Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6)

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  And she had been in mourning—mourning for what might have been, mourning for the part of her friendship with Beau that would never be quite the same for her, and mourning from missing him.

  But things were better now. True to their word, she and Beau had spoken often over the last month until their conversations lost all traces of awkwardness. Life was taking shape again. A large party had just checked out of Firefly Hall, leaving Christian with a light schedule for a few days. She and Noel were planning a baby shower for Emory at the end of the month.

  And here she was at Miss Laura’s with her best friends.

  Laura appeared and filled everyone’s water glasses. Laura loved Valentine’s Day and always got into the spirit as soon as January passed. Tonight, there were little pink hearts on her lacy apron. “Is everyone up for chocolate covered cherry martinis?”

  A resounding cheer went up from the table, and Christian happily joined in.

  “Not me,” Emory said with a sigh. “Someday.” But there was so much love and happiness in her face, that no one thought she truly lamented the lost cocktail. “But brighten my day. Tell me what we get to eat tonight.”

  “Let’s see.” Laura placed a hand on her hip and looked very pleased with herself. “Ramekins of crab and corn soup, stuffed beef tenderloin rolls, marinated asparagus tips, heart-shaped cheese biscuits, chocolate covered strawberries, and individual red velvet cheesecakes.”

  Everyone applauded. “Who cares about the liquor?” Emory said.

  “I do,” Neyland said. “I care.”

  “Tell me all the news,” Noel said. “I feel like it’s been a year since I’ve seen everyone.”

  “I know,” Abby said. “How was the quilt show?”

  “Great. But then I flew directly to St. Louis to watch Nickolai play, so I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She looked at Christian. “So has Bryant called?”

  That was the damnedest thing. He had. And he kept calling.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “So, when are you going out with him?” Gwen asked.

  “I’m not. He’s emotionally unavailable. He said so himself. He’s proud of it.” Though to be honest, if she had wanted a date—which she did not—an emotionally unavailable man would be the only kind she’d want. She was doing great now, but she had nothing left to give. And you couldn’t expect anything if you weren’t going to give.

  “All men think they’re emotionally unavailable,” Noel said. “He doesn’t even know what that means. He probably heard it on television. He watches Hallmark movies.”

  “Get out!” Neyland said.

  “I swear.” Noel held up her hand.

  “I don’t seem to remember Nickolai being unavailable emotionally or any other way,” Christian said.

  Noel blushed. “No. I was the idiot in that that scenario. But enough about me. How’s Beau? When’s he coming home?”

  “He’s good,” Emory said. “Really good. Will has been encouraging, though he hasn’t told him for sure if he’ll work with him. Beau is hopeful, but who knows? That Will is an odd one. Physically, Beau’s better and better. I believe he’ll be home Friday. Is that right, Christian?”

  “He said Friday or Saturday.” And she’d be glad to see him—in the old way, when she expected nothing more than friendship. Would there be longing? Sure. But there always had been. Probably always would be.

  “So what’s next for him?” Noel asked.

  Emory shrugged. “We’re all afraid to ask, but he seems to love the woodworking.”

  “Maybe he’ll be the next Beauford artisan,” Neyland suggested. “Though he’s got some time to put in.”

  “Jackson is all excited,” Emory said. “He wants to set him up with a workshop at Beauford Bend. I’ve convinced him not to forge on with this.”

  That was a relief.

  “Guess who came into Piece by Piece asking about him,” Neyland said. “Mary Charles McAnnally, formerly Mary Charles McAnnally Carson. She’s got a brand new divorce. They didn’t have kids, so she took her maiden name back.”

  No. Not the prom date stealer. Anybody but her. Okay, no. Not anybody. It had to be nobody, at least for now, preferably forever. Christian knew she would never have him. Logically, she knew someone would, but not now. She needed time, had to have time.

  Gwen frowned a trying-to-remember kind of frown. “Didn’t they date in high school, Christian?”

  “Yes.” She hoped the tightness in her chest didn’t come out in her voice. “If I remember right, most of senior year. They broke up right after prom, I think.”

  Though there was no question. That’s exactly what had happened. Word at the time was Mary Charles had broken up with Beau the first time because she’d wanted to date a Vanderbilt freshman. But apparently that had fallen through, and she’d wanted Beau back just in time for prom. A week after being crowned prom queen, she’d dumped him again. Beyond a hurt ego, it really hadn’t affected Beau all that much. One girl was as good as the next for him. But it had certainly given Christian a spring to remember.

  “I figured if nothing else, it would do his ego some good, so I told her to call him when he gets back,” Neyland said.

  Thank you, Neyland. Thank you for being my good, loyal friend. Though there was nothing fair about that. Neyland didn’t know.

  Christian felt eyes on her. She looked up to see Noel regarding her with a worried look, making it clear she’d never believed that Christian’s feelings for Beau were limited to friendship. Christian visualized herself leaping onto the table and screaming, “I’m over him, damn it!”

  Of course, that wouldn’t do, but she needed to laugh, to say something. If she didn’t, she might cry. The laugh sounded natural enough. Now to vocalize the thought that had supposedly amused her so.

  “One thing about Beau that doesn’t need help is his ego.”

  Though it really wasn’t funny, everyone laughed. Good, good.

  “True.”

  “He is a Beauford, after all.”

  “If his ego did suffer, all he’d have to do is look in the mirror.”

  Christian wasn’t even sure who said which thing. She met Neyland’s eyes. “But that’s a good idea. He’d probably like to hear from Mary Charles.” Good. Almost home. They would never know how she felt, how she was coming apart. Well, all except Noel. And she didn’t know for sure. Even if she did, she’d never tell.

  “I’m pretty sure after all this time, a little sex might be in order. Beau never was one for the monastery life,” Gwen said.

  Christian’s head literally started to buzz. She could hear it. Was there no end to the torture? How could she ever have likened this little hell gathering to a party?

  “Chocolate covered cherry martinis!” Laura appeared with her tray and passed the drinks around.

  About damned time. Christian clutched her glass like it was her last remaining line of hope to keep her from floating into deep space. And it might be. She looked at the pink creamy drink with the chocolate swirl on the surface. She picked up the stem of the chocolate covered cherry that was floating on top. She needed the alcohol for sure, and maybe the chocolate would help. Wasn’t it supposed to stimulate endorphins and make you feel better immediately? She didn’t really believe that, but she was desperate. Unlike most people, chocolate wasn’t usually her first flavor choice. She could take it or leave it, unless she was having her period. Then look out. Last time, she had eaten two entire solid chocolate Santas while writing her Christmas cards. She’d gotten smudges on a few and had had to do them over.

  She went cold.

  Writing her Christmas cards. December fourteenth. She always did them on the fourteenth, a full week before the United Postal Service said they needed to be mailed, so as not to be late.

  Suddenly, late took on a whole new meaning, and she went from cold to hot to frozen. The chocolate covered cherry seemed to be suspended in midair in front of her mouth for no reason. She dropped it back in her drink. No. She wa
sn’t that stupid. It couldn’t have been that long.

  But it had been. Stress. That was it. That had to be it. Yes. Stress caused all kinds of hell on earth.

  Though, deep down, she knew better. The fatigue and the nausea she had attributed to a broken heart, the ache in her breasts she had blamed on longing for the hands and mouth that they would never feel again.

  Stupid. She was that stupid, and worse.

  She pushed her drink away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’ve never taken an apprentice before.”

  Beau sat across the table from Will Garrett at Lou Ann’s Diner in Merritt, Alabama. Before. Will had said before.

