Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2)

by Lucy McConnell

  She put down her pen. “I know, I know. I’m being utterly stupid, I just can’t stand not knowing what the deal is and he won’t talk about it. What is that, French? These two sides of him, they don’t make sense. And Damon and this job offer just makes it all…magnified and blurry.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s something gnawing at the roots. Find out what it is. Meanwhile, I gotta run back to the house for more gift bags and a better broom.” A sudden gust of wind swung the front door open with a bang that made them both jump. Shennedy shook her head. “You know, I may just be wrong this time about the weather man. That’s starting to look bad out there.”

  Leaning into the window display, Lindy gently guided the finish hammer on the stuck window jam and grunted one more time with frustration. Every few minutes the wind rattled the glass. Trees shook in chilly response. It was going to be one of those days, Lindy could feel it.

  Once again she wedged the hammer in, once again it slipped. “Dang it.” With a movement of her elbow she almost knocked over the painting to her right. Why did she start the display before fixing the jam? This not thinking straight was getting on her nerves. And yes, Armand could have this figured out in minutes. But no way was she going to knock on his door. The possibility of barfing out all her exact thoughts and feelings was all too real.

  She wedged the hammer in again.

  “Can I help with zat?” That scent. And suddenly Armand was beside her. He took the painting out of the way and placed it to the left of the window. His surprise presence made her drop the hammer on her foot.

  She let out an angry groan but shook her head when Armand reached toward her foot.

  “Lindy, I’m only trying to be of help.”

  Abruptly, she faced him. “Don’t, Armand. Don’t play gentleman and take that wonderful tone of all is well and forget what’s coming. You may do as you please but I don’t have to pretend it’s not happening.”

  “I don’t know what you’re— ”

  “Enough. We know each other well enough not to play games.”

  He paused, staring down at her. “You’re right. But in some ways you are not right and you don’t understand. So let it sleep.”

  “I think you mean, let it lie. What don’t I understand, Armand? Do you understand what’s going on here? The library, the kids, all the volunteers are depending on what they raise to get the new space and computers and books they need. The library hasn’t been renovated in thirty years. You are the celebrity face to this. You need to be a presence, to own your part so they can get the money.”

  He stared at her with a stern expression. “Yes, I do understand that. And they will sell tickets, and they will get their money.”

  She stepped to him, inches away from his chest, hands on her hips. “At what cost? Who are you? What is this dual personality thing going on? One minute you’re warm and care about the smallest things, bringing muffins and being kind to town biddies. And the next, you get this hard look on your face and could care less about honor or respect, your own or others.”

  “That is NOT true.” His voice rose for the first time.

  “Then why? Why are you going back on your word again? You’ve done this so many times before, I know how this feels, I’ve dealt with the fallout. Are you saying that’s okay, that it’s honorable? What is the problem? Is it the crowds, the people, are you afraid?”

  His head shook vehemently. “No, yes— no, no, zat is not it.” He ran his hands rapidly through his hair. “Mon cheri, you do not understand, you do not. It is complicated and I must deal with zis my way and not yours. It is so black and white to you. You have your American way, and I have my French way.”

  “This isn’t about culture, this is about character. That’s true in any language.”

  “But it is difficult, so very difficult— ”

  “So what? You’ve handled difficult and then some. What’s different about this?”

  The wind howled outside, a rumbling building sound and Lindy instinctively shuddered. Armand stared at her, his eyes wide. “My career, my life, it will be ruined, do you not see?” He lowered his voice and stepped closer. “My books, they are not selling as well as they did. One bad step and zis tour, my career, my book character— they will never see him the same way— can you not see the nose dive it would take?”

  Nose dive, what on earth was he talking about? Because of a book signing and a reading?

  Her voice rose. “Armand, you’re not making any sense.”

  “You must trust me.”

  She pushed a finger on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with emotion in time with her own. “No, you must tell me.”

  He called out a French word in a desperate tone. “You will think me weak.”

  “I already do. Strength is character and I know you have it. Just tell me the truth and it will be better.”

  He grasped her hand and clasped it to his chest. “You say that now, but then suddenly, the reality, and I am no longer the same person to you. You want the truth? It is that then you go away, with this Damon, or someone, and you are lost to me forever.”

  Lindy opened her mouth, shocked he had said it. He felt that way? What was happening, why did he think the truth would make her leave?

  She released her hand. “Why, Armand? What have you done? What is going on?”

  He stared at her. “Lindy— ”

  A sudden high-pitched wind screamed and the sound of rushing waters in the air pressure. Armand glanced out the stormy window then grabbed Lindy and dropped to the floor. A boom, then a crash of the picture window by debris of rocks and leaves shattered the glass, the clinking sounds as if a chandelier had fallen from the ceiling. On the floor, Armand held Lindy tightly to him, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her head to his chest. The wind continued to howl and rush with random crashes of antiques.

  Was it a tornado? How was that even possible? No, a microburst, it had to be, Shennedy said they had them now and then.

