Finding Julian

by Morgan, Shane

  On our way out of the building, the side door swung open and Seven and I paused at the top of the stairs, waiting for the person to pass by. I looked up at the employee’s face and recognized him as the guy from Dunkin Donuts.

  He nodded at Seven then stopped in his tracks when his sea blue eyes met mine.

  “You?” he said with a mixture of surprise and weird delight.

  Seven blinked back and forth between us. “You two know each other?”

  I brushed my hair behind my ears, feeling queasy as I remembered the short-lived encounter. “Not really.”

  “I’d mistaken her for someone else,” the guy explained.

  Oddly, Seven relaxed his shoulders, appearing satisfied by our responses. “Oh,” he said. “Well, Julian, this is Gavin. He’s working in the printery for the summer. He’s also a longtime friend of Mackenzie’s.”

  As Gavin raised his hand to shake mine, Seven went on to introduce me to him. “Gavin, this is Julia, Cole’s daughter.”

  Not again.

  Gavin’s expression turned confused. His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “No wonder…I didn’t know Mrs. Vanderson had two daughters.”

  “Oh, she’s—”

  “We have to get going,” I interrupted before Seven could clarify. I was tired of the same awkward reaction from complete strangers.

  “Nice meeting you, Gavin,” I said dryly, stepping between the two and out of the building.

  Seven came out shortly.

  He unlocked the car and I plopped down onto the passenger seat, feeling a bit frustrated with him.

  The moment he got inside he asked, “What was that about?”

  “Please don’t do that anymore.”

  The happy feeling I had earlier was gone. It wasn’t okay anymore for Seven or Aunt Bev to tell people who I really was.

  “Do what?” he asked, oblivious to my discomfort.

  “Introduce me as Cole Vanderson’s daughter,” my words came out sturdy. “Just say I’m a friend, nothing else.”

  A distressed look showed up on his face, and his now sad eyes spun away from mine. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I just thought you’d feel accepted.”

  Relaxing my tone, I said, “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

  Seven turned the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road, heading for Narragansett.

  I didn’t mean to create an intense atmosphere. I was simply trying to let him know how uncomfortable it made me feel. Now, we were driving in dead silence. It bothered me. I didn’t want to leave on such a note.

  Looking over at him, I exhaled before saying, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I get it. I’d feel funny about it too if I was in your shoes.”

  We didn’t say anything again for a few minutes, until I started to remember the reading of the will and what my father said about him.

  “Seven, if you don’t mind me asking,” I held myself back to reconsider if what I wanted to ask was even appropriate.

  He glanced in my direction for a beat, lifting an eyebrow, encouraging me to continue, “Mind if you ask me what?” He looked back at the road as we approached the Pell Bridge.

  I decided to just go for it, “What did you promise my father?”

  Seven didn’t answer. He kept his eyes straight ahead. The window was halfway down so I could hear cars whooshing by, filling the quietness around us.

  Thinking this must’ve been his way of ignoring something that made him uneasy, I gave up on receiving an answer and stared down at Narragansett Bay below. Its serene, blue waters filled with sail boats and kayakers.

  We were almost off the bridge when Seven muttered, “He…”

  I looked around fast, anticipation filling me up inside. There was something different about his posture now. Seven appeared nervous, fingers squeezing the wheel as he tensed in the seat.

  “What?” I pressed, discerning his apprehension.

  He flashed me a wary smile. “He asked me to look out for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Seven and I didn’t say much for the rest of the drive back to Narragansett. We remained quiet all the way to the house. I wasn’t sure how to react, being told that my father asked him to look after me. It was as if there was something, or someone, I needed protection from.

  He parked in the driveway. I got out, trying to form words in my head to say to him.

  “Thanks for bringing me back,” I muttered, as he closed the driver’s door.

  Seven stuck his hands inside his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “No problem, I was on my way home anyway.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.

  He started for the main house and I walked behind, making my way past him as he turned towards the front door.

  “Hey,” he called out to stop me. “Marlene’s not home. Come inside so I can show them to you.”

  It took a second for me to realize what he was referring to: My father’s paintings. “Oh. What about Mackenzie? I don’t feel like dealing with her right now.”

  Opening the front door, he nudged me over. “She’s not home during the days.”

  I swallowed hard, then walked over and entered behind him. Stopping in the entrance, I hugged myself. There was a chilling feeling about being in this house.

  It didn’t help when Seven positioned his hand gently at the small of my back and urged me forward. I glanced behind at him, utterly shaken up by the enervating sensation flowing through my body as his hand remained in place.

  Seven looked at me with what at first seemed like reciprocation of what I was feeling, but then his brows arched in confusion.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I snapped out of it and relaxed my tensed body. “Nothing. Um…where are they?”

  “His art room is down that way.” He removed his hand from my back and walked ahead. “This way.”

  I followed behind him.

  When we got to the end of the passage, Seven turned the door knob. It was locked. He took his keys out of his pocket and stuck one inside the keyhole. Opening the door, he stepped aside to let me enter first.

