Seducing His Heart Page 20

  The empty, double bed he had in the small sublet seemed enormous. No Bess. No dogs. He missed the sex, he missed the affection, the camaraderie, the laughing, talking, joking. Someone to wonder if he was okay when he was late. Dinner being saved to be re-heated when he got home. He even missed the snoring of the pugs.

  The finely-constructed, emotionally sterile world of Whitfield Bass came crashing down.

  Sitting in a bar where the chatter was in a language he didn’t recognize, he drank his scotch and thought about Dr. Sumner. After the second drink, he finally understood what the doctor was saying. And he knew the answer to the question.

  Why had he not sold the house? Of course. It all made sense, once he discarded his own words. If he forgot all his nonsense about not committing and not wanting the family he never had, he saw that he was saving the house for the family he’d always wanted. The family he’d have some day. The family he needed to feel whole.

  Something in him didn’t believe all his malarkey. His heart knew that life could be at least some of what he had imagined growing up. He needed it. He deserved it. And it fit perfectly into the stone house. So, he kept it, a place he loved, to house the people he would love.

  A smile crossed his lips. It made perfect sense. Why didn’t I see that before? He knew the answer to that one, too. Until he found Bess, the woman to be the core of his family, the stone house was only a symbol. With her, it could become a reality. Satisfaction at having the answer warmed him.

  The part of Whit that wanted that family had put Bess in charge of making the house a home. Who better for the job than the woman he adored and couldn’t live without? Perfect.

  “So, what the hell am I doing in Hong Kong, alone?” Through the haze of his second drink, he saw clearly what he had to do. He had to go home.

  “I have a home. A real home. And a woman who loves me, who should be my wife.”

  In the morning, he called Pick and the airlines. He packed his bag. He sent this email to Bess—

  Am coming home. Let’s have an old-fashioned Christmas at the stone house. Only you and me. Okay? I’m on a flight due in Dec. 25.

  I’ll take a limousine from the airport right to Rye. Can’t wait to see you.

  Love,

  Whit

  While he waited to board his flight, he got an email from Pick.

  Not surprised. Didn’t expect you to last. Merry Christmas. Jamison is on the way. Expect to be invited to the wedding.

  He sent one to Sam.

  Returning to NYC at Christmas. Back permanently. Hope you haven’t given away my job. Will report for duty on January 2.

  Whit

  He made one leg of the trip, but his plane was delayed due to weather. Then, it was canceled. He never got a response from Bess. But then, he only had spotty Internet access. He had to hope. Had to have faith she’d be there. Me, have faith in a woman? I’ll try.

  One delay became two. He managed to re-book, only to have that flight canceled. Slowly the hours ticked away. Christmas was disappearing. Still no word from Bess. Now, no Internet and no cell reception. He was in the mountains and would have to believe she’d be there.

  He managed to beg a seat on the last plane out in the middle of the night. He prayed everything would go all right, that it would land safely and that Bess would be there. I wouldn’t blame her. Hasn’t heard from me. Then this. Who am I fooling? She’s probably got someone else by now. He brooded for a moment. Not Bess. Please, God.

  Kennedy airport was insane with people from flights delayed all over because of blizzards and fog in the United States. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw a limo driver with the name “Bass” on a sign. It’s gotta be Pick. Bless him. Whit grabbed the man and led him over to the baggage claim area. Together, they dragged his luggage to the car, and Whit got in.

  He’d been traveling for over twenty-four hours. He rubbed his cheek. Need a shave. Bess likes scruff. Need a shower.

  The driver did his best to weave his way through the snarled traffic. They finally reached the New England Thruway, which was almost bumper-to-bumper. They crawled. Whit thought he’d lose his mind. He turned on his phone to check his email. There were ten messages from Bess. They all said the same thing—“Yes.”

  After two hours, the limo pulled up in front of the stone house. Whit tipped the man twenty bucks, grabbed his bags, and headed for the front door. He stopped cold. It had been sanded down and painted white. A brass knocker graced the top, two inches below the tiny window. Whit used it.

  Bess opened the door. They stood still, staring at each other.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. The warmth of the house embraced him like a loving hug. The scent of a baking ham mixed with the smell of burning wood from the fireplace.

  Whit scooped Bess into his arms and kissed her. She wiped tears from her cheek then stepped back.

  “God you feel good,” he whispered, holding her close.

  “So do you.”

  “I love you, Bess. Love you so much.”

  “Me, too.” She stepped back.

  “Well, what do you think?” She chewed her lip and sniffled.

  His gaze zeroed in on the six-foot Christmas tree. Voices from the past echoed in his head.

  “Christmas tree? Damn, filthy thing! I’ve got better things to do than waste good money on something that gets thrown out in two weeks. And who’s gonna clean up those pine needles and shit? You? I doubt it. I’ve got no time to clean up after a damn Christmas tree,” his father had said, when Whit was five.

  “Don’t touch! That’s Anna’s job, Whit. She decorates the tree every year. I hope you understand, dear. Tell your father you want your own tree,” said his Aunt Ida, the year he had spent Christmas at her house.

