Dead air followed Julia’s greeting as Henry applied the sight to memory, but her puzzled expression forced his thoughts into words. “Hello.”
Brilliant, old chap. Smooth.
“You’ll never believe what I’ve found.” She grabbed his hand with her free one and pulled him down the hall and up the stairs, Rose’s eyes attempting to take in the wild shift of scenes from her perch at Julia’s shoulder.
His heart nearly exploded out of his chest. How could he have missed a tiny human he’d only just come to know?
“I opened the box.” Julia’s shoulders rose with the wrinkle-nosed grin she tossed over her shoulder. The casual knee-length dress she wore hung loose against her body but displayed her post-baby curves. Oh, this was new.
Henry pulled his attention back to her face. “You did?”
“I did.” She squealed. “And I can’t wait to share it with you. It doesn’t answer all of our questions, but a few blanks have been filled in at least.”
She tugged him through the door of her apartment and into a light-filled room and the scent of peaches. A small red sofa sat in the middle of the room with a matching chair and ottoman to its right, just in front of a window-seat. A round dining table stood behind the couch and led through a doorway into a kitchenette. To the back left a half-open door revealed the end of a bed. A mismatched coffee table with intricate carvings waited atop a decorative rug covering hardwoods, and various paintings and portraits covered the walls, bringing the room together in an eclectic way. It felt quaint and comfortable and warm.
“Let me get the box so you can see.” She moved to the desk against the wall and attempted to navigate the box while holding Rose at the same time.
He rushed to her side. “Allow me to help.”
“Thank you. I’m just so excited.” Instead of giving him the box, she placed Rose into his arms as if it were the most natural thing to do. Rose’s bright eyes found his and tightened the connection he already felt with the little one.
“Go, go sit on the couch.”
He followed the direction Julia waved and turned Rose so her head rested in the crook of his arm. Her little fingers shot out, gripping at his shirt until she captured a handful. “I’m happy to see you too, duck,” he whispered. “I think you’ve grown.”
“Okay, so…” Julia stopped in her walk toward the couch, papers in both hands, and her expression softened. “It’s good to see you, by the way.”
The way she looked at him sparked a triumphant fanfare of the classic Superman theme through his mind. He had the sudden urge to stand and place both hands on his hips like the bold, daring hero she inspired in him, but refrained from launching himself off the couch. He’d always been more the Clark Kent-ish sort.
Could a beautiful heroine ever fall for a Clark Kent? He hoped so in this story. “Are you back to stay?”
She nodded and moved a few steps closer. “I need to learn how to do this on my own.”
He looked down at Rose. “I’ll be happy to help in any way, while I’m here.”
Her smile fell, and she shook her head as if to remove whatever thought dampened her joy. She took her place beside him. Shoulder-to-shoulder. “We have almost three weeks left, right?”
“Indeed, we do.”
She drew in a deep breath, studying his face. “Then let’s not waste any time.”
Perhaps Clark Kent could get the girl after all. “Let’s not.”
She turned back to the papers on her lap and began showing him all she’d uncovered, one piece at a time. “And this was her wedding ring, I think.” She held up the piece of jewelry. “Isn’t it beautiful? Classy and elegant, just like her.”
“Lucas must have known her well.”
“It seems there was a deep bond between them, doesn’t it? I mean, she wasn’t an old woman at all when she came back to the States, yet she never sought another romance.”
“Was he ever found?”
She shifted through the papers and tilted a letter for him to view. “This letter from Emmeline is the most recent thing in this box except for her obituary. She died twenty years ago, just two weeks after the date on this letter and, at that time, they still hadn’t found anything, but Emmeline’s obituary gives us some answers to the questions we had about Lucas’s history.”
She pulled out an aged newspaper clipping. “Like we thought, Emmeline married a Sweitzer, but it appears she kept her maiden name.”
“Uncommon for the time.”
