by Faver, JD
Mel shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Sunny turned to her with a quizzical expression.
“He didn’t know I was coming.” She shrugged. “I don’t know where he is.” She hated the tinge of whine in her voice.
Sunny stepped onto the porch and sat in the other rocker. “Don’t worry. He’s around somewhere.”
Mel stifled a whimper and nodded.
Sunny fixed her with a discerning gaze. “Did you and Helmut have a fight or something? He was kind of weird when he came back from Mexico.”
Mel swallowed hard. “Weird?”
Sunny emitted a rude guffaw. “He was grim and tight-lipped. Not that he can’t be tight-lipped, but this was different. Like he was really upset about something and he wasn’t about to share it with me.”
Mel took a deep breath and let it out. “You and Helmut have been friends a long time, haven’t you?”
“Since grade school.” The sudden smile transformed her face. Dimples flashed in her cheeks and her eyes lit up. “Helmut was the cutest kid, and so sweet. He couldn’t speak a word of English when he entered the first grade. But he was very smart and picked it up fast.”
Mel pressed her fingers against her abdomen. Was the child growing inside her going to be Helmut’s clone, or would it look like her? For the first time, she saw the child as a future person, a blend of both parents. “It must have been difficult for him.”
“He adapted. We were all farm kids, so, other than the language barrier, he fit in fine.” Sunny gave her another appraising glance. “Helmut was quite an athlete in high school and college. All the girls were in love with him.”
Mel raised her brows. “Were you in love with him?”
Sunny exhaled heavily. “Of course. I wasn’t immune to his many charms.”
Mel gave her a smile. She suddenly realized that Sunny would always be in love with Helmut. She tried to quiet the butterfly race going on in her stomach. “I understand,” she said quietly. “Me neither.”
Sunny gave her a grin. “The big difference is that Helmut loves you in return. I was just a fling for him.”
Mel pressed her lips together, trying not to lose it entirely. “He’s mad at me, right now.”
“He’ll get over it.”
A tear slid down Mel’s cheek. “I don’t know about that. Everything is entirely my fault. I came here to apologize, but I can’t find him.”
Sunny leaned toward Mel, her expression alarmed. “Hey, don’t get all emotional on me. Helmut’s around somewhere. Maybe he went to his cabin.”
“Cabin?” Mel remembered hearing something about a cabin.
“His cabin on the mountain. He used to go up there with his grandfather when he was a kid.” Sunny gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s his place to get away from it all.”
A flicker of hope ignited in Mel’s chest.
“Just hang tight and he’ll be back home by tomorrow morning. He has to milk his herd.”
Mel felt the knot in her stomach loosen. “The cows!”
Sunny nodded. “He wouldn’t neglect his herd. Just wait and he’ll come home.”
Mel frowned. “I guess I can wait here.”
Sunny stood up and straightened her jacket. “I hope things work out between you and Helmut. He’s a good guy.” She took a step away and turned back to Mel. “I think you should stop trying to make Helmut into a city boy. He’s a farmer, with no apologies. . .and a fine man at that.”
“I know,” Mel said in a strangled voice. “He’s the best person I’ve ever known.”
Sunny grinned. “Then we agree.” She climbed into her truck and gave a wave before driving away.
Mel watched her depart. Somehow, Sunny’s visit had been comforting. She’d talked about Helmut as a child and as a teen. Now, carrying his child, Mel felt somehow closer to him.
She got up and stretched. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her hunger had reached mammoth proportions.
Inside the house, she found little fresh food in the refrigerator, but she imagined that Helmut hadn’t shopped since the trip to Mexico. She found bread and eggs and made breakfast for dinner.
Sitting alone at Helmut’s table, she felt the need to be quiet and hurry through her meal. After rinsing the dishes, she walked out into the middle of the driveway. She gazed at the mountain and caught her breath. There was a light! She could see a light glowing steadily from a place mid-way up the mountain.
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Helmut awoke without an alarm clock and lay for a moment listening to the quiet pressing in on him. He gathered his things and made his way down the mountain while it was still dark using a powerful flashlight to illuminate his way.
A dampness in the air settled on his skin. The sky was lightening up in the east. Just a paler shade of navy. All the stars gleamed like crystals scattered on blue velvet.
He filled his lungs with the humid air and blew it out forcefully. A new day. He would make a fresh start and thrust all thoughts of Melanie Hannigan from his brain. He wouldn’t think of her sparkling green eyes, or the sound of her laughter. He wouldn’t think of her sweet lips or the kisses he had gathered. He wouldn’t...
But already he was sad. His chest felt heavy with the pangs of loneliness--with the pain of leaving her. The ache was so great that he couldn’t remember why he had felt compelled to abandon her in Mexico. His anger had cooled now, leaving only a smoldering ash behind.
In the darkness, he stumbled over a root, almost fell. He caught himself, scraping his forearm against the tree bark. He rubbed the abraded skin, glad of the pain, glad of anything that took his mind off Mel.
He pushed away from the tree trunk grasping the flashlight carefully, willing himself to pay attention to where he was going.
When he broke free of the clearing, he lifted his gaze to take in the sight of his house and barn. He stopped short, feeling like he’d been sucker-punched.
There, if front of his house, sat the shiny red Porsche Boxter.
He couldn’t draw a breath. He thought his heart might have quit beating. Could he be imagining that she was here?
He forced his leaden feet to move forward. Approaching the house cautiously, he ran his hand over the polished hood of the vehicle. It was cold. Had she been here all night? He expelled a deep breath. While he had been tossing and turning in the cabin?
He sat on the bench outside and removed his boots before creeping quietly into the house. He pushed open the door of his room, but the bed was untouched.
He opened the door to his new master suite and stepped into the complete darkness. Shielding the flashlight with his hand, he gazed at Mel sleeping in the middle of his new king-size bed. She clutched a pillow to her chest.
He swallowed hard. The longing swirled up from his gut, threatening to drown him. He fought the desire to throw off his clothes and slide under the sheets to cradle her in his arms.
Instead he pulled the little velvet covered chair close to the bed and eased himself onto it. He inhaled the fragrance that seemed to be a part of her. Silently, he watched her sleep, her lashes dark against her cheeks.
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She stirred, turned her face into the down pillow. She dreaded the coming of morning because it meant that she had spent a whole night hoping Helmut would come home. Home? What was she thinking? This wasn’t her home. It was Helmut’s den. The source of his strength. The place he would never leave.
She stifled a little sob and felt a hand on her head, smoothing her hair. She sat up, blinking in the semi-dark room.
Helmut was sitting on a chair beside the bed. He drew his hand back and stared at her somberly.
She felt the distance between them stretching like an ocean. An ocean of regret on her part.
“Good morning,” he said.
She tried to smile, but felt her lips tremble. She pressed them together, not trusting herself to speak.
“You came.” His statement hung on air between them. She realized how difficult this mus
t be for him, even though it was ripping the guts out of her.
“I had to.” She clutched the sheet around her, although Helmut had intimate knowledge of her body.
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face.
“I mean I had to talk to you.” She dropped her gaze to his hands, the hands that should be comforting her. She took a shaky breath. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
He shrugged and looked away.
“I didn’t lie to you.” She bit her lower lip. “I just didn’t mention that I had a sort of relationship with...with Alain.” She glanced at his face but he was very carefully not meeting her gaze. “I mean, it was over before I met you.”
He sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. You can’t tell me it doesn’t matter. You can’t just erase everything that we’ve had together because I failed to tell you about an old boyfriend.”
“It is not about that anymore.” He spread his hands as though he was about to explain something to her and then dropped them. He stood and turned away from her. “I am not a sophisticated man. I am not the man you should be with. I am uncomfortable in the city that you love and you would never be satisfied to live here in such a rural community with me.”
She listened to the words he was saying and stared at his back. Something about the set of his shoulders let her know he was not as relaxed as he would like to appear.
She sucked in a breath and tried to keep her voice steady. “I see. So you don’t think we belong together?”
He made a scoffing noise. “I do not deny that I am in love with you, Mel. But I do not think I can go to your city again. We should just stop trying to change each other.”
“I’m done with that. And I understand that you don’t want to go to the city. I understand.” She didn’t want to cry. He didn’t deserve that. “Would you hand me my clothes?”
He looked around and spotted her clothing folded on the edge of the dresser. He laid them on the foot of the bed. “I will let you get dressed.” He ducked out of the room as though the sight of her body would scald his eyes.
Mel’s shoulders drooped. How could she have been so stupid as to have thought that he would welcome her, that he would take her back? She pulled on her clothes and went to join Helmut. She weighed whether or not she would tell him she was pregnant.
He had made coffee and offered her a cup.
“I should be going,” she said.
“You need to eat something first. It is a long drive back to the city.”
She shook her head. “I’m really not hungry.”
He frowned. “You should eat something.”
“Helmut, I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to tell you this way, but you deserve to know.”
He looked like she had slapped him.
“A baby? We made a baby?” He looked incredulous.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t expect anything from you, but I wanted you to know.”
“You do not expect anything?” His brows drew together. “You are having my baby and you do not expect anything?” He grazed his fingers through his hair and muttered something in German.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. A lot of single women raise their children perfectly well.”
“I cannot allow you to bring up this child without a father. It is not right for a woman to struggle with all the duties alone.”
She started to protest but he stopped her with a kiss.
He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Do you love me, Mel Hannigan?”
She couldn’t breathe when he gazed at her with such intensity. “I love you, Helmut. I’ll always love you.”
He nodded his head. “Then I will do what you want. I will sell this farm and go to the city with you.”
“What?” She couldn’t fathom what he was saying.
“I will go to the city. I will be your husband and the father our child will need.”
She gazed into his eyes. His words, so heartfelt tore at her composure. “No! I can’t let you do that.”
He drew back. “You will not marry me?”
A giggle bubbled up from her throat. “I would love to marry you, but I can’t let you sell your farm. And you would hate it in the city.”
He expelled a deep breath. “But I would be with you, so I would put up with it.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I will marry you and live here with you and our children.”
“Our children?” A series of emotions played across his face before he reached for her. He pulled her against him and held her in a grip that would make a grizzly bear wince. “You will have my children?”
She managed to slide her arms around his neck. “Yeah, it was so much fun creating the first one.”
He kissed her, then laughed and swung her around in a circle. “I will make many children with you.” He frowned suddenly, setting her on her feet. “What of your picture business.”
“I can cut way back. Maybe just a few big campaigns each year. I’d like to do more art photography. I can put together another book.” She grinned. “And baby pictures. I see lots of baby pictures in my future.”
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About the author:
J.D. Faver lives near Houston, Texas with two spoiled, rotten cats, Emily and Daisy, and a rescue dog, affectionately called Heart of Darkness, Horrible/Adorable, or Minx for short. She writes humorous contemporary romance and romantic suspense, both seasoned with plenty of steamy passion. Even the darkest murder/suspense is riddled with numerous snarky sentiments. She is actively involved in several writer’s organizations, including National RWA and three of its local chapters, West Houston RWA, Houston Bay Area RWA and Northwest Houston RWA. She also belongs to Bay Area Writer’s League and Houston Writer’s Guild. She loves to spend time with family and friends. She writes daily but has time for other interests including painting, cooking and gardening.
She Tweets. http://twitter.com/#!/JDFaverauthor
She FaceBooks. https://www.facebook.com/pages/JD-Faver-Author/
She loves to hear from readers. http://www.jdfaver.com/
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Also available from Smashwords:
PAINTED LADY
By J.D. Faver
Painted Lady, Copyright © 2011 by J.D. Faver. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
Max held the fat paintbrush like a sword and attacked the canvas with slashing strokes. More Cadmium Red...and, yes! A dab of pure Ultramarine right there for contrast!
She waggled her hips and shoulders in time to the music and then stepped back from her easel. Nora Jones sang inside her head via her MP3 player...and Max was
Indirect light poured in through the bank of windows on the north side of her studio, bathing the painting with an iridescent glow.
This canvas thrilled her. It was an ambitious effort. Big, over six feet square, and bold.
Her agent was in love with the painting. Of course, Willa saw dollar signs whenever she looked at Max’s work.
Lately, Willa had been marketing her paintings through high end decorators on the premise that Max could paint to order.
One designer, some big deal named Jon Claude Donnell, had commissioned the first two abstracts. Max hadn’t met him. She preferred to remain a semi-recluse and let Willa collect the checks on her behalf.
She could never promote herself the way Willa did, nor with such amazing results. Max could be the hermit artist, painting in her tower, while Willa was the dragon in the moat. Not having to face the world kept Max out of trouble.
Her thorny nature and acerbic tongue couldn’t alienate anyone as long as she locked them up here in the loft.
She hummed a little as she stuck the brush in the empty pickle jar she used as a holder, glad this painting was commissioned and not on spec.
She shook her hips in time to the music. Stepping away fro
m the huge canvas, she tilted her head as she critically eyed it for balance and line.
“Hello?”
She whirled, letting out a little yelp when she saw the tall, dark-haired man standing in the open doorway. Glancing around for a weapon, she grabbed the nearest thing at hand.
The man stifled a laugh when he spied the palette knife she brandished. “Sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked several times, but you didn’t answer. You were dancing.” His smile faded as he looked beyond her to the painting.
Heart pounding, she slipped out the ear buds, letting them dangle around her neck, all the while regretting her habit of leaving the door open for her friends to wander in.
“So you barged right in? You terrified me. Just who the hell are you, anyway?” She emphasized her words by pointing the palette knife at her uninvited guest, even though her hand still evidenced a slight tremor.
Unfazed by her threatening demeanor, the man grinned at her, his dark eyes alight with mirth. “I’m Jon Donnell, head of the Claremont Design Group. I’m looking for the artist, Max Foster. Is he in?” He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pale tan slacks and turned to stare at the six foot painting supported by her easel.
So, this is the guy. The source of my checks. And he’s a member of the boy’s club. She smirked and crossed her arms across her chest. Welcome back to the same old chauvinistic art world, baby girl!
The upscale designer gazed around her loft, his eyes taking in all the canvasses stacked against the wall. He didn’t show a flicker of emotion.
Probably not impressed by my puny abilities.
She cleared her throat, trying to appear indifferent. “What do you want with Max?” Another macho man here to minimalize women in art. Max felt her back teeth grit together. Just like Malcolm Reed.
“It’s about his work.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Did he want the checks back? “What about it?” she snapped.
“This Max Foster guy is phenomenal. He’s amazing. His potential has barely been tapped.” The man turned, making a quick visual search of the loft. “Where is he anyway?”