A Dream to Cling To (20 page)

The harsh glare of morning light woke Brittany hours later and she knew, even before Dunkin proudly sported the note tied to his collar, that Sam wasn’t there. But he’d left her with the afterglow of his loving that lifted a smile to her face and filled her with a warmth that warded off all traces of the chilly morning air.

“Thank you, Dunkin.” She tousled the dog’s silky head and untied the note, then read slowly:

“Checkmate!” Dr. Frank threw his hands in the air, then slapped Sam jovially on the back. “Finally! And I’m not going to let the fact that you look like hell diminish my victory one tad.” He looked over his glasses at Sam. “What’s bothering you, Sam? Your look sure doesn’t match that of the princess. Do you know something she doesn’t?”

“Oh, it’s just a cluttered mind, Doc. For a guy who sometimes makes his living solving puzzles, I’m not doing so well right now.”

Dr. Frank leaned back in the chair and stroked his chin. “Other people’s problems I’m good at. Shoot, Sam, maybe I can help.”

Sam shook his head. “Thanks, Frank, but I’m not sure anyone can help. You see …” He reached across the table and lifted his pipe from the ashtray. There was an unusually perplexed look in his eyes as he gazed at Dr. Frank. “I happen to be hopelessly, head over heels—in love.”

Frank nodded. “Okay, Sam, so what else is new?”

“Frank, it’s serious. I love her.” He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “But I’m the wrong man for her, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

“Hmmmm, that
is
a problem,” Frank said slowly. “Does Brittany know you’re the wrong man for her?”

Sam shrugged. “I think we’ve both been too happy with each other to tangle with the facts.”

“Perhaps you could tangle with those facts together? Give each other a little more time? Maybe you can’t see the forest for the trees, Samson my friend.”

Sam smiled at Dr. Frank and pulled himself from the chair at the sound of Brittany’s van pulling into the driveway. “Maybe. I’ve kind of been thinking along those same lines. But right now the person I need to see is Britt—”

“Sam!” She swept into the office like a March wind, throwing her arms tightly around Sam. She grinned a hello at Dr. Frank, who patted her on the shoulder as he exited from the room, then directed her full attention to the man she was still holding in her arms. “I thought you would have called yesterday.”

“You got Dunkin’s note?”

She lowered her head and blushed. “Of course. But that was a whole day ago.”

“I needed to fight battles at work, get all the last minute printing snafus ironed out for the game. But it’s all coming together. Everything will be ready for the great presentation Friday night.”

“And you’ll be there, Sam.”

“Well, your mother seems to think I should be. She won’t accept the fact that I’m hired help.”

Brittany half-smiled. There was more Sam wanted to say.…

“Brittany, we need to go somewhere and talk. Right now.”

“I’m scheduled—”

“Have Dr. Frank’s assistant do it.” His voice was urgent. “Please, Brittany.”

She searched his eyes. So this was it, she thought, the time for “talk.” “I guess we do need to talk, Sam.”
Her voice was teasing, low-pitched. “But frankly, I’m not sure why. We communicate so well without words.”

He laughed huskily. “Watch it, little lady. You know what that tone of voice does to me.” He began nudging her through the reception room and toward the door, then called back over his shoulder, “She’ll be back, Doc. Sometime.”

“Fine, fine, take all the time you need,” Frank mumbled from the lab, pleased as punch that someone was finally taking his advice on something.

Brittany shivered as the wintry wind fanned the chill already creeping through her. “Well, Sam, where to?”

“I don’t know, anywhere.” He opened the door to his car and held it for her to get in, then hurried around to the other side.

“Brittany, I—” He stretched his arm out and drew her to him until she was tight in his arms, her head nuzzled against his cheek and the clean smell of her filling his senses. “Oh, my, how I do love you,” he murmured into her hair.

“I love you too, Sam,” she said softly, wishing that was all that mattered, but knowing in her heart this was just the beginning of the conversation.

“I wandered around like a crazy man last night, trying to figure this whole damn thing out. It doesn’t make any sense.”

She slid her hands to his chest and looked up into the eyes that looked into her soul the way no man had ever before. She shook her head slowly. “I know what I’ve been doing, Sam. I’ve been buying time with you.”

“No, Brittany.” His fingers played with the hair at the back of her neck.

“Shh, Sam, let me at least have my say. I knew from the very beginning what you were all about. You
told
me, remember?” She smiled sadly. “And you knew what you were dealing with also. You know my fears, my dreams. You know I want children, a regular life.”

“Sure, Brittany, we both knew that, and in spite of it
we fell in love. You’ve brought a life to me I never imagined possible, a totally unfamiliar joy that I don’t seem to be able to get enough of.”

Then don’t leave me
,
Sam
, she begged silently.
Marry me
. But she didn’t speak aloud. She only listened, and watched. She knew he meant every word of what he was saying. He did love her, with a power and intensity that filled her to the brim. And in spite of all the facts, what they knew about each other, for weeks now she’d nursed a secret hope that this love would somehow solve their differences.

“I’ve always known what I was about, Brittany, until you. You’ve shaken it all.” He tipped her chin back until she had to look into his eyes. “I haven’t been able to solve this puzzle yet, but one thing I know for sure, I’m not ready to give you up.”

She fought the tears that stung beneath her lids and tried to keep her gaze steady.

“Brittany, I’d like you to move in with me.” His eyes spoke of his love, but all she could feel was the pain of his words as they slowly sank into her consciousness.

“To move—” she began.

He kissed the top of her head and rushed on. “I know, I know, it’s not the ideal solution, but until we can figure this all out, please, Brittany, we need more time.”

