Finding Julian

by Morgan, Shane

  I sat at the edge of the bed. “She’s…okay. I guess. Mom, I’m staying with her, at the guesthouse.”

  Mom paused then said, “She’d mentioned that as well. Listen, it’s fine for now as long as you get out of that hell hole right after the funeral, Jules. I don’t like you being there with them.”

  “I know, Mom. Look, I’ll call you as soon as it’s over and when I’m heading home later.”

  “All right,” she whispered. “Love you, honey. See you soon.”

  The moment I got off the phone, my nostrils flared at the smell of coffee and toast. My stomach growled. I was starving.

  I stuck my cell phone inside my pocket and headed out the bedroom and down the passage.

  Stopping in the arched doorway, I peeped into the kitchen. Aunt Bev sat at the table by the window and a voluptuous red head stood by the stove. She was dressed in a black dress and wore an apron around her waist. I figured she was Aunt Bev’s housekeeper and cook.

  “Good morning,” I greeted them both as I walked into the kitchen and around the island.

  The lady turned and smiled at me, “Morning.”

  “Good morning, Julian,” Aunt Bev said jauntily, sipping her coffee. She nodded me over to the table.

  I sauntered across the kitchen towards her and sat on a chair. Peering with discretion at her plate, I noticed she had an omelet, hash browns, and French toast. My stomach growled again. I held my belly and looked up at Aunt Bev to see if she heard.

  Her hazel eyes widened. “Somebody’s hungry.” She slanted in the chair and called out to the lady, “Claire, could you please fix a plate for Julian as well?”

  I jumped up. “Oh, that’s all right, Claire. I can help myself.”

  “There’s no need,” Claire waved me off. “You stay right there and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  She went right to it.

  I still felt bad, letting someone wait on me, but the look on Aunt Bev’s face and Claire’s told me I’d better not dispute it.

  “Claire’s been with me for three years now. She’s wonderful,” Aunt Bev gushed.

  I glanced over at Claire then, she had a modest smile on her face.

  “The service is at 3 o’clock,” Aunt Bev filled me in as I sat back on the chair. “When we get to the church, Julian, don’t pay any attention to anyone.”

  She kept her gaze away from mine and out the window.

  “Okay…” my voice trailed. Sweat started to trickle down my back.

  Aunt Bev looked at me. Her forehead wrinkled, seeing my nervousness so clearly.

  “Stick with me. It’ll all be okay,” she patted my hand on top of the table.

  “I can handle it,” I feigned bravery. “Besides, I won’t be—”

  “—around for long,” she mimicked. “I know, you keep saying that.”

  Claire brought over a plate for me along with a cup of coffee. “You take it with sugar? Crème?” she raised an eyebrow as she asked.

  “Sugar alone please,” I said. She handed me the jar.

  As I poured sugar into my coffee, Aunt Bev released a soft giggle. “Like your father.”

  I peered up at her. She was staring vacantly at my coffee. Her mind seemed to have wandered off somewhere. When she looked at me again, her lips parted to say something, but someone entered the kitchen and drew her attention.

  Instinctively, I turned to see the cause of the interruption. A young man in a white t-shirt and jeans entered the kitchen; his piercing emerald eyes mesmerized me with their penetrating stare. I immediately broke contact, dropping my gaze down to my plate.

  “Oh,” Aunt Bev shot up from her chair and went over to him. “This is who I wanted to introduce you to last night, Julian.”

  I stood as she tugged him over to the table. “This is Seven. He’s—”

  “Wait a second,” I cut in out of surprise. “Your name is a number?”

  Seven tightened his jaw and scowled at me. “Yeah, so?” he retorted, his timbre deep, with the smooth essence of a musician’s voice.

  My cheeks flushed red. “Oh no, I’m not trying to be rude. I just think it’s different. It’s cool.”

  “Well,” Aunt Bev chimed. “As I was saying, Seven is the nephew of your stepmother and I wanted you two to meet because you were born on the same day.”

