Where Dreams Begin by Phoebe Conn Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t know quite what to make of Dave Curtis.
    She unlocked her car, then leaned against the door. “Are you coming on to me?”
    Dave raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture of innocence and began to back away. “No, ma’am. I saw your wedding ring, and I respect marriage as sacred. Can’t help but think that way living here.”
    His good-natured grin was such a welcome sight, Catherine found it easy to speak the words she couldn’t form earlier. “I’m a widow, but I’m not ready to remove my wedding ring just yet.”
    Dave dropped his hands, and his expression turned to one of genuine concern. “I’m real sorry to hear of your loss, Cathy, but whenever you’re ready to start going out, let me know. There are plenty of ways to have fun that don’t cost a penny, and I know I could show you a real good time.”
    He winked again before walking away, and while Catherine couldn’t even imagine going out on a date, she was smiling as she left for home.
     
     
    Luke went running that night. He lived in a condo near UCLA and as usual passed other joggers out burning off the day’s tensions. Sometimes he returned home tired enough to sleep, but tonight he could have run all the way to San Diego and back and not outdistanced his demons.
    He stood in the shower and let the hot water beat down on his shoulders until the steam eased the soreness in his muscles, but nothing had soothed the ache in his soul since the morning he’d found Marcy dead. He could block the pain for hours at a time, then something, or some well-meaning fool, would remind him of his daughter, and the excruciating torment would begin anew.
    Catherine Brooks had the most beautiful, trusting eyes, but her misplaced attempt at kindness had simply ripped a deeper tear through his heart. He didn’t doubt she missed her late husband, but whatever anguish she suffered couldn’t even begin to compare with having to live with the senseless suicide of a precious child.
    There were nights when he’d done handstands atop the wall enclosing his fifth floor balcony, but it had merely been a dare to fate rather than an attempt to end his own life. Suicide would have been pointless in his case because there simply wasn’t enough of him left to kill.
    After leaving the shower, he stretched out across his bed and tried to conjure up that peaceful lagoon where one day would blur into the next without a hint of sorrow or pain. He longed for that peace with a desperate hunger, but that night, his only salvation was the memory of the anguish reflected in Catherine Brooks’ haunting gaze.
     
    Catherine didn’t sleep well, either, that night. While it was often difficult for her to summon the energy to rise in the morning, she got up early to work in the garden. By ten o’clock, she’d been to the Belefontaine Nursery and was busy replanting the flower beds in her backyard. Smoky wound his way through her arms as she packed the dirt around the colorful pansies, but she was more amused than annoyed by his antics.
    When the telephone rang, she was tempted to allow her machine to answer, but at the last instant sprinted into the house and tugged off her gardening gloves to get it herself.
    “Mrs. Brooks?”
    Catherine instantly recognized the caller as Luke Starns. He’d made his feelings so plain the previous day, she couldn’t see any need to endure another of his sarcastic lectures and attempted to head him off.
    “Dr. Starns, I doubt this is necessary, and—”
    “Oh, but it is,” Luke countered, but a long, uncomfortable pause followed. “I never discuss my daughter’s death because it’s simply too painful. I remind myself people mean well, but clearly I don’t have to tell you that’s not always an effective technique.”
    Surprised by his candor, Catherine relaxed her grip on the telephone. Luke was probably standing at his office window looking out over the desolate parking lot. The day was warm, and the sun would lend his hair silvery