She looked up at him, her hair a halo of gold in the morning light. “No, He isn’t.”
Henry usually looked away from a woman’s direct regard, but the gentleness in her expression fascinated him, the gratitude. To him? For his words? The familiar swell of attraction held him in place but with an unfamiliar comfort. There was something new in this. Attraction could be acted on or not, encouraged or ignored, but this touch of sweetness brought something new and different. And the simple fact that his words had touched her, a woman who bore tragedy with such gentleness? Well, he felt almost heroic. Almost.
Could she use a makeshift hero?
He cleared his throat and looked away. Idiot. What was he thinking? Besides the fact he felt fairly incompetent at romantic relationships, Julia lived in America and he in England. If he could hardly converse with someone while standing across from them, how could he maintain a relationship across two continents? Another item on the look-but-don’t-engage list: Julia’s unwed-pregnancy status would mortify his aristocratic mother, in addition to the fact that Julia undoubtedly held reservations about entering any romantic relationship due to the assault.
He waved toward the table, avoiding her eyes, pushing the thoughts away. “Do you provide this type of breakfast every morning?”
“Heather, my cousin, will take my place tomorrow, so you can expect some sort of apple breakfast dish.” Julia poured some tea into a cup. “She makes the most mouth-watering apple dishes known to mankind. I’ll only be just over an hour away if you guys need me.” She gestured toward the board by the stairs. “For the next month, I’ll be cleaning out my great aunt’s house. It’s deep in the mountains, so cell reception is horrible, but I left her landline number on the board if you need anything. It should be in working order for a little while longer, until the sale goes through.”
He must have shown his curiosity because she continued. “She passed away three months ago after a short illness, and with all the preparations I’ve been making for this little one”—she waved a free hand toward her stomach— “I haven’t had time to go through her things. It’s going to take a while. She was quite the eclectic collector.”
Perhaps she could use your friendship? His spirit nudged the thought. Could she? The idea forced him into continuing the conversation. “Are you going alone…to her house?”
She offered him a hesitant smile, her gaze pausing on his before she answered. “I still have two months left before the baby comes, and Aunt Amelia’s best friend lives nearby if I need anything. Besides, Dad’s coming with me tomorrow to help move some old boxes, which are supposed to hold legal documents or something like that. I have no idea really. Her house is as mysterious as she was.”
He nodded, enjoying the relative ease in this one-on-one interaction after the somewhat carnival-like exchanges at the Jenkins’s house. He could do this sort, and the pleasantness in the partner eased the endeavor even more.
“Wes is still asleep?”
Henry blinked out of his stare. “He’s speaking with his father. I thought he’d appreciate the privacy, and I was…um…wooed by the aroma.”
His compliment tipped her grin. “Well, I’d start eating if I were you. It’s always better when it’s warm.”
She turned to leave.
“Julia.”
She paused at the stairs and turned her full attention on him, those violet eyes round and curious.
“Thank you for last evening. The…um…the dessert escape plan?”
Her full smile spread with understanding. “You’re pretty quiet, aren’t you?”
“Actually, my mother would be envious of how many conversations your family has thrust upon me.”
Her laugh trilled across the distance and warmed him more than the blueberry muffin scent. What a lovely sound, like the joyful warble of a flute. “Terror is a great motivator to talk, huh?”
He chuckled out his agreement. “Indeed.”
“But ‘thrust upon you’ is a perfect description. I’m glad there are so many extroverts in my family that I can disappear into the background.”
Impossible. “I can’t imagine you ever disappear into the background.”
Her brows rose, and she placed her palm on the doorframe, as if for support.
What? His comment replayed with full mental clarity.
They both blinked.
He broke their connection first, his face flaming with a sudden heat. What had gotten in to him? He rarely spoke to women he’d known since childhood, yet he’d already had more conversations with this one over the past twenty-four hours than any other in his life. The circumstances appeared to force interactions with her—or distracted him enough to let down his guard.
And she made it easy. Her smile. Her eyes. The gentle way she urged him into talking without even trying.
“Good morning to the lot of you.” Wes breezed into the room, his presence slicing through the awkward silence with the perfect timing of a planned movie scene.
Henry cleared his throat and turned toward his friend, whose healthy and happy transatlantic relationship proved Henry’s internal argument false.
“Good morning,” Julia offered first. “How’s your family?”
“They’re doing well. Father’s keen to visit Pleasant Gap from all the stories I tell.” Wes grinned at the bounty on the table. “This looks fantastic, Julia. Thank you.”
“I’m excited to meet him someday and thank you.” Julia braided her hands in front of her and stepped toward the door. “As I told Henry, my cousin Heather will take care of breakfast tomorrow morning while my other cousin Amy manages the bakery, but if you need anything, just place a note on the board over there and she’ll get to it. Or when I return, I will.”
“Actually, I could use your help.” Wes took a seat and adjusted his napkin on his lap. “For a very special project.”
“Project?” Julia stepped back toward the table. “What do you mean?”
“In fact, I’d like to enlist both of you.” He looked up, his expression almost pleading. “And I can trust you to work it all out in secret.”
