Out of the Shadows (13 page)

Gus rolled himself over to his van. “I like this guy, Treecie,” he said over his shoulder.

Wade found himself following, then, without so much as a second thought, he helped Gus into the passenger seat.

Funny thing, but
Wade
liked Wade in the presence of these people. It made no sense, really, feeling so comfortable with this middle-aged, wheelchair-bound guy and his pretty daughter, considering he’d spent so few hours in their company. But there it was, easy to read as the graffiti on the garage’s concrete.

“I like him, too,” she said, “even if he is a doctor.”

Wade waited until Patrice walked around to the driver’s side of the van to ask Gus, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Putting a hand beside his mouth, he whispered, “Last guy who broke her heart was a doctor.” After a quick check to make sure Patrice couldn’t hear, he quickly added, “Matter of fact, so was the one before that.”

Wade wasn’t too proud that members of his profession had hurt her. Worse still, she’d fallen hard enough for the bozos that they could hurt her in the first place.

But what did it matter if he was her first love or not,
when after tonight, they’d only be together professionally…if at all?

“See you in a few minutes,” Patrice said, sliding in behind the steering wheel.

As Gus slammed the passenger door, Wade winked and saluted, then headed for his car.

Winked and saluted! Confused by his own spontaneous behavior, he shook his head. The longer he was around her, the more he behaved like a knobby-kneed youngster, and frankly, Wade didn’t know if he liked the feeling; if this “kid stuff” was a sign he’d started back-sliding to boyhood, was there a chance his acne would come back? Grinning at the thought, he headed back to the elevator.

During the drive from Elliott General to High Street, Wade pondered his peculiar actions. On the one hand, he couldn’t deny that Patrice’s optimism and enthusiasm were contagious; being around her made him feel energetic, younger than he had in years. Amazing in itself, he’d felt a hundred years old, emotionally, since before he could vote. And the way she looked at him, as if he’d invented the airplane and earned a hero’s medal and won a Pulitzer, well, what man wouldn’t like being around a woman like that!

On the other hand, she scared him witless, because though he’d dated several women over the years, not one had managed to get him thinking the
C
word, let alone thinking about saying it out loud. Commitment wasn’t his style. Or so he’d told himself since before he could vote….

When he pulled up behind the van in front of the restaurant and watched her climb out of the driver’s seat with a peppy little hop, his ears went hot and his hands
got cold. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was coming down with something.

Something like love?

Scrubbing both hands over his face, he groaned.
Get a grip, man, before—

Patrice knocked gently on the hood of his car. He looked up, saw her wave as she passed in front of him. And while she was busy helping Gus out of the van, an image flashed in his mind: Patrice, in a rocking chair, humming nursery rhymes to their baby girl.
Their
baby girl!

He shook his head.
If you know what’s good for you—and her—you’ll cut it out, and pronto!

Handing his car keys to the valet, Wade joined Patrice and Gus on the sidewalk. They both looked slightly self-conscious, as if the prospect of getting Gus inside might be more traumatic for him than for Gus. After giving the situation a quick once-over, Wade decided the door was plenty wide enough to accommodate the wheelchair. Grabbing its handles, he rolled Gus nearer the porch. Patrice held the door open as Wade backed the chair up the steps.

The hostess guided them to their table, sliding a chair aside to make room for Gus. They were barely settled when a resonant baritone called, “Patrice? Patrice McKenzie, is that you?”

Her blush told Wade she’d recognized the man’s voice; the fact that she didn’t turn around told him the guy was probably one of the doctors Gus had mentioned.

A tall, swarthy man in his early thirties stepped up to the table. “Patrice,” he said, “it really
is
you.”

She pressed her fingertips to her temples for a moment before looking into his face. “John. What a surprise.”

If
John
noticed that her voice had lost every bit of its
beautiful musicality, it didn’t show. The way he stood, ramrod straight and hair slicked back, reminded Wade of a silent movie actor.

Crouching beside her chair, John shook Gus’s hand. “Good to see you, too, sir.”

Patrice’s dad grunted and pumped John’s arm up and down. If he kept that up, Wade thought, water might just start to trickle from John’s fingertips!

“This place is a little, uh,
unposh
for the likes of you, isn’t it,
John?
”

As if he hadn’t heard Gus’s sarcasm, John nodded toward a table near the back wall. “Birthday party.”

Gus peered around him at the merrymakers. “You with the blonde or the brunette?” Then he turned to Wade. “See,” he whispered loudly, pointing with his thumb, “this guy left Treecie for a blonde.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if ordering an iced tea from the waitress.

It was almost imperceptible the way John’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. Almost.

Smiling, Patrice turned slightly in her chair. “Whose birthday?”

Said a bit too brightly, Wade thought.

John smiled.

More like a sneer, Wade decided.

“You remember Jenna?”

“Of course” was her snappy retort. “Your youngest sister.”

Who could blame her for sounding piqued, Wade thought; the guy’s tone made it clear he didn’t think Patrice was smart enough to remember.

“Jenna’s the brunette,” John said to Gus.

Patrice tilted her head. “My. I haven’t seen her in… How long has it been?”

Her eyes were glittering, as if she was getting ready to let it fly with both barrels. A decent person would’ve warned John to back off. But Wade wasn’t feeling particularly charitable toward a guy who had hurt Patrice.

“So how is Jenna?” Patrice asked.

Said like any woman scorned, Wade mused…with just the right amount of icy bitterness in her voice.

“It’s been nearly five years,” John said, feigning hurt that she hadn’t remembered. “Say, here’s an idea. Why don’t you join us, and ask her yourself.”

“We were just about to order,” she said.

John looked at Wade then, as if seeing him for the first time. “Who’s your…friend?”

Laughing, Gus said, “Sorry, seems we clean forgot our manners.” He slapped Wade’s forearm. “This good-lookin’ young fella here is Dr. Wade Cameron.” He slid a disapproving glance to John. “Wade, meet John Travers. He’s a doctor, too.”

John’s hand shot across the table. “Good to meet you,” he said as Wade shook it.

“Same here.”
Liar,
he told himself.

John adjusted the knot of his navy silk tie. “What’s your specialty?” He tugged at his French cuffs, revealing diamond-studded cuff links.

Who wore those things anymore? Wade wondered. “Cardiology,” he said. “Yours?”

“Plastic surgery.”

Wonder how much work he’s done on himself?
“I see.”

“Well, John,” Gus put in, “we don’t want to keep you from your little party. You have a good time, y’hear? And
do
wish the birthday girl many happy returns.” With that, he picked up his menu and motioned for Wade and Patrice to do the same.

But John wasn’t so easily dismissed. He pulled out Patrice’s chair and took her hand. “Seriously, you have to come say hello. Mom would love to see you again, and you know Jenna always thought the world of you….”

She did it with grace and ladylike charm, but there was no mistaking her mood: “I think not,” she said, sliding her hand from his grasp.

If they hadn’t been in a crowded restaurant, Wade would have hugged her for that!

“Well, then. Yes.” John cleared his throat. “See you later.”

Or not,
Wade thought as the man walked stiffly away.

“Jerk,” Gus muttered.

“Da-a-ad,” Patrice whispered. “It was a long, long time ago. Let bygones be bygones, okay? I have.”

“That’s because you’re a better person than I am.”

“No…it’s because I prayed about it. You know…‘what would Jesus do’?”

“I think even Jesus would o’ had a hard time bein’ nice to that guy.” He put down his menu. “’Cause for one thing, he’s a jerk.”

Wade didn’t quite agree with Gus. If John passed up a chance at having Patrice in his life, he wasn’t a jerk. He was a
fool.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said, rising. And grabbing her purse, she looked at Wade. “If the waitress asks what we’d like to drink while I’m gone, will you order me a glass of water with a lemon wedge, please?”

What was it with this woman? If she put her mind to it, she could probably brand a man with those big brown peepers of hers. She blinked once, twice, luscious lashes dusting her freckled cheeks.

On second thought, Wade decided, she could brand a
man with those eyes even if she
didn’t
have a mind to. “Uh, sure,” he stammered, “glad to.”

