Brody looked around. “Tell me what you see.”
Angelica tilted her head, letting the scents and sounds of the garden wash over her. “I see…a stone wall that’s warmed in the sun. Wet bark, and clipped grass. Lilacs, I believe—I always loved lilacs.”
“That’s not fair. What you described could be any English garden. How do I know you’re not just making it up?”
“Blue sky, green grass, trees, and flowers—all very common, I agree. But it’s the way in which these components are arranged that makes them unique. You have a heart, and a brain, and teeth, and hair. Does that mean you’re just like every other man?”
“Well…no.”
She laughed. “Of course not. You are individual, just as this garden is.”
“You’re pretty unique yourself, you know.”
Angelica wrapped her arms around his waist, beneath his tweed jacket. “So you keep telling me.”
“I mean it. I know you will never truly understand how beautiful you are, but I want you to know that I was half in love with you before I ever saw you,” he said, holding her tightly to him. “You risked your life to help an injured stranger. You loved and accepted me for the tortured soul that I was. Now, you’re here with me, despite everything that could go wrong.”
“I trust you, Brody. From the very start, I knew you were a good man.”
“To you, I am. To everyone else, I’m a waste of energy.”
She frowned up at him. “Perhaps they don’t know you like I know you.”
“No, they know me. I just don’t think I was a good man before I met you. You make me want to be the way you see me.”
Angelica laughed grimly. “Do you want to see how I see the world? Turn me loose, and walk ten paces backward.”
He did as she asked. Brody stood in the middle of the wide expanse of grassy garden, which was surrounded by blooms, boxwoods, and a weathered stone wall. “Alright. Now what?”
“Spin around until I tell you to stop.”
Again, he did as she asked, turning himself in circles. He kept turning until he didn’t know where he’d started.
“Stop,” she ordered. “Try to find me.”
Brody stumbled through the garden, trying to avoid trampling the flowers, or stumbling headfirst into a lilac bush. He held his arms out, searching for her. Which way had her voice come from? He resisted the urge to peek. “I know this game. We used to play it as children.”
“It’s not a game to me.” Her voice was very near. “It’s my life, and it’s terrifying.”
He turned, and knocked straight into her. Brody caught her before they both fell over. “I couldn’t imagine.”
No, he could not imagine waiting for all those years for her family, hoping they would come for her. That he would come for her. Brody understood why she’d done what she had—in his weakness, he reached for the morphine. For anything to make the next day, the next hour bearable. In her weakness, she had reached out for a man.
Not so very awful, surely.
He knew as well as anybody that the darkness could be a frightening and lonely place.
God, if his father would accept Angelica into the family, Brody would have gone down on one knee then and there. But he loved her too much to condemn them both to a life of poverty. Monday, he would go into the office with Marcus and humbly beg their father for a job. When the old man saw how devoted he was to Angelica, and how dedicated he was to his clean and sober life, Father would come ‘round to the idea. Brody simply had to be patient.
Patience was a large part of an addict’s problem. He knew all too well that he wanted what he wanted, and hated having to wait for it. Brody struggled with that mindset, even now that he’d given up drink and drugs. Waiting was difficult. Working for something was unpleasant. Life would be so much better if he could simply get his way.
He’d impulsively fallen in love with Angelica, trading his addiction to morphine for his addiction to her. That had not worked out quite like he’d wanted—she hadn’t conformed to his ideas of chastity, or his dreams of her all-consuming love. She’d shown him that she too was an imperfect person, and that he hadn’t really known her after only one night together. Instead, Angelica had forced him to fall in love with her all over again. Now, he knew her.
Because of his patience, his love for her was stronger.
Because of his patience, her love for him was stronger.
If he could only be patient for a little while longer, their future would be so much better.
They needed to leave this enchanted garden before he made a hasty decision they would both regret. “We’ve got a long way to go. Knowing Cynthia and Peter, there will be an hour wait for the shower-bath, and Mother will kill us if we’re late for dinner.”
Angelica slipped her arm through his. “Oh, please, let’s not rush.”
It was such a perfect afternoon. Come to think of it, Brody was in no hurry to get back to the house. Moments like this made him wonder why he ever bothered returning home at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT