The Promise of Change

by Rebecca Heflin

He kissed the top of her head. “Okay, but first I have to run out. Your concussion obviously hasn’t impacted your appetite. We’re out of everything in Sarah’s basic food groups: Chocolate, berries, cheese, and oh yes, chocolate.” He laughed as he walked back into the kitchen.

  “What do expect?” she scoffed. “If you take away one pleasure, it must be replaced by another, even if the replacement pales in comparison.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” he muttered from the kitchen.

  “I heard that.”

  He grabbed his keys. “I’ll be back shortly. Try to rest a little while I’m gone.”

  She rolled her eyes. Like she could do anything else. “Get some popcorn–for the movie.”

  He blew her a kiss before he closed the door.

  She looked around the flat that had become her second home, more so now that she shared it with Alex. She could see herself living here, at least part of the year. Home would be wherever Alex was.

  They hadn’t discussed anything more about their relationship since the day she left the hospital, and she didn’t want to bring it up, sensing that he wanted to wait until she was recuperated.

  But from her perspective it was growing, deepening into a full-fledged significant-other kind of relationship. Would it progress to the next steps, whatever those were? She would bide her time, wait until he felt comfortable discussing it.

  But she’d meant what she’d said to him about the accident putting things in perspective. She would no longer be afraid, of failure, of change, of love. She would put her heart out there for him, and the spotlight be damned. Furthermore, she would embrace her new career, and face the challenges it would undoubtedly bring.

  Thankfully, aside from the day of the accident, the filming hadn’t missed a beat. Other than the U.S. shoot, all of Alex’s scenes were done. The first unit had wrapped up and was departing for the U.S., where they will begin shooting the final scenes.

  The second unit was currently in Oxfordshire filming the stunt work, inserts, scenery, and cutaways. The dailies were uploaded to a website each day so that Alex could watch them, keeping everything on schedule.

  With clearance from the doctor, she and Alex would fly to Atlanta, the location for the U.S. shoot, at the end of next week. Her headaches were less frequent, and the dizziness was all but gone.

  Her memory of the events surrounding the accident was still spotty, but pieces were returning. Unfortunately, some of those pieces returned in the form of nightmares, something she hadn’t had since she was a child.

  She sometimes woke at night in a cold sweat, the smell of smoke sharp in her nose, the sound of the explosions ringing in her ears, and her heart racing in fright. Alex would instinctively roll over, wrapping his arm around her, comforting her even as he slept.

  She hoped the nightmares would recede soon. She was sure the concussion wasn’t the only cause of the overwhelming fatigue she felt each day by late afternoon. She slid down on the sofa to a more comfortable position before drifting off to sleep.

  The sound of Alex’s keys in the door woke her.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” His arms were full of bags. He could have had his assistant take care of the shopping, or had the groceries delivered, but he insisted on doing it himself.

  “Yes. But that’s okay.” She pushed herself up, a little groggy. “If I sleep too long, I won’t sleep tonight, and since there’s nothing more interesting to do at night, I might as well sleep.”

  Even she winced at her tone of voice. She sounded like an irritable old crone. She probably looked like one too, dressed in an old T-shirt and workout pants, no makeup, her hair a mess. No wonder he wasn’t interested.

  “Again with the sex,” he said from the kitchen where he was putting away the food.

  “No, again with the lack thereof,” she mumbled. What was wrong with her? You’d think she was a so-called sex addict.

  “The only reason I’m showing this to you is because I promised I wouldn’t keep anything from you again.”

  He walked towards her holding out what looked like a tabloid newspaper, the kind you see in the checkout line at the grocery store. “You read these?” she asked, surprised.

  “No, but my mother does. Don’t ask me why. She called while I was in the shop.”

  The paper was folded back, his finger pointing to a spot on the page. It looked like a gossip column, aptly named ‘The Gossipmonger.’ Glancing down the column, trying to figure out why he wanted her to read it, his name and then hers finally jumped out at her:

  Romance on the Set?

