When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2) Page 7

Julia leaned against the pillows with a resigned smile, the reality of her situation settling deeper and deeper with each passing week. She was a mother. The thought pricked a memory, and she reached to the bedside table to retrieve her aunt’s letter.

  Seeing Millie’s familiar handwriting brought another squeeze of pain through her chest. Aunt Millie had been ready to leave this world—in fact, she’d carried an otherworldly look in her eyes as long as Julia had known her—but the loss of her still stung.

  Julia carefully peeled open the letter and reread its words.

  Dearest Julia,

  If you are reading this, I have quit my long life here on Earth for a more heavenly one. I knew it would be soon. I hoped it would be soon.

  Do not mourn me. My heart has longed to take its leave from this world for many years—especially since the loss of my dear Rosalyn. But God did not leave me comfortless with her death. In my sorrow He sent you, drawing me back into the land of the living, and I am daily grateful for your dear friendship to a woman nearly three times your age.

  As you peel apart the life I packed away within my house, you will uncover a different woman from the one you’ve always known.

  Julia paused each time she’d read that sentence. What had Aunt Millie meant? So far, all Julia had found were a few piano books, exquisite artwork, and an excellent collection of moth balls.

  Much like you, I was the benefactress of a wealthy family member—something unique for a young Appalachian girl of the time. He changed the trajectory of my life, spurring me into a direction very few every live, or survive. He saw giftedness and interest in me at an early age and funded my education in Europe. Whatever you discover about me, my dear, especially the surprises, do with them whatever you like. Hide them. Research them. Use them to benefit yourself, but, for my sake, keep them. The memories held within these walls need not go erased by time or unused by those who see them as dated. In hindsight, perhaps I should have told my story, but I’d protected it for so long, I wasn’t certain how to share it. Even with you.

  I pray that even in my absence my patchwork history will somehow encourage your heart to be braver than I was.

  I’m writing in riddles, aren’t I? Mysteries are hidden everywhere. In closet floorboards or hinged within secret nooks. You may even locate my dear Lucas’s love letters. Oh, what a find! All of them tell a remarkable story that I was privileged to live yet unable to finish.

  The best way for you to know him is through his letters. If you could have known him, you would have loved him. A quiet man, he felt emotions so deeply, with such a passion, that even now as I think of him I can feel the presence of his love as if decades were but days.

  And Rosalyn? Her laughter rang out more beautifully than any sonata. I feel certain that, when I join my beloved ones again, I shall find the end of the unfinished melody in my heart that has lingered over seventy years.

  Julia wiped at a stray tear and looked out the window into the night. What a love! A quiet, gentle man with a fiercely loyal heart. She imagined her parents knew such devotion— even if her dad’s display of affection came on more like a bear attack than a prince charming.

  Did Julia have a chance to find such a love too? Had this tragedy stolen not just her innocence but also her future?

  The paper pinched in her hands, drawing her attention back to the words even as the ache in her heart stung with a deeper longing. But her aunt spoke to that ache.

  May what you uncover, my dear Julia, bring you hope in the middle of your pain—hope for a steadfast love, no matter how brief or unexpected. Pain, loss, and grief are all dreadfully commonplace in our world. But love? It is rare enough that those from the wealthiest of kings to the poorest of paupers spend lifetimes in search of it.

  As I write this, I pray you will do more with your pain than I did. You will rise above it and truly live your life. Love gives us courage to be brave. It is the spine beneath our faltering to keep us from falling despite the circumstances.

  May God bring you a man of such steadfast, tender, and furious love, and may you live long with him, far beyond what I had with Lucas.

  And do not be afraid to capture the dreams God has placed within you, dear Julia.

  With Him, be brave and finish your story well.

  Amelia

  Dream? Be brave? She folded the letter and closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall. Brave was the last thing she felt. Each night she checked three times that the doors were locked, just to be sure. Nightmares woke her in a cold sweat— not as much as they used to, but enough that she could hardly claim her past didn’t come back to haunt her. The most unexpected paranoias would surface out of nowhere, and she’d have to convince herself Peyton wasn’t following her or waiting in the shadows.

