Chapter Twenty Eight

Brooke was consistent with Ever’s driving lessons. He brought the Escort over four times a week and quizzed Ever from the rule book. It was decided they’d go to pick out a car on Ever’s first day off, once she got her license.

By the end of August she was ready. The Escort was available for her driving test and, although nervous, Ever passed without a problem. They were both pretty delighted with themselves on the drive back to Stroud’s house. Ever pulled into the driveway and they remained in the car, mutually savoring the moment.

“So. Monday’s the day.”

“Yeah,” Ever sighed, still gripping the wheel.

“What’s the matter, mouse?”

“I’m a little nervous about it.”

“What’s to be nervous about? You passed your test with flying colors. You’re ready to go.”

“I know. But a different car...”

“I thought you’d decided on an Escort.”

“I have.”

“An Escort’s an Escort,” Brooke pointed out.

“Yes,” Ever said, “but I’ve grown used to this little car.” She patted the dashboard with uniquely feminine sentimentality. “It’ll be hard getting used to another one.”

“You won’t have to get used to another one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is the car you’ll be buying – if you really want it.”

“This one?”

“It’s all set. I took care of the preliminaries. The car’s been checked, top to bottom. Sound as a dollar. The deal’s a go, if you are. Your signature on the dotted line and you’ll be a car owner.”

Ever sagged with the sweetest look he’d ever seen on her face. “Oh Brooke...”

“Don’t get all sloppy on me,” he warned. “It’s a good car at the right price. No big deal.”

Tears stood in her eyes as Ever threw her arms around him. “You’re incredible,” she cried. “How can I ever repay you?”

“Unconditional obedience.”

Ever pulled back. “You lout!” she laughed, smacking him.

Brooke grinned back, nodding and feeling damned good at being able to do something nice for her.

***

The license and car increased the scope of Ever’s independence. She no longer had to rely on anyone for rides to and from work or even the supermarket. She was once again self-sufficient and Brooke could see there was no need to check up on her so frequently. No need, apart from his own.

Despite the fact that Ever had confided a love for him, he knew her heart really belonged to Stroud. Brooke shared Ever’s loneliness for their absent companion. This bond provided an acceptable excuse for his continuing visits, but Brooke was becoming suspicious of his own motives. Stroud had been gone for six weeks, with no signs of returning soon. The span he bridged between Brooke and Ever had already narrowed quite a bit and Brooke felt it would be prudent to allow a little emotional distance between Ever and himself.

But Brooke was too preoccupied with his own moral dilemma to get a clear perception of Ever’s state of mind. She, like Brooke, was very aware of how long Stroud had been away. She was proud of her accomplishments over the past month and a half but, as August wound up and September began, each passing day seemed to sap a little more of her self-confidence.

She was plagued with fears about the future. She began to doubt the seriousness of her relationship with Stroud, the level of his commitment to her and his life in the United States. After all, he was a European man with a taste for European culture.

True, he had stayed away from his homeland for five years. He could have returned at any time and hadn’t. This crisis had called him back, perhaps before he was ready, but nevertheless he was there now. Back in the familiar surroundings of his upbringing. Amid the elegance and glamour only the rich traditions of the old country could offer. Enjoying the social and cultural advantages to be found in sophisticated Parisian women. Parisian galleries. Beautiful, seductive. Paris – where he had lived with his beloved Francine.

What could induce him to return to this brash city where culture was so cultivated the end result was self-conscious pretension?

And the mouse from the other side of the tracks? A temporary distraction from his lingering grief until Paris, his true love, should whisper the right words, find the right tone to lure him back to her warm bosom.

And Nicole. Dear Nicole, right there to lend support and comfort. Nicole, so convenient.

Ever, who loved not one, but two. Ever, losing faith, losing hope, losing grip on the crumbling rim of a dark well full of doubt and self recrimination. Ever – who had no idea how close love really was.