  I wasn’t sure why I was super disappointed he had any relation to Marlene. That fact stood out more than us sharing a birthday.

  “Nice,” he said, feigning interest. Seven backed away and went over to Claire, immediately fixing his breakfast.

  Writing him off as a snotty rich kid, I returned to eating.

  Aunt Bev re-joined me at the table. “I thought you two might get along well. You know, being twenty-one.” She leaned over and whispered, “Seven is a nice guy.”

  Looking up at her, she had a sneaky grin on her face as she eyed me intently.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she shook her head and picked her plate up. “Take your time and eat, Seven will show you around before the service.”

  “Huh?” he groaned over by the island, his mouth stuffed with a biscuit.

  Aunt Bev placed her dish in the sink and patted Seven on the shoulder. She strolled out of the kitchen.

  He looked over at me and I once again stared at my plate. I did watch him from out the corner of my eye though. Seven remained by the island, leaning against it as he finished his breakfast. Maybe that was his way of showing his allegiance to his aunt.

  After finishing my breakfast, I brought the plate over to the sink and he moved aside as if he feared I’d touch him. Seven appeared surprised, as I washed my own dish. Huh. Rich boy probably didn’t know the first thing about cleaning up after himself.

  “You don’t have to do that, dear. It’s my job,” said Claire, resting her hand on my shoulder.

  I glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m used to helping myself.”

  I finished rinsing and set the plate in the dish rack, satisfied, before I made my way out the kitchen and towards the passage to head back to the guestroom.

  Seven called out to me before I went out of sight. “Grab your flip-flops. Aunt Bev will be mad if I don’t show you around.”

  Huh? Was he impressed by what I’d just done?

  He walked over to the foyer, opening the front door as he added, “I’ll meet you at the main entrance.” He closed the door just as I was going to protest.

  I went back to the guestroom, moaning as I stuck my feet into the flats I had on yesterday. I didn’t want to tour Narragansett. I wanted to wait out the time in this room, go to the funeral, and head home afterwards.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t have a choice and had to go with him. Still, Aunt Bev seemed so happy to have me here, finally. I didn’t want to disappoint her again. That’s the kind of person I was, always trying to make others happy.

  I walked across the lawn, tightening my stomach as I went up the marble steps around to the main entrance of the house. I was almost past the front door when Mackenzie came strutting out. Her long, blonde hair was styled nicely—it radiated in the sunlight. She was wearing a short summer dress and wooden sandals.

  Mackenzie paused at the front door and rummaged in her beach bag. Just as she took out humongous shades to put on, she looked up. Our eyes made four.

  The air froze around us.

  Her smile faded. Her eyes expanded. The pale blue nearly invisible as a death glare erupted. Her body language screamed hatred.

  Mackenzie eyed me from head to toe, making sure she was really seeing me. Her face twisted as if she smelled something foul.

  “What the hell!” she shrieked. I winced at her words. “You came here?”

  I wanted to say something, tell her I had as much right to be at the Vanderson estate because he was my father too. But then again, she had every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have stayed on their property. It was crossing a line.

  Still, I hated the tone of her voice, like she was talking
down to me. I lifted my chin confidently and said, “Look, Aunt Bev invited me to stay with her so chill out.”

  Mackenzie’s jaw dropped, surprised I’d dare talk back to her, much less hear that her own aunt had invited me to here.

  “I don’t care what that two-faced bitch said, you have a second to get the hell out of here—”

  “Kenzie, come on. Give it a rest,” Seven rushed to my defense. I was amazed.

  My half-sister grimaced. Her lips trembled as she went on, “But, Seven, she’s—”

  “I know who she is. Everybody knows,” he mumbled, sounding exhausted. “It’s just for today and you won’t even see her because she’s staying in the guesthouse with me and Aunt Bev.”

  Wait. Seven was staying in the guesthouse as well? Of course, idiot. That’s why he had breakfast there earlier.

  Mackenzie pursed her lips, appalled at how blithely her cousin was taking this.