  Brave? Not a chance.

  She placed the letter on her nightstand and turned off the lamp, rolling onto her side as she stuffed her body pillow into position around her bountiful baby curves.

  Bravery is stepping into your fears and finding the strength to keep walking. Her granny’s words whispered through her mind like a reminder from God.

  A vision of playing music with Henry vied to contradict her inner statement. Could that simple moment be an act of bravery?

  She rubbed her cheek into her pillow and stared out the window, its frame haloed with pale street lamps. Taking on the sale of her great-aunt’s house on her own? Was that brave?

  Having papers drawn up to sell the bakery to her cousin Amy?

  Keeping this baby? She sighed. The biggest fear of them all, but a decision forged within her very being.

  Maybe…maybe she did have some courage. A little.

  She summoned the courage to step into her reconstructed life—and her reassembled dreams—with an even stronger hope. She’d hidden in the kitchen of the bakery for months, stayed shrouded by her family at church without getting involved in the group she once knew, and walked through Pleasant Gap’s streets with her head down, all while carrying shame she hadn’t earned.

  She fisted the pillow against her chest.

  “Lord, help me be brave.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Are we going to eat lunch with the Jenkins family every Sunday?” The twinge of a whining timbre in Henry’s voice belied the force he’d applied to curb his slight annoyance.

  Wes’s laugh did nothing to alleviate Henry’s agitation. “You’d best be glad I dissuaded them from us joining for Friday Burger Night as well.” His friend’s gaze remained on the narrow road ahead as they weaved up a hillside to the Jenkinses’s home. Barely budding trees, in white, lined the drive, welcoming them toward the house of chaos like a contradiction. “As I understand it, they engage in family games such as American football.”

  Henry cringed.

  “Wii bowling.”

  Who were these people?

  “And even Twister.”

  Henry pinched his eyes closed. The idea of participating in such activities with strangers—even if he had become slightly more familiar with them over the past week— nearly had him crawling out of his skin. Good heavens, the Jenkins family was unlike any he’d met in all his life. “I suppose I should thank you for only Sundays.”

  “I know they’re a polar opposite to your family, and somewhat different from mine, but if you spend enough time with them, you’ll realize the same qualities you love about my family can be found in the Jenkinses, only a little less…”

  “Refined?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And they’re incredibly demonstrative.”

  “Some of them.” Wes chuckled. “Though Julia is more like you, I think.”

  Henry looked back out the window, the tall colonial coming into view, a spray of mountains outlined over the tree line in the distance. “She is the quietest of the bunch, isn’t she?”

  “And she is fond of music.”

  Henry focused on Eisley’s three children, who were running about in the front garden, but his thoughts strayed t
o the piano duet he’d played with the beautiful blonde a few nights before. Another tangible connection. How could he feel as though he knew Julia so well already? “Yes.”

  The car came to a stop, and Eisley’s brood ran toward them, screaming Wes’s name like the fans from his latest hit movie. Henry couldn’t stop his chuckle. Perhaps there were benefits to bombastic affection. Henry had always been fond of kid-hugs, as Eisley called them.

  “And,” Wes added as he exited the car, “she’s entirely single.”

  The inuendo jabbed Henry in the chest like a sudden forte to his ears. Was Wes mad? How on earth could he even suggest such a thing? It was nonsensical. Impossible.

  Besides, Henry had made a mess of his romantic life and shamed his family enough.

  He ran a hand through his hair, watching through the car window as Wes greeted the children.

  How could Henry have gotten involved with a married woman? How hadn’t he known she was married? Or fallen for a woman whose heart quickly transferred to his younger brother? An event put on public display because of her high-profile life. The heat of both scandals still stung his face with a fresh coat of shame. He’d allowed his natural compassion for a woman in need to turn into a trap on both accounts. Women saw him as an easy target, his mother said. Easily manipulated.

