by Loree Lough
Shut up, Julia. Just zip your lip! He already knew more about her than most, thanks to William and Hannah. “So what’s the sad and sordid story of how you ended up with these guys?”
“Windy blew into my life about two years ago,” he said, “when some heartless fools dumped her and a couple of her littermates on the side of the road. Couldn’t save the others, but this one…” Simon bent to scratch between the calico’s ears. “This one had a real will to live.”
He told her how the cat had sustained deep gashes along the entire left side of her body and suffered a broken jaw when, after being tossed from a speeding car, she’d landed hard on the Route 30. Tears sprang to Julia’s eyes when Simon said that to save her life, he’d been forced to amputate half of Windy’s tail and two of her toes.
The passage of time hadn’t dulled his anger at the so-called humans who’d thrown her away like yesterday’s garbage. Fury darkened Simon’s face as his green eyes flashed and the muscles of his jaw bulged. Julia didn’t doubt for a minute that if Windy’s cruel and callous former owners stood before him now, they’d get a taste of their own medicine, doled out by the fists balled tight at his sides.
“And what about this big friendly goof?” she said, hoping Wiley’s story wasn’t quite as horrifying.
Simon’s broad shoulders slumped. “His former owner was a breeder. German Shorthaired Pointer pups routinely sell for a couple thousand bucks apiece because they’re excellent bird dogs. Trouble was,” he said, crouching to wrap the dog’s neck in a hug, “this big friendly goof is gun-shy.”
“So the breeder gave him up just because of that?”
Something akin to a growl passed Simon’s lips. “Not before he tried to beat ‘gun-shy’ out of the whole litter.” He pointed. “If you look at Wiley straight on, you’ll notice that his jaw is crooked, because that…that beast broke it. God only knows how. