Chapter 21 — Brooke Has a Secret

Brooke:

Time seems to fly by, and in time, Landon and I grow closer and closer. He takes me to see the Beauty and the Beast play, to eat dinner, and to an art gallery. The latter was my favorite. Landon insisted that I should have some of my pieces put in a gallery. "Your art is beautiful. It should be shared with the world." I blushed at the compliment but told him I could not do it. My work is my escape from the world. To have it out for everyone else to judge would crush me.

We start going on evening walks, where I would take pictures of the sunset. Sometimes Landon let me take pictures of him with the golden pink glow surrounding him. Derik and Rebecca sign us up for a birthing class, as well as an infant CPR course.

"It's lots of fun," Derik had said sarcastically as he handed us the 'Breathing Through Birthing Pains' pamphlet advertising the class. Landon had just rolled his eyes at his friend, but he insisted we go every Tuesday afternoon.

I set down my paintbrush as the baby moves around, pushing against my side. The farmhouse is almost done, only needed to be painted. I rub my side and murmur to the baby. "Cahal, Mommy's trying to work; go back to sleep."

"It’s Marie." Landon's voice startles me.

"Goodness, Landon, you almost frightened this baby right out of me." I huff. He just chuckles as he leans his shoulder against the doorway.

He nods his head toward the farmhouse.

"You almost finished with that?" he asks.

"Ugh, I wish. It seems your child is just as demanding as you are. Always pestering me for attention," I tease. Landon's eyes light up at that.

"It’s because she wants a dollhouse, not a toy farm." Landon starts strolling about the room, looking through my art pieces.

"A toy farm is a universal toy for both boys and girls," I say.

"Whatever you say, beagchaithnini sneachta," Landon says, not even bothering to look up from the portfolio he takes off the shelf. A rush of warmth fills me at the nickname he gave me. One that he gave me before he even knew that I had no part in my father’s plan.

"Brooke, Brooke, Brooke," Landon says admonishingly, shaking his head as he puts the portfolio back on the shelf. "You've been keeping secrets from me." My heart stops. He could not know. How could he know? He does not know. Does he?

"Oh," I say cautiously, intentionally keeping my back to him. I feel his chest press against my back. His hands brace against the table on either side of me.

"Mmmhmmm," he murmurs in my ear. "You see, you draw everything under the sun. I find it very hard to believe that in all these binders, there's not one drawing of me."

A relieved gasp escapes me. "AHH-haaa!" Landon exclaims, mistaking my gasp for embarrassment. "I knew it. Where are you hiding it?"

"I can't believe how conceited you are to think I would spend the time drawing you." I try to sound exasperated. Landon twirls me around so I am facing him. His arms still trap me to the table as he towers over me.

"There is a drawing of me somewhere in this room, I'm sure of it." I bite my lower lip. Do I really want to show him? I am sure he would find them eventually.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I push on Landon's chest, and he steps back. I round the table to the locked drawer that holds his portfolio. The key is taped under the desk, and I quickly retrieve it and slide it into the lock. Landon holds his hand out, a smirk on his stupid, smug face. I hesitate to give it to him. "You must promise not to laugh at me. Or gloat, or allow your head to grow," I order.

"Fine," Landon says impatiently.

"Landon, I'm serious," I say, my voice full of emotion. Landon's eyes soften, and he takes a step closer to me.

"Brooke, I promise I will not make fun of your art." His voice is full of sincerity, and I wordlessly hand over the portfolio. He opens it and flips through page after page of drawings of him. He is quiet at first, not giving a single thing away about what he feels about them.

After a short while, I lose my patience. "Well?" I ask.

"Well, what?" he responds, not taking his eyes off the drawings.

"You hate them, don't you? You do! I will put them back away. I swear no one will ever see them but me. I—" Landon kisses me then, effectively shutting me up.

Landon pulls away too soon for my liking. When I open my eyes, it is to a goofy grin with a pair of mischievous eyes. "I had no idea you were such a stalker, Brooke." I pull away from him with a surprised gasp.

"You promised you wouldn't make fun, you jerk." I punch his arm with as much force as I can muster. Landon does not even flinch, just reaches out to gently restrain my arms. He makes tsking noises at me.

"Such violence for a tiny little lassie," he taunts.

"You are a lying, scheming, no good, mean...pineapple." I yell the last part, and Landon quirks an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, did you just call me a pineapple?"

"Shut up, I'm hungry." Landon throws his head back in laughter that originated deep in his belly.

"Landon," I whine.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It’s just too funny." Landon shakes his head, chuckling one more time before seriousness seeps through his eyes.

"Brooke." His voice is a soft rasp as he pushes stray tendrils of my hair behind my ear. "Your art is beautiful. Phenomenal. Masterpieces. I'm honored that you chose to share it with me." I close my eyes as relief washes over me. I did not know how much I needed his acceptance of my work.

Tears spill from my eyes, and Landon brushes them away before enveloping me in his arms. My dad always mocked my art. Destroying it. Destroying me. For Landon to praise it...is indescribable.

Landon kisses the side of my head before pulling back. "Come on, let us go get you something to eat. I believe there's some pineapple in the fridge." I smile, my mouth watering at the thought.

"Let me just put those drawings away," I say, reaching for them. Landon holds them up out of my reach.

"No way. I am framing these. I think the house needs some redecorating."

"You wouldn't." Landon's mischievous smile returns.

"I would." I reach for the drawings again, and Landon pulls them even farther from my reach.

"Landon!" I demand.

"Brooke!" Landon puts on an air of innocence.

We continue our playful banter for a few minutes until I feel a sudden sharp stab of pain. I gasp and clutch my side bending over slightly. Landon is at my side immediately. "Brooke, what is it? What’s wrong?"

"It hurts," I gasp. I feel warmth run down my leg, dripping onto the floorboard.

"Blood. Landon, there's blood," I say hysterically.

"I know. I know. It is going to be okay, Brooke. I am going to take you to the hospital, okay?" I nod my head, tears pouring down my face. "I'm going to carry you, okay." Landon tips my head up to meet my eyes. His are soft and full of fear, but his voice is strong and steady. I nod again, and Landon lifts me bridal style off the ground.

"Breathe. Just keep breathing, beagchaithnini sneachta." Landon continues to murmur to me as he carries me upstairs and to the garage. His voice is a lifeline. It seems to be the only solid thing to grab hold of as fear overwhelms every cell in my body.