Henry eased himself into the chair across from his friend, searching for clues to clarify the mystery. He had a guess. Wes’s intentions hadn’t gone unnoticed over the last month, but how did he and Julia fit into the plan?
“If I try to include your parents, Julia, there’s a chance Eisley will find out. Plus, your bakery, away from the family home and Eisley, will be perfect.”
“I…I’m not sure I under—”
“I plan to propose to Eisley.”
Julia gasped and sank down on the window seat, her hand flying to her heart.
Henry relaxed back in the chair, basking in the contentment in his friend’s smile. Wes had been through a great deal of heartache before finding such an excellent home for his heart with Eisley and her children.
“That’s wonderful,” Julia whispered. “She…she will be so surprised.”
“I hope not too surprised. I’ve not hidden my intentions. She knows I’m playing for keeps, so why wait?” He took a sip of the tea and shrugged, his admiration beaming off his smile. “My filming plans are all happening in the US for the foreseeable future, which means I can be more of a fixture in the children’s lives too. I don’t care to take any more time away from us.”
“No, I guess not.” Julia’s smile resurrected with an added sparkle in her eyes. “So what did you need us”—her gaze flipped from Henry to Wes— “to do?”
“I was hoping we could decorate your party room in a similar way to the first dance we ever had. White lights. Live music.”
“Oh, at the gala in London, right?” Julia pressed her folded hands against her chest, obviously impressed with his friend’s story.
Henry’s grin surfaced at the memory of the moment Wes realized Eisley Barrett wasn’t the fame-seeking, husband-hunting widow his past experiences told him to expect. She’d turned his friend’s assumptions and heart inside out. Henry had never seen
Wes so happy, and he had to admit, Eisley proved a perfect match for him. Why wait, indeed.
“Right.” Wes squinted with his next request, and Henry’s body took on some warning tension. “And I thought perhaps you and Henry could provide the live music? Jazz. Old standards.”
“Oh.” Julia’s gaze hesitated in Henry’s, but she held her smile. For Eisley’s happily-ever-after. “I don’t see why not. R…right, Henry?”
“Of course.”
“And the food. I can—”
Wes raised a palm. “No, I’m already asking a lot of you at such a point in your pregnancy. I’ll have it catered, if you’ll recommend a place.”
“O-of course.” Her fingers went to her necklace. “How soon?”
He shrugged, his grin spreading like a boy with a secret he could barely contain. “In two weeks, if possible. I didn’t want to get too close to your date of delivery.”
“A Friday night? Saturday?”
“Friday, if it will work for your schedule, Julia. After closing?”
She nodded and glanced again at Henry. “If Henry’s fine with all of that, I think we can make it work.”
His own comfort wasn’t his primary concern. “Will…you be fine?”
Her smile softened, and she lowered her hands to her lap, as if preparing for the challenge. “Yes.” Her gaze swung back to Wes. “And my sister deserves the best happily-ever-after we can design.”
“I’d like to give her one.” Wes raised his teacup in salute.
Julia exchanged another look with Henry, and an unspoken pledge passed between them. Whether it was the unification of two introverts who found comradery in watching two people they loved find happiness, or something else that electrified the air, they’d make this arrangement work.
Chapter Five
J ulia shrugged off the memory of her conversation with Henry several times during the drive to her Aunt Millie’s house, but he kept returning to her thoughts, revisiting with persistent timidity. In a world where most of the men in her life charged forward with boldness—wisely or foolishly—his uncertainty stirred a strange sort of comfort. He was a gentle fumbler. A quiet support.
A similar soul.
She’d not had a great deal of experience with men despite her current situation as an unwed mom, but most of the guys she’d known in high school and college were the usual suspects of exaggerated male bravado. Men who even remotely reminded her of the villain who’d taken advantage of her curled her stomach with nausea and left her searching for a place to hide. But Henry?
She grinned as she remembered the look of pure horror in his eyes when he’d complimented her about disappearing into the background. Her dad’s truck appeared in the rearview mirror of her SUV, following her up the long gravel driveway to the house. She curbed her smile as if her dad could read her thoughts over the distance. Ridiculous.
Even thinking about a man’s attention at this point should be wrong. Shouldn’t it? She’d have to ask her therapist, Karen, about the idea. From all she’d read, Julia was supposed to remain distant and wounded for a long time before seeking romance again. She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the curiosity. Between Aunt Millie’s house, the bakery, and Little One’s arrival, the last thing she needed to add was mixed emotions over covert daydreams about some shy Englishman.
With pretty eyes.
And a gentle, cello-smooth voice.
Warmth poured down her neck and over her shoulders at the memory.
So much for wrestling those wayward thoughts into submission.
She growled and focused on the narrowing dirt road ahead. Dreams had to defer to reality, but she’d been deferring to reality for the last seven months—taking a sabbatical from college, readjusting to a future with her business degree on hold indefinitely and any happily-ever-after notions nowhere near the horizon.
Her heart ached for possibilities.
The fishbowl-like town she lived in refused to release her from her past or even encourage those once-held dreams. Whether it was part of her imagination or reality, Julia couldn't shake how people seemed to view her in a different way now—as if the trust and innocence she’d held before had been shattered by someone else's heinous acts. Perhaps if she weren’t pregnant people could've forgotten the court case and the small-town scandal—overlooked the wolves they couldn't see—but her growing abdomen gave a daily reminder of something forever changed, of a darkness lingering beneath the hearts of everyday people, and now the friends who’d once spent time with her were nowhere to be seen.
She released a shivering sigh. No wonder Aunt Millie had disappeared into the seclusion of the mountains after her unexpected pregnancy. Though Julia didn’t have plans to resort to such an extreme, she couldn’t deny the allure to leave it all behind.
She stalled her car in front of the grand Victorian and exited in the most graceful way she could with a stomach the size of a basketball hindering her progress. Tugging her overnight bag onto her shoulder, she removed the small cooler with a few easy snacks from the backseat of her car and nodded toward her dad, as he brought his truck to a stop beside hers.
Even three months after Millie’s death Julia expected to hear the faint strains of the piano—a concerto, perhaps, or Tchaikovsky—as she climbed the white-washed steps to the front door in the center of the wrap-around porch. Or maybe smell the faint scent of the apple pie Sissy would have baked as a special treat for Julia’s visit. Two misfit women huddled together along the backroads of Appalachia.
“You still plannin’ on sellin’ the place?”
Julia peered over her shoulder at her dad as she searched through her keys for the right fit to the colossal oak door. “As much as it breaks my heart, Dad, this place won’t fit into my plans. You know how much I love the setting, but I don’t want to be so far away from town.” She fitted the key into the lock, the ache in her chest expanding. She loved this house. “And I can’t even get Wi-Fi out here. What sort of bed-and-breakfast would I have without Wi-Fi for my guests?”
“One where people actually talk to each other instead of having their faces stuck all over Facebook or Trashchat,” her dad mumbled, dropping his toolbox on the porch to push open the door for Julia.
“Snapchat, Dad.”
“Ain’t that what I said?” His dark moustache lifted at one corner. “I don’t like people all over the world being able to get into my business, and I don’t want to see all their business either. There are just some things you can’t unsee.”
Julia slipped through the door, reserving her chuckle in the quiet of the massive entry hall. So many memories tied her to her great aunt’s country anomaly. The rooms smelled of sweet oil and hand lotion with the faintest hint of mountain cornflower—a fragrance as mysterious as her reclusive aunt.
The focal point of the entry—a grand mahogany staircase— rose front and center in the entry, splitting at the top landing for another small stairway to the left and right wings of the house, like something out of Gone with the Wind. Julia’s breath halted in a quiet sob, the stillness a reminder of Amelia’s absence.
Emptiness and quiet that highlighted the losses her aunt had lived with for years.
Loss of love.
Loss of a child.
There was an unfinished story here. Julia could almost feel it in whispers from the walls or the memories of her aunt’s distance expression when she spoke of Lucas, but Julia would never uncover the truth now that Amelia was gone.
Oh, the loneliness of a life with an untold story.
Yet, Millie, as unusual and reticent as she was, had poured out her knowledge, affection, and finances on Julia, taking her on vacations she would never have experienced without her aunt’s kindness. Traveling to countries an Appalachian girl rarely saw in a lifetime, let alone before the age of twenty-five.
They’d created an unlikely friendship, the two of them. A companionship. A woman who needed a friend and a young, quiet girl with a loud dream.
Aunt Millie
had even encouraged Julia’s hopes of owning her own bed-and-breakfast one day, saying, God’s view is limitless, vast and beautiful, even if pain stains our vision and fear falters our steps. He will be our strength. Our courage. Our guide. And with a twinkle in her eyes, she’d add, He can see in the dark, you know.
But how could Julia trust her aunt’s words? For all her talk of strength versus fear, when Amelia’s dreams had been stripped away, she’d fled.
At least, that’s the reason everyone gave for a world-renown pianist—a woman who’d even played before princes— to choose isolation in the vast quiet of Appalachia.
Julia understood life-seizing fear. Dreams of owning her own bed-and-breakfast seemed too far-fetched—crazy, even—for a soon-to-be single mom. How would she manage her time with a newborn? Selling Millie’s house and the bakery would take care of finances, but what about energy? Smarts? The impact of a sullied reputation on business?
Courage had never been her forte, and whatever amount she’d once possessed had dwindled since the rape incident. But perhaps with the funds from the sale of Aunt Millie’s house, Julia could save for the B&B she’d always dreamed of. When life slowed down. When courage resurfaced. The idea fueled her steps into her favorite spot: the music room.
“I reckon Aunt Millie had the right idea all along.” Dad followed her, his voice echoing through the empty house. “Get away from people and just enjoy nature.”
“Well then, maybe you should retire here in this big old house, Dad.”
He squinted and leaned back in observation. “Too fancy a house for me. All the”—he waved toward the ornate molding— “frill.”
She chuckled. “Well, someone will really love this frill, and I’ve already had two calls from interested parties. My favorite prospect so far is the headmistress of a school for girls. But a retired museum curator has made a competitive offer.”
When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2) Page 4