“Cheese eggs or plain?” she said, speaking over her shoulder to him where he was positioned in front of the stove, a dishrag thrown casually over his left shoulder.
“Either way.” He grinned. “I’m not a picky eater.”
His grin was infectious. “Let’s go for the cheese, then.” She picked up the wedge of extra-sharp cheddar she’d pulled out just in case. “And how many pieces of toast?”
“I’ll start with two.”
He was a big man. She eyed the egg bowl and reconsidered. She cracked another two eggs into the bowl. She’d grown used to only cooking for herself.
A couple of minutes later they carried loaded plates out the door to the backyard. Last year she’d fashioned a rudimentary bench from a log, using a hand planer. It had seasoned nicely.
Heaven help her, but her brain seemed to be stuck in sex mode, because she couldn’t help thinking if Sven were to lie flat on his back on the log, bracing his feet on the ground and she were poised on top… Another day. Or maybe later today…
They sat next to one another, his arm brushing against her elbow and just that contact sent a charge through her. The man had quite the effect on her.
“I eat out here most of the time when it’s warm enough. It’s not the views at Shadow Lake, but it’s not bad, huh?”
The cabin sat on top of a rise offering a vista of trees, sky and mountains.
“Very nice. Good eggs.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t know if it was the sex that had worked up such an appetite on her part or if it was simply sharing a meal on her backyard log, but it was delicious. She bit into her buttered toast spread with a thick layer of the jelly Sven had brought over. Yummy! “The salmonberry jelly is amazing,” she said as soon as she finished chewing and swallowing.
“My mom makes it every year and sends some home with me. I think this is the best batch yet.”
She couldn’t compare since she’d never tasted the other, but it was kick-butt tasty. “I was so green when I moved to Alaska, the first time someone mentioned salmonberry jelly I thought it was something to do with the fish.” She pointed with her fork toward the salmon printed on the front of his T-shirt.
Sven laughed. “Are you for real?”
“For real.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone else that,” he said, teasing her.
“I know.” She glanced around at the clearing. “Do you think I need to put up a fence for Baby?”
“I don’t think Baby’s going to have to be fenced at all. I think it’s more likely that she’s going to be under your feet all the time. She looked pretty attached already. I think Baby’s going to want to be wherever you are.”
They finished up breakfast and silently he rose, holding out his hand for her plate. She handed it over. “Thanks.”
She was so unused to someone doing things like that for her, but she could so easily get used to it, to him. She shrugged off the notion, disquieted by the thought. There was no point in getting used to any of it.
They were in this for the short term. One day at a time.
Her head heard her loud and clear. She just wasn’t sure that her heart was getting the warning message.
11
THAT EVENING SVEN SAT at his desk reviewing the budget sheets for his next job. This was the part of his business he hated, but he was buzzing on such a cloud from the day spent with Juliette, he figured he might as well get the crappy stuff out of the way.
He glanced at the charcoal sketch he’d propped against his desk lamp. It was from yesterday, when she’d been napping after their picnic. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of capturing her air of guarded vulnerability.
His cell phone rang. His mom. They hadn’t spoken since they’d talked about Juliette several nights ago. That wasn’t unusual—their conversations were sporadic—but he knew she hadn’t been a happy camper when they hung up.
“Hi, Mom. How’s it going?”
He listened with half an ear as his mother gave him a blow-by-blow of Pops’s indigestion and a case of gout that was interfering with his running schedule. He closed the schedule book and leaned back, propping his feet on the desk’s edge. “I hate to hear that.”
“Are you still seeing that woman?”
She tossed it out there, her disdain evident in her that woman. Sven sat up, planting his feet flat on the floor. His mother’s tone and her words pissed him off.
“That woman has a name,” he said, managing a neutrality he wasn’t quite feeling.
“Fine. Are you still seeing Julie?”
“Juliette. And, yes, I am.” His mom had loved his dog Susie. She’d want to hear about the puppies and perhaps that would smooth her ruffled feathers. “We went and picked out puppies—”
She interrupted him. “This is a mistake, Sven. She has problems. Serious problems.”
He forced himself to relax his clenched jaw. “You’re not even giving her a chance.”
“I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely, but, honey, she’s an alcoholic and you just can’t trust those people not to backslide. You’d be caught up in all that mess and it’d wreck your life. And you’ve got to think about the kids.”
His gut knotted. There was a reasonableness in her argument he simply didn’t want to hear. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Mind your own business, Mom.”
“I am minding my business.” Her voice escalated in pitch and volume. “You’re my son and that makes you my business. Any kids you have are my grandkids, so that makes their mother my business.”
Sven pushed to his feet and paced across the room, opening the front door to look out on the lake. “Let’s talk about putting the cart before the horse, Marge.”
“Pops and I always taught you and your brother that you shouldn’t—”
He finished for her. “Date a girl you wouldn’t marry because you never know who you might fall in love with.” How many times had they heard that?
“That’s right. You were listening. And I’m telling you this Juliette is a mistake.”
“Too late, Mom. The die’s cast.”
Her gasp echoed on the other end. “You mean she’s pregnant?”