  Shennedy. Had she been on the road? She stiffened at the thought. Armand pulled her closer still, stroking her hair and murmuring French words to her. The sound soothed her nerves and without choice she relaxed into him, feeling the safety of his arms and warmth of his body. Armand had seen it coming. He had protected her. He had openly said he cared for her. The revelations swirled in her mind like the wind outside.

  Within minutes, the wind stopped as quickly as it had come.

  “Lindy.” His breath brushed her face. She opened her eyes. “Are you alright? You are not hurt?”

  His earnest blue eyes, the beautiful lines of his face, at the moment so vulnerable and worried.

  “I’m— I’m good, really. And you?” He nodded, gazing at her face, thoughts tumbling behind his eyes. Their faces were barely inches apart, much too close. Instead of speaking, Armand embraced her once again, strong and full of relief and something more. They stayed there for a moment longer then he released her. They both stood slowly, gazing around the shop and taking in what had happened.

  The front window glass had shattered completely. From her now non-existent window display, most of the antique lanterns, clocks, and knick-knacks were no longer, laying in pieces on the floor or gone. On the counter just behind them, several of the displayed items were broken or blown over.

  Almost as one, they walked toward the window display, the hardest hit in the room.

  “What was it?” said Armand.

  “A microburst, I think. Like a mini tornado, short but very strong.” Her glance landed on an item farther left of the window display and a soft smile touched her mouth. “Looks like someone had a good idea to move the painting.”

  She looked at Armand, who noted that the painting sat flat against the wall, unharmed, just as he had left it. He returned an understanding smile.

  Lindy rubbed her eyes. “I hope the rest of the town is okay.” Shennedy. She reached for her cell phone in her back pocket— unbroken, yes. A text already waited:

  Can you believ
e this? Are you guys okay? Text me back, not going anywhere until I know this is over.

  And then…

  In case you’re WONDERING, I’m good, but the Coral Bells are GONE, are you okay? Coming over right now, call me ASAP!!!

  “Shennedy? She is alright?” said Armand.

  Lindy nodded, touched that he would guess it. She texted all was well but the damage to the shop. Together, they began the clean-up. He cleared the rest of the window pieces and she grabbed a broom, dust pan, and garbage bag in between texting various people, letting them know they were fine and asking if they needed help.

  “Several stores on Main Street were hit but not beyond repair.” Lindy paused to give Armand text updates. “A few of the fair stands that had set up early are gone, but thank goodness most of the booths for the Hurrah are in the Big Barn, at least for now. Kenworth’s is good, but somber news, the rooster on top of Chip’s Diner is, sad to say, missing. Wonder whose yard that will turn up in.”

  Within thirty minutes they had most of the debris cleared from the floor and window display. Armand pulled random metal and glass bits from the counter but a few pieces remained embedded. They both cleaned and swept what had swirled into the shop.

  With great care, he took the painting back over by the woodstove. Lindy stood shoulder to shoulder next to him, holding the broom, staring at the art. In the silence, feelings began to build, an unspoken awareness of their argument just before the storm. Nothing had been settled, only postponed. And now, with the storm subsided, the feelings returned. What was wrong with him, what would he do, what would she need to say?

  “Lindy, mon cher.” He fully turned to her, taking the broom from her hand, glancing from the painting to her face. With a finger he traced her forehead and down the smooth of her cheek. “I need to tell— ”

  “Hello there.”

  Both of them turned to find Pastor Louis in the doorway. His surprised expression reminded them both of their close proximity.

  Regaining presence of mind, Lindy went toward him with a bright smile. “Pastor, what a surprise, are you okay? And the church?”

  Nodding, he looked around as he met her halfway. “We faired quite well, actually. It didn’t seem to like our neck of the woods. Just fallen branches and that sort of thing. And you?”

  Lindy led him to the woodstove area where Armand had begun stoking the fire. Within a few minutes the flicker of flames returned. Lindy sat on the couch with the Pastor while Armand sat across. Amidst the updates about the town— the pastor was making quick stops to check various areas— Armand continued to look meaningfully at Lindy. She couldn’t think why. Did he want to show the pastor something? Tell her something?

  The elderly gentleman sat down. “You know, these kinds of experiences truly give us a moment to pause, don’t you think?” Pastor Louis always had a message. “Frankly, it makes me think of that scripture I read on Sunday, in…let’s see— em, the one about, em— ” He patted down his black robe. “You don’t happen to have a, oh— there we are.” Picking up the worn Bible on the decorative book stack, he flipped through the pages. “Do you remember which one I mean?”

  Lindy shook her head and glanced at Armand. “I remember the scripture about being true to our soul.”

  He raised an eyebrow back at her. “I myself enjoy the one about seeking understanding.”

  “Or the one about having courage, and standing for what’s right no matter what. Despite what others think or what might happen as a result.” She stared him down, daring him to flinch.

  Armand leaned toward her. “Perhaps eet was the scripture on not judging, because we cannot know the plight of another, or their heart. And yet, if we would truly see their soul, we would know and feel the struggle. And we would care for them still the same.”

  She didn’t move, though the emotional current between them hummed stronger and deeper. Her voice was full. “Or maybe the one about trusting, with your whole soul, that no matter what was said, the truth would set you free. And you would have the respect and admiration of someone…someone who cared for you also.”

