Once Upon Another Time (16 page)

“What?” he said
into the phone, as he blew out a breath of frustration.  “Okay, okay!” 
Agitated, he flipped his phone closed.  With his palms flat on the sink, his
shoulders hunched, he first stared down into the drain, before lifting his head
to look at me with a mournful expression.  I’d seen that look umpteen times. 

It had been going
on for almost a year that things came up like emergency calls from a client
just as we’d sit  down to dinner, or he’d call to tell me he’d be a little late
for dinner and not make it home until ten at night.  There were weekends that
came and went with Matt not at home, special occasions with friends and
relatives that he missed, and on and on it went until we even started to miss
our sacred “date nights.”  If it wasn’t one thing, it was another.  Work seemed
to become his life--his priority. 

He’d tried to
justify his actions by telling me things like “Now that we have a baby coming,
and we’ll want to continue to grow our family, I need to do everything I can to
make a name for myself at the firm.”  Or, “Honey, I’m doing this for us, for
our baby, I’m just asking you to be understanding of that.” 

So there I stood
looking at the expression on his face, the one that says,
let her down
gently
. 

“Babe,” said Matt,
as he put his toothbrush down and slipped his phone into the pocket of his
jogging pants.  “You know how much I love you don’t you?” 

I folded my arms
across my chest and glared at him.  I knew what was coming. 

“I don’t know how
to tell you this, but I have to be back at the office tomorrow.”

“Matt, we’ve been
here one day.  You promised we’d have this time to ourselves.  I don’t get it,”
I said as I ran a hand through my tangled hair, “why do you make promises you
can never keep?  It’s always about work.  When is it going to me about me! 
About the son, we’re going to have!  When Matt, when?”

I was pregnant and
cranky and was tired of being the martyr I’d always been when it came to his
precious job.  There were times I had felt invisible and other times when I
felt angry at myself because I was just as guilty of being career-driven, and I
had no room to talk.  We’d become two people that represented the old cliché of
“ships passing in the night.”  But that weekend, I was really trying to make an
effort and I thought he was, too.

“Come on babe,
don’t be like that,” he said as he tried to slip his hands around my bulging
waist.

I pushed his hands
away.  “Just leave alone,” I said and turned away from him.

“Honey, I’m sorry,
it’s out of my control.  They’re having trouble with the design of the
building; the presentation to the client is two days away.  I can’t abandon
this project.  It’s too important to the firm.”

Tears welled in my
eyes and I lashed out.  “But you can abandon me!  Abandon our baby!”

“Don’t say that,
I’d never abandon you!”

It was an idiotic
thing for me to say, but I was hurt and I lost control of my tongue.  Matt
tried again to draw me near to him and smooth things over, but I was too
pigheaded and wrapped up in only thinking about myself.  I pulled away and
turned my back to him.  “Just get out!  Get out of my sight!  I can’t talk to
you now.”  My back was to the door when it slammed shut.

The echo of the
slam in my head snapped me back into reality.  I wiped the perspiration from my
forehead and sat in my office paralyzed by the upheaval of that memory--the
piece of the puzzle that had been missing for years.  I drew in a shaky sigh
while my eyes welled with tears and the pigeons began to squabble with the
bigger one jumping on the back of the smaller pigeon.

“Don’t fight,” I
mumbled.  Brushing tears from my face, I stared at the pigeons precariously
balancing on the ledge.  “Stop it now!”  I shot up from my chair and burst
toward the window, when I realized the one on the top was actually sowing his
oats.  With my palms pressed to the window, I watched in horror as the pigeons
tumbled from the ledge.  Squeezing my eyes shut, all I could see was Matt
falling off the bluffs.

“Aubrey?”

I quickly wiped my
tears with the back of my hand while trying to get my bearings, then turned around
to face Ashley.  “Yes?”  I said, as I fought to compose myself and push the
terrible memory to the back of my mind. 

“Gavin is here to
see you.  He wants to know if you could possibly spare a few minutes.”

It took a few
seconds for what she had said to register in my head. 

“Is this the same
person who tried twice before to see me?”

“Yep.”