  My breath hitched. There was so much art on the walls. I lifted a hand and placed it across my constricting chest. “My dad….He did all this?”

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” Seven closed the door and walked up beside me. “That one down there is even better.” He pointed to the painting at the far side of the room below the bay window.

  I admired my father’s work as I slowly walked over to the painting Seven seemed especially anxious for me to see. There was a feeling of pity as I past a few still on easels, waiting to be completed.

  Reaching the painting resting below the window on the floor, a white cloth masked its contents. I wasn’t sure why I felt a little nervous taking it off. Regardless, I knelt down before the painting and slowly lifted the cloth to uncover it.

  My eyes widened as I gazed at my own portrait. I gasped and fell backwards on the floor, engrossed in the beautiful work of art. My father had painted me at sixteen, on the beach, with my long hair blowing in the wind, the rushing waves and bright sunshine creating a spectacular backdrop. It looked realistic, as if I’d really been here at the time he painted it.

  “Aunt Bev said he used to paint a lot as a kid, until his father made him give it up.” Seven walked over and kneeled down beside me. “She said he only started again after she showed him your pictures. There are more, Julian. You as a little girl, as a teenager…” he paused, running his fingers gently along the side of the antique gold frame with charcoal highlights. “Marlene wasn’t too happy about his little hobby. She’d gotten rid of most of them after he died.”

  He glanced around the room. “These are the ones I begged her to leave for me.”

  “Why?” I breathed.

  Seven looked at me. His eyes lingered on my face. Then as if pulling himself out of a deep hold, he turned away. “Because,” he exhaled. “I wanted
you to see them. They represent something…I don’t know.” He shook his head and stood, offering me a hand to help me to my feet. “I thought it’d help you in a way.”

  I understood what he was trying to say. For a moment I saw myself as my father’s muse, motionless as he placed every effort into creating this one painting. Every intricate detail mattered greatly to him. It was his way of staying close to me. He obviously felt burdened he’d ever let me go.

  Getting to my feet, I looked down at the painting once more. “Can I take this with me?”

  He picked it up from the floor and handed it to me. “I’m sure he’d wanted you to.”

  When I got back to the guesthouse, I placed the painting on the loveseat where I could stare at it from the bed. I thought my mind had been completely made up about going back to New York, but now I wasn’t so sure. What Mr. Cornwell said to me the day before was still playing around in my head. I really didn’t want to sell my father’s house and all he’d worked so hard for.

  Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I released a long breath before calling Mom. She wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

  “Are you on your way?” she asked right after answering.

  “Mom, I’m staying for a while,” I said timidly.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  I lounged on the bed and relaxed my back against the headboard. “It’s only until Mr. Cornwell can help me turn the place over—”

  “Jules,” she interrupted in a soft tone I wasn’t expecting. “Listen to me, those people, they suck you in and destroy your heart. Don’t let them do that to you, honey. Please, come home. I’ll drive down there and get you if I have to.”

  “Is that what he did to you, Mom?” I had no idea where the courage came from. Her statement astounded me enough to ask.

  My mother never spoke about her untimely end with my father. She’d simply kept it locked away in her heart, leaving me to believe whatever. I wondered how she felt when Aunt Bev told her he’d died. If she was secretly distraught over the news yet pretended to be unmoved.

  I slid off the bed and walked out to the balcony, waiting for her response. When she didn’t answer I pressed on, “He destroyed your heart?”

  There was a long pause on the phone. The muffled sounds in the background made me think she was pacing around her apartment.

  “Julian,” she finally said, using her stern voice which told me she wasn’t going there with me. Not today. Not yet. “Your father made his choice. I’m not going to rehash how that story ended. Tell this Mr. Cornwell you’re going to sell the estate and I’ll take the day off work tomorrow to come down and pick you up.”

  I pressed my eyes shut and forced back the burning voice within, fighting to say no. She was a great mother, but she could also be very controlling. When was she going to acknowledge the fact that I was twenty-one, no longer a child? Then again, maybe she was right. It was all too much for me. I couldn’t stay in Narragansett. I didn’t belong here.

  Opening my eyes again, I decided to do what she said and go home. As I was about to utter my agreement, I glimpsed two people down on the beach. I cringed, realizing Mr. Monroe and Claire were lying on the sand, caressing each other.

  “What the…”

  I ducked quickly and went back inside the room, crouching behind the curtains so they wouldn’t see me as I continued to watch the married Mr. Monroe and Aunt Bev’s cook in a very heated embrace.

  “Hello, Jules?” Mom’s voice boomed in my ears. I’d completely forgotten I was on the phone.

  “Mom, I’ll call you back later,” I said in a hushed tone.

  Turning the phone off, I stayed glued to the scene unfolding before my eyes until they both stood and started to walk down the beach. Couldn’t they have had the decency to go somewhere else to cheat? Geez. Then I remembered Seven was here as well.

  “Seven,” I whispered, getting up from the floor.

