking Chloe too far away. Looks like we’ll be working together in a roundabout sort of way.” He told his dad. “I know it’s not quite as good as owning it yourself, but…”

“Nope,” he interrupted. “It’s better. What a great way to use this place. You’re an angel, Claire.”

She was already shaking her head before his words faded. “No! But I’ve had my share to help me along the way.” She looked up at Garrett and he kissed her. “I want others to have that same opportunity.”

“Horses!” Chloe squealed pointing to a nearby pasture.

“Yes Chloe. Our horses. Want to go and see?” Garrett asked her. She nodded her head and squealed again. “Come on, Grandpa,” Garrett said to his father. “Let’s go check out your charges.” He kissed Claire’s head and handed her the car keys before trekking off with his dad and Chloe to see the horses.

Claire looked at the keys and bit her lower lip, “Margarette, I don’t know how to drive,” she said in a quiet, monotone voice. Living most of her life in the city, she’d never needed to learn.

“Guess you’d best learn if you’re planning to live out here. No time like the present to learn, my dear,” she chuckled and climbed into the passenger side of the car.

“Uh, Garrett. Has Claire ever driven a car before,” James asked.

“I… huh, I don’t know. Why?” He straightened from the squatted position he’d used to look through the fence with Chloe.

“Well, I’m pretty sure your future wife’s getting her first driving lesson.” James inclined his head toward the car that kept easing forward and then stopping only to begin again.

Garrett’s brows came down toward his eyes.

“Daddy’s mad?” Chloe’s voice was filled with childish concern.

“No. No, Baby. I’m not.” He smiled to assure her. “Just realizing there’s a lot about a beautiful lady with a huge heart that I really don’t know.”

James chuckled. “You may never know all about her, son. That’s part of the beauty of women. They’re like a sweet, special surprise that reveals itself little by little each and every day.”

The two men embraced and began to walk toward the main building that would house the social activities of the operations. Claire and Margarette had safely arrived and were waiting inside.

Garrett hugged Claire as they walked in, suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful Donna had canceled and Mr. Ballard had mistakenly given his table away. He realized that sometimes in life it seemed as if you were losing when, in fact, you were being positioned to win bigger than you could ever imagine possible. He knew life with Claire would be filled with the unexpected. His future wife was, undeniably, a delightful package, both inside and out. He smiled down at her, relishing the thoughts of those promised surprises unfolding day by day. A lucky break…or fate? Either way, Garrett knew he was right where he was supposed to be - encircled in hope found only within the arms of an earthly angel.

* * * * *

A Note From The Author

I’ve come across a lot of people I would call earthly angels because of the way they have touched my life. It would take a book to list them all, though I would like to highlight two, in particular, who have been a source of strength and ever-present: My dear friend, Patrick Sipperly; an author in his own right and gentleman extraordinaire. You know how much your friendship and encouragement means to me. Laura Miller, aka Jaimey Grant, an angel with an edge, who has kept me going and growing. Your talent as both author and artist is beyond compare and our shared love of your Lord Heartless has been most delightful. Revealing him will be delicious! Angel? Could that word be used to describe him? I think his heart is not so dark as it may seem. Perhaps we all play the part of an earthly angel at some point in our lives… Perhaps we all need to check our wings!

* * * * *

Enjoy an Excerpt

A Marriage of Necessity

by

Linda Boulanger

Coming Soon to TreasureLine Books

35 year old Terry Calloway looked out the window for probably the 18th time that morning. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for. Her visitors weren’t due to arrive for at least another 30 minutes, if they arrived at all. This time she paused as she pulled back the curtains; the vibrant serenity of the day catching her attention. Vibrant serenity? Was that an oxymoron? Could those words walk side-by-side? They had in her life once upon a time. She thought back to a day when all seemed as bright as the day that swirled outside her window. She’d felt so peaceful then, as if the world belonged to her. She thought of her dreams, her desires, including a husband that loved her and a large family.

Without thought she tucked her sandy blonde hair behind her ears and began to rub her bared arms as a shiver ran up her spine. She wasn’t cold. She always kept the apartment at a comfortable temperature. She had ever since…

No, she thought. I’m not going to think about that today. Yet how could she keep it from her mind? It was the very thing that had led her to this crazy meeting. Wrong choices. Please God, she thought, please don’t let me make another one, and especially for the wrong reason.