I looked past
Ashley to search for the man who had the audacity to think my day wasn’t
important. 

“Where is he?”

“He went down the
hall to the restroom.”

I really didn’t
think I’d be able to deal with anything just then, but he was there and I just
wanted to get it over with. 

“Thanks.  Just
send him in when he returns.”

I turned back
toward the window and looked down to search the streets below for signs of a
crowd gathering around splattered pigeons, when I heard a faint knock at my
door followed by a man clearing his throat.  I closed my eyes for a second
thinking I should have told Ashley I didn’t have time to see him.  I just
wasn’t in the right frame of mind.  Annoyed that he couldn’t even make an
appointment like everyone else, I turned around swiftly to give Gavin
what’s-his-name a cold reception.

My breath caught
in my throat, every muscle in my body tensed as I felt my world tilt.  Not
because he was tall, ruggedly handsome with
stylishly longish,
wavy black hair that touched his high cheekbones and not
because I saw
something in his
melancholy blue eyes
and meadowlark
smile that seemed oddly familiar. 
OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, oh my God…
  It
was because the man that stood in my office dressed in blue jeans and a light
sports jacket, by some strange quirk of fate--was the man from the
mall
--the
man from my
dream
--the man who I dreamed was
Matt
. 

By the stunned
look on his face, I sensed he had recognized me as the idiot who had knocked
over the book display the day before.

“This sure is
quite a coincidence,” he said.

I knew it!

“Do you remember
me?” he asked.  “We bumped into each other at the restaurant last week.”  The
corner of his lip curled up into a beautiful smile.

Bad enough that I
thought he had recognized me from the mall--but to remember me as the babbling
idiot from the restaurant?  I wanted to crawl between the layers of file
folders on my desk.

“Um, yeah hi,” I
said, feeling a bit like Charlie Brown with an empty thought bubble floating
above my head. 
How for the love of God, did I forget how to speak?

“Aubrey McCory, right?” he
asked.

I swallowed hard, nodded,
and automatically leaned over my desk to extend my hand.  His eyes swept my
face, my lips, my figure, not in a leering, perverted kind of way, but more in
an admiring kind of way.

“Gavin Donnelly,”
he said. 

Looks, easy charm,
flashing eyes and then came that smile again and all I could think of was that
the man who was Matt in my dream was actually standing in my office.  I
couldn’t decide which was more bizarre, seeing the ghost of my husband or Gavin
Donnelly.

Stop staring at
the man as if Stonehenge Tablets were rising up out of his head!

“Please have a
seat.”  My words sounded disjointed, as I tried to catch my breath.  I suddenly
felt as if he could see right through me, know every thought in my head, and
feel every beat of my heart.  Then there was the other issue of the restaurant
and me being so much more than just a little tipsy.  Self-conscious, I lowered
my eyes to my desk feeling as though the word
lush
was etched into my
forehead and flashing like a bright neon sign. 

“I apologize,” I
said while my gaze traveled across my desk.  “It was so clumsy of me to practically
knock you over at the restaurant.”

“Actually, it was
my fault.  I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He was gallant
with an arresting magnetism and velvety sound to his voice that was made even
more charming by the sexy way he spoke.  I had to double-dare myself to get up the
courage to look at him.

“Besides,” he
said, as one hand combed back a wavy lock of black hair from his forehead. 
“I’m the one who should apologize for barging into your office.  I’m sorry; I
should have made an appointment.” 

I giggled like a
foolish schoolgirl and waved my hand dismissively.  “Oh, don’t worry about it. 
Not a big deal.”

“Well, I
appreciate your courtesy.  I have a crazy work schedule, but was lucky to run
into Mr. Davis who referred me to you.”

“Oh, you mean
my
Mr. Davis?  I mean Mr. Davis who works here in my office.  Well, not in
my
office, but in this office...building…”  

Stop babbling!

Gavin Donnelly let
out a deep laugh that reminded me of my Uncle Max.  Only my uncle was big and
burly and always had a stogie clamped between his teeth.

“Please forgive me
if I seem scatterbrained, it’s just been one of those mornings,” I said.

