Chapter 34

 

“Hey.” Paul kept his voice gentle as he slid into the empty seat beside Tara-Lynn in the library.

She glanced up from her textbook. Her smile looked fake. “Hey, yourself.”

“Are you doing okay?”

Tara-Lynn’s eyes could have drilled steel. “You couldn’t ask me Monday, when they were throwing all that garbage?”

“I —”

“You were too busy defending yourself to care how Amber or I felt.”

“That’s not —” Paul remembered where they were and lowered his voice. “That’s what made me so mad. I don’t care what they say about me. I was steamed for your sake.”

“Well thanks for the support.” Tara-Lynn focused on her book.

“Tara-Lynn, please. Okay, I was embarrassed and angry, and maybe I was afraid talking to you would fuel the rumours. You looked like you were handling it okay.”

“But you couldn’t even call us after school to be sure?”

“I...” Sure, he’d been busy, but he could have phoned. “The best I can do is ask now. I’m sorry.”

Tara-Lynn turned a page in her book, and Paul waited while she read. Or pretended to read. Finally she looked up, tears on her lashes.

“Amber’s blaming herself. If she’d stayed away Saturday night, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not her fault these losers have mouths. She still wants to get off drugs, though, right? Sunday, I thought the embarrassment would make her fight harder to get free.”

“That’s what she says. You could join us. Show the gossip crowd they can’t intimidate us. I — we miss you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Math homework just isn’t the same.”

“Homework! If that’s all that matters to you, forget it!” Tara-Lynn slapped the book shut and grabbed her belongings before Paul realized what was happening.

Tara-Lynn’s chin quivered, and the tears in her eyes made something die inside him. He put out a hand, but she ignored it.

“You want to be a lone wolf musician — enjoy being alone.” Tara-Lynn stalked out of the library.

Paul gaped after her. “It was supposed to be a joke.”

Lone wolf musician... enjoy being alone. Barry was right, Tara-Lynn had heard about his no-girlfriend rant. And the tears said it hurt her.

He could go after her, but then what? Paul needed music like he needed air. If that meant staying single, so be it. If only he could convince his heart.

 

~~~

 

Patrick held the door to Roy Thomson Hall for Carol, then stepped through behind her. For once, traffic had cooperated. He detested being late, but with her not leaving work until seven it had seemed inevitable.

A respectable number of patrons milled about the lobby, although most would already be seated. Patrick guided Carol through the crowd and handed their tickets to a smiling attendant.

Steeped in elegant music, the auditorium pulled Patrick into its comforting embrace. He led Carol to their aisle. As they settled into their seats, he watched her admire the surroundings.

She leaned closer. “Pretty full house. I’m amazed you got such good seats.”

“Season tickets. I’ve had them for years. Rita loved the symphony.”

Carol’s face tightened. Her lips worked as if to find words, or perhaps to hold them back. Patrick extended a hand. “I’m in her seat. Forgive me, but it’s one of the few points of contact I have.”

Her nod said Carol understood. And pitied him.

Rita had been the love of Patrick’s life, his raison d’être. He’d walked empty since the cancer defeated them.

The orchestra took position on the stage. Patrick sat straighter. Had he made a mistake inviting Carol? Impulsive actions ran contrary to his nature, but once the words were out he could hardly retract them.

She makes a pleasant companion, Rita. Are you angry?

The music began with a swell that unleashed a chill of pleasure through Patrick’s senses. He glanced at Carol to see if she felt it too. She gazed at the stage, lips parted in a smile. He relaxed into his seat, closed his eyes, and let the music carry him.

Tonight the program offered mostly show tunes. Not Patrick’s favourite, but pleasant enough. As always, he was startled by how quickly the intermission arrived. When the house lights came up, he touched Carol’s arm. “What do you think?”

“I love it. Thank you for inviting me.”

He felt no unease from Rita. “Can I buy you a drink?”

In the lobby, chilled water bottles in hand, they strolled among the other patrons. Patrick recognized a number of faces as long-time concert-goers. He knew few by name. Schmoozing went with his job. Not here. This was his haven.

Patrick hoped Carol didn’t notice the speculative glances that came their way. He was about to suggest they return to their seats when a hand clapped his shoulder from behind.

“Patrick Stairs, you old dog. Decided to rejoin the human race and bring a lady friend, did you?”

Patrick turned to meet the bleary eyes of one of his clients. The older man leaned nearer, wine-warmed breath enveloping Patrick like an invisible fog. Patrick resisted the urge to step back, and composed his face into a smile.

“Ellis Richards, meet Carol Daniels. Ms. Daniels is a lady, and she is my friend, but we should leave it at that.”

Richards dropped one eyelid in a slow wink. “Mustn’t be premature. You understand rumours, in your business.” He gave Carol a careful once-over, which she seemed to ignore. “Pleased to meet you, my dear. If this whippersnapper gives you any trouble, come see me.”

Patrick took Carol’s elbow. “We need to get back to our seats. Enjoy the rest of the concert.”

He spoke low in her ear as they walked. “The man is a new client, and I couldn’t risk losing him. I apologize for his words.”

Carol looked up at him. At this distance, her eyes were startlingly liquid. “He was less subtle than the rest, but people love to play matchmaker. We came as friends, and I won’t read more into it than that. I know you’re in love with your wife.”

Something was wrong with Patrick’s breathing. He wrenched his eyes from hers, catching the soft concern in her face before he anchored his gaze on the door ahead. “You’re exceptionally understanding.”

Patrick ushered Carol back into the auditorium and they found their seats, but his breathing didn’t settle until the music resumed.

The symphony’s performance earned a standing ovation. Beside Patrick, Carol had tears in her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me. That last part felt like a prayer.”

He hadn’t thought her a religious person, although many people had a spiritual side. She wasn’t still thinking about the story Hill spun at his church that night, was she? As if a person could walk away from being in that deep, and get close to God.

Closer to God meant farther from Patrick. The crowd was thick tonight. Patrick took Carol’s hand so they wouldn’t get separated.

In the car, he played an orchestral CD to sustain the evening’s effect. Carol leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. “That was amazing, but I’m bushed. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Patrick spared a glance from the road. “Silver’s money?”

“I finally got it, and now I have to wait for them to call again. I want my life back.”

His fingers tightened on the wheel. Don’t we all? “Would you like me to hold it for you? My home has a wall safe and a high-end security system.”

“And a hostile cat.” Carol hesitated. “I appreciate it, Patrick, but I need to have the money ready when they call me. You haven’t heard this man. He’s frightening.”

“All the more reason to allow me to be your go-between. My offer still stands. At least consider it when he calls.”

“Maybe. Thanks.”

Maybe meant “no.” Patrick needed an antacid. Carol couldn’t suspect him. Nevertheless, her stubborn independence would prevent him scoring points with Lear — keep him tied to the drug lord.

At the very least, Patrick could be the one to alert Lear to the money’s availability. With the money out of her hands, Carol should be out of danger.

When they reached her apartment, a light burned in one of the front rooms, and another in the kitchen. Patrick parked and escorted Carol to the door.

She held her coat tightly and shivered in the night air. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for coming out this evening. I hope we can do this again.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Carol smiled, then unlocked the door and ducked inside.

One thought pierced the numbness in Patrick’s mind. In that moment when their eyes met, he’d been going to kiss her.

He practically ran back to his car, and it took all his control not to squeal the tires as he drove away. Later, in the quiet of his home, Patrick poured a glass of red wine and carried it to the rocking chair. Rita, I know you told me to move on, but I don’t know if I’m ready. Help me, please.

It was after midnight when he went to bed. As he drifted into sleep, Patrick realized this was the first symphony night he hadn’t needed to phone the agency. A few of their employees resembled his wife, as long as he removed his contact lenses and dimmed the lights. They didn’t mind starting out in one of Rita’s negligees, and were always gone before Patrick’s alarm sounded in the morning.

Perhaps he was moving on. A tear slid onto his pillow.