When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2) Read online

  “At the end of that corridor is a sitting room you’re welcome to enjoy when it’s not in use.” Julia gestured down a window-lit hallway to the right of the stairs which ended at an open door. Henry caught sight of something that looked like the edge of a baby grand piano. “Sometimes we’ll have small parties back there.”

  “And then there’s Julia’s serenading.” Eisley nudged her sister with her shoulder. They demonstrated a closeness he’d not witnessed in many siblings, much like Wes and his sister, Cate. Henry and his elder brother Matthew were close but not particularly affectionate. Their mother had always made certain to stifle such displays.

  Julia rolled her gaze to the ceiling, a slight blush of pink highlighting her pale cheeks. “I suppose I should warn you. Some nights, after the bakery closes, you might hear me playing the piano. But I won’t play too late into the evening.” She smiled, her gaze focusing more on Wes than him. “It’s my way of winding down after a busy day.”

  “Then you and Henry should get on well,” Wes replied. “He’s a composer, you know. He can play four or five different instruments and even brought his violin along, I believe.”

  Julia’s attention flickered to him, interested, hopeful. “You compose?”

  He opened his mouth to answer but, as was usually the case upon being asked a direct question, nothing emerged when he beckoned. He hoped she’d give him time. Conversations became easier for him upon further acquaintance, if the individual had the forbearance to make the extra effort.

  And didn’t mind a bit of silence now and again.

  “Usually for movies,” Wes intervened in his well-practiced way. “He’s composed the music for the last two movies I’ve made and is composing for this new one we’re filming near here.” Wes placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “So he came along to study the Appalachian culture and music and gather inspiration, right?”

  The physical touch of encouragement and easy question loosened his tongue. “Yes. Wes told me the mountains inspire creativity, and I hope to glean from them.” He gestured toward Julia, drawing in a deep breath for strength to forge ahead into the conversation. “I brought a large collection of new sheet music. Perhaps you’d enjoy seeing some of it?” Her eyes glowed with a welcome he felt all the way to his unsteady knees. “At your convenience, and if your husband wouldn’t mind, of course.”

  The shimmer in her periwinkle gaze died. Her expression froze except for the shift in her bottom lip as Henry’s dropped…along with the swell of success in his chest.

  His attention swung to Wes for clarification, but his faithful friend looked as lost for words as Henry was. He turned to Eisley, whose crooked grin mismatched her crinkled brow. “That won’t be a problem, I’m sure.” She took Julia by the arm. “Julia, will you make sure their room is ready. I’ll tell them about the communication board.”

  Julia blinked and looked over her shoulder in his direction, her eyes much waterier than they had been a few seconds before. His chest deflated. He’d hurt her. How had he managed that? His gaze followed her retreat up the stairs before landing on Eisley’s face.

  She looked to Wes, who stepped forward and cupped Henry’s shoulder with his palm. “Remember the sister who’d been date raped that I told you about?”

  Henry stared at Wes for a full three seconds then glanced back up the stairway. “But…but she’s with child.” Crickets sounded in his mind before the words clinked into understanding. She was pregnant with the baby of the man who raped her? Henry bent forward as if he’d been punched. How could he ever rectify his blunder? Perhaps silence was his best option. “I’m an idiot.”

  Eisley’s hand came to his other shoulder, and her smile drew him back to a full stand. “Listen, Julia knows you didn’t understand. It’s just that each time she has to repeat the news, it’s…tough. Her life has been turned upside down over the past seven months. She’s been broken, but she’s strong.”

  “Wounds do not signify weakness,” Henry whispered, a sickening knot developing in his stomach at his blunder. “My grandmother used to say that.”

  “Grannies sure do have a way with words.” Eisley squeezed his shoulder. “And no, wounds don’t, but many of them may still be tender enough to sting. Give her a few minutes then we’ll join her. And I’m pretty sure you can plan on a sonata or some furious Bach tonight before bed. It’s the way she copes, I think.”

  Henry’s head came up. She used music to express emotion?

  Oh yes, that was something Henry understood very well.

