Beyond the Consequences
Page 62
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When he turned to leave, Claire asked, “Nichol, are you ready for some breakfast?”
As she spoke, the cook came from the kitchen with a tray, and Nichol climbed onto the chair beside her mother. “I do fhink it sounds funny,” she whispered as she watched her breakfast being served.
THE TIRES OF the rental car bounced as Phil turned onto the private lane. Was the loose gravel the cause of his trembling hands or was it something else? As the silence within the car loomed, Phil’s grip upon the helpless steering wheel tightened, blanching his knuckles and straining his wrists. Outside the windows large trees lined the lane while manicured lawns filled the landscape. The large, strategically placed trees created a canopy over the lane, allowing minimal illumination from the evening sun. The resulting strobe of the sunshine reminded Phil of the lane on the Rawlings estate, except these trees weren’t oak. These trees were cypress and draped with beautiful Spanish moss that veiled the full beauty of the resort. As the trees parted, the main lodge came into view. Above the plantation-style mansion, the sky filled with a kaleidoscope of color. Reds swirled with pinks as shadows took on a purple hue.
“This is beautiful.” Taylor’s statement shattered the silence, relieving a fraction of the tension from Phil’s grip.
He turned to his right. “It is. Have you ever stayed here before?”
“No,” Taylor answered. “Not here. I mean, I grew up about fifty miles away, near Sebring. I’d heard of this place, but…” She shrugged. “…I guess I thought I was done with this area of the country.”
Phil slowed the car as he eased in front of the main building. Putting the gear in park, he reached for Taylor’s hand. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can drive back to the airport right now. The Rawlings Industries plane is there and the pilot is on standby. You say the word and we can fly back to Iowa.”
Inhaling deeply, Taylor shook her head and turned her gaze toward the side window. “No, Phil, I have to do this. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder if…”
Phil waited as Taylor collected her thoughts and silence once again filled the car. There was so much he wanted to know: so many questions. Only knowing bits and pieces about someone’s past was the penance for not meeting one another until later in life. Those lives and stories, the ones that created a foundation of the present and future, remain hidden, until access was granted. He understood the need to keep the past from crashing with the present. Hell, his walls were tall enough to keep a fuck’n ninja from scaling them, and for that reason, he didn’t pry. That’s not to say he hadn’t done his research before Taylor was hired; however, that was business. This no longer was.
It wasn’t until they landed in Fort Lauderdale and began the drive away from the crystal blue ocean that Phil got a rare glimpse of the private woman beside him. Through the past two years he’d seen many sides of her—sides he enjoyed—but this was different. There was a cyclone of emotion he’d never witnessed. He didn’t know the particulars of what was happening behind her beautiful blue eyes, yet he knew enough to know it was causing her pain. That alone was more than enough reason to make him want to turn the car around and take them both back to the cooler world of Iowa.
As the warm Florida air stirred, the clouds above the columned mansion continued to swirl, brightening and darkening the landscape as shadows collided with light. Everything around him was happening in slow motion. Only Phil’s thoughts were occurring at a normal speed. He felt his blood pump and echo in his ears. Each beat of his heart intensified the silence. He was a man of action, a person who fixed things. He made them right. Sitting and watching the woman in his life, the woman who was usually a rock, crumble in the seat beside him was pure, unadulterated torture.
If he could, he’d take away her memories as well as her thoughts. If he could, he’d eliminate the current cause. He’d eliminated threats before. But alas, this was beyond his realm of expertise. Only current dangers could be eradicated. Purging the past was not something he could do. It was up to her. For that reason and possibility at liberation, Phil supported her.
After what seemed like hours, but according to the dashboard had only been a few minutes, Phil rubbed Taylor’s shoulder. The quaking beneath his fingertips told him what she’d been trying to hide. Throughout the two years they’d known one another, never before had he seen her cry. She wasn’t like Claire: that woman could cry at the drop of a hat. No, Taylor’s emotions were usually concealed, the perfect attribute of a bodyguard or an agent: slow to anger and quick to react, conscious of everything at all times. Yet, the emotions Phil now witnessed were not a quick reaction. No, they’d been building over time: long before he knew Taylor Walters.
“I’ll go get us checked in, and we can get some rest before your appointment with the attorney tomorrow.”
Taylor nodded as she continued to look away.
A few minutes later, Phil apprehensively returned to the car. He could handle a confrontation with an adversary, chest to chest and guns blazing; however, confronting emotions that bubbled like a tar pit—thick, dense, and capable of suffocation—was out of Phil’s element. With each step he contemplated his next move. Opening the door, he sighed with relief. Staring up toward him was one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. Somewhere in the time since he’d left and returned, Taylor had taken hold of her grief and returned it to the place that not only concealed it from the world, but from her heart. Though her eyes glistened with the remnants of tears, her gaze was clear and precise. Seeing the obvious change, Phil couldn’t stop the relief suddenly surging through him as the smile returned to his lips.
