Moonlight in the Morning

by Jude Deveraux

  He made his decision in an instant. “I’ll leave the car at the airport and—”

  “I’m going with you,” Nell said from behind them. She was holding up her passport, the ID she’d need for the plane.

  Tris looked at Addy.

  “Go! The both of you! We’ll be there tomorrow. If you don’t take the time to pack you’ll have to buy Nell some clothes and—” She broke off because the door had shut and they were gone.

  If Nell hadn’t been in the car with him, Tristan would have driven a lot faster. As it was, he exceeded every speed limit on his way to the Miami airport, but only slightly. He left the keys with valet parking, grabbed Nell’s hand, and ran. He went to the plainest-faced clerk, smiled sweetly at her, and asked her to get them seats on any plane to Richmond. There was one boarding in twenty minutes.

  Tris kissed the young woman’s hand in thanks, then he and Nell started running. They got to the plane just as the doors were about to close. When they reached Richmond, he rented a car and started the drive home. It wasn’t until they were on the highway that he realized they hadn’t eaten.

  “I forgot to feed you,” Tris said in horror.

  “That’s okay,” Nell said. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.”

  “Yeah?” he asked as he got off at the exit. They went to a drive-through window and got burgers and Cokes. “If your mother asks . . .”

  “I know,” Nell said. “You fed me three leafy green vegetables.”

  “Right.”

  “How come Jecca’s never seen you?”

  Tristan nearly choked. “You have to stop listening to other people’s conversations.”

  Nell didn’t reply, just kept looking at him.

  He gave in under the pressure. “When I met Jecca itI mren was by accident and it was pitch-dark,” he began. The whole story was innocent enough that he could tell a child. All he and Jecca had done was talk. He told Nell of the evenings he and Jecca had spent together, including the picnic by the lake.

  Nell ran her straw about in her drink as she considered what he’d said. “Did you do any kissing?”

  “That, young lady, is none of your business.”

  Nell waited in silence.

  “A little bit,” he said. “Not much.”

  “So she’s never seen your face?”

  “No, she hasn’t,” Tris said. “But I’m going to show up at Reede’s party and then she’ll see me.”

  “I hope she likes your face. If she doesn’t, I’ll never get the playhouse painted.”

  Tristan laughed. “Nell, you really know how to put me in my place. I hadn’t thought that she might not find me . . . appealing. Your mother thinks Reede is very pretty. Do you think Jecca might run off with him?” He was teasing.

  Nell didn’t smile. “All the girls at school like Scotty because he’s so nice to look at, but he’s mean.”

  Tris quit smiling. It seemed that his niece had something serious to say. “But you don’t like him?”

  “No. I like Davey, who’s very nice, but he’s ugly.”

  “I see. So what does all this mean?”

  “I think it’s better if the outside and the inside match. I wish Davey could look like Scotty.”

  Tris tried to figure out what she was saying, but then he got it. “You don’t think I should just go to the party in jeans and an old shirt like I’d usually wear to a barbecue, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Since Jecca has on a fancy dress, how about if we go to my house and I put on my tuxedo?”

  “What do I wear?” Nell asked.

  Tris took his cell out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Call Miss Lucy. We have a couple of hours before the party. She could probably make you a ball gown in that time.”

  Not long after that, he and Nell were at Reede’s party and Tris was in a tuxedo. He’d enjoyed dancing with Jecca, but there was something more important. When she’d first seen him, it was as though she’d looked past what Miss Livie called his “exterior self.” For a moment, just a flash, it was as though Jecca was looking at his soul. He’d stood there and waited while she seemed to make up her mind about something—and Tristan had never felt so naked.

  All his life women had come to him easily. At most, all he’d had to do was look at a woman with lowered lashes and she was by his side. This . . . ability of his had caused him problems in his practice, and he’d talked to his father about it.

  “Professional!” his dad said. “ sa his practYou have to be professional both in and out of the office. Stay away from your patients. Find a girl that you’ve never held a stethoscope to.”

  Tris had always followed that advice, even though at times it had been difficult. There’d been a patient, a young woman, divorced, with a three-year-old daughter who’d almost made him forget himself. When she’d moved away from Edilean he didn’t know whether to be glad or despondent. If she’d left a forwarding address he might have pursued her.

  But now that he’d met Jecca he was glad he hadn’t. Neither that woman nor any other had looked at him the way Jecca did yesterday. For the first time in his life, Tristan had felt that his looks counted for nothing. He thought Jecca wouldn’t have minded if he’d been covered in burn scars. She was looking at his inner self, not the exterior.

  That he’d passed her scrutiny—her judgment—was the most fulfilling thing in his life. He had passed through medical school based on what he’d learned. But Jecca’s test was based on what he was.

  When he’d first seen her through the crowd, she’d been halfway out the door. It looked like the people of Edilean—mostly his relatives—had been ignoring her and she was leaving. He should have been angry about that, but instead, it made him feel more like she belonged to him.

  If he’d had his way, he would have made love to her then and there. The smile she gave him, letting him know that he’d passed her test, made him feel like a caveman. He wanted to say “You’re mine” and throw her over his shoulder and take her away. He didn’t want other men looking at her in a dress that showed off her every curve. It hadn’t been easy for him to hold back from her.

  The best he could do in a modern society was dance with her. He’d loved holding her in his arms, loved the way she so easily followed him around the floor.

  When the people crowded around them after the dance, it was easy for him to lead Jecca and Nell out of there. If Nell hadn’t been with them he would have taken Jecca straight home. But he didn’t want to rush her. He wanted to make sure that what happened between them was what she too wanted.

  At Al’s Diner Tris knew he’d acted like a high school kid. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her! He’d never felt such desire before. Just to touch her, feel her leaning against him, was all he could think about.

  They’d spent the best night of sex together that he’d ever had. He awoke once to her curled up against him, and he’d felt such tenderness for her that he never wanted her to leave.

  And therein was the problem. There was nothing he could do to stop Jecca from leaving in just a few months. He was anchored in Edilean as firmly as the big oak in the middle of town. His roots went down as far as the tree’s. Even the last hurricane hadn’t dislodged that tree, and nothing was going to make Tristan leave his hometown either.

  Tris checked more plants for mealybugs and red spider, then made sure the mister was working. It was all in order, and he left the conservatory. He knew he should probably help the women load the Rover but instead he went to find Jecca and Nell.

  He hadn’t been upstairs since Jecca had moved in. Her doord ie Rover b was open and he looked inside, but they weren’t there. Just as she’d done to his house, he wanted to see the way she lived. He wanted to learn more about her.

  He went into the bedroom first. On the bed was a green canvas suitcase, the kind that opened at the top, a Gladstone bag. It was half full of Jecca’s clothes. He could see jeans, T-shirts, and a sweater to the side. Everything was nea
t and tidy. He knew the room well, as it was where he stayed when he was a child and his parents went out. He knew which pictures had been changed. Jecca must have gone around the house and selected the ones she liked best, then rehung them in her apartment. He’d always liked the scene of the river in Scotland better than the portrait of old man Wingate that used to hang over the bed.

  Smiling, he went into the living room. What most interested him was the art area that she’d set up by the big windows. There was a drafting table, custom made, and beautiful, and on top was her big sketchbook. As Tris opened it, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder to see if he was going to be caught. No one had to tell him that looking in an artist’s sketchbook was as invasive as reading a person’s diary.

  But he couldn’t resist. The first pages were sketches of flowers from Miss Livie’s garden. She’d colored some of them with pencils; some were just outlines. He could tell she’d drawn them quickly, but she’d managed to capture the shape of the flowers.

  There were several pages of his orchids and that made him smile. It looked like she’d liked the paphiopedilums the best—and he did too. Their exotic shapes, both seductive and forbidding at the same time, had always fascinated him.

  She’d experimented with color on them. There were a few drawings that were close to reality, but a couple had colors as fanciful as a 3-D movie.

  The next page had sketches of the flowers both from the garden and his orchids, with bits of jewelry around them. Rings, necklaces, and bracelets twined around stems, peeked from behind petals.

  Tris was sure Kim would be pleased with Jecca’s ideas.

  He turned the next page and drew in his breath, for there was a drawing of him—and he was wearing wings.

  He could see that what she’d drawn was ultimately for Kim, but it still took him a moment to get over his shock. He could see what she’d done. She’d made a composite of photos from Miss Livie’s albums and added the veined and clear wings of a dragonfly. She had portrayed him as Cupid.

  Smiling, he turned to the next page, and again he was stunned. There was a picture of him holding Nell.

  He was drawn from the waist up and Nell, about two, was in his arms, curved around, her head on Tristan’s shoulder, and she was asleep. He was looking down at her, and all the love he felt for the child was in his eyes and in the way he was holding her.

  There was no such photo ever taken. Tris didn’t doubt that he looked at Nell just like that, but no one had captured it on film. But as he studied the drawing, he could see where Jecca had seen the parts she’d used. He had seen Miss Livie’s albums often and knew the photos well.

  There was a picture of Nell sleeping in Addy’s arms and looking as angelic as she did in Jecca’in ight="0em;s drawing. Only in that photo, in the background were half a dozen relatives holding cans of beer. And Addy had been talking, not looking at her daughter in adoration.

  The source for his expression was harder to figure out. But then he remembered a picture taken when he was nine and he’d had a baby rabbit on his lap. He’d been looking at it with love. She’d used that old photo and the one of Nell asleep in her mother’s arms to create something utterly new.

  Tristan had never had any artistic ability, and he marveled at people who did, but these drawings that Jecca had made were better than anything he’d ever seen. That she could take the face of a nine-year-old boy, age it to thirty-four, then add a child from another photo was, to him, magic.

  His first thought was that he wanted to ask Jecca if he could take the last two drawings to have them framed. But of course he couldn’t reveal his snooping.

  Reluctantly, he turned the page, and the sketches of the playhouse began. She’d written notes about each color variation. He liked the look of her writing. It was half schoolbook perfect and half calligraphy.

  He heard a noise in the hallway and guiltily closed the sketchbook. He half expected Jecca to be standing behind him, but the room was still empty.

  “I wonder where my girls are?” he said aloud—then smiled at the term “my girls.”

  He found Jecca and Nell sitting on the floor of the closet in Lucy’s sewing room. There were half a dozen photocopied drawings of the playhouse scattered about, each one of different colors, and several bolts of fabric by each drawing.

  “I like the green one,” Jecca was saying. “What about you?”

  Nell didn’t hesitate. “This green, not that one.”

  “Of course. You can’t put army green with sunshine yellow. Not here, anyway. What about the pinks?”

  “These two.”

  “Excellent!” Jecca said. “I think we should go darker for the piping. Lucy just bought a little machine that will cut the fabric on the bias so we won’t have to deal with the rotary cutters. And—”

  “I hate to break this up, but we need to get going,” Tris said from the doorway.

  Nell leaped off the floor to throw her arms around her uncle’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you. My playhouse is going to be great.”

  Tris was looking at Jecca, who was smiling at him.

  “Sorry, but we got caught up in colors and fabric,” she said.

  “Easy for you two to do.”

  Getting up, Jecca started putting the fabric away.

  “We’ll have some room so you can take whatever you want,” Tris said.

  “Just my art case,” she said. “And some clothes. How long are we staying?”

  “Until the food runs out or we get bored.” He picked Nell up. cke8221; J“I think you’ve gained weight. I’ll have to walk it off you at Uncle Roan’s. What are we going to do about your clothes? We left everything in Miami.”

  “Miss Livie took me shopping this morning, and Lucy made me three tops.”

  “Shopping, huh? Does that mean I’m going to have to put a trailer on the back of the Rover?”

  “Yes!” she said. “And you can ride back there while Jecca drives so we can talk about the playhouse forever.”

  Laughing, Tris put her down. “For that you can walk on your own two feet. Why don’t you go downstairs and make sure Miss Livie packed those cookies I saw?”

  “You want to be alone with Jecca, don’t you?”

  “I’m an adult and I don’t have to answer that. Go!”

  Laughing, Nell ran down the stairs.

  He went into the closet where Jecca was putting fabric away. “It’s nice in here,” he said.

  “I like it.”

  They looked at each other. They were alone for the first time since they’d left his house, since they’d spent the night making love. Instantly, they were kissing, their hands all over each other.

  Tris paused at her ear. “Sure you don’t want to go away, just the two of us?”

  “Not sure at all,” she said, her breath catching in her throat.

  They were just beginning to remove each other’s clothes when Nell’s voice came from the door of the room.

  “Uncle Tris!” she shouted. “We’re ready to go! It’s almost nighttime.”

  “I’ve never needed an alarm clock,” he murmured against her lips.

  Smiling, Jecca moved away. “Come help me finish packing.”

  “I, uh, think I’ll stay in here for a little bit.”

  She glanced downward. “I understand, but please don’t lose that thought.”

  “When I’m with you, it’s all I do think about.”

  Jecca started to reply, but she heard Nell entering the room and hurried to her. “I need to call Kim to say good-bye, and would you mind helping me pack my art supplies?”

  “Oh yes!” Nell said as they left Lucy’s sewing room.

  Thirty minutes later, Jecca and Nell were standing with Tris at the back of his old Land Rover, and he was trying to jam everything into it. “How much stuff did you buy this morning?” he asked Nell.

  Jecca stepped forward. “I don’t think a woman has to answer that. It’s really much too personal.”

  “I think I’m out
numbered on this trip,” Tris said as he finally got the door closed.

  & wiwid#8220;Your cousin Roan will even things out.”

  “Unless he’s in his professor mode, then he’ll want to argue,” Tris said.

  “Leave me out of that!” Jecca said as she held out her hand to Tristan.

  “What’s that for?”

  “The car keys. I’m driving.”

  “Where we’re going is pretty steep and—”

  “Puhlease,” she said, her hand still extended. “I’ve run road rallies with my brother.” When Tris hesitated, she said, “Your arm is hurting you and don’t tell me it isn’t. You’ve been trying to pretend that it’s just fine, but even I know that muscles deteriorate when they’re inside a cast.”

  Tris didn’t smile. “Are you saying that I’m weak and—”

  “Give her the keys,” Nell said.

  He looked from one female to the other, both of them very serious.

  “Looks like I’m beaten again,” he said as he handed Jecca the car keys, but he sounded pleased. He helped Nell over objects and into the backseat and got her settled among her stuffed animals and dolls, then he got into the passenger seat. Jecca was already behind the steering wheel.

  “Need I ask if you can drive a stick shift?”

  Jecca just looked at him.

  “Sorry I spoke.”

  They’d said good-bye to Lucy and Mrs. Wingate inside and had been given explicit instructions about all the food.

  “How’s Kim?” Tris asked.

  “Great. She’s swamped with work and wishes me all the best.” Jecca glanced at the car. “So I guess we’re ready,” she said, but then her cell phone buzzed.

  “You’d better get that now,” Tris said. “There’s no reception at the cabin.”

  Jecca got the phone out of her bag. “It’s an e-mail from Dad.” She touched the screen, then groaned and turned the photo to show Tristan.

  It was of a very angry young woman, and from the look of the picture, she was inches from the face of the photographer. She was the epitome of “in your face anger.”

  Jecca started the car and turned around in the drive. The Land Rover didn’t have power steering; it was old; it was heavy. She felt at home.