  “I’m so sorry, Whit. We don’t have money to buy a tree. It’s all we can do to feed you kids. We’re older. We live on a fixed income. Can you understand that? You will when you grow up. Put on your coat. Let’s go see the tree in town,” said his grandmother, the year he had stayed with her.

  There was a half-empty box of ornaments on the floor beside the tree. With a tremble in his hand, he picked up a spare glass ball and hung it on a branch. Emotion gagged him. He felt a sting at the back of his eyes. Whit fingered the needles, fresh and fragrant. A deep inhale brought the sweet smell of pine rushing to his nostrils. He blinked back tears and smiled.

  His gaze passed over the room drawn to a garland, with tiny, twinkling, lights, wound around the staircase. Another graced the big window next to the dining room table that faced the backyard. The table was set for two, with white plates sitting proudly on placemats of Christmas plaid fabric. A spiral cut ham rested regally on a silver platter, flanked by side dishes of creamed spinach and roasted potatoes.

  The sofa had an antique wood coffee table, sporting a hammered copper bowl overflowing with red apples, oranges, and walnuts. Two end tables with large, white, milk glass lamps flanked the couch. Candles burned in brass holders.

  Whit’s mouth hung open. “It’s beautiful. Perfect.” This is it. The home I always wanted. It’s mine. Now. Finally.

  “Come see the kitchen and the bedroom!” She took his arm and led him into the kitchen. A faint sweet and spicy aroma of gingerbread teased his nose, and his stomach groaned. He spied a small platter piled high with gingerbread men, dressed with white icing. Cooking utensils and brightly colored dishtowels lay scattered about. This room is her. She belongs here.

  They trudged up the stairs to the bedroom. Whit took off his coat and laid it over a black, lacquered rocking chair. He sat on the bed and bounced.

  Bess held out her hands to him. “What do you think?”

  He took them in his, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “It’s the most incredible house…I can’t believe it’s the same place.” It’s everything I’ve dreamed of.

  “It needed a little TLC.”

  I need a little TLC. And you and this house
are the prescription to cure the ailment. “Thank you. You’ve made my dream come true.”

  Each room was more stunning than the one before.

  “You did all this?” He raised his eyebrows. “Amazing.”

  She nodded, her eyes filling. “Come on, dinner’s ready. Of course, it was ready yesterday, but hey, delays are delays.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  When they reached the dining area, Bess handed him a glass of wine then joined him at the table. A sense of peace, totally new, drifted through Whit’s veins.

  “What made you come back so soon, and why didn’t I hear from you for so long?”

  “I came back for you. I missed you. I tried not to. I’m ashamed to say, I thought not emailing or calling would make me forget you. But it didn’t work. I only wanted you more.”

  “You came back to be with me? Mr. No Commit?” There was a tiny tremble in her voice.

  “I’ve been stupid. Not anymore. I get it. I get that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you. I want to be with you always. Will you marry me?” He pulled out a small box, opening it to reveal a large, round, diamond ring.

  Bess gasped.

  “Will you? Do I need to get down on one knee?” Whit pushed up from the table and knelt in front of her.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks.

  “Don’t tell me there’s someone else?” He frowned.

  She shook her head.

  “Thank God! Talk to me. Say yes, nod, something!” He grew panicky.

  “Yes. I will. Yes.”

  Whit jumped up and pulled her into his arms. Then, he placed the ring on her finger.

  “I thought you were gone for good,” she said, burying her face in his chest.

  “I couldn’t leave you. I love you too much. You’re my dream come true.” He stroked her hair.

  “I promise I’ll never leave you,” she said, cupping his cheek and wiping her eyes.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  She smiled. “You’re my dream, too. I didn’t think you were ever coming back.” A timer went off. “Oh! The mocha magic cake is done.” Bess sprang into action.

  “Everything looks good. I’m starved.” He tucked into the food like he hadn’t eaten in years.

  After dinner, he sat back, sipping his coffee.

  “Okay. Give. Why the change of heart?” Bess narrowed her eyes.

  “You’ve made it clear you want what I want. Those emails about the house. When I found out what you were doing, I couldn’t wait to see it. It hit me one night, after a few scotches, that I had what I’ve always wanted, right here, with you.”

  “You don’t think I’m going to run away? Leave you?”

  “A doctor once told me that life has no guarantees. I can’t be certain, but I can try to make you happy. He also said that by living my version of “safe,” I was missing out on life. Messy life with the ups and downs, joys and sorrows. Real living. Which is not what I’ve been doing.”

  “A wise doctor.” Bess took a taste of her hot drink.

  “It’s you, Bess. You make the difference. You make me believe I can live my dream.”

  He walked over to his suitcase and opened it, drawing out two packages. He put them on the table and sat down. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Like the engagement ring wasn’t enough?” She splayed her fingers and held her hand to the light.

  “That’s different. Go on. Open them.”

  She ripped off the wrapping to reveal a carrying case. She snapped it open. Inside were a Nikon D800 camera and two special lenses. She gasped. “Oh my God! A Nikon? This costs a fortune, thousands of dollars.”