The level to which his mother could incorrectly fill in a blank was mind-boggling. “No, she’s not pregnant.” The idea, however, did give him a kind of warm fuzzy feeling that would just further freak Marge out.
“Then what do you mean, ‘the die’s cast’?”
“I mean I love her.” It felt strange, but good, to say the words aloud.
“No.” She practically wailed the denial.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“But, honey, of all the women in the world to choose from… What about that nice girl from Palmer you were seeing last year?”
“Mom, you could at least give her a chance.” Exasperated, frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve never known you to be like this.”
“Neither of my children ever dated a woman who was not only an alcoholic but had two failed marriages before, either.”
He was fairly laid-back. He’d always been slow to anger, but his mom was definitely pushing the edge of his envelope. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
“I’m telling you I don’t approve and I think it’s a mistake.”
“I want you to like her because she’s a good person and because she’s important to me.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “But ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether you approve or not.”
A deathly quiet filled the line. Finally she spoke. “I see.”
It was impossible to miss the tears clogging her voice. His mother sometimes cried over greeting-card commercials, but she’d never cried because he’d wounded her. It was painful to him that he’d hurt her, that hadn’t been his intent, but he wouldn’t have her speak about Juliette that way and it wasn’t fair of Marge to dismiss Juliette, to prejudge her.
“Mom—”
“You’ve been seeing her how long? Not even a week, but you’re already in
love? And you’d put her before your family? You’d choose her over us?”
Sven chose his words carefully. Once something was said, it couldn’t be unsaid. A man, or woman, could apologize all day long, but once spoken, words couldn’t be taken back.
He hadn’t told Juliette how he felt because she was skittish and he wanted to give her time, but there was a connection there, if she’d only let it grow. But the bottom line was, loving her wasn’t contingent on her returning his feelings. “I shouldn’t have to choose one over the other, Mom. You always told us parents might not like their children’s choices, but parental love was unconditional. This is the way it is. I love her, which means I’ll defend her and champion her because that’s my code.”
“Maybe Pops and I shouldn’t come up for the play.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, stress knotting the muscle. He would not be dictated to by his mother. Did she really think if she threatened to boycott the play he’d opt to not see Juliette again? “That’s totally up to you. I love you and Pops and I’d love to see you. I think you’ll enjoy the production. You and Pops are important to me and Juliette’s important to me. I’d like for you guys to meet, but only if you can meet her with an open mind and respect for who she is. That said, if you decide not to come, I understand.”
The tension on the line could be cut with the proverbial knife. “And that’s the way it is?” she said.
“That’s the way it is.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, son.”
He didn’t have a good feeling in his gut.
* * *
MONDAY MORNING JULIETTE walked into the airstrip office. It was a glorious day. She’d slept better last night than she had in a long time. Well, make that ever. She’d fallen asleep with Sven’s scent on her pillow.
Merrilee looked up from her seemingly endless stack of paperwork. Juliette supposed that’s what running an airstrip, a bed-and-breakfast, a small town and keeping her husband’s books for his hardware company would do for a woman. Lots and lots of paperwork.
Juliette smiled at both Merrilee and Alberta, who was pouring a cup of joe. Juliette wondered just how many pots Merrilee brewed in a day. A lot.
“I hear you have a new puppy,” Merrilee said, beaming at Juliette.
Juliette nodded, heading for the coffee—and the muffins. She’d overslept and was starving. “Well, she’s not home yet, I have to get in my supplies first, but she is sooo cute.”
“You’ll have to bring her in so we can see her.”
“Oh, yeah. Wait until you see the flight jacket I ordered for her.”
Merrilee chuckled. “I can’t wait.”
“I hear you have a new boyfriend,” Alberta said, her smile knowing.
There was a time, in the not-too-distant past—as in the middle of last week—when Juliette would’ve simply stonewalled the matchmaking psychic Gypsy. And for a second her armor slipped into place…and then she shrugged it off. She was going to live and take what life was handing her and quit being afraid it would all evaporate around her like a good dream interrupted by the alarm clock.
“It sort of seems that way.”
“Well, do tell.” Alberta looked pleased as she peeled the paper off the bottom of a muffin, as if she was personally responsible for Juliette’s new-boyfriend status. Whatever.
“I don’t know that there’s really much to tell.” Except that Sven was wonderful. “We’ve done a little hiking, went on a picnic, went puppy shopping and just sort of hung out.” And had rock-my-world sex. “He’s good company.” A great kisser and an even better lover.
“You’re good for him,” Alberta said around a mouthful of muffin.
Juliette blinked, surprised by Alberta’s pronouncement. “I am? In what way?”
“You’ve made him stretch himself and find out what he’s made of. Or at least he will.”
She couldn’t help herself. She had to ask. “You really think I’m good for him?”
“I do. He’s happy with you.”
Her words thrilled Juliette, but she was leery of being too happy. She hedged it. “Well, I didn’t notice him being exactly depressed before.”
Alberta laughed. “Sven’s discovering his depth with you. He’s growing. It’s a really good thing. Like I said, you’re good for him.”
Merrilee spoke up. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Alberta. You are good for him.”
