Free Baby Kisses by Verna Clay Page A

pictures.
    When she reached a picture of Miles in his wheelchair with a young woman sitting in his lap, she sighed again. "This is Alexa. Miles became engaged to her when he was thirty and she was nineteen. He met her when she was seventeen and waited for her to grow up before initiating anything. Her parents are very wealthy and well connected. Miles loved her dearly and she loved him..." Cecelia paused, "…but not enough to fight for him when her parents came against their engagement. She finally called it off and sent Miles into a spiral of depression. He'd been doing so well for years, but this was just too much. I think that's why he hasn't allowed another woman into his life. Oh, he sees Monica, but that's strictly a sexual thing. Everyone knows she's all wrong for him. Well, everyone except my father and mother. I believe she really cares for him, but she also cares for his money and success."
    Tooty didn't know what to say.
    Cecelia closed the photo album and set it on the table. She said in a serious tone, "Tooty, Miles is crazy about you and he's fighting his feelings because of what happened with Alexa. He sees you as too young for him. He's wrong. You're good for him." She looked into Tooty's startled gaze. "I love my brother and you're just what his heart needs. So there, I've spoken what's on my mind and you can take it for what it's worth."
    Tooty found her voice, "I don't think he feels that way about me. We're just friends."
    "Friends make the best lovers," Cecelia countered. She patted Tooty's knee and laughed. "Yep, you and Harris are just what the fates have ordered for my brother."
     

Chapter 13:  Home Sweet Home
     
    Tooty wanted to kiss the ground when Miles pulled the van in front of her humble little country home. They'd only been gone a week and it felt like a month. Her flowers needed watering and the porch had leaves and debris blown across it. She couldn't wait to get to work.
    While unloading their baggage she felt Miles watching her. She wondered if he was sad to leave his home in New York or if he'd developed a soft spot for simple living. Granted, his home was beautiful and posh, but it was also cold and uninviting. She looked at him and asked bluntly, "What are you thinking, Miles?"
    He gave her a surprised look. "I was thinking how well this home suits you."
    Now she was the one to be surprised. "Yes, it does," she whispered.
    The evening was still young after tucking Harris into bed. Tooty was tired from the long trip and then piddling around her house, but she didn't want to call it a night. Miles had retired early.
    Suddenly feeling the urge to write, she retrieved her notebook and walked outside to the porch swing. Rereading her unfinished poem under the dim porch light, she listened to crickets chirp and owls hoot, willing the third stanza to come.
     
    His eyes, the color of love
    Paint my soul with living shades
    He is the shadow of my dreams
    He knows me as no other
    Will I ever meet him?
     
    Do miles separate us?
    Or is he the bright star in my backyard?
    Is he fey?
    Or is he man?
     
    She pondered and then wrote.
     
    He is near, yet so far.
    I am young, but old in hurt.
    He is old, but unaware of his youth.
    We are paradoxes of ourselves.
     
    How shall we end our sweet torment?
     
    She sighed and looked at the stars, so close and yet so far. She reread her poem, and then read it again. Inhaling sharply, she saw what her unconscious mind—no, her heart—had written in the second stanza. She picked out the words: miles, bright, man. Miles Brightman. Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed herself to accept her feelings. She hated the fact that he and Monica had been together because…because…she cared deeply for him. She whispered to herself, "Tooty, you're screwed."
    * * *
    Three weeks after arriving back in Colorado, Miles typed the last word and leaned back in his wheelchair. Other than proofreading and some editing, his book was finished. Two emotions attached themselves