  “You said you used to take pictures. Bet you were damn good. Now, you have the equipment to do it again.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Dad would be so proud.” She kissed Whit.

  “This one isn’t nearly as grand.”

  She pulled off the paper. Inside was a large, red leather photo album. “For my pictures?”

  “And for the ones you’ll take of our family.”

  “Our family,” she repeated, stroking the cover.

  “If I don’t have pictures, Jeff’ll never believe I’ve done it.” He laughed.

  “Oh! That reminds me. This came for you.” She pulled an envelope out of her pocket.

  Whit looked at the return address. Emotion closed his throat. As he slipped his finger under the flap, he muttered, “Robbie.”

  While Whit read his Christmas card from his brother, Bess examined her new camera and read the instruction booklet. They finished the bottle of wine. Whit immediately sat down and replied to Robbie with a heartfelt email. He brushed aside two tears as he hit “send.”

  “Come on. I’ve waited too long already.” He held out his hand as he moved toward the stairs. Whit took a quick shower then made love to Bess. They fell asleep curled together.

  The couple stayed in the stone house through New Year’s, making plans for their life together. Then they fought the traffic back to the city.

  * * * *

  Crash flagged a taxi for Whit. He gave the address of Dr. Sumner’s office. His first call when he returned was to make an appointment. He smiled in anticipation of a happy session.

  When the cab stopped, he tipped generously and waited in the waiting room. It wasn’t long before Dr. Sumner appeared. They shook hands. Whit preceded the doctor and sank down in the comfortable, leather chair he always occupied.

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon. What happened?” The doctor eased into his chair and crossed his legs.

  “I got it.”

  “Got what?”

  “The answer. The answer to the question.”

  The doctor smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

  “I kept the house because I wanted to put my family there.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I’ve asked Bess to marry me.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She accepted.” Whit beamed.

  “Congratulations.” A smile broke through the doctor’s usually placid expression.

  “She said she loves me and promised never to leave.”

  “I hope you know…”

  Whit held up his hand. “I got it. There are no guarantees. I accept that. I’m going to try everything I can to make her happy, so she’ll stay.”

  “Sounds like you two have a good chance for success.”

  “We’re gonna have kids, too.”

  “That’ll change things.”

  “I know. I’ll take it as it comes. I need the whole package, doc.”

  Dr. Sumner smiled again. “I understand. I think you’ll make a fine father.”

  “Think so?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s what Jeff said.”

  “You can count on him for support.”

  “I know. I’m lucky to have him.”

  “I think you’re ready to go it on your own. You don’t need to come anymore.”

  Panic seized Whit. “But what if everything fails?”

  “You can come back. Maybe every three months or so? Like getting your car tuned up?”

  “A life tune-up, eh? Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m proud of you, Whit. You’ve worked hard in therapy. Now, you’re going to have what you want.” The doctor stood up.

  “Yeah, doc, I get it. Time’s up.” The two men shook hands. “Thank you, Dr. Sumner. For helping me get my life back.”

  “A pleasure.”

  Whit took a deep breath and hit the street. The sun was shining, cutting the cold a little, so he walked home, thinking about his life.

  After a pow-wow with Bess, he put his apartment on the market and moved into her place. A week later, they decided to have a small wedding ceremony at the stone house in July. Bess formed a planning team with the Dinner Club women. Whit needed a best man and two ushers. Jeff and Pick agreed, happily, to stand up for him. Now, there was only one left to call.

  Whil
e the women were fussing over food during their weekly meeting, he retreated to the bedroom. He stretched out on the bed. It had been five years since he’d heard his brother’s voice. Will I still recognize him? Will he talk to me?

  Sweat gathered on his palms and butterflies invaded his stomach. When he picked up the phone, his mouth was dry. Before he could chicken out, Whit dialed.

  “Robbie?”

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “Whit.”

  A moment of silence seemed like a year.

  “Whit? My brother, Whit?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How the hell are you?”

  “Fine, Robbie. Just fine. How are you?”

  “I’m hangin’ in.”

  “I’m calling because…well…I have a favor to ask.”

  For a moment, he thought he’d lost the connection. Robbie’s trying to take it all in.

  “Shoot.”

  “Would you be an usher at my wedding?”

  “You’re getting married? Mr. Confirmed Bachelor?”

  Whit chuckled at the surprise in his brother’s voice. “Finally got around to it.”

  “That’s fantastic. Sure. I’ll be there. Is Jeff coming?”

  “Hell, yeah! He’s been bugging me for years.”

  “And Dad?”

  “I saw him a few days ago. When I told him, he said he’d step up his physical therapy so he could be here for the big event.”

  “The last Bass left to fall.”

  “You’re married?”

  “Yep. Three years now.”

  “Bring her. Damn. Gotta meet this chick.”

  “I’m sorry, Whit,” Robbie blurted out.

  Emotion closed Whit’s throat for a moment. “That’s okay, Robbie. I understand.”

  “I…I…don’t know… I was angry.”

  “I get it. It’s in the past. Let’s forget it.”

  “I hope you can.”

  “We’ll start over when you come to the wedding.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Gotta go. Bess wants me,” Whit lied. The call ended.