  Is Alex Fraser having an affair with American romance novelist Sarah Edwards? According to a reliable source, the two had what appeared to be a lover’s spat on the set of the new movie The American and the Aristocrat after Sarah caught the charming Fraser in a compromising position with sexy co-star Brooke Bellamy. Following the brief, but passionate, argument, Sarah stormed out of the house. Is the new romance already doomed?

  Sarah was so stunned she didn’t notice that she’d dropped the paper to the floor until he bent over to pick it up. Don’t panic, she told herself. Spotlight be damned, remember? This presented the first test of her new resolve.

  Her eyes were wide as she looked into his angry face. He knelt on the floor beside the sofa. “I am so sorry. I can only guess who leaked this.”

  “Brooke.” They both said it at the same time, his voice angry, hers flat.

  He took her cold hands, chaffing them for warmth. “I’m sure there’ll be more. Once these piranhas have their teeth in something, they don’t let go.” His voice was apologetic.

  “At least it isn’t a headline—”

  “Yet. It’ll make headlines if they get photos. I’m glad we’re leaving for the states next week. I doubt the U.S. tabloids will pick it up since I’m a relative unknown over there.”

  He looked down at their entwined hands. “Sarah,” he whispered her name. “I know how you feel about the spotlight, and I wouldn’t blame you if you decided once and for all it’s not for you,” he finished, his voice gruff with anger and frustration.

  “Alex, you remember the sonnet you recited to me in the hospital? ‘Love . . . is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.’ I’ve given all of this a lot of thought, and I’ve decided I can handle it. As long as you’re beside me.”

  She continued with a determined smile. “An obnoxious tabloid journalist wanna-be can’t scare me off. If you can put up with my sometimes irrational behavior, I can certainly deal with the minor annoyance of having my name in the papers.”

  Before he could speak, she took his face in her hands. “I fell in love with a charming, handsome, sexy, warm, funny, kind man, who also just happens to be a wonderful actor, a very eligible bachelor, and, oh yeah, and according to Robert, reformed playboy. I guess it comes with the territory.”

  “I love you, Sarah Edwards.” His face wore a suggestive grin. “I’d kiss you now, but I’m afraid where that might lead, so I’ll settle for this.” He kissed the back of her hand before replacing it against his cheek.

  Chapter 11

  “There, I think that’s everything.” Sarah sighed as she collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. She’d just finished packing the clothing that would be shipped home. The remainder would go in her checked luggage for her stay in Atlanta.

  Aside from short walks around Knightsbridge, it was the most physical activity she’d had in almost two weeks. If packing a couple of suitcases exhausted her, what would an international flight do, she wondered in frustration.

  “Are you happy to be going home?” Alex turned from his own luggage to look at her.

  “Well, it’s not exactly home, but I am looking forward to finishing in Atlanta and getting home to see Becca and Ann. I’ve really missed them.” She’d spoken to them both every day since the accident, texting or e-mails not enough for them, they had to hear her voice. Not that she minded. She just cringed when she thought of the phones bills at the e
nd of the month.

  He smiled indulgently. “It must have been very difficult to be away from them all this time. You three are extremely close.” He sounded a little envious. He and Robert had had another heated exchange on the phone the day the tabloid article came out.

  Sighing, she turned back to her luggage so he couldn’t see the concern on her face. As long as Alex remained grist for the gossip rags, Alex’s relationship with his brother would be a troubled one.

  Attributing her sigh to cabin-fever, Alex wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips nuzzled her neck as he whispered in her ear, “How would the invalid like to go on a real outing, not just a walk around the block?”

  She spun quickly in his arms. “Really? Where? Oh, it doesn’t matter. I think I’d be happy to go just about anywhere at this point.” Her words poured out, thwarting any attempt on his part to answer her questions.

  He laughed. “How would you like to meet my mother?” he asked a little hesitantly.

