Patrick's Destiny (13 page)

“I’m very fond of Patrick,” Molly said, her tone filled with urgency. “He’s a wonderful man, and he’s been a good friend to me, but that’s all he’s capable of, Alice. That’s all either of them are capable of, thanks to those god-awful parents of theirs. Neither of them will ever trust anyone enough to let them into their lives.”

Alice refused to believe that was true, at least of Patrick. In fact, she was still convinced that if he could only forgive his parents and make peace with them, his heart would be open to anything. He’d allowed her into his life, hadn’t he? That had to mean something.

“You’re wrong,” she told Molly.

“Am I? What makes you so certain of that? Is it
because Patrick slept with you? Because, if you’re counting on that to make a difference, I’m here to tell you that it’s only the first step on the path to heartbreak.”

“You’re wrong,” Alice said again, unwilling to admit how deeply Molly’s words had shaken her. “And it’s cruel of you to project whatever happened to you with Daniel onto my relationship with Patrick.”

“I’m only trying to warn you because I care about you,” Molly said. “And I care about him, as well. Leaving you will hurt him as much as it hurts you, but he’ll do it just the same.”

“I can’t accept that. Keep your warnings to yourself, Molly. I know Patrick. I know what we have together.” If she hadn’t before last night, she did now, and she didn’t intend to let Molly’s dire predictions sway her.

Molly merely gave her a sad smile. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Why would you feel sorry for me?”

“Because I once felt the same about Daniel. I thought I knew who he was and what we shared. It turned out I knew nothing about him at all.”

Alice regretted that she wasn’t Ricky Foster’s age, that she couldn’t clamp her hands over her ears and make nonsense noises to block out Molly’s hurtful words.

“Molly, I’m sorry for whatever Daniel did to you. I really am,” she replied instead. “But it’s got nothing to do with me and Patrick.”

“It has everything to do with him,” Molly insisted. “They’re twins, for goodness’ sakes. Identical twins.”

“That doesn’t mean they see the world exactly alike,” Alice said, still fighting for what she’d found with Patrick the night before. She refused to believe it
had been nothing more than an illusion, nothing more than incredible sex with no meaning behind it.

“Do you think because Patrick broke free of his parents after he and Daniel found out about their brothers that he’s somehow more well adjusted than Daniel?” Molly asked.

“No.” The opposite, in fact, though Alice wasn’t ready to admit that, not when Molly was in this odd mood.

“Well, I’m glad you can see that much, at least,” Molly said with evident relief.

“One day he’ll make peace with them,” Alice said.

Molly stared at her. “For a minute, there, I thought there was some hope for you, but now I see that you’re delusional, after all.”

“He will,” Alice insisted.

“And then what? The Devaneys will all live happily ever after?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Molly said flatly. “You’ve been spending too much time with five-year-olds. This isn’t a fairy tale, Alice. It’s real life, and some betrayals are too huge. You’re not going to have some picture-perfect family to make up for the one you lost.”

Once again the sting of the words had the power to take her breath away. For Molly to be so harsh, so unbelievably cruel, her own pain had to be overwhelming. Alice wished she could look Daniel Devaney in the eyes and tell him what a heartless fool he was for whatever he’d done to Molly. She doubted she could fix this, though. Molly was probably right about one thing—some betrayals
were
too huge.

“I’m so sorry he hurt you so badly,” she told Molly.
“One of these days you’ll meet someone else and forget all about Daniel.”

Molly gave her a sad, tired smile. “If only it were that easy,” she said.

Before Alice could respond, Molly visibly pulled herself together and stood up.

“I’m sorry you caught the brunt of my foul mood,” she told Alice. “I’m usually better at keeping it under wraps.”

“Why not today?”

“An anniversary of sorts,” Molly said.

“You can tell me, you know. And I can even manage to hold my tongue, if you’re not anxious for my advice.”

Molly laughed at that. “Now it would almost be worth testing you on that, but I have things to do in the kitchen. If you want to make yourself useful, there’s an inventory checklist for the liquor that I meant to get done this afternoon.”

Alice nodded. “I imagine I can count a few bottles and write the totals down without messing up. Jess always left that to me, because you were too easily distracted.”

Molly chuckled. “He did at that. I’d forgotten. Your parents would have had a fit had they known that my grandfather was letting you near the whiskey and teaching you to play poker.”

“Which was exactly why I loved coming here so much,” Alice told her. “I think I already had a well-developed rebellious streak, even in grade school.”

“You did, indeed,” Molly concurred. “That’s why it’s such a wonder that they’re letting you teach at that very school. Now, get busy, before Patrick wanders in and distracts you all over again.”

Alice watched her friend go into the kitchen, then sighed. She would give anything to ease Molly’s pain, but how could she, when Molly wouldn’t even reveal what the problem was beyond an obviously bitter breakup?

Of course, Patrick probably knew the details, she realized as she found the inventory sheet and began counting the stock behind the bar. And she knew all sorts of clever ways for making him talk. She’d have to put a few of them to good use later tonight.

P
atrick found Alice hunkered down and bent over in a fascinatingly provocative position when he walked into Jess’s. Fortunately the bar was empty, or he’d no doubt have had to bust the chops of a few male patrons eager to get an eyeful of her delectable backside. Since they were alone, he walked up behind her, snagged her around the waist and pulled her against him.

She gasped in surprise, then twisted to face him. “Trying to take advantage of me?” She seemed more intrigued than upset by the possibility.

He grinned. “Looked to me as if you were waiting for me to come along.”

She feigned a scowl. “Hardly. I was doing inventory to help Molly out.”

“Remind me to have you come by the boat and take inventory for me sometime,” he said.

She gave him a look that had his pulse jumping. “I’m
almost finished here,” she told him, a deliberate taunt in her voice. “Just what do you have to be inventoried?”

“Oh, I think you’d find it more interesting than this,” he assured her.

“Ask me again after dinner,” she suggested, wriggling free in a way designed to torment him some more. “The special’s herb-roasted chicken. I’ve been smelling it for the past hour, and I’m not leaving here till I’ve had some.”

“Then let me get our order in while you finish up here. Where is Molly, by the way?”

“Hiding in the kitchen,” Alice said, her expression suddenly sobering. “She’s having a bad day, Patrick. Worse than usual. Any idea why?”

Patrick glanced at the calendar on the wall behind the bar, then muttered a curse and shoved into the kitchen without another word to Alice. He trusted her to stay where she was and give him a few minutes alone to offer whatever comfort he could to Molly. He should have remembered the day without a reminder from Alice. He always made it a point to stick close by when this particular anniversary came around.

When he burst into the kitchen, Molly glanced up from the pot of mashed potatoes she was whipping. Her face was streaked with tears. She swiped at them ineffectively, her movements jerky and impatient.

“Unusual way to salt the potatoes, don’t you think?” he said gently.

“I’m not going to discuss my tears with you,” Molly said, sniffing. “They’ll pass. They always do.”

“Oh, Molly,” Patrick said, drawing her into his arms and letting her renewed flow of tears dampen his shirt as she finally relaxed in his arms. “Sometimes I could
string my brother up from the tallest tree in town and flog him.” He felt her mouth curve into a smile against his shoulder. “You like that idea, do you? Just say the word and I’ll do it. You always were a bloodthirsty little thing.”

“Only where Daniel’s concerned,” she said, her voice catching. She pulled back and met his gaze. “It’s been three years. I don’t know why it still catches me off guard like this.”

“It’s been longer than that since I discovered the truth about my folks and left home. The pain of their betrayal still surprises me sometimes. It’s as fresh as if it happened yesterday,” he said. “There’s no timetable on something like this. Your heart will heal when it’s ready.”

“And yours?”

He avoided her gaze. “Mine’s cold as stone.”

“If that’s true, then you shouldn’t be with Alice,” she chided, her expression worried.

Patrick sighed. “You’re probably right, but I can’t walk away from her, Molly. And I don’t want to discuss my relationship with her with you, not till I’ve got it figured out for myself.”

“We’re quite the happy little trio tonight, all of us with our secrets and forbidden topics,” Molly said with a rare touch of bitterness. “They could make a TV soap opera about Widow’s Cove, with our lives as the central plotline.”

“Why not suggest it and make us all rich?” Patrick said. “There should be some benefit to going through the kind of anguish you and I and Alice have been through.”

“You’d have to do it,” she said. “I can’t write worth a damn.”

