The Forbidden Brother

“This is Laura,” she said, settling down again.

“Is it too late to call?”

She recognized Jed’s voice instantly. Suddenly she was fully alert, on edge. Why was he calling?

“Not at all. What can I do for you?”

The darkness hid all things. She could talk to him and keep her secrets.

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Jed?”

“This is probably a bad idea,” he said.

“What is?”

“Calling to ask you about Jordan. You probably have a million things to do.”

“Actually I’m sitting on my balcony enjoying the night air. Where are you?”

“In a hotel room without a view. One of the last ones left and lucky to get that, according to the desk clerk. The television has nothing on it to warrant my attention. After eighteen months in Brazil, you’d think I’d have plenty to catch up on. I don’t know anyone in town except my parents and you. And I guess that’s a tenuous connection at best.”

“What can I tell you?”

“How he was these last few months. What he was interested in. Besides you, of course. Was he happy?”

She took a sip of her wine, stalling. She didn’t want to remember the last few months. “I think Jordan had the capability of being happy no matter what. He never seemed to take anything seriously enough to impact his outlook on life. It was one of the things about him that appealed to me. I worry about the gallery, worry about keeping a steady flow of quality artwork coming in and selling. Worry about taxes and the weather and lots of things. Jordan never did. And when I was with him, I’d forget and have fun.”

It was what she missed most about him, she realized.

“Yeah, he had an optimistic outlook that didn’t quit,” Jed said slowly.

“He used to make me mad sometimes, never thinking the worst would come. But he was so often right, the worst didn’t happen. He had a lot of friends, none close that I know of, but plenty to hang out with, go clubbing, or sailing. He loved being around people—which surprised me a little,” she said slowly. She was again coming to realize some things that should have given her clues to the real Jordan.

“Why’s that?”

“Most of the artists I know are content to be their own best friend. Jordan had scads of friends. He was not a loner.”

“We were different in that aspect. Actually we were different in many ways, not just that. He always seemed to have a flair for making friends. From the time we were in elementary school together, he had a circle of friends for any occasion.”

“Did you?”

“I had a few friends. Hung on the outskirts of his groups if I didn’t have anyone to hang out with. He was generous that way.”

“He was freehanded. I wish…” Laura trailed off.

“What?”

“That I had appreciated how he was before he died. I think I wanted him to change, and of course no one can change once they are a certain age—unless they wish it. I loved his carefree attitude, but wanted him to be more practical. I loved going to parties with him, yet yearned for quiet evenings at home. What does that say about me?”

“That you wanted a balanced life, not all one-sided.”

“You make that sound nicer than I think it was.” Not that any of it mattered once she’d discovered him in bed with that woman. She closed her eyes, wishing she had another memory to supplant that one. It was the worst one she could remember him by.

“You’re at the hotel?” she said a minute later. “Why aren’t you staying at your parents’ house? Or staying at the cottage? Your mother rents that cottage, you could stay there.”

“Let’s just say it’s easier to come and go if there are no family dynamics to get in the way.”

Laura frowned. What did that mean? “Did you get a lot done today?”

Again there was a pause. Laura could hear rustling in the background. Suddenly she wondered if he had gotten ready for bed as she had. Was he in boxers, or nothing at all? Jordan had slept in the nude, did his brother?

Her heart raced as her thoughts veered away from the conversation. Dragging them back, she chastised herself for the wayward ideas. Jed was Jordan’s brother!

“I went through his clothes, packed them all in bags. There weren’t as many ghosts as I expected,” Jed said.

“Ghosts?”

“Memories. We were inseparable as boys. We began to go our separate ways in high school and after our first year in college acknowledged we were too far apart in our philosophies of life to keep in close touch. I bet I only saw Jordan a half dozen times in the last decade.”

“Your choice, or his?” she asked. Jordan had not seemed to miss his brother. Had that been only a facade? There was so much she didn’t know about the man she’d once thought she’d marry. Another clue they weren’t suited. Why hadn’t she picked up on them at the time?

“Mutual.” He was silent. “Actually more on my part than his. I was tired of—” He stopped abruptly.

“Tired of what?” she asked.

“Cleaning up after him. It’s not important. Water long over the dam now.”

“It’s hard to hold on to anger when the person is gone, isn’t it?” she said slowly. “He was wonderful at first, then changed a little. Now I’d give anything to have him back—warts and all.” Could she have forgiven him as he’d begged? Once trust was shattered, she didn’t know how to rebuild it.

“Some things seem insignificant after all,” Jed said. He took a breath she could hear over the line.

“Changing the subject, what did you do this afternoon?”

“Instead of coming to the cottage, do you mean?”

“You had plans when I showed up. I was merely curious as to what.”

“I met with a client who loves to collect certain glass sculpture. She and I have been working together from the time I first joined Hugo. She’s a lovely elderly lady who has enough money to indulge herself.”

“Sell her anything?”

“Not today. I had nothing I thought suitable for her. But we had a lovely tea and I promised to keep my eye out for just what she wants.”

“That all?”

“There’s more to running an art gallery than sitting around and waiting for people to wander in and buy,” she said. Did he think she didn’t work hard at her job?