"I told you I was taking a walk."
"You get a lot of exercise."
"I do, and this block is on my route." He paused. "So did you get the information you wanted from Doug?"
"Finally, you ask the question I know you came here to ask."
"I actually don't care what he said, but you were curious."
She didn't buy that for a second, but she'd let him keep his pride. "I asked him about the fire. He told me that you did it and blamed it on him and Travis."
"Of course, he did," Roman muttered. "I told you he would."
"He also said you were trouble, and I should stay away from you."
"He's singing the same old song."
"Did you really put Billy the bulldog in the middle of the lake?"
He tipped his head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought he'd jump off the raft and swim back, but it turned out that he didn't like the water. He barked all night until someone from the fire department got in a rowboat and went out to rescue him." He paused. "What else did Doug tell you?"
"Not much. He made a lot of vague references to things that he wanted to pin on you."
"So, there you have it. You've heard both sides. Who do you believe?"
Now she knew what he'd really come here to ask, and there was a tension about him that told her that her answer was important. "I believe you."
His expression lightened as he took in a quick breath. "Why?"
"Because you haven't lied to me yet. Have you?"
"No. But going by that criteria, has Doug lied to you?"
"Not exactly lied, but I got the feeling that he took me to dinner more because he was interested in getting my support for his run for mayor than because he found me wildly attractive."
"I don't believe that was the reason he took you to dinner. Doug is ambitious, but he's not blind, and I'm sure he's very interested in you. He did kiss you good night, after all." Roman got to his feet. "I should go and let you get to bed. I know your morning is coming early."
She stood up, not ready to see Roman go, but asking him to stay was probably not a good idea.
When they got to the door, he paused and looked back at her, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation under his dark gaze.
He reached out a hand and slid his thumb along her jaw, and her heart beat faster. "You are so beautiful, Juliette, more so because you have no idea just how pretty you are. And if you hadn't already had one good-night kiss from a man I really don't like, I'd be tempted…" His voice trailed away.
She wanted to say that good-night kiss had already been completely forgotten, but Roman's hand fell away from her face, and he headed out the door and down the stairs, leaving her with a racing pulse and the feeling that she'd missed out on something amazing.
For a split second, she was tempted to go after him, but she had enough sense to fight against it. Things were already getting too hot too fast. She needed to turn down the heat before she burned everything up.
Nine
Roman thought about Juliette all day long. He kept putting her out of his head and then she'd pop back in again. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had been on his mind so much. But this woman was the wrong woman.
Juliette was amazing, but she would want so much more from a man than he could give her, and he wouldn't be good for her. She was sweetness and light, and he was not. He'd just drag her into the darkness with him, and that was the last thing he wanted. She'd had a rough childhood—losing her parents, being ripped out of her home. But she'd rebounded, and she was making a life for herself—a good life. He didn't want to get in the way of that.
Nor did he honestly believe he could ever be part of the kind of life she wanted. It was one thing to hang out in Fairhope for a while, help his grandfather, but it wasn't a long-term move, just an interim stop on the way to somewhere else. He just didn't know where that somewhere else was, but he doubted it would be this town—a place filled with people who didn't think much of him and probably never would.
As his thoughts ran dark, he got up and flipped on some lights. It was after five and the sun was sinking low in the sky. He was about to head into the kitchen when he heard the front door open and a male voice call out.
He left the downstairs bedroom and walked into the hall as Doug stepped into the entry. "What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you." Doug shut the door behind him.
"I can't imagine why."
"Yes, you can," Doug said, giving him a pointed look. "We need to get a few things straight, Roman. Juliette brought up the fire to me last night. Why are you talking about that with her? Why are you drumming up the past? I would think it's the last thing you'd want to discuss."
"Juliette asked me about the fire after hearing about it from Martha Grayson."
"Why don't you just admit you did it? Take responsibility and move on."
"Because I didn't do it, and I don't confess to things I didn't do."
"You're lying, Roman."
"I'm not. If someone needs to confess, look in the mirror."
"I didn't start the fire."
"Looks like we're still going around in circles." He paused. "Look, I get why you couldn't confess back then, Doug. Your dad was the police chief. Your mom was head of the PTA. You were their golden boy, their pride and joy. Knowing you weren't perfect, that you could be as stupid and reckless as anyone, would have ruined them. I almost couldn't blame you for putting the blame on me. I'm sure you felt you had a lot more to lose than I did, and I suspect Travis felt the same. But that doesn't excuse either of you from putting a knife in my back."
Doug stared at him like he was out of his mind. "What are you talking about? I didn't put the blame on you. I told my dad I didn't know what happened."
"Sure you did," he said.
"That's the truth. If anyone put the blame on you, it was Travis."
"It was both of you. You were a team. You'd been best friends since childhood. I was the easiest one to blame. Admit it."