As she spoke, the cook came from the kitchen with a tray, and Nichol climbed onto the chair beside her mother. “I do fhink it sounds funny,” she whispered as she watched her breakfast being served.
THE TIRES OF the rental car bounced as Phil turned onto the private lane. Was the loose gravel the cause of his trembling hands or was it something else? As the silence within the car loomed, Phil’s grip upon the helpless steering wheel tightened, blanching his knuckles and straining his wrists. Outside the windows large trees lined the lane while manicured lawns filled the landscape. The large, strategically placed trees created a canopy over the lane, allowing minimal illumination from the evening sun. The resulting strobe of the sunshine reminded Phil of the lane on the Rawlings estate, except these trees weren’t oak. These trees were cypress and draped with beautiful Spanish moss that veiled the full beauty of the resort. As the trees parted, the main lodge came into view. Above the plantation-style mansion, the sky filled with a kaleidoscope of color. Reds swirled with pinks as shadows took on a purple hue.
“This is beautiful.” Taylor’s statement shattered the silence, relieving a fraction of the tension from Phil’s grip.
He turned to his right. “It is. Have you ever stayed here before?”
“No,” Taylor answered. “Not here. I mean, I grew up about fifty miles away, near Sebring. I’d heard of this place, but…” She shrugged. “…I guess I thought I was done with this area of the country.”
Phil slowed the car as he eased in front of the main building. Putting the gear in park, he reached for Taylor’s hand. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can drive back to the airport right now. The Rawlings Industries plane is there and the pilot is on standby. You say the word and we can fly back to Iowa.”
Inhaling deeply, Taylor shook her head and turned her gaze toward the side window. “No, Phil, I have to do this. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder if…”
Phil waited as Taylor collected her thoughts and silence once again filled the car. There was so much he wanted to know: so many questions. Only knowing bits and pieces about someone’s past was the penance for not meeting one another until later in life. Those lives and stories, the ones that created a foundation of the present and future, remain hidden, until access was granted. He understood the need to keep the past from crashing with the present. Hell, his walls were tall enough to keep a fuck’n ninja from scaling them, and for that reason, he didn’t pry. That’s not to say he hadn’t done his research before Taylor was hired; however, that was business. This no longer was.
It wasn’t until they landed in Fort Lauderdale and began the drive away from the crystal blue ocean that Phil got a rare glimpse of the private woman beside him. Through the past two years he’d seen many sides of her—sides he enjoyed—but this was different. There was a cyclone of emotion he’d never witnessed. He didn’t know the particulars of what was happening behind her beautiful blue eyes, yet he knew enough to know it was causing her pain. That alone was more than enough reason to make him want to turn the car around and take them both back to the cooler world of Iowa.
As the warm Florida air stirred, the clouds above the columned mansion continued to swirl, brightening and darkening the landscape as shadows collided with light. Everything around him was happening in slow motion. Only Phil’s thoughts were occurring at a normal speed. He felt his blood pump and echo in his ears. Each beat of his heart intensified the silence. He was a man of action, a person who fixed things. He made them right. Sitting and watching the woman in his life, the woman who was usually a rock, crumble in the seat beside him was pure, unadulterated torture.
If he could, he’d take away her memories as well as her thoughts. If he could, he’d eliminate the current cause. He’d eliminated threats before. But alas, this was beyond his realm of expertise. Only current dangers could be eradicated. Purging the past was not something he could do. It was up to her. For that reason and possibility at liberation, Phil supported her.
After what seemed like hours, but according to the dashboard had only been a few minutes, Phil rubbed Taylor’s shoulder. The quaking beneath his fingertips told him what she’d been trying to hide. Throughout the two years they’d known one another, never before had he seen her cry. She wasn’t like Claire: that woman could cry at the drop of a hat. No, Taylor’s emotions were usually concealed, the perfect attribute of a bodyguard or an agent: slow to anger and quick to react, conscious of everything at all times. Yet, the emotions Phil now witnessed were not a quick reaction. No, they’d been building over time: long before he knew Taylor Walters.
“I’ll go get us checked in, and we can get some rest before your appointment with the attorney tomorrow.”
Taylor nodded as she continued to look away.
A few minutes later, Phil apprehensively returned to the car. He could handle a confrontation with an adversary, chest to chest and guns blazing; however, confronting emotions that bubbled like a tar pit—thick, dense, and capable of suffocation—was out of Phil’s element. With each step he contemplated his next move. Opening the door, he sighed with relief. Staring up toward him was one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. Somewhere in the time since he’d left and returned, Taylor had taken hold of her grief and returned it to the place that not only concealed it from the world, but from her heart. Though her eyes glistened with the remnants of tears, her gaze was clear and precise. Seeing the obvious change, Phil couldn’t stop the relief suddenly surging through him as the smile returned to his lips.