“Don’t be too long,” Gus cautioned.

Patrice clutched her purse to her chest and pouted prettily. “Only long enough for you to tell Wade how John Jerk broke my poor widdo heart.” She punctuated her comment with a giggle and left them alone.

If he were a praying man, Wade would have prayed Gus wouldn’t do that. He didn’t want to hear the details involving Patrice’s feelings for some other guy.

Unfortunately, the Green-eyed Monster seemed to have taken a nasty bite out of him; picturing her with another man made Wade want to punch the nearest wall. He’d never been jealous over a woman. The fact that he had the feeling now unnerved him, scared him.

But the bigger problem, as he saw it, wasn’t
how
he felt, but
why,
because only one thing could explain it.

He’d gone and fallen in love with the Monkey Lady.

Alone in the ladies’ room, Patrice stood at the mirror, applying lipstick, fussing with her hair and hoping she wouldn’t run into John again before leaving the restaurant. It hadn’t been a messy breakup—because she’d chosen to walk away with her dignity intact. Which might have been easier, if he hadn’t been so
honest
about his reasons for dumping her.

He believed her never-ending devotion to Gus was unnatural, unhealthy and, quoting an issue of
Psychology Today,
called her an “enabler.” “Gus will never be able to live on his own if you don’t quit babying him,” he’d said. To this day, she hadn’t figured out why he’d felt it necessary to add, “Besides, I’m seeing someone new.” She’d asked him to please keep the particulars to himself, yet John felt duty-bound to “fess up”: “She’s
the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, perfect in every way.” Patrice hadn’t needed a Mensa membership to figure out what
that
meant.

Staring into the mirror at the scar, Patrice slid her comb back into the outer pocket of her purse and remembered how, when they’d first met, he’d said the scar didn’t matter. That’s what they’d all said…at first.
And you believed them, you little ninny.
Like the rest, Wade had said it, too. Would there come a time when being seen in public with her would be a burden for him, as well?

“Say it ain’t so, Lord,” she prayed, looking at the sad-eyed woman in the mirror. “Let him be
the one
….”

Rolling her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly.
Get back out there,
she told herself,
before you drown in self-pity!
Raising her chin a notch, she slung her purse over one shoulder and made her way back to the table, determined to make the best of this evening, of every evening she might have with Wade—because who knew when he’d want to put a stop to things?

You silly twit,
she chided.
There’s nothing to put a stop to!
He’d been the perfect gentleman; hadn’t made a single promise, hadn’t so much as hinted at a future with her. He was a good guy, so his sweet gestures, his kind words, had merely been a result of his basic decency.

If she’d conduct herself like a grown-up for once, instead of a teenybopper in the throes of a knee-weakening crush, maybe she could avoid looking like a colossal fool a week, a month, six months from now; maybe she could sidestep another shattered heart.

She caught sight of his profile as she neared the table. There wasn’t an actor in Hollywood who wouldn’t give
up a major role to have a smile, a chin, a
face
like that. And there wasn’t an actress in the world who wouldn’t do the same for a chance to star opposite him on the big screen.

Her acting skills were so bad, she considered herself lucky to have played trees and cereal boxes and clouds in school plays, but tonight, she’d have to put on the performance of her life…and
act
as though she hadn’t fallen noggin over knees for him.

As promised, Wade had ordered her a tall glass of water, complete with a slice of lemon. “Thanks,” she said, taking her seat. And in a voice much brighter than her mood, she added, “So, what’s everybody having for dinner?”

Gus shot an “Are you kidding?” look in her direction. “You get three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

She glanced at Wade. “You’re both having gnocchi?”

Nodding, he shrugged. “I like to try new things. Spices life up, dontcha think?”

Patrice sent him a smile that she didn’t mean, because she read that to mean
she
was that “Spice”:
Give the girl with the scar a test run, Wade old boy; you’ve never done anything like
that
before, have you!

“How ’bout you?” Gus asked her. “You gonna order the same ol’, same ol’? Or something different for a change?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears.
How’s that for different?
was her defiant question.