  I hurried out of the room and down the passage towards his door. Tapping lightly, I called out, “Hey, you in?”

  He didn’t answer. I feared he’d seen his father with Claire and was probably boiling over with anger. He might need someone to console him.

  Overcome with worry, I turned the knob. The door wasn’t locked. I opened it halfway and peeked into his room. Slowly walking inside, I looked around. Seven was nowhere. The room was designed like mine, only smaller. There wasn’t a balcony.

  I went over to the window and checked to see if Mr. Monroe and Claire were still in sight. “Thank God,” I muttered, seeing they were gone.

  Turning around, I started to leave, when suddenly, the bathroom door opened and an oblivious Seven stepped out.

  He was completely naked.

  “Ah!” I screamed, surprising him.

  “Shit!” Seven covered himself with his hands and ran back into the bathroom.

  I ran out and hurried to my room, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I slammed the door shut and leaned my back against it. Seven’s naked body clouded my mind.

  The entire scene of him coming out of the bathroom played over and over in my head. To make matters worse, the image played out in slow motion—his dripping wet hair, his delicious washboard abs, and his clean, shaved….Oh. My. Gosh. I’d seen it all. There was no way I could stare into his eyes again without thinking of how perfect his body looked naked.

  A light rap outside my door dragged my head out of the gutter. Nervous, I hoped it wasn’t Seven. The naughty side of me prayed it was.

  I slowly lowered my hand to the knob and pulled open the door. His gorgeous eyes seared down into mine. Why was I just now seeing how tall and sexy he was?

  “What were you doing in my room?” he seethed.

  Uh-oh. In order to not come off like a pervert I would have to tell him the truth. But I couldn’t hurt him with something like that.

  Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I said, “You didn’t answer when I knocked so I thought you weren’t home.”

  “And then you decided to snoop around my room?”

  Seven raised his hand and rested it on the door frame, leaning on one leg. His hair was still wet, but he was dressed in t-shirt and sweats. That disappointed me.

  He cleared his throat, and I quickly answered, “No,” shaking my head innocently. “I was…” I dropped my eyes to the floor, searching my head. I wasn’t the best liar. “I saw something down on the beach and I was wondering if you saw it too.” Not exactly a lie.

  He straightened. “I was in the shower. I didn’t see a thing.” Relaxing his face, he asked softly, “What did you see?”

  “It looked like…” my voice was low and childlike.

  Seven wrinkled his forehead while observing me. What was going through his mind?

  “Like what?” he prompted, stifling back a snort.

  It shouldn’t be me telling him about his father’s affair. So I decided to lie to protect him. “It looked like an animal. I couldn’t really make it out.”

  “Hmm…” he pondered, still standing in my doorway.

  I started to look at his t-shirt and shorts, because if I stared into his eyes again I would envision something else—something inappropriate with my half-sister’s cousin.

  “Um,” I muttered, seeing he wasn’t leaving.

  Seven started to ease away. “Let’s try to forget about what just happened, okay?”

  I nodded in agreement and he walked off in the direction of the living room. But then he stopped and I waited to hear if he had something else to say.

  He glanced back at me. “I guess you changed your mind again.”

  “About what?”

  “About staying. I mean, you’re still here.”

  Not sure how to respond, I remained quiet. The corner of his mouth curved up before he turned and continued into the living room.

  I slipped inside my room and closed the door. Feeling guilty for not telling Seven about his cheating father, I plopped down on the bed and buried my face into the pillow. No. I absolute
ly could not stay. Yet I couldn’t run away without taking care of this inheritance problem.

  Tomorrow, I’d meet with Mr. Cornwell again and get him to turn everything over to Mackenzie at least. There was too much drama in this place. I wanted nothing to do with it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I got up early the next day so I could leave the house before Aunt Bev came looking for me. After taking a shower, I rifled through my travel bag and groaned, remembering I only brought a few items of clothing with me:

  The navy blue dress for the funeral, the romper I was wearing on Sunday, and the sleeveless blouse and jeans I wore from New York, which I also wore yesterday when Aunt Bev brought me to the office. The only thing left in the bag was underwear and the shoes I’d worn to the funeral. Everything else was in a laundry bag in the bathroom because I’d asked Claire not to do my laundry. Great.

  I went into the bathroom and got the romper. It would have to do. I slipped into it and grabbed my purse and cell phone off the table, dashing out the door afterwards.

  As I walked out of the guesthouse, the eye-catching colors of red, yellow and orange slowed my steps and I stood there watching the awe-inspiring masterpiece of a sunrise. It wasn’t the only thing that caught my attention. Seven was running up from the beach towards me.

  As he got closer I noticed his t-shirt was drenched in sweat. No wonder he was in such good shape. Seven was a devoted jogger it seemed.

  Trying to keep my cool and not let his hotness steer me away from my mission, I continued walking towards the side steps of the main house.

  He called out to me, “Julian…hey.”

  Once I stopped, Seven slouched over, trying to steady his breathing. “Where are you going this early?” he managed to ask in between pants.