  That was a good sign. At first, Beau hadn’t known what to think of Will. Talented as he was, he could be downright weird with his talk about letting the wood speak to you and how you should never take a commission that brought negative energy with it. But after a time, Beau began to understand what being one with the wood meant. Likewise, when Will insisted they visit a church that he had been asked to restore, Beau understood about the negative energy, too. It needed the work but the structure, built in 1897, was beautiful. Though Will had told him nothing in advance, not even that he’d turned the job down, everything about the place was oppressive.

  When Beau had said so, Will had seemed pleased.

  Will had given Beau an appraising look. “Would you take this job? If you had the skill, which you do not, but will have. Eventually.”

  Beau had considered it, had even run his hand over the altar and sat down on a pew.

  “No,” he’d finally admitted. “I’ll be honest. I don’t get this hocus pocus attitude you have about the wood and the energy. But I believe it. And, no. I couldn’t work here.”

  Only then, did Will explain further. Turns out, after visiting the site for the first time and feeling the negative energy, Will had done some research and learned the church had been a meeting place for the Ku Klux Klan during the Civil Rights Movement.

  “One might say it wasn’t the structure’s fault and that it should be restored. It’s not as if anyone is proud of what went on here. In fact, it took some digging to find out. I can’t argue with that. I hope it will be saved, but it can’t be me.”

  “And I guess it couldn’t be me either.” Beau was astounded at the realization, but he wasn’t going to be in any hurry to tell anyone about this sixth sense that Will had helped him develop.

  At the time, he’d felt like maybe he had passed some test. And it looked like he had.

  “Does that mean you’re going to take an apprentice now?” Beau wanted this, maybe even more than he wanted to be a soldier. Though he had never taken pleasure in the killing and destruction as some soldiers did, Beau had no regrets or guilt. Life had an ugly side that had to be dealt with, and he’d done what had to be done to protect the innocent and preserve peace. Still, the thought of creating beauty and repairing beautiful, broken things rather than destroying was so appealing.

  Will nodded. “I believe I am.”

  “Even if I’m unwilling to give up meat?”

  As if on cue, Lou Ann, the sassy, wise owner of the diner appeared.

  “Country fried steak, okra, and mashed potatoes for Beau.” She set the plate in front of him. “Vegetable plate for Will. But, honey, I brought you some country fried steak, too. You need more protein than those pinto beans are going to give you. I’ll bring y’all some more sweet tea.”

  After she’d gone, Will shook his head and laughed. “That woman knows everything that goes on in this town and remembers what everybody who comes in here drinks, but she cannot reconcile herself to the fact that I don’t eat meat. That cannot exist in her world.” He transferred the steak to Beau’s plate.

  “You wouldn’t be offering me an apprenticeship if I’d been willing to work on that church, would you?”

  “No.” Will peppered his macaroni and cheese. “That doesn’t mean you would have been wrong. I hope whoever takes that project on does a great job. But I need my apprentice to share my philosophy.”

  “If not your eating habits.”

  “That’s entirely personal. If I sat in judgment of meat eaters, things would go poorly for me with Arabelle and Avery.” He broke into a wide smile the way he always did when he mentioned his wife and four-year-old son. “My boy ate two pork chops last night.”

  “How is this going to work?” Beau thought he was doing a pretty good job of concealing his excitement.

  “In a perfect world, you would move into the apartment above my workshop, but I don’t think you want to do that.”

  “You could insist.”

  Will have a half smile. “Believe me, I am going to insist on plenty of things, but not that. No one does their best work when they aren’t happy with their environment. You’ve been here a month, and I can see you’re getting antsy for home. You’ve been away enough these last years.”

  It was true. Who would have believed two months ago that he would miss his family, even Jackson’s interference, Gabe’s exuberance, and Rafe’s bluntness?

  And Christian’s breasts. Though that wasn’t allowed, and this was no time to be thinking of that—not that there was ever a time for that.

  Beau nodded. “I do want to go home. I’ll come down as often as you want me to.”

  Will nodded. “And I’ll come to you. I’m going to want to supervise the setting up of your workshop. Though you should know your cousin told Arabelle that she was going to ask you to move in with her if I offered you an apprenticeship.”

  “Ask? Missy Jackson Bragg has never asked for anything in her life. She issues orders and ultimatums.” Beau loved Missy, but she was like Jackson on steroids. Living with her and her family was so out of the question it was laughable. In fact, he did laugh.

  “I think you can stand up to her,” Will said.

  “No. I can’t. Nobody can. But I can run from her. And I will.”

  “Okay.” Will’s expression went to all business. “I’ve had an offer of a commission I don’t intend to take, though it is interesting—a mirrored jewelry chest with secret compartments. It’s a gift for the client’s wife. I’m going to get approval for you to do the project with my supervision.”

  A project—probably for money. Not that it mattered. He’d do it for free. And Will seemed to think there would be no problem obtaining permission.

  “Why aren’t you going to do it? You said it was interesting.”

  Will shrugged. “I’m backed up as it is. Plus, it’s too easy. The client doesn’t want any inlay or carving. His wife prefers things with clean lines. With the right wood, that can be really fine looking, but it’s not what I like to do.”

  And everyone knew Will didn’t do what he didn’t like to do. He didn’t have to.

  “Who’s it for?” Beau asked.

  “If I told you, you’d recognize the name—and I will tell you after I have the approval. But these are good people.”

  “How soon do you think I can start?” Beau wanted to start right now. His hands ached to feel the wood go from a raw material to a piece of art. Was he capable of creating art? He must be, or Will would have shown him the door. Will might have agreed to give Beau a trial run because he liked Jackson, but an apprenticeship was in a whole different spectrum.

  “First things first. You need to go back to Beauford Bend and get your workshop set up. It’s not going to be cheap. Your brother is going to want to do this for you. Let him.”

  “I have money saved. I can—”

  Will waved him silent. “I worked with Jackson for two years on those guitar display cases for his music room. He’s a good man, and he has the need to do things for people he loves. He needs to do this for you. There’s more to be being the kind of woodworker you aspire to be than talent and skill. You have to understand the needs of others. You don’t always have to meet those needs, but sometimes you do. This is one of those times.”

  “Is that a directive?” Oddly, it was one he c
ould live with. Some of the fight had gone out of him, but he didn’t feel defeated. He felt something else—at rest, maybe. The smell of the wood and the feel of the tools—the tools Christian had given him—had helped him find his way here.

  “Yes. It’s a directive. We’ll talk about what you need for your workshop. You should go home in the morning and get started. I’ll come up in two weeks to help you finish up.”

  Beau knew Will well enough now to know that meant he would come to pass judgment and makes changes to the shop. That felt good, like the military where he was accustomed to taking orders from people who knew what they were doing.

  Did the rest and acceptance come from settling into the familiar chain of command or from finding a purpose? Or was it time that had made the difference? Either way, life felt good. He had a new challenge, and he was glad to be going home.

  Hell, he’d had a voicemail from one of his old high school girlfriends asking to meet him for lunch when he came back to town. Maybe he’d return her call. Things were going so well, what could it hurt? It might get his mind off Christian.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Christian, I’d say we’re looking at a due date of sometime around the last of September or the first of October.”

  There was something about the words coming out of Dr. Daniels’s mouth that made it real—more real than the four positive home pregnancy tests and the feeling that had been in Christian’s bones ever since lightening struck two nights ago at Miss Laura’s.

  Dr. Daniels took his glasses off, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. He had been her daddy’s fraternity brother, sung in the church choir with him, hunted with him, and helped carry his coffin when he died. For those reasons, despite that he was a general practitioner, Dr. Daniels had let Christian get away with not having a gynecologist for years.

  “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed in me, please, Dr. Daniels. I couldn’t take it.” It would be like her daddy being disappointed in her.