“Sounds like she was pretty uncommon all around. From the other bits of information I’ve found, she was Lucas and Millie’s contact when they’d gathered intel. Evidently, she was high up in British Intelligence, but her husband’s citizenship status was questioned when war broke out, and he was sent back to Germany.” She raised a finger and brow. “That’s when Lucas used his connection to his father to gain access into Germany, which somehow allowed him to navigate between the two countries.”
“An excellent position for a spy.”
“Exactly.” She stacked the papers back together. “And when he found Aunt Millie, they made the perfect team. She knew music better than him and had the fame, and they fell in love.”
“Through music.” Henry pulled the wiggling Rose onto his shoulder, closer to Julia.
“Through music,” Julia whispered, her gaze staying in his, silencing his doubts on whether someone like her would ever be interested in someone like him. Light from the window played over golden hair his fingers tingled to touch.
“I wonder if anything has been recovered in the past twenty years?”
“I don’t know.” Julia ran a finger down Rose’s cheek and looked back at him. “Maybe when I come to England for Wes and Eisley’s engagement party, we could find out.”
“You’re coming? For certain?”
Her gaze found his again, answering more with her eyes than her words, saying what he wanted to hear. “I’ve always wanted to see England.”
He couldn’t tame his grin. “I’ll show you as much as I can.”
“I’d like that.”
“And perhaps you can contact the War Office to find out if there is anything else to learn about your aunt or Lucas.” Rose began to wiggle in his arms.
“That’s a great idea.” She leaned into the couch and reached for Rose, who’d begun to make a frustrated sniffing noise like a balloon releasing bursts of air. “Listen to that. It’s her warning huff.”
“Her warning huff?”
“That she’s hungry.”
The words then the implication clinked into place. His cheeks heated, and he shot to his feet. “Yes, of course. Excuse me.”
“Henry?”
He turned at the sweet way she said his name. “Yes, dove?”
Her teeth skimmed over her bottom lip with her grin, her shoulders scrunching. “May I make dinner for you tomorrow night?”
Again, the question took longer to process than it ought. Was she… “A…date type of dinner?”
She narrowed her eyes with a tilt of her head, moving a ‘huffing’ Rose to her shoulder. “If you’d like it to be a date type of dinner.”
“I’m hoping for that general date-like direction.”
Her smile bloomed. “Oh, I think a date is long overdue, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
O f course!
Julia finally gets to have a date with Henry Wright, and her daughter doesn’t sleep the entire night. In fact, her little sweetheart seemed dead set on stealing Julia’s rest with a gusto that probably woke Wes, Henry, and Clark Summers in the shoe shop next door. She attempted to calm her little one by every means she knew, but even after a thorough Google search and a phone call to Granny Lewis, nothing worked. And, of course, after her adorable little leech finished eating again for the twentieth time in twelve hours—or so it seemed—she snuggled close and fell asleep just in time for the bakery downstairs to open for business.
Well, at least one of them would get some sleep before her date this e
vening.
A crash in the dining room below woke Rose not an hour after she’d finally gotten into a good sleep. Julia groaned. The last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep during dinner with Mr. Wright. The thought gave her a much-needed snicker.
After several diaper mishaps and Rose refusing to sleep, Julia decided to use the time to go to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. Not a good idea for a half-awake human.
Had she pick up salted butter instead of unsalted? Yes. Had she forgotten to brush her hair? As a matter of fact, yes—and had conveniently forgotten a jacket for the blistering, late March afternoon.
Oh, and another new mother note: Nursing pads aren’t as thick as they ought to be.
She winced at the memory of what had become of her blouse in the middle of the produce section. Not pretty. Or comfortable. After spending over an hour driving around Pleasant Gap so Rose would take at least one nap, Julia pulled into the bakery parking in the back and prayed for a little time to prepare for this momentous occasion.
Surely God realized how big a deal this date was, right?
“Do you need help?”
The rich timbre of the British accent stopped Julia mid-grab, hand hovering over the Italian bread. Please, Lord, no. He’d seen her give birth—well practically. Couldn’t she look non-pregnant pretty for him to make up the difference, especially on a first date night?
She nearly whimpered, and tried to hide her bare face and puffy eyes behind one of the grocery bags, but a hint of a purple cat pajama sleeve caught her attention. Yep. She was in her pjs. How did that even happen?
Charming.
“Are you all right?”
“Umm…yes.” She kept one of the bags up like a little bandit handkerchief and looked at her daughter, who yawned and then began the hungry huff. “Would you mind grabbing her from her car seat for me while I take in these bags?”
Because that would give her time to run into the apartment and grab a jacket, or something, to cover her shirt stains. Maybe even change? Unlikely.
“Of course.”
She didn’t wait for him but covered her blouse with a much heavier bag and scurried off toward her apartment, closing herself in the pantry with the groceries. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than the bottom of the bag in her right hand broke. Flour hit the ground and exploded in a cloud of white, shocking her backwards into the pantry shelf, which knocked her canister of elbow pasta over so that the uncooked shells rained down on top of her already-disheveled and now-powdery hair.
She almost sobbed. In fact, her nose began to tingle with the hint of an incoming cry-fest.
Footfalls sounded from the kitchen. “Julia?”
She caught her gasp with her palms and took stock of her appearance in the back of the frying pan she had hanging against the wall. White puffs hovered around her and highlighted her face and hair…oh, and her hair! The high ponytail she’d quickly made before getting groceries had sunk to one side, leaving a poof of hair on the other that seemed to have become a little bowl for elbow pasta.
“Julia?” Henry’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Umm…I’m just putting groceries away.”
“What if you allow me to do that for you so you can take care of Rose?”
The pantry doorknob turned but she caught it between both of her hands. “No, no, no. Don’t come in.”
A pause followed as she tried to pick pasta from her hair. “Please tell me what’s wrong, dove.”
The entreaty and sweet concern in his voice broke something in her. Everything hit at once, weighing her down in some weird sort of emotional hurricane she couldn’t stop. She’d failed at motherhood. Failed at trying to plan a date-night. Even failed to get dressed like an adult, for goodness’ sake. How on earth could she ever consider dating, if she couldn’t…She looked down at her feet, and tears swam into her vision. Couldn’t even wear matching slippers?
She was such a date-failure.
“Julia?” The doorknob turned again, and this time, she didn’t catch it in time. He stood in the doorway, staring at her in all her flour-covered glory as Rose huffed in the background.
“The bag broke and the flour spilled out everywhere,” she managed to say before catching her sob in her hands and squeezing her eyes closed. “Then the noodles…”
Complete silence surrounded them.
Oh no. He’d walked away. And why not? Her tear streaks probably made her look like the Jack Nicholson version of the Joker. She peered through her fingers, bracing herself for an empty doorway, but strong arms and the warmth of Henry-vanilla wrapped themselves around her. Oh, how sweet. Which only caused her to sob even more, right into his wonderfully comfortable shoulder.
Rose’s huffs had turned into little bursts of discontent from the other room. Now Julia was failing her baby, too. She wept harder into his shoulder. “Rose…she didn’t sleep at all last night. Then I wore pajamas to the grocery and…and…” She sniffled. “I bought salted butter for a flourless torte. Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re tired.” His soft voice smoothed over her as comforting as his arms around her. “You don’t have to make dinner for me tonight. You need to rest.”
She pushed back from him, shaking her head, tears scratching her throat. “But I want to make you dinner.” She wiped at her face, her bottom lip quivering with another need to cry. “Don’t you want me to make you dinner?”
He opened his mouth to answer, closed it, and started again. “Of course I do, but we can reschedule.”
She returned her cheek to his shoulder, and he brushed a hand through her hair, knocking some of the pasta onto the floor with the movement. She cringed and burrowed deeper into him. Maybe she was dreaming, and she’d wake up from a full night’s sleep with an excellent makeup-free skin tone and effortless, flour-free hair.
Rose’s cries grew in desperation, and Julia’s body responded to the plea. She pushed back from him. All she needed to top off this day was another milk leakage—this time on Henry’s shirt. Stellar girlfriend material, for sure.
Nobody warned her about things like this. She folded her arms across her chest to shield any…surprises.
“I have an idea.” He cradled her shoulders with his palms. “You feed Rose, then I’ll take her while you rest and cook dinner. When you’re ready, come collect us?”
Julia dried her eyes with the backs of her fingers, examining him. He didn’t look at her like she resembled the Ghost of Christmas Past. “You…You’d do that?”
“I’ll do much more if you need me to.”
A small smile drifted upward at his words. She pushed her hair back from her face with a sniffle, determined to let him see the happiness he’d brought her— until bits of pasta scattered to the floor. Her smile plummeted into a cringe. “I’m sorry.” She looked away from him. “I know I’m a disaster.”
Without hesitation, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her head, her folded arms pinned between them. With gentle guidance he led her out of the pantry and toward the screaming baby in the next room.
“I’ll be in my room when you’re ready.” He headed for the apartment door then paused. “And, dove?”
“Yes?”
“I want to be a part of your life. Crying babies, salted butter, flour, and all.”
∞ ∞ ∞
A shower, a half-hour nap, and some ‘prettying’ up later, Julia felt alive again. She even had time to get her dinner dishes cooking in the oven, all the while listening for Rose’s cries from somewhere in the building. A nap and shower had never made her feel like Wonder Woman before. She even tried on one of her favorite floral belted dresses and, low and behold, it fit. A little snug post-baby, but not too bad.
Salad made. Casserole cooking. Dessert cooling in the refrigerator. Now, time to collect her date.
She released her hair from its clips and let it fall loose around her shoulders. For the first time in a long time, even after her crying fit in the pan
try, she felt like herself—but a new self, ready for a new journey.
And she wanted Henry to be a part of this journey with her.
With a quick check on the casserole, Julia left the apartment and scanned the sitting room between the two residences. Empty. She walked through the area and raised her hand to knock on Wes and Henry’s apartment door, but the quiet strains of the piano downstairs paused her. Only the treble side of the instrument sounded, but the music pulled her toward the first floor.
The sight as she peered into the music room stole every doubt about Henry Wright from her mind. Henry sat on the piano bench, his right hand playing a simple tune while he cradled Rose in the crook of his left arm. He hummed along with the music, adding in a few words. She’d never heard the melody before. Celtic, perhaps? About a cat?
She slid a step closer without catching his attention and noticed Rose’s bright eyes staring with rapt wonder up into Henry’s face. Julia pressed her fist to her chest, tears blurring her vision. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. He was wonderful.
She drew in a breath and took another step into the room, but his attention was so focused on her daughter, he didn’t notice Julia’s approach. At that moment, with Rose cradled in Henry’s arm, Julia gave her heart to him without one reservation.
Be brave, Julia. Let him know how you feel.
Without making a sound, she slid beside him onto the piano bench. His fingers paused on the keys. Her breath stilled. Then he continued the melody and song as he scooted over to give her more room.
She pinched her hands together in her lap and, with a sigh of sweet resignation, leaned her head against his shoulder. Everything clicked into place. Her eyes closed, and her heart nestled into the acceptance of this belonging.
She loved him.
Rose began making smacking noises with her lips, a definite sign that their privacy was coming to a speedy close, even with the charm of the pianist. He brought the piece to a close, but Julia waited, breathing in his warm vanilla scent and the new freedom in embracing her feelings. “What was the song?”
His shoulder shifted slightly at her question but not enough to change her position against him. “One my grandmother used to sing.” His deep voice percolated over her skin, a tender invitation filled with such affection that she slid a little closer just to be near him.
When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2) Page 24