“Neither can I,” Patrick lamented. “Oh, well, it was just an idea.”

Molly sighed. “I could sure use a drink.”

“You’re entitled,” he said.

“Which is why I won’t have one,” she said. “It would be too easy to use liquor to numb the pain. And in the end, what does that accomplish?”

Patrick was hit with a sudden flash of insight. “Which is why Alice is out there poking through your liquor stock, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I started doing the inventory, but the temptation was too great. When Alice offered to help out, I grabbed at the chance to turn the chore over to her.”

“Good for you. Seeing you upset worries her. She needs to be doing something to help.”

“I know, but I can’t explain it to her,” Molly said. “You’d better get back out there before she starts to wonder what we’re up to in here. Alice has never been one to ignore her curiosity for long. She’s been pestering me about Daniel all afternoon, but I refuse to discuss him.”

Patrick studied Molly’s face. Her tears had dried, but there was still unbearable sadness in her eyes, and his brother had put it there. He felt partly responsible for that. He should have done a better job of protecting her, but no one had been able to get through to Molly once she’d fallen under Daniel’s spell.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

“I’m not sure of much,” she said, “but I am sure of that. You and me, we’re survivors, Patrick, you in spite of being a Devaney, me because of one.”

“Don’t ever forget that, Molly, not even for a second.”

She gave him a forced smile. “Get on out of here—the potatoes are going cold. I’ll have to reheat them in the microwave, and you know how that goes against my grain. I’ll bring your dinners out in a minute. I imagine you both want the special.”

“The special and a smile on your face.”

“I can promise one but not the other. I’ll do my best, though.”

He gave her a long, lingering look, then finally nodded, satisfied with what he saw. “Five minutes more of hiding out and not a second longer,” he warned. “You don’t want me back in here.”

“You’re right about that,” she said. “You get in the way.”

He left her with some regret and went in search of Alice, who’d poured them each a beer and found a booth where the light was dim.

“That took a while,” she said, searching his face. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s fine.”

Alice looked skeptical. “She’s not fine, Patrick.”

“She will be,” he insisted.

“Can’t you tell me what happened? She’s my friend, too. I want to help.”

“She’ll tell you what she wants you to know. It’s enough that she understands you care,” he said, then reached for her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “Let’s talk about this inventory we’re going to do at my place tonight.”

“You know, if you keep secrets from me, there’s a good chance we won’t
be
at your place,” she told him tartly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

He pulled away from her and sat back, feeling his defenses slip into place the way they always did when
a woman tried to back him into a corner, however innocently. It didn’t seem to matter that the argument was over Molly’s secrets and not his own.

“Your choice,” he said.

Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Would it be that easy for you to stop this, Patrick?” she asked. “Could you let me turn my back and walk away?”

He deliberately shrugged. “Like I said, it’s your choice.”

She kept her gaze steady on him, then sighed. “In that case, I think I’d better do just that and go home,” she said, slipping out of the booth. “Tell Molly I’m sorry about dinner. Not that either of you will apparently give a damn whether I’m here or not. It’s nice that you have each other’s shoulders to cry on.”

The implication that they had deliberately shut her out of something important cut through him. Patrick wanted to reach out and stop her. One heartfelt word of apology was all it would have taken, one touch. But he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he watched her leave and told himself the ache in his heart had nothing at all to do with her going. He almost believed it, too. After all, over the years he’d gotten damn good at lying to himself.

Alice glanced up from the notes she was making for end-of-the-year report cards and saw Patrick coming across the school yard, a bouquet of lilacs in hand. It had been four days, four endless days, since she’d last laid eyes on him. Her heart did an automatic flip even though she’d vowed at least a hundred times to steel herself against the effect he had on her. She’d almost convinced herself that Molly was right, there was noth
ing to be gained by clinging to a false hope that Patrick would change.

Walking out of Jess’s, waiting as she crossed the room for Patrick to give even the tiniest sign that he didn’t want her to go, had almost killed her. She’d seen it as evidence that Patrick might enjoy sleeping with her, might even have feelings for her on some level, but he wasn’t letting her into his heart, not really, not if he could let her go so easily. It saddened her that Molly knew him better than she did. And she was just the teensiest bit jealous that the two of them had a history she knew nothing about.

Outside the window, he had disappeared from view, which could only mean he was in the building. She listened for the sound of his footsteps in the silent hallway, trying to brace herself against the impact he always had on her. She needed to be cool and distant and unapproachable. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the vaguest idea how she was going to pull off such a lie.

Suddenly he was there, without a whisper of sound to announce him, only the faint scent of lilacs to capture her attention. He filled the doorway, looking oddly uncertain as he waited for her to give some indication of whether he was welcome. She said nothing. She couldn’t gather the words or her thoughts. None of the heated words she’d mentally flung at him over the past few days were coming to her now. She was too darned glad to see him.

“Want me to leave?” he asked eventually.

“What I want and what I should want are two different things,” she told him candidly, then threw his own words back at him. “I guess that makes it your choice.”

“Then I’ll stay,” he said, stepping into the room.
“That’s what you should have done at Jess’s, Alice. You should have stayed.”

“Why, when it was plain you didn’t care which I did?” She frowned at him. “Don’t try making what happened my fault, Patrick.”

“I cared,” he said. “I’m just lousy at saying it. I’m even worse at looking ahead more than a minute or two.”

She sighed then, noting that he’d opted to ignore the fact that their fight had to do with Molly’s secrets. Since he was focusing on his own mistakes, she would, too.

“Do you think that will ever change?” she asked.

“I doubt it.”

“I see. So where does that leave us?”

“Can you try to hear what I’m not saying as well as what comes out of my mouth? Can you take here and now?” he asked plaintively. “Can you not worry about the future?”

How could she, when she wanted a future with this man so desperately? But he wasn’t offering one, not yet anyway. Once again he was giving her the choice of taking him as he was…or not. She had a feeling what she said and did in the next few minutes would make or break any chance they had.

She blinked away the tears that threatened and faced him. “Are those lilacs for me?”

He nodded.

“I suppose I should put them in some water.” She got to her feet, found an old vase in a cupboard, filled it with water, then took the flowers, burying her face in them before setting them on a corner of her desk.

“Is there an answer in there I’m missing?” he asked eventually, regarding her warily.

She turned slowly, lifted her gaze to meet his. “The
classroom is a little inappropriate for my answer. How about your place?”

Relief spread across his face, and she took heart at the sight of it.

“How fast can you gather up those papers?” he asked.

“I may as well leave them here,” she said, grabbing only her purse. “Something tells me I won’t be getting to them any time over the weekend.”

He grinned. “Not if I have my way.”

It wasn’t just about the fabulous sex, Patrick told himself a thousand times over the weekend, as he and Alice shut themselves away on his boat. He wasn’t using her. He would never do that to her.

But he couldn’t bring himself to define what it
was
about. He’d never let a woman get this close, never felt so needy and out of sorts when she was away. The four days before he’d swallowed his pride and gone after Alice had been the most miserable he’d spent since the early days after he’d left home.

“You know,” she said, staring at him across his tiny kitchen table. “I really should go home and get a change of clothes.”

“Why, when I’d only make you take them off?” he teased.

She grinned. “Maybe that’s why. I’m thinking something with lots and lots of tiny buttons, so you can fumble and be adorable as you try to undo them.”

“You think I have the patience for that? I’m more likely to rip them apart.”

“That could be interesting, too. I’ll make it something
old
with tiny buttons.”

“Forget it. I like the way you look in my shirt. I had
no idea that an old T-shirt could look that sexy on someone.”

“If it’s that enticing, why am I still dressed in it?”

“Sometimes anticipation is every bit as important as the sex,” he said, realizing it was true. He liked the slow buildup of heat. He liked knowing where it would lead, knowing how her body would respond. He liked the teasing, the exchange of smoldering looks and lingering caresses.

But even as he thought of his own amazing level of contentment, Alice’s grin faltered.

“Patrick, are you sure you’re not getting tired of having me underfoot?”

He stared at her in shock. “Do I act as if I’m bored?”

“No, but it’s not as if you’re used to sharing these quarters with another person.”

He studied her with a narrowed gaze. “What are you really saying, Alice? Is being shut up here on the boat with me getting on your nerves?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Relief washed over him. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d begun to want this to work. If she’d said she wanted to go home, he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted.