CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Amelia
When Reese and the kids got back, I was still in the kitchen. I had managed to persuade myself to stand up and I was in a slow and desultory fashion, putting away washing. I was tired. My whole body felt depressed, as if moving around was just pointless.
“Hello, sister,” Reese said cautiously. I stiffened. Somehow it was all her fault. I knew it wasn’t; knew I was being ridiculous, but I still felt a simmering resentment that she had taken it upon herself to disillusion me like that. If not for her, I wouldn’t know.
Would that really be better?
I knew it wouldn’t, so I shrugged. “Hey, Reese.”
“I hope Brett hasn’t been driving you nuts with his slide presentation?”
“No,” I said coolly. “I haven’t seen him. He’s upstairs.”
“Oh.” Reese paused. “Listen, Amelia. I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t,” I said in a small whisper. “Please, Reese. Just…don’t.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “Are you going to help me with supper?”
I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted to go up to my room and sleep. I didn’t want to hear about anything or see anyone or think. But I couldn’t very well do that, could I? Tomorrow was my last day with my brother’s family and I wasn’t about to spoil that.
“Sure,” I said, hoping I sounded more enthused than I felt. It wouldn’t have been exactly difficult. I couldn’t have been less excited about anything if I tried.
“We’re making a roast,” Reese continued, giving me a frown. “You don’t eat meat, right?”
“I don’t eat pork or beef,” I corrected.
“Okay. Fine. I think we have enough to work around that,” Reese continued, bending to rummage in the vegetable drawer. As she produced various vegetables to roast, I found myself looking out of the window, trying to make myself feel like I wasn’t in some awful dream.
“Amelia?” Brett’s voice called through the door. “Can you help me a moment?”
“Sure,” I said distantly. Everything seemed to be coming at me down a long tunnel. Nothing mattered to me, nothing touched me. I was numb.
I moved woodenly to the stairs and drifted up behind Brett, following him to his desk in the corner of the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Mel, but I’m having stress with my tax. Normally, the company accountant does it, but I did some extra projects during the year. I had to ask before you go tomorrow.”
I sighed. “I’ll try, Brett.”
“Thanks.” He grinned at me. He looked concerned. “What’s it?”
I closed my eyes, wishing everyone would just leave me alone. I didn’t want their concern. I wanted to forget about it—to forget Carson Grant existed. To walk out of here tomorrow and forget everything. The way he held me, the way we kissed, his words. I would sell that locket he had given back and end this whole farce permanently.
Brett was still looking at me with that tender, brotherly expression and I sighed.
“It’s nothing, Brett,” I explained. My voice was so tight it came out all quiet and whispering, which wasn’t doing my argument any good. “I’m fine. Just bad news.”
“Work stuff?”
I gritted my teeth. “Just bad news.”
“Okay. I’m sorry about asking you this stuff. It can wait,” he said gently.
“No, it’s okay,” I insisted. “I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, sis.” He kissed my hair. “Anything you want to tell me, please do. I don’t care what it is. You know I don’t.”
I sighed. The need to tell him—to ask him—was suddenly overwhelming.
“Brett?”
“Yes, sis?”
“Carson. He…what do you know about him, um…before? I mean, between when he came back and this Christmas?”
Brett suddenly looked guarded. “Not a lot,” he admitted hesitantly. “He…sis, he was weird when he came back. Like I told you.”
“Weird.” My voice was stiff.
“Yeah, I know we talked about this before, but I guess I could have been clearer. I understood his past and why he was like he was, but when he got back…” he shook his head. “He was really screwed up, sis. He contacted me a month after his discharge came through. Told me we should meet up on the long weekend. I flew up there. It was bad.”
“Bad?”
My brother coughed and shifted uncertainly. “I didn’t want to tell you about it. I kinda promised I would never tell anyone. He’s my friend, and I didn’t want people to judge him.” He paused. “He…when he got back he was…he was a mess. Drinking heavily, not taking care of himself. He wasn’t the Lieutenant Grant we all know.”
I sighed. “There were women, weren’t there?”
Brett closed his eyes. “Yes, sis.”
I sighed. I felt as if the pain Reese had inflicted was being walked on again. Imagining Carson with other women was never easy. But now, when I thought about the fact that one of those women was still part of his life, even though he hadn’t told me about her…I tensed, clenching my teeth. “I’m glad to know,” I said in a tight voice.
“Sis, if this is what’s making you so sad, then…”
“I’m not sad,” I snapped quickly. The vehemence of my denial made it pretty obvious I was lying, but I couldn’t do much better. “I’m just tired,” I explained quickly.
“Okay,” he said, sounding dubious. “Well, if you say so.”
“I do,” I said. I looked down at the books, wanting this conversation to be over. I should have asked him the one burning question that stuck in my throat: is he still seeing a woman? Do you know for sure? Can you give me assurance on this? But I couldn’t make myself ask it. The hurt of finding out for sure would be too great.
And if he was? What would Brett think of me if he knew I had fallen, once again and inexorably, for his best friend? His best friend who might well be married?
I can’t possibly tell Brett about everything that’s going on now.
I couldn’t do that to my brother or his friend. If Brett found out the details he would want to kill Carson for upsetting me. I didn’t want to alienate the two friends from each other. Carson needed all the friends he could get right now.
I surprised myself by still feeling sorrier for him than I did for myself. I couldn’t help it. Stupidly, terribly and tragically, I loved Carson Grant. Despite everything and no matter what he did to me, I would never stop loving him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and felt tears tremble on the lids.
“I’m going to make coffee,” Brett said gently. “Want some?”
“I’ll come down now. Thanks, Brett.”
“No problem.”
I forced myself to finish my perusal of Brett’s earnings—working out the tax was not actually terribly hard—and then headed downstairs.
I paused in the sitting room on my way to the kitchen, warming my hands at the fire. My fingers were cold and my neck was tense. I rolled my head from side to side, easing out the tension. My heart was sore, but I was doing my level best to ignore it. I would not let myself be sad. I would not let myself mourn Carson and all we had.
He doesn’t really love me. He doesn’t.
I had to believe that. What else could I think? If he actually loved me, he would not have lied to me. He would have told me in the beginning that he was with someone. He had led me on and let me believe what I wanted to—that there was a chance for us. Then he had let me wake to the cruel reality of it. The blow hit so much harder than if I had never come to love him as I did now.
I wanted to hate him—I really did. But I just didn’t. I looked into the flames, watching the tongues of orange weave around each other, the thin flickers of blue at the base as they hissed and crackled on the darkened log.
“Amelia,” a voice spoke from the edge of my dreams into my ear.
I looked up into the brown eyes of Carson Grant. He was standing in the hallway, still in his jogging clothes, coffee in his hand. He had a puzzled smile on his face, his eyes warm. He looked at me hesitantly. “Amelia?”
I stared at him and pushed past him into the kitchen.
He stayed where he was, looking after me with brown eyes wide with hurt. I bit my lip and ignored him. I was not going to let myself be hurt again. Not for anything. Not by anyone.
“You finished?” Brett looked up from his place at the counter with the coffee, surprised.
“Yes, Brett,” I said, knowing I was despondent and not bothering to hide the fact. “Finished.”
“Well, then,” Brett said. “That’s incredible! How did I deserve a sister who’s so nice she’d even do my tax for me?”
I sighed. “Thanks, Brett. But it really wasn’t hard. If it makes you feel better, next time I need advice on extending a house, I’ll come and ask you.”
He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he came to sit with me. “I might be employed designing buildings,” he observed, “but you haven’t had a close look at our garage extension, have you?”
“No,” I said, frowning. “Why?”
“You didn’t notice that when you open the inside door it covers up the doorway to the guest loo downstairs?” His eyes were dancing with merriment and his mouth cracked a grin.
I laughed. “It does?” I couldn’t help the fact that he was cheering me up. “How did you manage that?”
“Search me,” he said sincerely. “I think I have my own special magic for mess-ups.” He was smiling, but it dropped at the edges a little and he sighed. I realized that the tension between Carson and his sister was weighing on Brett considerably. I felt bad.
“No, Brett,” I said gently. “It’s not a bug. It’s a feature.”
We both laughed. “Thanks, sis,” he said cheerily. “I’ll use that one.”
“Good…do that.”
He took my hand. “Sis,” he said softly, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I clenched his hand, feeling the strength of it, the assurance his touch gave. “I’m glad too.”
I meant it. Whatever happened, however broken my heart was, I had connected with Brett and the kids. And Carson. For better or worse, I wouldn’t regret it.
When I went upstairs to bed later, I looked at myself in the mirror, brushing out my hair. I could see the strain of the last few days on my face, my eyes tight with worry.
I could hate you for doing this to me, Carson.
Except I didn’t. I couldn’t really hate Carson, Lieutenant Grant. I never managed it and I never would.
As I put my face cream on and got ready for bed, my eyes fell on something—the little heart locket, lying where I left it on the table. I lifted it.
Holding it clenched in my fist, I felt the tears fall. I remembered the day he had given it to me, and then the next time he gave it to me, a day ago, and all that came after. It hurt me to see it now—it was a promise of his love, but it seemed his heart belonged to someone else. Someone he hadn’t told me about. I didn’t want to believe it, but what else was there?
I didn’t look at the little locket. I kept my fist closed as I put it away where I wouldn’t see it. I didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about Carson. I wanted to focus on my family and on my future and my career.
As I slid into bed, my cheeks wet with tears, I remembered the way his strong hands played over my skin, the way his body fit mine so perfectly that, every time, we found release in each other. He was every man I had ever wanted, all rolled into one and topped with the smile and eyes that could drown my soul.
I squeezed my eyes shut; wrapped my arms around my chest and tried to fall asleep. I must have done, since the next time I opened my eyes again was to the tender light of another morning.