"That's not the way it went down, Roman. My dad told me that you said Travis and I did it, and you weren't even in the park that night."
He stared at Doug, wondering if it was possible the chief had lied to each of them about what the other said. "Whatever. I don't actually care anymore."
"Well, I'm starting to care again, because I can't have that old mystery haunting my campaign for mayor."
He shrugged. "I don't know what you're going to do about it. You can't keep people from talking. You certainly can't stop Martha from spreading rumors."
"How long are you here for?"
"I haven't decided."
"But you're not planning to stay, right? You always said this town was too small for you."
"I'll leave when I'm ready to leave."
"Look, Roman, we've both grown up. We're men now, not stupid boys. I'm sure you've changed, and so have I. I don’t want us to be trapped by the past."
"Then let's end this conversation."
"I wouldn't have started it if Juliette hadn't grilled me last night."
He wasn't surprised Juliette had put Doug on the defensive. She did have a persistence about her that could be unsettling. "I'm sure she'll drop it. There's nothing left to discuss. There's no evidence, no truth to be found; it is what it is."
"What's going on between you and her?" Doug asked.
"Why do you care?"
"She's trying to build a business in this town, a business that's going to require goodwill, people who want to buy their baked goods from her. That might change if she hooks up with you."
"You must be one hell of a lawyer, Doug, always thinking of the angles."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Whatever is between us is between us."
"So I'm going to have to get around you to get to her?"
"That's a question you'd have to ask her."
"I used to beat you when it came to the girls," Doug reminded him, a familiar, cocky note in his voice.
"We'll see if your luck holds up."
"I guess we will." Doug turned and left, shutting the door forcibly behind him.
He stood there for a long minute, thinking about their conversation. He'd always thought Doug had turned on him—Travis, too—but now he wondered. Had Doug's father made him believe that in some effort to protect his son? It made sense. He could clearly remember the chief sitting him down, looking him in the eye, and telling him that Doug and Travis had both given sworn statements that he'd lit the branches of the tree on fire for fun, and then had run when the fire got too big. They hadn't even said it was an accident; they'd sworn he'd done it on purpose.
Doug was telling a different story now. But he was also desperate to be elected mayor. How could he believe anything Doug had to say? And the reaction Travis had had to him when they'd run into each other had been filled with anger and bitterness. The chief had probably told him a different story, too.
Maybe the person Doug should be talking to was his father.
On the other hand, he doubted the chief would tell his son anything that contradicted his past story. The Winters had always been a family that protected their own. And his friendship with Doug had been seen as a cancer. They'd wanted to cut him out of Doug's life long before the fire. He was probably lucky the chief hadn't found a way to send him to jail, but fortunately there really hadn't been any evidence that pointed to him.
Shaking his head, he told himself to stop thinking about it. He couldn't change the past, so there was no point in going back there. He needed to stay in the present.
The door opened again, and this time his grandfather walked in.
"Was that Doug Winters I saw driving away from here?" Vincent asked.
"It was."
"Why?"
"He wanted to know if I was going to cause him trouble in his run for mayor."
"Because of the past," Vincent said with an irritated nod. "I can't believe his nerve. You're not thinking of leaving early because of him?"
"No. He won't have anything to do with any decisions I make."
"Good. I need your help on this job as long as you can give it."
"About that. You keep promising me some helpers, but no one shows up."
"There are some other contractors running big jobs right now. Everyone is busy."
"This project isn't going to get done with just me working on it. And I could be gone in a few weeks depending on what happens with my next physical. What are you going to do then?"
"I'll find some help." His grandfather walked down the hall, and he followed him into the bedroom he'd been working on.
Vincent looked at the stripped-down walls. They were going to eventually push the back bedroom wall out three feet into the backyard.
"It's coming along," Vincent said, never one to heap too much praise on a worker. "You're going faster than I thought. You haven't forgotten your skills."
"They came back to me faster than I thought they would."
"It's good work, Roman. You'd make a fine contractor. If you can't continue as a soldier, you should think about construction."
"It's definitely on the list," he said.
"All right. Do you want to get some dinner? I'm headed downtown."
"No, I think I'll keep going awhile longer."
"I'll check in with you tomorrow then."
"Great." After his grandfather left, he got back to work on the last part of the room, the closet. He ripped up the carpet that covered the floor and tossed it aside, then pulled up several loose boards. As he did so, he saw something unexpected: an old metal box about eight by ten inches in size. He squatted down and pulled the box out of what had obviously been a hiding place.
His heart beat a little faster. Did the box belong to Juliette? Or to someone in her family? She'd told him her bedroom had been upstairs, but who knew what they'd used this room for?
There was a latch on the box, and after a moment's hesitation, he pulled it open.
Inside was a stack of folded notes. He picked up the first one and read a few words of what was clearly a love letter. Was it between Juliette's parents? There were no names on the note, just a reference to a great love.
These letters could belong to more recent tenants or to people who had lived here before Juliette's family. But he had to show them to her. If there was any chance they were letters between her parents, then she'd want to see them.
On the other hand, the letters had been hidden away. Maybe the letters weren't between a husband and a wife, but something more illicit. What if one of her parents had been having an affair? She'd be devastated.
He debated his options. He didn't want to hurt her, but he also didn't want to make the decision for her. Juliette could decide for herself if she wanted to read the letters.
Taking out his phone, he punched in her number.
"Hello? Roman?" she said.
"I found something in the house you need to see."
"What is it?" she asked warily.
"Can you come over?"
"You can't tell me over the phone."
"No."
"Then I'll be there in ten minutes."
* * *
Juliette couldn't imagine what Roman had found in her old house. It had to have something to do with her parents. She was both excited and nervous about what that could be after all these years.
When she arrived, the upstairs was dark, but there were lights on throughout the first floor. Her heart was pounding as she went up to the door. It was open, so she walked through it, calling out for Roman.
He met her in the hallway. "It's in here."
"What is it?"
He didn't answer, just led her into the first-floor bedroom. The room was completely torn apart. Roman picked a metal box off the floor.
"I found this hidden under the carpet and the floorboards in the closet."
"What's inside?"
"Looks like love letters."
"What? Really?" she asked in surprise. "From my parents?"
"I'm not sure. There aren't any names mentioned."
"Can I see?"
"That's why I called you. Why don't we take them into the kitchen?"
"Okay," she said, following him across the hall. She took off her coat as she sat down at the kitchen table.
Roman placed the box in front of her, and she opened the lid. As Roman had said, there was a stack of letters wrapped with a ribbon. The first one had been taken out of the pack, probably the one Roman had read.
She picked it up and unfolded the notepaper, then read the note aloud.
To My Love,
I can't believe we finally met today. I've thought about how that would happen for so long. I had made up scenes in my head where we accidentally ran into each other, but I never expected it would be in the cold medicine aisle at the drugstore. I'm sorry you're sick but I'm not sorry that we bumped into each other, that you said my name the way I'd dreamed of hearing you say it.
Maybe your voice was deeper because of your cold, but I prefer to think it's because I took your breath away. Isn't that silly?
I'm a silly girl. Everyone says so. I'll never send you this letter, but maybe one day, if things work out, I'll show it to you, and I'll tell you that I knew the first second we met that we were destined to be together.
With all my love
She looked up at Roman. "It sounds like the writing of a very young woman."
"Do you think it was your mother?"
She shook her head. "She met my dad on a vacation she took to Miami Beach."
"Was it possible he had a cold at the time?" Roman said lightly.
She thought about that for a moment. "I suppose it's possible, but I never heard that story."
"There are about ten more letters. Maybe it will become more clear who's writing and who they're writing about as you read through them."
She stared down at the beautiful cursive handwriting and wondered who had taken pen to paper at the first feeling of lov
e and amazement. And why had they hidden the letter in a box under some floorboards in the closet?
"What did you use that bedroom for?" Roman asked, drawing her attention back to him.
"What?" She had to think for a minute. "The bedroom was my dad's den. There's no way he wrote the letter. He was not romantic at all. My mom used to complain all the time about the gifts he'd get her. They were always practical, like a vacuum cleaner or a new microwave oven."
"Those can be good gifts."
She smiled. "My mom wanted jewelry or lingerie or something personal."
"So we can rule out your father, which makes sense. It sounds like a woman. And you just said your mom liked romance."
"But this doesn't sound like her." She paused. "I'd have to read more."
"Do you want something to drink before you get into that?" he asked, getting to his feet to open the refrigerator door. "I've got beer and orange juice."
"I'll take the beer," she said, feeling like she needed a drink.
He opened a bottle and handed it to her. She took a long swig, then set it down and reached for the next letter in the pile.
To My Love, she read aloud. "It would have been nice if she'd used a name."
"Keep reading," he said, sitting back down at the table.
She turned her attention back to the letter.
It's been three magical weeks since we met at the drugstore. You gave me a scare those first few days when you didn't call. I was afraid I'd ruined things by being too friendly. My sister says a man likes to chase, and I should learn to be more elusive. It's just not in my nature to pretend, at least not with you. I feel like you're too important to play games with.
Anyway, I was so happy when you asked me to go to the game with you. I don't even like football, but it didn't matter. Sitting there with you was enough for me.
You're funnier than I imagined. I bet most people don't think you can be funny, but your wit is sharp and quick. I liked talking to you. I wanted to keep talking to you. But then we went back to my house, and I didn't want to talk anymore.
"Now we're getting to the good stuff," Roman interrupted.
She made a face at him. "I don't think it's getting that good that fast."
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