Patt Marr - Man Of Her Dreams

But he sat, rooted in place, feeling sorrow creep through his mind, replacing that first flood of anger. In his work, he had seen sick people who couldn’t distinguish reality from fantasy. His mother—with her crazy highs and lows, her swings from utter devotion to utmost derision—had to be sick. He wasn’t trained to identify the problem, but the doctors sitting in this room ought to know.

One look at his dad said he did…and was helpless to do anything about it. What about the rest of them? Yes, Trey knew. And Beth? The sympathy in her eyes about broke his heart. Only Meg was as much in the dark as he was, but she looked as if she were ready to do battle if he gave her the nod.

He couldn’t leave it like this. He’d come all this way. Maybe by tomorrow his mother’s mood would improve.

Searching for words that wouldn’t ignite another outburst, he said, “You have guests. I don’t want to keep you from them. Mom, I told Dad that I’d like to come back tomorrow if that would be okay.” He hadn’t talked this way in years. Hat-in-hand polite, fearful of rejection.

“You’re not spending the night here?”

Another swing? She wanted him here?

“I’ve already invited Ry to stay with me, Mom,” his sister said, coming to his rescue.

“You only have one bedroom,” his mother argued.

“Ry can sleep on the sofa.”

“The sofa?” It was Beth’s turn to receive the maternal glare.

“It pulls out, queen-size,” Beth said, grinning in spite of the glare. Nothing ruffled Beth.

“Nonsense. Ry, you have a real bed upstairs.”

This was unbelievable. Now his mother was in a tug-of-war over where he slept?

“Not your old bed, of course,” Trey said, plainly delighted to enter the fray. “Mom redecorated soon after you left. The same summer, in fact.”

Ry almost laughed. Did Trey think that tidbit was important? His room had been right for a boy, with its sports theme and trophies that no one cared about except the guy who earned them, and he’d left them behind.

“So, would tomorrow be okay?” he asked again, trying to keep them focused on the real deal instead of where he would sleep and the decor of his room.

“That will be fine,” his father said. “Come for brunch. All of you.” His gaze included Meg.

“I’m sorry,” his mother said, cold as ice. “That won’t do.” She picked a bit of confetti off of her sleeve. “I won’t be here. I’m driving Aunt Jackie back to Palm Springs. Isabel and Trey are going along.”

It looked as if that were news to Isabel and Trey, but they didn’t contradict her. Ry didn’t blame them. They’d had enough fireworks in here.

“Why don’t you wait a day to do that?” his father suggested. “Ry has come all this way, and Jackie would love to see him.”

Ry’s mouth almost dropped in surprise. First, that his dad seemed to care. Second, that Dad thought he could influence a decision made by Mom. That didn’t happen.

“No,” his mother said, moving toward the door, clearly through with the conversation. “We’ve made our plans. We’ll stick to them. And we should get back to our guests.”

She shut the door behind her, and his dad swallowed hard. Had it always been like this and he’d been too young to notice? Beth and Meg looked at each other, sharing a silent communication that he wished he were in on. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d hoped for a lot better than this.

“Ry, let’s still get together,” his dad suggested as if there had been no unpleasantness. In truth, the tension in the room did seem to leave with his mother. “How about meeting me tomorrow morning after I make rounds?”

“Think you can get up that early, Ry?” Trey snickered.

“Oh, I think so,” he answered, letting his drawl counter his brother’s rudeness. “I’m still on New York time. When I meet Dad, it will be about the time my shift is half over.”

“It must be nice that paramedics have regular hours,” Isabel said.

Ry loved the way she said “paramedics,” grouping them with some lower form of life.

Trey gave his wife a little hug, beaming approval. Poor Izzie, if that’s what she lived for.

“I’m never sure when I’ll see Trey,” she added. “He works so hard, just like his father.”

If Trey was like his dad, Izzie would be raising the kiddies alone.

“Well, then, Ry, I’ll meet you at the hospital,” his dad said, heading for the door.

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said, following.

Beth and Meg did, as well, but Isabel stopped them, saying, “Wait a minute. Trey, I think Ry should see our beautiful home. Why don’t all of you come over for breakfast in a little while?”

“It really is beautiful,” Beth said, mischief in her eyes. “Isabel was an interior decorator before she was married. She has wonderful taste. You’ll want to see for yourself.”

“I’m still an interior decorator, Beth,” Isabel claimed.

“Sure, you are, baby,” Trey said, shepherding her toward the door. “But we won’t trouble Ry with a visit.”

Isabel pouted. “I don’t see why not.”

“Yeah, well, Ry’s like magic. Now you see him, now you don’t. Don’t count on your dear brother-in-law, Izzie. If he couldn’t come to our wedding, he won’t be coming for breakfast.”

Meg cranked up the volume of the music playing in her car, praying she’d catch its soothing mood of worship. Anger still roiled in her stomach, thinking of Mrs. Brennan’s explosive behavior.

When they’d been younger, she’d known Mrs. Brennan wasn’t a loving mom like her own, but she hadn’t seemed icicle cold or dirt mean. Tonight Mrs. Brennan’s rudeness had caught Meg completely off guard.

Meg’s eyes focused on the taillights of Ry’s rental SUV, making sure that he didn’t lose sight of Beth’s Jeep on the freeway. The three of them caravanned to Beth’s condo where they planned to put the awfulness behind them and have a good time.

Her first New Year’s resolution was to make the rest of Ry’s visit fabulously happy. She would tease him, play along when he teased back and keep the mood full of fun, just the way he liked. A short-term resolution, she knew she could keep it, especially if she kept her head and remembered he was her old buddy and pal.

For a minute there, when they’d kissed at midnight, she’d turned into mush. What a joke on her! His soft kisses brought back the old longings she’d had as a kid when her crush on him was too big a secret to share with anyone, not even Beth.

But, not to be too hard on herself, they were very good kisses. When she had more time, she should analyze them thoroughly. Mr. Right ought to kiss like that. Maybe Ry could give him lessons.

She grinned, laughing to herself. Maybe she should tell Ry. In the old days, that would have tickled him. It wouldn’t make up for the memory of that awful scene in the Brennans’ study, but she wished something could.

It had just killed her, seeing his mom treat him like that. How had he taken her abuse without fighting back? Beth was a fighter, and she was herself. But not Ry. He seldom had to be. As a kid, he’d charmed his way through life.

Ry had been their peacemaker, mediating the back-and-forth between Beth and herself, calming their storms, and so secretive about his own feelings that she sometimes wondered if she really knew him.

One thing she did know. Ry hated conflict enough to walk away from it. Look at the way he’d done that tonight. A lesser man could not have kept his cool, but Ry had. She’d always wondered what happened to cross the line of his tolerance and make him leave all those years ago. She had blamed his dad, Trey, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Al and Ry’s grandfather. Tonight it seemed that it must have been his mother all along, shoving the great Rylander Hamilton in her son’s face.