  Turning, she yelled, “We’ll see if you even make it to the funeral when Mom hears about this,” before she slammed the front door shut.

  Seven whistled and playfully wiped his forehead. “Don’t worry. Marlene already knows you’re staying with Aunt Bev.”

  “And no one remembered to mention it to Mackenzie?”

  He walked over to the driveway and got into his convertible. “Because she’s too damn dramatic,” he said, urging me over as he put the roof down.

  I walked over and got in, asking, “How’d your aunt take it?” Though, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to hear.

  Seven started the car and reversed out of the driveway. He smirked before answering, “I’m not sure how, but Aunt Bev found a way to make you stay here in spite of how Marlene hates it.”

  He drove out of the estate and headed for the exit of the waterfront community.

  I rested my head back on the seat. “Did Aunt Bev ask you to keep me away until the service?”

  Seven turned and looked at me briefly then stared back on the road. “Yeah, she told me to keep you away from them. I mean,” he grinned, “they hate you. I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

  “Thing is, Aunt Marlene has every right to be angry,” he continued. “Her husband cheated on her and knocked-up some other lady right after she had Mackenzie. No offense, Julian, but you being here is causing added pain for her and my cousin.”

  I kept quiet, allowing his words to soak in. Of course it was hard for them. Still, had they ever considered how hard it was for my mother and me?

  “She didn’t know he was married,” I said sharply, becoming defensive. He probably believed like everybody else did, that my mom was just some gold digger. It wasn’t true. She never wanted money from Cole Vanderson.

  Never.

  I stared out, admiring the houses along Boston Neck Road.

  Seven blew out a long breath. “What’s done is done. The person who caused this is no longer here. But trust me when I say Cole was trying to take responsibility for everything. That’s why—”

  “Can we change the subject?” I cut in. That uncomfortable feeling was spreading over me again. The same uneasiness I felt with Aunt Bev on the balcony yesterday.

  “Sure,” he obliged. “Subject changed.”

  The one subject I was curious about was Seven’s presence in all this. “So, are you here for the funeral?” I asked, keeping my eyes on him. What was this guy’s story?

  He shook his head. “No, I’ve been staying at the guesthouse for two years now.”

  Great. Seven was a freeloader living off my father’s money. Rolling my eyes, I stared out the window again.

  He continued his explanation, “I’ve been going to University of Rhode Island, bay campus. Your dad insisted I stay at the guesthouse while attending classes. I work at his company every break I get from school, so it’s more convenient for me. Anyway, I love it down here.”

  “Oh,” I gaped, ashamed for jumping to conclusions.

  Seven must have noticed my surprise when he looked over at me. “What’s the matter? You thought I was taking advantage of my aunt’s husband’s wealth?” He smiled broadly, revealing perfect white teeth that glinted in the sunlight. “Don’t worry, I come from it too.”

  “Sorry,” I breathed.

  “Hey, it’s cool. People misjudge me all the time.”

  I couldn’t help give him a quick glance over. Seven was really good-looking. He wasn’t the type you’d describe as heavenly handsome, yet gorgeous beyond average. Strands of his tousled brown hair fell over his thick brows, his manly face barely had any visible facial hair, and his lips appeared soft, thin, and very kissable.

  I continued gawking at his features, even lowering my eyes down to his chest. His t-shirt didn’t hide much in the way it pressed onto his body. His chest protruded beneath it, showing he worked out.

  Seven spun and our eyes met. I turned my head around, tugging at my Capris so I had something else to do. I knew my cheeks flushed from being caught staring.

  He cleared his throat before saying, “Here’s the Narragansett town beach. This place is usually busy around summer. Some come here to idle along the sea wall.”

  I eased forward and peered out the windshield. I couldn’t see the ocean with the wall. Still, he was right about the place being busy.

  Seven braked at the stop light. His fingertips began drumming on the steering wheel. “So, Julian, what do you do? College? Work?”