  Chapter Two

  J ulia pressed her back against the door at the top of the stairs and drew in a deep breath to wrestle back her tears. How many more times would she have to explain and watch brows crease in confusion or disappointment or, worst of all, eyes cloud with doubt? Weren’t the residual nightmares enough—even if they’d grown less frequent? Or the reluctance of old “friends” to invite her out because she didn’t fit into the single girls group anymore? Even from her church friends.

  Life had shifted, shaken, and left her in an indefinable spot between two worlds. She couldn’t fault Henry for asking his question. How was he to know that the baby growing in her belly wasn’t the product of two people in love? The sting of his realization and the new expression of pity or discomfort certain to cross his face toward her would only remind her, once again, that she’d lost something…and there was no way to retrieval in sight.

  The new life within her rumbled to alert at her stillness. She smoothed a palm over her stomach and sighed, using her other hand to swipe away the stray moisture from her eyes. “Neither of us chose this journey, did we?” Hard pressure moved against her hand and she smiled. “But we’re not alone, Little One.”

  No, she’d not chosen this path. She’d never dreamed of single parenting or surviving an attack that left her shattered from the inside out. She’d never imagined having to crawl through the months of anxiety, anger, and mourning to find her footing again. But from the support group she’d attended over the past four months, she’d learned she wasn’t alone.

  The counselor who saw her, now biweekly, had affirmed her healing and growth.

  Her grin crooked. And, of course, she had her family and her faith.

  How would she have ever made it to this point without believing God took brokenness and transformed it into something beautiful? Even this.

  She raised her head and turned toward the stairway door as voices carried up from the other side. She might as well get the conversation over with now given that their shared living quarters meant they wouldn’t be able to avoid each other. With a shove to unstick the old door, she prepared herself for Henry’s pity—or worse, his discomfort in the new knowledge of her predicament—but the door hit something, or someone, in the process.

  A groan came from the other side.

  Julia’s stomach dropped to her shoes. Oh no! She cringed and jerked the door back toward herself. Which one of them had she hit? Please say, Eisley, and not the handsome British stranger she’d already pounded with cupcakes.

  “Henry, are you okay?” Her sister’s question reverberated through the hallway and under Julia’s door with the concern she typically only used when one of her children was hurt.

  Julia gasped, then much more carefully, pushed open the door to see Henry bent forward with his hand to his face.

  “Oh my goodness!” Julia pressed her palm against her forehead. “Eisley, would you get some ice and a cloth from the kitchen?”

  Her sister rushed into motion.

  “Wes, if you would help Henry the rest of the way up the stairs, we’ll bring him into the sitting room to assess the damages.”

  Wes guided Henry to one of the twin leather seats by a window that boasted a view of sprawling farmland framed by azure mountains in the distance.

  “I’m so sorry, Henry.” Julia lowered herself to the stool in front of him, trying to see around his hand for a wound…or a possible busted nose. She groaned. For a year she’d talked wit
h her dad about switching which way that stairway door opened.

  A head wound would certainly justify some quick results…hopefully. This time.

  “I’m going to set my bags down,” Wes said, looking from one door on one side of the large sitting room and back to the other.

  Julia pointed to the left. “That’s the larger apartment through there, the one you and Henry have. Breakfast is here, by that lovely window seat where the small table and chairs are.”

  “Thanks, Julia.” He nodded toward Henry. “I’ll grab your bags too, mate, and be back directly.”

  Henry grunted and lowered his hand to reveal a large red welt developing up the right side of his nose to his forehead. Julia winced and raised her hand, almost as if to touch him, but curled her fingers into her palm instead. She’d caused enough damage already. And what was she doing considering touching the face of a stranger? Hadn’t she already looked like an idiot wiping cupcake icing up his nose?

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The mutual declaration dispersed the awkwardness in less than one second. Her hand dropped to her lap. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who tried to turn you into a pirate.”

  He stared at her for the longest time, one hand returning to cover his wounded eye, then his grin tipped again in that subtle way. Something inside her twittered alive.

  “About my assumption earlier. I didn’t know—”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

  “But I feel terrible.” A grimace creased his brow, and his healthy eye searched her face. The immediate tenderness about him scattered her reserve just a little. “What a horrible way to make a first impression.”

  “In your defense, you didn’t realize who I was. And I’m the one who clobbered you with cupcakes first.”

  “At least your introduction was… sweet?”

  She grinned at his pun, and his smile, and the way his unusually-colored eyes hesitated to meet hers before holding her gaze with a curiosity she found almost mesmerizing. The quiver in her chest sprouted wings and took off like a scared hummingbird.

  Attraction.

  Everything within her froze with a fear her mind wrestled to control as her heart pushed the panic button. Memories crashed, one by one, unbidden and violent. A first-kiss-turned-possession. A painful grip. Her useless pleas. Helplessness. She hadn’t felt attraction since Peyton, unless one counted the occasional swooning over romcom movie heroes.

  Henry is not Peyton. She breathed in and out, mentally reciting the mantra, before she pushed up from the seat and backed away a few steps, cramming on a smile. “Well, with the near-concussion with the door, I’d add bittersweet to the description. I’m so sorry.”

  His grin took a boyish turn. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate, but I never had the…” His attention turned toward the window as he quieted in thought.

  “Criminal record? Thirst for treasure?”

  “Gusto.”

  His answer shook loose her laugh, and her unease. “Gusto?”

  “Pirate music is always filled with such adventure and daring.” He shook his head, one palm raising as if in surrender. “I suppose I’m more of a “Moonlight Sonata” or Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude than a swashbuckling Badelt composition from—”

  “Pirates of the Caribbean.” Their gazes locked as they spoke in unison and the connection between them nearly buckled her. The softest strains of Someday My Prince Will Come emerged unbidden to her mind…complete with a violin solo.

  She’d never met another person who thought in music, and gave her head a little shake to dislodge the sudden fascination.

  “Here’s ice.” Eisley topped the stairs with an ice-filled Ziploc in her hand, her auburn hair bouncing around her shoulders in rhythm with her steps.

  Julia freed her clenched air as Henry’s attention shifted away from her. What had just happened? Her insides beat a drumroll inconsistent with Little One’s usual dance moves, which only left Henry as the culprit.

  A stranger from England who was only in town for two months as a guest of her sister’s boyfriend.

  And she was a seven-months-pregnant woman who wasn’t viable dating material for any man at the moment, even if she were interested. Which she wasn’t. So maybe they could simply be friends? She nodded to herself. Friends.

  Besides, no man would be romantically interested in a woman who was pregnant with another man’s baby.

  She was safe. Her breathing evened, and she ignored the contradictory disappointment. There was no doubt she needed to talk to her therapist about these yoyo emotions.

  Eisley bent in front of Henry and offered him the ice. “Whew, Henry, you’re gonna have a shiner.”

  His brows knitted together in confusion, and his gaze sought Julia’s for clarification. Those gold-green-blue eyes of his brightened, highlighted by the deepening hue of purplish-green surrounding the wounded eye. Poor man. “She means a black eye.”

  “Come on, Henry, it’s not so bad.” Eisley grinned, standing back up and offering Julia a conspiratorial wink. “Besides, I think you can probably work up a good story about how you got it, to make things interesting.”

  “Pardon?”

  Julia couldn’t help but smile at the clueless man. He really didn’t seem to have a sneaky thought in his head. She liked him even better. “Eisley, just because you’re writing fiction doesn’t mean the rest of us want to incorporate it into our lives.” Julia hoped her expression showed Henry the apology she felt—for the black eye and her sister’s lighthearted attempt to smooth things over. She’d probably reached some sort of world record for “apologies within the first half hour of meeting someone.”

  “Oh, where’s the adventure in getting a black eye from a door? You should have a little fun with it. If you can’t think of a good story, I bet Wes could help you create one.”

  “A good story for what?” Wes walked their way from his apartment as if striding along Hollywood Boulevard. No wonder he was an actor. The man wore handsome with the ease of his smile. Dark hair. Stormy blue eyes. Fatal grin. Julia’s smile spread. That her sister had literally fallen into the man’s life and eventually his heart made for its own amazing love story—an almost unbelievable one.

  Unlike her unenviable crash, burn, and nightmare.

  Julia’s palm rested on her stomach, protecting the little life from those hurtful memories. They always lingered near the surface, but the sting had become less painful as months separated her from the event. And hadn’t Eisley told her that God specialized in the impossible?

  “Henry’s black eye.” Eisley gestured toward him. “Something to impress my dad and brothers, maybe?”

  Wes looked from Henry to Julia, his eyes twinkling with a humor his lips hid. “Impress your dad and brothers? I’m not certain I have the skill set for such an endeavor, pet.”

  “Oh, Wes.” Eisley linked her arm through his, their endearing romance tugging at a forgotten ache in Julia’s chest. “If anyone can impress my dad, it’s you.”

  Wes drew in a deep breath, shrugged, and turned back to Henry. “Black eye or not, this evening we’re having dinner with the Jenkins family, and you’d best prepare yourself.”

  “Prepare myself?”

  Henry? And her dad?

  Oh dear. The poor guy looked utterly confused and a little concerned, which might have been an intelligent reaction. The same urge she felt to protect helpless animals surged to Henry’s defense. If she found her family overwhelming sometimes, how would a reticent stranger endure?

  Was Henry strong enough for such a shock? She examined his rounded eyes—well, eye—and sturdy shoulder. Maybe? Of course, after the cupcake collision and attempted decapitation, maybe she’d somewhat reinforced his constitution.

  “It’s going to be unreservedly…Appalachian.” Wes slanted a smirk in Eisley and Julia’s direction and left his friend in further bewilderment.

  Eisley laughed.

  Julia sighed. “Perhaps it won’t be so bad.” B
ut if Henry were as shy and quiet as he appeared to be, how could it be anything else?

  “What…What exactly does that mean?”

  Wes looked to the ceiling as if contemplating his words then shrugged with a good-natured smile. “In all honesty, Henry, as much as I’ve tried to tell you, words truly fail to describe the experience. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

  Henry’s textured gaze moved from Wes to Eisley and finally settled on Julia a lost look on his face. Perhaps he recognized an introvert-at-arms. Or maybe he, too, felt a connection he couldn’t describe.

  Oh dear Lord, help him.

  Maybe, just maybe, her dad would be on his best behavior.

  Of course, it was March Madness season…and madness carried a whole new connotation in her family.

  Chapter Three

  A cacophony of noise greeted Henry before he’d stepped onto the front stoop of Nate and Kay Jenkins’s charming colonial home. The scurry of sounds crashed in contrast to the late spring symphony of birdsong and the hushed brush of the wind through the newly budding trees. He almost asked to linger outside in the spring-chilled air to enjoy the unfamiliar music of nature in the Blue Ridge Mountains instead of spending the next few hours navigating the unpredictable world of social interactions.

  His mother berated him for his introversion, labeling him a people-hater, but it wasn’t so. He enjoyed people, especially familiar people—watching them, learning from them, sometimes having a mental chuckle at their antics—but finding words to say, participating in small talk, attempting to appear smart and engaging… He swallowed through his tightening throat. He’d never managed those experiences well, especially in a new place.

  Perhaps, Wes would ease the way with his natural friendliness and deflect a large portion of the attention, as he usually did. It proved beneficial during times like these to have an actor as one’s best mate.

  He squinted to clear the vision in his swollen eye as Eisley opened the front door of the house. A sudden burst of welcome pushed the volume in the room to a forte, and Henry’s tension took an upsurge. His feet froze in place while he observed. Chaos of people and noise engulfed him in dissonance. He even took a step back in retreat, but Eisley grabbed his arm and pulled him through the doorway into the massive foray of people. Wes had told him of Eisley’s large close-knit family, even shown him photos on Eisley’s social media page, but words, and even those snaps, failed to give an adequate depiction.