  He released a sigh and opened the car door. All he wanted was someone genuine—authentically his. Someone who cared for him, not his family’s position or the financial stability he could provide.

  But he was a miserable judge when it came to damsels in distress, and how could he trust his own choices with such a track record? He raised his eyes to the sky as he exited the car. Lead me not into temptation…unless it’s not temptation at all but the right choice. Help me have clear vision.

  Within five minutes Eisley’s children and their cousin, Clay, had pulled Henry into a game of tag— a great diversion from the house full of adults. Children were easy conversationalists. They enjoyed talking, which suited Henry just fine. He preferred listening.

  Emily wound her way into Henry’s heart within seconds. She was the underdog, of course, being the youngest, so he had to take her side. Her tiny stature ensured almost no chance against the competition, so Henry swept her onto his back, and they played as a team.

  “I thought for sure Emily bein’ on your back would slow you down,” Nathan said, frozen in position from a tag. “But I think you’re faster than Uncle Greg. Where’d you get your reason for speed?”

  Henry grinned at the little boy, whose circle-shaped spectacles gave him a bookish-charm and adjusted a giggling Emily on his back. “Reason for speed?”

  “Mama says most folks who run really fast have had practice runnin’ from or to something.” Nathan grinned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “She says Uncle Greg got his speed runnin’ after girls.”

  Henry’s brows shot high and a burst of laughter erupted from deep inside him. “Perhaps mine was running from them.”

  Nathan nodded and crossed his arms. “They’re awful scary, if you ask me.”

  Henry’s grin faded as he assessed a little truth behind his admission. He ran from failure, from conflict, from repeating a disaster.

  A movement on the porch drew his attention. Julia stood there, one hand shading her eyes from the sun, lavender dress blowing in the gentle breeze. Wes’s comment lit within him.

  Weaving in between his fear and his anxiety came the softest strains of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, building hope from a single instrument of what could be…perhaps. He shook his head. No—romance was probably the last thing she wanted after her ordeal.

  But what if you’re wrong? What if you are what she needs? The questions came out of nowhere. The possibility.

  He jerked his attention back to the boys as if they’d said something. Emily squeezed her hands around his neck and snuggled close.

  “I have been frozen for…eee…vver.” Ginger-headed Pete’s volume increased as he squirmed in place. “If you don’t unfreeze me, I’ll never get to eat Aunt Julia’s banana pudding. Eee…ver. And then it will all be gone, and I’ll have to settle for crackers—or worse, green beans.”

  Nathan leaned in, his eyes twinkling with enough mischief to resurface Henry’s grin. “Pete really thinks he’s frozen.”

  Henry gestured with his chin toward the younger boy. “Then the right sort of chap would immediately go and unfreeze your brother to end his torment.”

  Nathan hesitated, as if weighing Henry’s words, and then sighed. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

  “Supper’s ready, y’all.” Kay joined Julia on the front porch, mimicking her daughter’s contented pose, bent at the waist—or as far as Julia could go with her extended abdomen—and arms relaxed on the porch railing.

  “And now would be the opportune time, mate.”

  Nathan nodded and gave Henry a long look. “Wes calls me ‘mate’ sometimes. I like it.”

  Henry warmed all the way down to his toes. “It’s a good word…mate.”

  Nathan smiled and ran off to free his brother, and Emily wiggled so far up Henry’s back that she nearly sat on his head. The giggle she released while he spun her around into his arms brought a wonderful staccato pulse to his heart. Laughter, freedom, conversation… Kids were so much easier than adults.

  “I think I should call you a monkey.”

  Emily’s wide blue eyes grew wider. “I not a montey. I Mimily.”

  “Well, Mimily, we’d best get inside before your mother thinks you’ve been frozen too.”

  The boys joined Henry on a march across the lawn. The silence of the spring day disappeared before they even crossed the threshold of the house. Even after a week to prepare himself, he still hadn’t built up enough stamina to make it through the Jenkins family’s boisterous conversations and ready physical contact without feeling a little terrified and somewhat exhausted.