  Pastor Louis stopped turning pages and looked up, a confused expression on his face. “Did I share those on Sunday?” With a shake of his head, he turned one more page. “Aha, here it is, I believe.” He patted himself down one more time then turned to Lindy. “My dear, I seem to have left my glasses at my last stop. Would you be so kind as to read it for me? Right here, Proverbs, chapter three, verse five, I believe.”

  No one moved. Lindy still stared at Armand, challenging him, yearning for him to open up and share what desperate truth he thought he needed to hide. Fear of a few people disliking your book was nothing to be ashamed of.

  Armand’s eyes bored through her, trying to communicate a deep secret, willing her to not make him face it.

  For a suspended moment, the invisible current rose to a pitch. Lindy remembered the pastor— he waited for her to read.

  “Oh, yes, sorry Pastor Louis.”

  But as she went to take the Bible from his hands, Armand reached over and gently, intentionally took it, still staring meaningfully at her.

  Lindy held her breath, though she didn’t know why.

  Armand carefully held the Bible, found the verse, and with one last slow look at Lindy and Pastor Louis, he began.

  “Trrr-ust in the-the-the Lord with-th-th all th-th-thine heart; and-and lean not…lean not…un-un-unto th— th-thine own un-un-unders-s-s-standing.” He paused to glance at them. Pastor Louis sat with a content, reflective smile on his lips.

  Lindy’s eyes were wide and full, a thin trail of tears had begun.

  Armand continued through the next verse and stopped. Then with one last look at Lindy, who discreetly wiped the tears, he handed the Bible back to the pastor, a hesitant expression on his face.

  “Thank you, my son, beautifully done. And so we know, God desires for us to trust Him, even when we hesitate to do so. And despite the hard times that come, the storms as it were, we know He will help us and light the path before us, our particular path. And then we in turn, by our trust, our courage, and our handling of the storm, we light the path for others. Wonderfully appropriate for today, don’t you think?” Lindy could feel him looking at both she and Armand. But neither of them said a word.

  Armand’s focused expression on her ranged from relief to broken. Lindy’s heart fairly burst through her ribs. She ached to hold him, to comfort him, to thank him for opening that private place, for sharing what surely had to be the source of years of shame. Her soul told her there must be a story behind it, and she suddenly, fiercely yearned to know it. Instinctively, she reached across the ottoman table for his hand that met hers midway.

  Pastor Louis quietly cleared his throat. Though he knew nothing of what had transpired, his years of counseling others made it clear that a meaningful connection had. “Well, I had better be on to the Ladies’ League, so I’ll leave you my blessing.”

  With a warm handshake to Armand and a patted hand for Lindy, he walked out the door.

  LINDY COULD HARDLY WAIT until the door finally shut then immediately turned to him as he sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Armand’s expression took on a boyish vulnerability. “I was afraid, so afraid you would think me weak.”

  “But you never stutter, ever.”

  “I know, it is only when I read the English aloud. From old days.” His brow furrowed as he remembered. “My parents, they sent me to regular school. They think this will help me. But it does not. I am a diplomat’s son, but not with my peers. So now I’m in a regular school. The girls,” he flushed slightly, “they like that I am so. But the boys, they think I feel better than them. Always the teacher has me read aloud in English class— she says that I speak it beautifully. And one day a girl, she had been talking with me many times, she comes up to me after and says very romantic things to me. But I do not know that she has a boyfriend. He waits with his friends for me by a small field on my way hom
e.” He paused. “I am in the hospital for three days. Not once do I tell who did it, but they guessed. After that, life at school…it was difficult. So I retreat to my books and my writing.” He shrugged. “Ever since, I read the English and stutter. And for a while, speaking the English I would also. That is why I many times did not speak much. But the talking, it is better now.”

  Lindy moved from the couch to kneel beside him. She reached up and hugged him, closely, to share her feelings of love and appreciation. No wonder the readings terrified him. No wonder speaking in front of thousands had made him cancel. “I’m so sorry for not understanding, for not thinking a deeper, nobler reason was at stake.” Shennedy came to mind. She had been right. “But we can make this work, somehow. It’s not the end of the world.”

  Armand stared down at her, hesitant. “It does not bother you? My…problem?”

  “Why would it?”

  As if considering the thought for the first time in his life, he stared at the woodstove fire, thinking. His eyes came back to her, focusing, taking her in. He reached to touch her skin, tracing the line of her cheek down to her chin. A shimmery shudder went through her.

  Look away, ignore this, don’t go there. Lindy could feel a dangerous line close to being crossed. He tipped his head slightly, as if considering her possible thoughts. That look, that without guile, I-care-for-you, earnest gaze. A warmth spread from her ribs through her chest and up to her face. A feeling of goodness, and connection, and bone-deep electricity.

  With a slight movement, his arms encircled her and he leaned down while raising her up from kneeling. Their faces were now barely apart. In that embrace, he gently placed his left hand on her jawline, tracing down her neck until he reached behind her head and ran his fingers through her hair, drawing her toward him.