Chapter Thirty-Six

“Sunrise, 1872. One of the hallmarks of the Impressionist era, of course, was an artist’s ability to blend colors in a way that deceives one’s perception of reality. There is also the provocation of sensations. The scene lures you in, making you want to visit the location for the chance to experience the sounds, scents, and sunrise as captured on the canvas.

“Indeed, Monet created more than a landscape. He pulls emotional strings. You feel love, sadness, longing… something, as you see gold transform to yellow and melt into the grayish blue water. Does your mood change to mirror what you would feel in a setting?”

Paige pulled her attention from the image on the slide deck and scanned the lecture hall. Over two hundred fine-arts students had been eager to take her eight-week seminar on Impressionism. Not to mention the local art dealers and aspiring artists auditing her course. She should’ve been excited about the buzz her course created so close to the opening of the new art wing.

Except, this was art, the thing that knew all her deepest, darkest secrets because she channeled them to paint. After all these years, she still hadn’t accepted her excellence in the subject without reliving life’s darkest moments. Regardless of how she tried to hide from her genius, it followed her, begging to be on full display. Hence the reason the Dean of the College of Fine Arts and President McPherson wanted her teaching a seminar so close to the opening of the new art wing.

“Answer my question in no less than seven pages while presenting a comparative analysis on Degas verses Denaui. Those of you bold enough to challenge my critical thought process may very well yield an exceptional impressionist piece when our eight weeks end. Papers should be APA formatted with works cited and uploaded to my drop box by next class. That’s all for today.”

Paige took a deep, settling breath. No more pretending to be the doll on the shelf. She glanced up at the projected image, noting how her mood did not change because it was already reflective of the dreary weather conditions in the painting. A faint smile hit her lips as she hoped a few students were clever enough to understand emotion dictated color and thus determined setting.

She clicked the projector off as she returned to the lectern and began gathering her notes. For a few minutes she contemplated leaving it all behind and journeying to every artist’s dream location. Being a voyeur to the beauty still left in the world was easier than the reality she would face once she left this lecture hall, her office, and ended at a house struggling to be a home.

“Still can’t convince you to take Connie’s job?” Preston’s deep, jocular voice cut into her thoughts and made her smile. “You do realize she’s only delaying her retirement until she can convince you to take on this monster.” He showed no hesitation as he closed in and pulled her into a tight hug.

Paige delighted in the sanctum she found in his arms. This man had been like a second father from the moment he took her under his wing years ago.

“You sure she’s not the only one delaying her retirement?” She stepped back from Preston’s hold. “You know my love affair with art is bittersweet. That’s why my research and engagement with the art therapy center is so important. I won’t have time to be anyone’s dean.”

Preston conceded with a nod as he took a step back, analyzing her. Paige knew him well enough to know he hadn’t just hiked across campus to exchange pleasantries. There was something on his mind, and whatever it was, he hadn’t wanted a trail because he hadn’t emailed or called.

“What is it, Preston?”

“Guess I’m still shocked to see you back so soon after everything that happened.”

Paige cleared her throat, sidestepped him, and went to her briefcase. “First day of the eight-week seminar.” She swallowed hard, ignoring the unpleasant thoughts plaguing her mind. “And…I needed the distraction.”

“How’s Brenden? Have you two talked about trying again? You’re both young and there are women who miscarry and still go on to have children.”

“I’d rather not discuss that. Besides, I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not why you’re here. Considering I saw you three days ago at the memorial.”

Preston flung his arms up in defeat. “I wish you were wrong this time.” His head tilted back as he blew a hard exhale. “The Endowment Board. Paige, I’m getting pressure to revoke Brenden’s contribution for the Art Wing.

“Your ex, Richard Lowell, isn’t exactly happy with Andover right now. He’s managed to land the ear of Senator Beau Franks, a man who has many friends on the university’s Endowment Board. The board wants to start an investigation to determine if the donation made for the Art Wing was a bribe from Brenden to secure your job and shield you from being cited with unethical conduct.”

Her legs went weak. She grabbed the lectern for support and was only able to manage, “Wow.” She took another deep breath, steadying her balance. Once she was certain she wouldn’t fall she grabbed her lecture notes and shoved them into her briefcase.

“I need you to say more than wow right now. You know of the character clause in our contracts. Tell me these accusations of Brenden accosting Richard while you watched are false so I can make this all go away.” Preston stepped into Paige and clutched her by the arms. “Tell me this asshat is lying and—”

“He’s not lying,” she said. “Brenden witnessed Richard’s attempt to manhandle me one night months ago, and he came to my rescue. Had Brenden not found me that night, I’m not sure what would’ve happened.” She shrugged out of Preston’s hold, reading his too-shocked face. “FYI, Senator Franks is Brenden’s ex-girlfriend’s father. Dare I say, conflict of interest?”

“You should’ve told me.” His face tensed. “I’m sorry, Paige. I can’t stop this and I didn’t want you in the dark, especially since the Ethics Committee has decided to review your personnel file with a formal hearing and the Endowment Board has sent notice of the investigation to Brenden. They want this matter resolved within the next month or two, since we’re not far from dedicating the building.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Her hand wrapped her belly as she moved to collect her things. “If you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to go now. I’m heading home for the day.”

Paige didn’t wait for Preston’s dismissal. In fact, she ignored his calls and moved at what seemed to be the speed of light. Everything she ever wanted was being taken from her, and it felt like Richard was the machinator behind it all. The haze her mind entered as she drove home served as the perfect antidote to Richard’s spitefulness.

The rage riding her began to subside when she pulled into the driveway and saw that Katie was home. Paige closed her eyes, summoned self-control while grabbing her briefcase, and exited the car. As she walked around, a young mother greeted her while pushing a stroller down the sidewalk. A pause pinned her heart while her hand instinctively slid down to her belly. And then it happened; every ounce of self-control Paige had used to make it home vanished.

…

Brenden couldn’t explain why he was so anxious to get home, except there was the memory of the kiss he shared with Paige before leaving. Only a fool would deny the attraction still burning between them. Therefore, he hoped Paige would prove statistics wrong and be home.

When he pulled into his driveway, his racing pulse slowed to a crawl. There was something odd about the garage door being left up and random papers scattered across the ground. Brenden eased from his truck. After everything that had happened with Paige, he and his men remained on full alert.

He checked down the street for the unmarked Black 2131 surveillance vehicle. The car was still in place and there had been no warning bells regarding her safety. But, he glanced down and saw the cracked face of her cell phone. He took further inventory and found her briefcase tossed upside down by the side entry door.

The instincts he used on mission kicked in. Brenden reached inside the waistband of his jeans, pulled his gun, and then touched the hood of her car—still warm. All the while a million not-so-good scenarios ran through his head. This was the nightmare he never wanted to come true.

“Please!” was screamed from inside.

With his gun drawn, he moved swiftly and entered the house. The sound of someone banging on a closed door chilled his blood.

“Paige, please let me in!” Katie screamed again before pounding resumed against a door.

Brenden followed the sound of Katie’s voice. He took the stairs two at a time, then followed the hall until he found his niece outside of the nursery banging on the door. He lowered his weapon.

“Katie.” His eyes jumped the perimeter before Katie threw her arms around him. He hadn’t missed her red eyes or the sniffles drowning his heart. “Is there someone else here besides you and Paige?” he whispered.

“No.” She gave a frantic shake of her head while searching her uncle’s face.

“Then what happened? The garage door is up, side door cracked open, all of Paige’s belongings are scattered across the garage floor, and then I find you like this.” Brenden examined her face once more before scanning their surroundings. Once he was certain there wasn’t an intruder, he slid the gun back to its rightful place.

“I dunno what happened. Something bad I think. She ran into the house crying and shaking worse than at the memorial service.” Katie sniffled. “She won’t talk to me. I’ve begged her to let me in.”

Brenden and Katie jerked back from the loud crash on the other side of the wall. The sound of glass shattering morphed into pained wails.

“How long has she been in there?” Brenden guessed less than an hour based on her car’s hood.

“Maybe thirty minutes. I’m not sure.” She palmed her eyes dry. “I’m sorry, Uncle Bren. You told me to keep an eye on her and I…I…”

“You did everything you could. And now I’m home.” Brenden’s attention went to the room door. “Go clean yourself up while I see to Paige.”

Brenden masked his worry while waiting anxiously for Katie to disappear to her side of the house. All of a sudden the screeching wails from the other side became silent. Panic entered like a draining dark force and held him hostage as he reached overhead and grabbed the door key from the trim.

For good measure, he knocked against the door. Nothing. With haste, he inserted the key, opened the door, and pushed into the room. He spotted Paige, sitting upright on the floor, staring off into the space of the room. Her breathing was slow, controlled, and accompanied by sniffles.

His hands fidgeted with the key as he caught glimpses of large holes in the drywall where curtain rods once hung. He gulped down another breath as his shoes crunched what he believed to be the remnants of something porcelain. After stumbling over stuffed animals, the base of a lamp, and baby clothes, he determined the overturned rocking chair was the loud crash he had heard.

He choked back tears he didn’t know he owned and kneeled at her side. His eyes studied every inch of her disheveled hair, paint-splattered clothes, and pained face. “Paige, I need you to talk to me. Did something happen today?”

She didn’t respond, never acknowledged his presence as her gaze remained off in some distant place. He knew she was still hurting over losing the baby. Hell, he was, too. This was why she needed to talk to him.

Brenden had to know what triggered her to this low. How could he help or protect her if he didn’t understand her? Paige wasn’t a soldier. He couldn’t order her to talk, nor did he want to go all caveman and demand anything of her right now.

Appealing to his gentler side, Brenden implored patience and followed her line of sight. His attention shifted from his wife back to the once immaculate wall mural now holding splotches of black. The magical delights from the secret garden Paige had painted for their daughter had almost been gutted from existence. He suffered mountains of regret for never telling Paige how beautiful the mural was.

In slow motion, he turned back to Paige. He found himself overwhelmed by the anguish etched across her beautiful face. Worse was how her focus remained in the distance. She was a million paces from the reality her grief had wreaked over the nursery.

Brenden raised his hand until it cupped her cheek. The minute he turned her face to his, her eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.”

“You had to,” she mumbled.

“No, I…” He paused, searching her innocent face for answers while fearing what he may have to explain one day. But how could he tell her the evils he fought against were attempting to spoil the beauty she could bring to his world? The cruelty of why they were both sitting in the middle of their dead daughter’s room confirmed his stance.

“Brenden.” Her hand came atop his as he thumbed fresh tears from her cheeks. Their eyes locked, stirring the burdens of his conscience. “I’m sorry I lost the baby. The doctor told me to take it easy and maybe if I’d listened, she would still be alive.”

“Shh…oh God, no, Paige.” He stretched his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

After the tears stopped wracking her body, he released his hold and moved until he was in front of her again. He took her face in his hands, ducking his head until he met her eyes. He would continue to carry the guilt of not being able to protect her and the baby, but Paige needed to be free of it. What had happened was not anything she could’ve prevented.

He thought he had time to shield her from the darkness threatening their world.

He was wrong. Not in a million years did he think today would be the day he exposed her to the realities inherent to the life of the commander of Black 2131. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, but the vulnerability smothering the room dictated that she deserved the truth.

“Someone in this fucked-up world hurt you to get to me, and I…” He fought back the surge of bile rising from the guilt stirring in the pit of his stomach. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He took her hands into his. “Can you forgive me?”

She jerked away from him, sending a sharp pain across his heart. His entire body began to ache, and not for the first time, he wondered if this was his punishment for not following the rules.

Her tears dried to a stone face and then she said, “Is that why you left?”

In slow motion, he nodded, moved in closer, and began explaining how and why she was poisoned. After sensing her fear, and reminding himself that she deserved the truth for all they had been through, Brenden divulged the action his team took when she was assaulted. He then confessed to killing the man who drugged her.

“I’m no knight in shining armor, Paige. I’m much too dark to be good. But I am your protector, and I promise to keep you safe…forever, if you will let me.”

“I forgive you.” She reached up, tracing the wet sheen rolling down his cheek. “You’re my dark knight in shining armor.”

Brenden again pulled her into his arms and didn’t let go. He wanted this moment to prove he would comfort and protect while erasing all hurt and harm.