Juliette’s heart felt as if it was soaring within her chest. It was as if everything she’d ever wanted, things she hadn’t even dared to admit she wanted, were hers. She, Juliette Miller, brought something special to beautiful Sven Sorenson who had led a charmed life. It was really almost too much for a woman to take in.
“That’s good. That makes me happy.” She didn’t recall ever feeling this way, not even when she flew. She loved flying, but this was different. This was…well, something incredibly special and she wasn’t even up in the air.
“Then I’d say we’ve got ourselves a win-win situation,” Alberta mused. “You’re happy. He’s happy.”
Yes. Yes, she was. She had known peace and a contentment that came with her sobriety. She had learned to love herself and find joy in herself, but this…this was so far beyond any of that. This was what Sue had meant when she said Juliette could be sober or she could be sober and live. This was living…and it was joyous.
Merrilee’s phone rang on her desk. “Excuse me, ladies.” She picked it up. “Good Riddance Air and Bed-and-Breakfast. Oh, hey, Marge. How are you?”
Alberta said in an undertone, “That’s Sven’s mother.”
Merrilee’s smile faded as she listened, the voice on the other end strident, upset. “Sure… . Okay… . No problem.” Marge Sorenson obviously had plenty to say on the other end of the line, and Juliette wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but Marge was obviously agitated and quite loud and Juliette clearly heard Marge mention Juliette’s name. Merrilee, in the meantime, looked increasingly uncomfortable.
She interrupted Marge. “Look, let me call you back in a bit. I was in the middle of something… No, it’s okay. I’ll call you back. Yeah. In a while.”
She hung up the phone and reached for her pencil. “Okay, so did you have any questions or conflicts with today’s schedule?”
“I’m not sure because I still have to look it over, don’t I?” Merrilee was so jangled she didn’t remember that she and Juliette hadn’t gone over the schedule yet. This was really weird. Juliette couldn’t just walk away and wonder all day. It would drive her nuts.
“I do, however, have a question about that phone call,” Juliette continued. “You know I don’t usually stick my nose in any other people’s business and I’ve always kept to myself, but I couldn’t help hearing my name. And Mrs. Sorenson was very obviously not happy.”
Juliette felt slightly nauseated, apprehension forming a ball in the pit of her stomach.
Merrilee shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Marge was calling to cancel her and Edgar’s seats for the play.”
“I see.” And she did see. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out if Marge had said Juliette’s name. “And they’re canceling because Sven is involved with me.”
Merrilee looked absolutely miserable. “You’ll have to talk to him about it, Juliette.”
Alberta rubbed her arm consolingly. “Ebb and flow, sweetie, ebb and flow.”
She wanted to burst into tears. Sven, this really great man that she was so in love with that she couldn’t see straight because if she could see straight—she would’ve never allowed herself to believe that this could all work out—had this superperfect family that had always gotten along beautifully, but now that she was involved chaos was erupting. She’d known from the first time she’d ever heard about them that she wouldn’t fit in. Heck, she hadn’t even met them and it was already a mess.
“Talk to him first, Juliette,” Alberta said.
“Hon, I can see
it all over your face that you’re upset,” Merrilee said. “And I don’t blame you. I’ll call Dalton. He can cover for you today and you go find Sven and get this sorted out.”
What the hell was it with her? Her childhood had been disastrous, her marriages, too. She’d finally found some measure of calm, but then she got involved with Sven and once again madness came along. Obviously she did best in a solo, isolated state of being. She stood tall. She was a big girl. She’d had a fun couple of days and now it was back to life as usual. The alarm clock had gone off and the dream was over. “Dalton had the weekend.”
Merrilee waved a dismissing hand. “You know Dalton, he won’t mind.”
Juliette pulled herself together, cloaking herself in the mantle she’d so foolishly discarded for a period of time. “I’m fine. I’m a professional. I’ll do my job. I’ll talk to Sven later.”
And that would actually work out better because she was fairly certain if she tried to talk to Sven right now, she’d burst into tears and then she’d really feel somewhere beyond foolish. That was if she even did talk to him. Perhaps it was best to make a swift, clean break. What was there to talk about? She was a problem between him and his family. Eliminate her from the equation and there was no problem.
All the old feelings of inadequacy swept through her, over her. She felt in the bottom of the pit she’d been in for so long—hopeless, helpless, no way out. The equally familiar craving to dull those emotions, to take the edge off, the temporary relief of anesthetization, washed over her, as well. What difference would one, or two or more drinks make?
* * *
SVEN WANTED TO PUT HIS fist through a wall. Merrilee had filled him in on the morning’s events. He’d been waiting all day for a chance to talk with Juliette. However, she’d neatly avoided him all evening.
She’d shown up late for rehearsal, kept herself surrounded with other people, and now she’d managed to leave without him being able to catch a moment alone with her.
If, however, she thought for one minute that he’d just let it go, she was in for a rude awakening. They were going to talk about this. She wasn’t going to shut down and shut him out.
He knew where she lived. He got into his truck and was so intent he nearly missed her Land Rover parked on the back side of Gus’s. He pulled into the parking lot. Fine. He could show up at Gus’s, as well. And if she still wanted to ignore him, the place closed at ten. She had to go home eventually.
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