  Her eyes widened. Meet his mother? Wow. That sounded like one of those next steps. An enormous one. She was torn between excitement and worry. What if she doesn’t like me? she fretted. What if they couldn’t find anything to talk about? Of course that was silly. They would have Alex as a popular topic of conversation.

  She needed to answer him before he recognized her apprehension. “That sounds great.” Did that sound plausibly enthusiastic?

  “We have a short window of time before she jets off on some other adventure. Besides, I haven’t seen her since the spring, and knowing her, if I don’t see her now, I might not see her again until next spring. We can drive up to Leeds tomorrow morning and return tomorrow evening.”

  “Great.” She hoped she’d left something in the closet that was suitable for meeting the Countess.

  Sarah fidgeted in her seat, unable to get comfortable. If she didn’t stop, her clothes were going to look like she’d slept in them by the time she got there. Having been involved in the running of her father’s clothing store, Emma, or rather Lady Rutherford, would likely be attentive to clothing details.

  Alex chuckled. “Will you please stop worrying? She’s going to love you. Besides, we’re almost there.”

  She pulled the visor down once more, anxiously checking her hair and makeup in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

  Going for a classic look that she thought matched Alex’s taste-level, she’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, tied with a paisley silk scarf that complimented the plum of her sleeveless mock turtleneck. She finished off the outfit with a pair of black trousers. Nothing too dull, but nothing too hip either.

  “You look beautiful as always.” He didn’t even take his eyes off the road to look at her. It simply wasn’t necessary to make this observation.

  They turned onto a wide, tree-lined lane. It was the first time she’d noticed her surroundings, too focused on practicing what she would say when she met Alex’s mother to even appreciate the scenery along the way.

  “Emma moved from Rutherford to a one-bedroom flat after my brother and I were grown. With all her traveling, she’s quite happy with a small home base.”

  They pulled up in front of an apartment building not unlike those in the States. “Are you ready?” He turned to look at her with an understanding smile. “You look more like you’re going to a hanging. Smile.”

  Apparently her attempt at a smile failed.

  “We’ve got to do something about your acting skills,” he muttered as he got out of the car.

  Ringing the door buzzer, Alex wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. The door opened momentarily and the woman on the other side was nothing like Sarah had expected.

  She was about Sarah’s height, so it was clear that Alex’s height must have come from his father, but when she smiled, Sarah could see Alex’s coffee-brown eyes crinkled at the corners and his dimples in her cheeks.

  She could even see his soft brown wavy hair in her short-cropped locks, now salted with gray, but she was dressed like she was going on an outdoor excursion, complete with hiking shorts, Teva sandals, and T-shirt. Not a stitch of makeup, not an ounce of hairspray. She was . . . earthy.

  “You must be Sarah,” she said in a softly clipped accent. “Please, come in.”

  Alex’s hand was reassuring on Sarah’s back, guiding her into the small entrance.

  Emma stepped forward and gave Sarah a motherly hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Alex.” She stepped away, holding Sarah at arm’s length. “You were right,” she said, turning to Alex, “she’s a stunner.”

  “Mum, you’re embarrassing her,” he chided as he kissed her cheek.

  “What are mothers for if they can’t embarrass their son’s girlfriends? I looked like you once, playing the role of countess, but I found that weeks in the wilderness of New Zealand or the canyons of Utah were not conducive to make-up. I simplified my life.” She shrugged, indicating her appearance.

  Lady Rutherford may have come from the working-class, but her manners were polished and her accent cultured. Neither of which fit her appearance. It finally occurred to Sarah that so far all she’d done was stand there like a mute. Where were her manners?

  “Lady Rutherford, it is such a pleasure to meet you. Alex speaks of you often and fondly.”

  “He’s a good son,” she said absently as she took Sarah’s wrist, pulling her into the small living room. “You must call me Emma.” She turned to Alex. “Now go find an occupation so Sarah and I can talk. Sit here.” She indicated the sofa, sitting facing Sarah like they were best girlfriends.

  Alex smirked at the look of alarm on Sarah’s face, his expression apologetic.

  “Your brother will be here in an hour—”

  “What? Why?” His brows pulled down, and Sarah could see the storm clouds gathering.

  She gulped. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for another encounter with Alex’s brother. Talk about trial by fire: meeting the mother with the disapproving brother looking on.

  “There’s a silly question. Does he have to have a reason? Are you two fighting again?” she asked, tilting her head to the side in a way that reminded Sarah of Alex. She waived him out of the room, and although he looked a little concerned with leaving Sarah alone with his mother, he did as he was asked.

  “Those two . . . they’re always fighting over something. As toddlers it was toys, as teenagers it was sports, and as men it’s politics, and Alex’s career. Opposite ends of the spectrum.”

  Alex had never been vocal about his politics, but her statement confirmed what she thought: Alex would not vote for his brother.

  “My mother-in-law, Lady Clara, has been a very vocal supporter of yours.”

  Emma was very direct in her address. Sarah had no doubt that she would know where she stood with her at the end of their visit. She was sure the same would be true of Robert, politician or not.

  “Yes. Lady Clara and I had the opportunity to become well-acquainted last year when I attended classes with her at Christ Church.”

  “And that’s where you and Alex met, at one of his favorite pubs,” she said, her face intent. Sarah could see where Alex got his intuition. It felt as if she could read her face as well as he could.

  So he’d told her about that. “Yes.”

  “Now then, Sarah, tell me about yourself.”

  Alex sat in the kitchen then, paced a while, before making a pot of tea and settling at the kitchen table. He looked around the small, but cozy flat. Though she was Countess, his mother wouldn’t turn her back on her more humble roots. He respected that. He often thought that’s where he got his reticence to play the Earl.

  Laughter erupted from the sitting room, relaxing the muscles in his neck that he hadn’t realized were knotted. With all the reassurances he’d given Sarah, he’d been nervous as well. He didn’t need his mother’s approval, but he wanted it just the same.

  He and Sarah had some thorny issues to resolve, but resolve them they wou
ld. He wanted Sarah in his life, and if that meant moving to the U.S., he would go. If it came to that, he would even consider relinquishing his title to his brother.

  Although possible, it would be difficult to run the estate from across the Atlantic, and it wouldn’t be fair to dump the obligations on Robert without the benefit of the title. He and his brother had their differences, but he loved him, and he knew Robert would manage the affairs brilliantly.

  More laughter from the sitting room. What he wouldn’t give to know what was being said. He winced as he thought of all the stories Emma could tell of his childhood.

  Like the time when he was fifteen, he’d gone skinny-dipping in the stream that ran through the estate, only to be caught by Fletcher’s daughter. She’d taken advantage of the situation to seek retribution for putting a frog in her book bag. Confiscating his clothes, she’d stashed them in a known Adder hole nearby before going on her merry way.

  Alex hadn’t been too fond of snakes, still wasn’t for that matter. He’d had to either overcome his fear, however momentarily, in order to regain possession of his clothes, or walk back to the house naked as the day he was born. Encountering the snake had seemed less terrifying than explaining to his grandmother the reason for his state of undress.

  He’d been forced to confess what happened, when later that night he came down with a nasty case of poison ivy on his nether regions.

  Alex looked up as Sarah and his mother joined him in the kitchen.

  They’d talked for an hour or more, and Sarah could see the look of relief on Alex’s face as they entered the room laughing.

  “She’s absolutely charming.” Emma wrapped her arm around Sarah’s waist. “Don’t let her get away,” she admonished, making Sarah blush.

  “I don’t plan to.”

  Sarah blushed even deeper, as he looked up at her from his seat at the table, his eyes fixed on hers, pride and love beaming from his face.

  The front door slammed and footsteps thudded down the hall to the kitchen. “Mum?”