On the other side of town, 44 year old Mark Reid was struggling to retain his composure as his younger brother filled him in on an absurd plan he’d hatched. Mark fought distractions as he listened. His mind ordered all the things he needed to get done before his mother returned with his 5 children. He didn’t have time for lunacy, not when he was battling the challenges of keeping his family ship afloat.

“You know, Brad, if I had the money for a live-in nanny, don’t you think I’d have hired one by now? Sara’s been gone for almost a year. Look around, brother! It’s obvious I can’t keep up with all this. I do need help and desperately. But, hello! Taking care of 5 kids doesn’t exactly come cheap!” Mark ran a hand through his disheveled, dark hair that showed only the slightest signs of aging with a few wispy grays at the temples.

Brad stared at him in disbelief. “Have you been listening to me? She doesn’t need to be someone’s nanny. She needs something permanent and you and your kids need someone that’s going to stay. I’m not talking about you hiring her. I’m talking about you marrying her.”

Now it was Mark’s turn to stare. “Brad! You’re an absolute idiot. Now why on earth would I marry some woman I’ve never even met?” Mark’s jaw worked in a familiar manner that told Brad his older brother was beyond irritation. If they’d been kids still, Mark would have already jumped on him and allowed his frustrations to flow out through his fists. Brad was glad he was now the bigger of the two brothers.

“No, Mark. I’m not an idiot. But you are if you think you can continue with things the way they are. You’ve admitted you can’t.” The younger man remained calm, waiting for his older brother to come around. Mark didn’t leave and he didn’t pummel him. Brad took that as a good sign and continued. “Mom said she’d told you she’s scheduled her knee surgery. She’s put it off for you for as long as she can. Brother, you’ve got six weeks before everything falls squarely into your lap alone. You’ve got to do something and fast.”

Mark took a deep breath as reality slapped him in the face. He felt that familiar fist in his gut, the one he’d felt near-continuously ever since they’d found out Sara was sick. He put his hand over his eyes, squeezing his temples to stop the throbbing as he thought. Sara, Sara…why? She’d been their anchor, their captain, their figurehead spiriting them along. Their whole lives had been built around her, by her. She’d taken care of everything…and now she was gone. Mark was left to try to carry the family on his own; a job he was ill-equipped to handle. He did need help. He needed it desperately and he needed it now. He looked at his brother. Hopeful blue-gray eyes looked back.

“Marriage, Brad? People don’t just get married…it’s like the middle ages. Surely she hasn’t agreed to such a thing? Marriage?” he asked again as his mind tried to search for alternatives. Maybe she would exchange room and board for helping out or he could find some way to pay her something to come in and help. He knew that wasn’t possible. He’d tried to find the extra. There had to be a way...

“Well, we both know you can’t afford to pay her. You need something permanent. There’re tax issues, gossiping neighbors, and…” Brad had kind of left out one little element that had been the true motivation behind Terry even considering what he was proposing, “she kind of has to be married before she turns 36 or she loses her inheritance. Now it’s not huge, mind you, but still she has no interest in seeing it get shoved into someone else’s pocket.”

So that was the answer. It wasn’t that there was necessarily anything wrong with her that would cause her to potentially agree to take on someone else’s brood of five, although that in itself might qualify her for the asylum. He needed help. She didn’t want to lose her inheritance. Was that enough for a marriage?

“Just come and meet her Mark. Please? For your kids and for her…” Brad pleaded.

The two brothers stared at one another for a couple of silent minutes. Mark looked around at all he needed to do knowing he couldn’t possibly get it done anyway. “All right, but this is insane, brother. Insane!” Mark blurted out at last causing Brad to leap to his feet and pull his brother into a rough hug.

Thus Mark found himself in the passenger seat of his brother’s car going to a place where it would be determined if a modern-day marriage of necessity could be arranged. As they drove to her little apartment for Mark to meet her for the first time, he questioned his brother as to what might be wrong with Terry Calloway that she couldn’t find anyone else to marry her, especially if there was money involved. Better yet, why would she want to marry a guy with five children? They overwhelmed him. Think of what they would do to someone who was unaccustomed to kids.

“Look Mark. The department she’s in is closing. There are no openings for her within the company and you know what the job market’s like these days. I think that in itself would be scary enough. Then the thought of losing something that should be rightfully hers on top of that… Her dad put the clause in as a joke never believing it would be an issue, but since it is, the trust company is being a stickler. Somebody wants what’s not theirs.” Brad also told Mark how he felt somewhat responsible since he’d urged Terry to come to work for Time Safety many years before. He also put in that she was a great gal with a gentle soul and skirted around the fact that life had handed her a bit of a raw deal which had made her gun shy of men.

Oh great! A woman who thought men were all rotten. Like she wouldn’t end up feeling used! It was hard enough dealing with the issues his teenage girls brought to the table on a daily basis, let alone those of a jilted grown woman. That was just what he needed. Well, he did need someone to help, but at what price? He decided to sit quietly through the remainder of the drive. He’d appease his brother with this one meeting and then politely walk away. Surely he could figure out something. Surely…

“Brad! Hi!” The not-half-bad-looking woman greeted his brother a bit too enthusiastically, belying her nervousness. Her light blue eyes tentatively appraised Mark. They were kindly eyes with perhaps a hint of fear and skepticism. Mark suddenly felt as if he were on an audition. He knew the doubts that swirled in his mind. Surely they were also firmly implanted in hers, if she had any sense. From what he could tell in that first impression, he was sure that she did, which made him even more surprised that she would even agree to the meeting. Standing in her doorway, he found his interest in the potential of the situation piqued even though this was all so crazy.

“Terry, this is my brother Mark. Mark, Terry Calloway,” Brad introduced them then looked from one to the other when neither moved. “Uh…the one’s I’ve been telling you each about?” The two just stared at Brad, briefly glancing at each other. “Hello!” Brad said impatiently.

“Right, right, uh, hi!” Mark blurted out as she raised her hand to him and they awkwardly shook.

“Uhm…won’t you come in.” Terry motioned for them to move further into the small living area. It was clean and cozy, Mark thought. She’d made the best possible use of every available space and she seemed extremely organized. He was impressed. Though how difficult could it be for a woman alone? Wait until his three girls and twin boys were thrown in. Not to mention the cat. Cats, he corrected as a fluffy whitish feline pranced into the room and jumped up right where he’d been about to sit.

“Shaw!” Terry scolded as she walked toward the cat. “Oh, I’m sorry. She’s used to being the queen. You’re okay with cats? I mean, Brad said you liked cats.” She seemed suddenly apprehensive as she had to brush by him to scoop up the cat.

“Oh, no. I love cats. We have a cat. He thinks he rules too.” They laughed awkwardly. Mark did note that her laugh was light, sweet. He added without thought, “He was my wife’s baby…” His words trailed off and silence ensued.

“Well,” Brad clapped his hands making Terry and Mark both jump. “Let’s cut to the chase. We don’t have a lot of time. Our mom will be back with Mark’s kids in about an hour. So, we all know why we’re here. What do you two think? Deal or no deal? Could you marry each other or not?”

Mark snorted, surprised at his brother’s abruptness. Terry looked away, reaching down to pet the cat for distraction. It gave Mark the opportunity to look her over again. He was sure a slight blush stained her cheeks. He found that somehow endearing. How awkward this must be for her. For them both!

She was a nice looking woman. Not ravishing like Sara, but not bad. It appeared she took care of herself, yet he wouldn’t think she was a freak about it. Her dress was casual, which he liked. Her hair, a sandy blonde mass of shoulder length curls that she continuously tucked behind her ears, complimented her coloring perfectly. He’d like to see it longer…he’d always loved Sara’s straight, long, blonde hair. Terry glanced back at him, her timing perfect to pull him back from his musings. He liked what he saw in her eyes. Without knowing her he got the feeling a kind soul lived behind them. He also sensed something else. Terry had a need to be needed.

He smiled at her. “Are you willing? Truly?” he asked tentatively.

Fearful relief washed over Terry’s face as she nodded. Another oxymoron, she thought. Her life seemed riddled with them.

Brad jumping up with a loud whoop gave her no time to ponder the thought. He grabbed her, hugging her, and spinning around. “I knew it. I knew it, knew it, knew it. I knew it was perfect.” He released Terry and noogied his brother who pushed him away and tried to straighten his hair. “You’ll see. Both of you,” Brad said looking triumphantly from one to the other. “This is going to work. I feel it.” Terry and Mark both looked hopeful.

Brad jabbered on and on as he drove Mark back to his house. Mark was quiet though his brother seemingly didn’t notice. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He wondered what his children would think. What would Sara have thought?

“If something ever happens to me, you just make sure you find someone that’ll take good care of my kids,” she’d told him once.

“What about me?” he’d pouted.

“You!” She’d wrapped her arms around him and kissed him warmly. “You’ll never find anyone like me so don’t bother trying.”

“How right you are. Only one perfect woman in the world and she’s all mine.” He’d nuzzled her neck which had led…well, it had led to their twin boys; two more children for this someone else to take care of. Mark hoped Brad was right about being right for both of them.

Twenty minutes later, staring into the stony faces of his children, he had his doubts. He tried to explain the absolute divine reasoning behind his decision but, being uncertain himself, it was an impossible task. Once again, he was saved by his mother.

“Now kids,” she began with her kindly, grandmotherly voice, “This has been so terribly hard on your dad and I’ve know him long enough to know it wasn’t an easy decision. He loves your mother every bit as much and maybe even more than every single one of you do.” She pointed her bony, aging finger at them. “I also know Terry.” Her statement surprised the children, and Mark. “She’s pretty special. Give her a chance. She needs you kids.” She nodded and stood with Mark’s help. Brad grabbed her cane for her and they headed toward the door. She looked back. “I’m expecting the best from all of you.”

The best, Mark thought as he watched his children march away offering him nothing but chilling glares. One by one they filed off to their rooms, each with his or her own thoughts on the matter. Was he truly doing what was best? Had he let his need for help and a pretty face make the decision for him? He thought of his mother’s words. There was so much to all this that he obviously didn’t know. Still, he centered on one phrase in particular. She needs you kids. Why, he wondered.

Regardless, they’d all be meeting the next day. Brad and his mom would return along with a batch of his mom’s famous homemade chicken and noodles. It would all be okay. It had to be okay. Mark breathed deeply a few times then went to his room, the room he’d shared with Sara for eight years before her death. God how he loved her. He sat down on the edge of the bed completely overwhelmed.

“Daddy? You okay?” Madi’s sweet voice floated in from the doorway. Mark pulled his hands away from his face and smiled as best he could at the hesitant figure of his nine year old daughter. His heart pitched. Of all his children she looked the most like his beautiful Sara.

“Come here, love.” He held out a hand and she moved quickly across the floor to be wrapped in the comfort of her daddy’s arms.

“Will she be nice, Daddy? The woman? What was her name? Terry?” She was filled with questions.

“Yes, baby. She seemed very nice,” he tried to soothe her fears.

“Then everything will be okay.” She patted his arm.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. “I agree but I was wondering what made you say that.”

She shrugged her shoulders then wiggled off his lap seemingly satisfied with the upcoming change. At the door she turned back. “Mommy told me she’d send us someone nice. Terry must be the one Mommy’s sending.” She turned and skipped from the room.

Mark stared after her. He wondered when Sara had told that to Madi. Madi had spent so many hours sitting still beside her dying mother. They’d talk. Madi would read to her, comfort her as only a child can. It was as if she was soaking her in before there would be no more.

He looked around the room. He wasn’t prepared to share it with anyone else, married or not. He wondered what Terry’s expectations were. It was purely a marriage of necessity. It was that for her as well, right? He thought of how she had flinched slightly when they’d touched. He hadn’t noticed that when his brother had touched her. Why wasn’t he marrying her to help her get her inheritance? He was a bachelor after all and Mark would guesstimate they were close to the same age. Why then… Madi’s words floated back to him. Terry must be the one Mommy’s sending.

“Oh Sara. If only this truly could be by your hand,” he whispered

* * * * *

About The Author

Linda Boulanger is a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic. Her stories almost always have a happy-ever-after ending and leave her readers feeling satisfied that the characters have had or are walking into a life of complete fulfillment. Along with being an author, she is an entrepreneur, wife, mother of four busy children, and volunteers as her local no-kill animal shelter. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Marketing from Oklahoma State University and continues to reside in that state where she works with authors through her various entities and affiliates while pursuing her own writing.

Linda’s author blog is a great place to keep up on her writing, information for and about other authors and books, as well as glimpses into her personal life. The site: The Shelf Life of a Novel Writing Book Writer is located at www.WritersShelfLife.blogspot.com.

Other place you might enjoy visiting

www.LindaBoulanger.com

The Shelf Life of Linda Boulanger on FaceBook

BvilleOKAuthor on Twitter

* * * * *

Cover Design for Arms of an Angel: Laura J. Miller

www.AnAuthorsArt.com

Print edition of Arms of an Angel available at

www.TreasureLineBooks.com

* * * * *

Table of Contents

Arms of an Angel