She swallowed hard and bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. “Sam …”

“I know it’s not careful and planned and secure, I know it’s a risk, but
please
think about it—until we can figure this out.”

“I can’t, Sam, I can’t do that.” Her voice was harsh and each ragged edge cut through her heart. How could he ask her this? He
knew—

“Brittany, darling, I know what you’ve been through. But you and I are different.”

Different? she thought. How different could this be? How could she have given her heart to a man who was
so afraid to make a commitment? She felt the earth beginning to shake beneath her and her love contorted into a painful, searing sorrow.

“Brittany.” Sam held her shoulders and spoke slowly, willing her to listen. “Sometimes you need to risk a little in order to gain in the end. Please, don’t turn away. Listen to me.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and lifted her head slowly. “Sam, I can’t. I can’t chance it. I can’t do it. Without commitment all that’s
left
is risk … and I can’t base my life on that. I can’t.” Her voice broke as the tears began to flow unchecked down her cheeks.

He tried to say more but she couldn’t hear it, not now while the pain was so choking. She fumbled for the door handle and slipped outside. Only at the last second did she look back.

Sam was sitting motionless in the car, his head lowered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. But there weren’t any words left, and she turned and walked slowly back to the clinic.

Brittany hung up the phone, then frowned at it.

Please don’t ring again, she told it silently. That ringing made her think of Sam, and she would hear his voice in her mind and her heart would shatter into a million pieces all over again. So, Mother, and Sara and Gordie, she continued, don’t call to chat, or talk about the plans for Dad’s retirement dinner. Her life had fallen apart and she didn’t give a damn about menus and guest lists and whether to wear wool or winter silk.

With great care she picked up the narrow-necked watering can with the sprinkle of painted flowers circling it and slowly soaked the soil of each plant in the sun-drenched living room. Pulling her brows into a frown, she snapped unsightly yellow leaves off one plant and stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans, then
removed a layer of dust from another plant with the damp pad of her finger, rubbing the green oval to a waxy shine. Dunkin padded after her, his large eyes curious.

There, she thought. Now she’d move those small begonias to the south windows for the winter, and that’ll be finished. She smiled, greatly pleased with the care she had given her plants, then slipped down quietly into the oak rocking chair near the fireplace, folded her knees up beneath her chin, and sobbed.

They were wrenching cries that came from the very deepest part of her and shook her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks and collected in tiny puddles on the folds of her jeans. Why had she let this happen? How could she go through life like this, carrying this ponderous love within her? But she would, she knew. She’d bounce back somehow. She’d carry on and work at the Elms and help Dr. Frank. But she would never, ever love like this again.

Dunkin sat down in front of her and lapped his tongue affectionately across her bare feet. Then, feeling as hopeless as his mistress, he hunched his body down and stuck his head beneath his furry paws.

She groped on the side table for the tissue box. but knew before she hit the cardboard that it was empty.

Painfully, she lifted her head. “Okay, Brittany Ellsbeth, this is it. Pull yourself together. There’s no more tissues, what choice do you have but to face the world?” Face the world … without Sam … The tears swelled again, but this time she held them in check, dragged herself up from the chair, and marched into the bedroom to get ready for work.

These three days without Sam had been the most excruciating experience she had ever been through, and she knew one thing for certain—it couldn’t possibly get any worse. That thought was the only thing that pushed life back into her and forced her to ready
herself for Windemere’s business-social event of the year: Gordon Winters’s retirement gala.

Concerned with Brittany’s lack of interest in the party, Katherine Winters had taken matters into her own hands and the day of the party she sent over by special delivery a new gown from Saks.

Brittany pulled it carefully from the layers of tissues and smiled sadly. Mother had magnificent taste. She held the soft black jersey dress up in front of her and looked into the mirror. It would do just fine. One less thing to think about. And that left … Sam.

Four days and four nights now, and the crushing pain wasn’t any better. And tonight she would see him. But for her father’s sake, they’d both smile and greet each other, and for the evening she’d swallow her tears and glide across the dance floor, shift food around on a fine china plate, and hide the sorrow that licked through her savagely.

The dress was a perfect fit and fell with grace over her slender hips. With a dusting of bronze shadow across her lids and a light touch of lipstick, she knew she was as ready as she’d ever be for the night ahead.

The dinner was held in the elegant clubhouse of the Windemere Yacht Club, and Brittany gazed in awe at the lines of chauffeured limos stretching along the gas-lit drive. She’d driven over with Dr. Frank, and the two laughed at the scene.

“Must have hired them in from Bridgeport,” Dr. Frank joked as he took Brittany’s arm, guiding her up the slate walkway to the wide wooden doors.

“You know, Doc, you look mighty handsome in your tuxedo. I fear I’ll have to fight for your affections tonight.” She squeezed his arm warmly.

“Hah! Not when I have the most beautiful girl in the world on my arm tonight.” He looked down at her. “And don’t get me wrong, Brittany. I appreciate you more than anyone on God’s green earth, but the truth
is you shouldn’t be hanging on an old codger’s arm tonight. You should be—”

“There’s nothing old about you, Dr. Frank,” she said softly. “And whatever you were going to say next, please don’t.”

He stared at her intently, but merely said, “Okay, sweetie. You know what I think though?”

“Dr. Frank, I
do
know what you think. And I appreciate it, and love you for it. But—Oh, look, there’s Mother.” She nodded to a group of elegantly dressed couples being greeted just inside the door by the official hostess for the evening. “I need to say hello.”