“Don’t worry about
it,” he said as he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair, loosely clasping
his hands together.  I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band and was curious
to know if the Miss Universe I saw latched around his neck at the mall was his
girlfriend or fiancée. 

“So, how do you
know Mr. Davis?”  I asked, as I glimpsed Laura standing outside my office facing
me with her tush leaning against Ashley’s desk.  She raised a pair of pumps in
the air, waving them at me.  I quickly slid my stocking feet under my chair and
ignored her.

“I’m a project
manager for J&J Crew, a construction company located on the tenth floor.”

“Here in this
building?”  I smiled broadly, trying to cover up my annoyance at Laura and
Ashley who practically had their ears up against my office wall.

“Uh-huh.  In fact,
“Mr. Davis had been visiting with one of my associates, Mr. Burns, who knew I
was looking for a lawyer.  He told me about you and said you were one of the
best.”

I felt the heat
run up my neck and into my face.  “I’ll be sure to thank Mr. Davis for the
referral.  And I do recall him mentioning Mr. Burns.  Said he was a widower and
they had lots in common.”

“Yeah, that’s Mr.
Burns.”

While searching
for anything negative that would distract me from the strong attraction I was
feeling, like looking for food stuck in his teeth, black hair growing out of
his ears--Laura knocked on the door and poked her head into my office. 

“Excuse me,” she
said with a mischievous smile. 

Gavin Donnelly automatically
looked over his shoulder.  “Hey, you’re the other person from the restaurant,”
he said, sounding quite surprised.

It was obvious
Laura hadn’t seen his face before he turned to look at her.  She began
muttering the sacred language of the
covenant of the brainless
who can
only speak in interjections.  “Oh!  Ah.  Um...” 

“This is Gavin
Donnelly,” I told Laura, as my eyebrow rose ever so slightly.

“Ah, yes,” she
said, in a voice that sounded strained.  “I’m Laura Wentworth.”  Her smile was mixed
with a clear expression of confusion. 

“Nice to meet
you,” said Gavin. 

“And you as well,”
she responded as she quickly hid the pumps behind her back.  “Sorry for the
interruption.  Aubrey, I’ll catch up with you after your meeting.” 

“Sorry,” I said as
she slipped out the door.  So, tell me why you’re in need of a lawyer.”  I couldn’t
help but feel a bit giddy that I had spoiled whatever little joke Laura had
cooked up.

“It’s about my
father.  He received an eviction notice and…”

All at once, it
was if an earthquake hit, slamming my mind back to the argument I had with Matt
that day he died.  How could I have done that?  I suddenly felt a sense of
urgency in wanting to talk to Matt.  But even if he would or could appear
before me right at that very minute, I didn’t have a clue as to how I was
supposed to keep him from vanishing so quickly. 

I suddenly
realized Gavin Donnelly had stopped talking.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said looking
into his eyes, which made it even more difficult for me to concentrate.  “Um,
so what are the circumstances surrounding the eviction notice?” 

“My father had a
heart attack.  After a few weeks in the hospital, the doctors wanted him in a
convalescent home until he fully recovered.  In the meantime, his social
security checks were diverted to pay for his medical expenses, which left him
no money for rent.  Something he failed to mention to me.  I would have never
let this happen had I known,” he said, while shaking his head.

“So, my father
called his landlord and explained his predicament, but the landlord told him it
was no excuse.  I tried calling the landlord myself, but he wouldn’t take my
calls.  I left messages asking if we could work something out.” 

“Did he call you
back?”

“No.  That’s when
I got worried that he might try to evict my father so I stopped by your office
to get some legal advice.  Ended up my father received an eviction notice for
nonpayment of rent.  I called the landlord again and left messages offering to
pay the back rent, but he still wouldn’t return my calls.” 

“Hmm, do you have
the eviction notice with you?”

“I do.”  Gavin
Donnelly pulled the folded papers from the inside pocket of his sports jacket
and handed them to me.

I took my time to
read the document thoroughly before commenting on it.  When I noticed the landlord’s
name was Benjamin Solomon it rang a bell, but I couldn’t place why.