  “You’ve got such a way with the kids, Henry.” Eisley walked over to him and snatched a reluctant Emily.

  He crossed his arms over his chest at the loss of his child-barrier and shrugged. “I always volunteered to take the children during family gatherings.”

  “Ah, an escape plan.” Eisley winked. “Well, I’m grateful for any time you want to take my wild ones outside. Disappear from the crowd all you like. If they stay inside for too long, they become much less angelic in their behavior.”

  Henry followed Eisley to the crowded table, taking a spot between Greg and....Eisley. An escape plan, indeed.

  “Time for grace.” Nate’s deep voice roared over the throng of voices, and within a second, silence fell over the entire crowd. Even the children stopped wriggling in their seats—almost like magic.

  Another anomaly Henry puzzled over. Faith flowed naturally, as much a part of this family as Southern cooking and colorful narratives.

  “Have you had much of a chance to explore Pleasant Gap, Henry?”

  Henry looked up from examining the contents of his plate post-prayer to meet Kaye’s smile. A white concoction of chicken and bread waited for his taste buds’ discovery, but after trying the goulash from last week, he entered this meal-adventure with more trepidation. “The movie site allows for a great deal of opportunity to walk the countryside. It’s truly beautiful.”

  Kaye nodded her appreciation, the warm glow of welcome in her blue eyes so similar to Julia’s that Henry glanced in her direction. Julia’s gaze locked with his as she took a drink of her iced tea.

  Surely Wes couldn’t be serious in his implication.

  “No better place than here in our mountains.” Nate pushed a bowl of something that resembled dark green leaves toward him, the man’s attention flipping from Henry to his daughter then back again. “Here, try ya some collards.”

  Collards? “Thank you.” He forced the reply and spared Wes a look, but his best mate apparently couldn’t hide his enjoyment at Henry’s discomfort over this new food. Ah…he was enjoying a scene he most likely experienced himself only a fe
w months before.

  “You’ll want to douse them in vinegar, Henry.” Greg pointed with his fork at the bowl of damp-looking leafy greens. “Ain’t no better way to eat creasies than with a good dose of vinegar.”

  Wes’s brow raised to new heights, and Henry’s stomach dropped to the depths. Adventurous in his imagination? Certainly. In his eating? Not so much.

  “Be kind to the poor guy, boys.” Eisley tugged the bowl away from Henry. “You’ve already given him enough chicken and dumplings to last three days. One introduction to Southern cooking at a time.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with southern cooking.” Nate seared Henry with a glance— at least it felt like a searing glance, though there might have been a twinkle involved. “Best kind there is. It’ll put hair on your chest, boy.”

  Henry’s face blanched cold. “P-pardon?”

  “Daddy!” Sophie shook her head and took a bite of potatoes.

  Greg laughed and nodded in vigorous agreement. Wes’s brow crooked. Kaye pinched her eyes closed. And finally, Henry’s attention fastened on Julia, who stared wide-eyed at her father.

  “What? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a man bein’ proud of how he’s made and the good food that gets him there.” Nate peered around the table as if everyone else had said something amiss then shoveled another bite of food into his mouth.

  “Daddy, I am certain English cooking did a fine job in forming Henry. It…it probably added a sufficient amount of chest hair.”

  All eyes turned to Julia, and the shock within him from seconds before pretzeled into an untamable grin. She was bumbling through a defense for him. He knew the cost of that.

  Her gaze met his at about the time she seemed to realize what she’d said aloud to everyone in room. “Um… I mean…”

  “Ain’t no reason he couldn’t add more,” Nate responded, completely unaware of the redness rushing into Julia’s cheeks. He sat up straighter. “Good taters, hon.”

  Greg chuckled, and Eisley’s eyes glittered with some unvoiced humor she seemed to share with Wes.

  “I’m…I’m here for research, Nate,” Henry offered, tugging the bowl of creasies toward his own plate and making sure to draw as much attention away from the pink-cheeked blonde as he could. Julia’s defense would not go in vain. “May as well go all in, don’t you think?”