  Right, almost forgot people would ask me that. I looked straight ahead as I answered, “I’m not working right now.” Not sure why I felt embarrassed telling him that. “I went to a Business school for one year after high school and received a certificate in Marketing,” I added, not to appear like a complete bum. “I was working up till May, but then...with the economy still so…anyway, my boss had to let a few people go.”

  “Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed. Was he judging me now?

  “How about working down here, with your dad’s company?” he offered. “I’m sure Aunt Bev would be thrilled to have you.”

  I winced, taken aback. “I don’t think so. The sooner I get back to Manhattan, the quicker I’ll get back to my life.” Or what was left of it.

  In a casual tone, he asked, “Is there something you have to get back to…or someone?”

  His question aroused the memory of my apartment. How I wished I could still live there when I returned, so I’d be able to hide away. My boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend—was probably dating my ex-best friend. Both had once been really important to me. Once. Now, they truly sickened me. But I couldn’t go there, not now. I had enough to deal with.

  “It’s where my home is,” I answered.

  When the lights switched green, Seven turned left onto Ocean Road.

  “Here are the popular towers,” he carried on his tour of the town, drawing me out of the gruesome memory of catching Clyde and Stacey, in bed together. “There used to be a casino inside, back in the day.”

  He pointed out the windshield as he drove beneath the historic structure that curved over the road. I’d been in Narragansett once. So I wasn’t able to see the town and all it had to offer. From what I’d seen so far, it wasn’t too bad.

  Seven flashed me a quick grin before turning his eyes back on the road. He seemed so proud of where he lived. Still, I had to ask, “If you’re only staying at the estate while attending college and working, where are you originally from?”

  My question somehow placed a burden on him. His grin disappeared. He shrank back into his seat. “I lived in Newport, with my parents.”

  Was that such a bad thing? I’d have to go live with my mother when I get back to Manhattan.

  “You seem unhappy with that,” I said, thinking he was a spoiled guy with too many options.

  Then his knuckles reddened as he tightened his grip on the wheel and said, “Let’s talk about something else.” His tone turned serious. I immediately retracted my initial thought. Seven wasn’t bratty. There was something else—something that obviously hurt.

 
I quivered at how fast his mood changed with the mention of his family. First he was all enthusiastic, now he seemed upset.

  We drove for another few minutes, sight-seeing, until getting to Point Judith lighthouse. Seven appeared to have relaxed again as we lingered nearby the lighthouse, walking along the cliff, until deciding to get something to eat.

  He drove to the popular Iggy’s and bought us fish and chips. Afterwards, he started back to the estate. I was so lost in the drive away from it all that I’d nearly forgotten I was going to attend my father’s funeral in two hours. I would need all the strength I could conjure for that.

  Chapter Four

  It was a little past noon when we got back to the estate. Seven wanted to show me my father’s paintings so he convinced me to follow him inside the main house.

  Marlene was in the living room, talking to some man dressed in a suit. They both looked up as I entered the front door. Their narrowed eyes reflected their astonishment at my nerve. I’d entered this house. Marlene’s house. Immediately, I tensed under their infuriating gaze. What was I doing here?

  “Dad, you’re early,” Seven said. I stood cautiously behind him. My nerves calmed a little knowing he was there.

  I glanced between all three, looking for similarities. Other than the emerald eyes shared between Seven and his father, there wasn’t much to tell they were related to Marlene.

  Seven’s father got up from the armchair, looking awkward. He fixed his cuff as he walked towards his son.

  “I had to take care of some business.” Glancing my way, he grunted, “My sister was right,” leaving right after.

  “And that was my father, Anthony Monroe,” said Seven. “Sorry about that.”

  I couldn’t help release a, “Hmm,” nearly missing Marlene as she walked up to me.

  Her face twisted in anger. “It’s bad enough Beverly has you staying at the guesthouse. However, stay out of this house and away from my daughter. You’ve upset her enough.”

  She moved in the direction of the stairs, adding over her shoulder as she reached the second step, “And don’t speak to anyone at the service.”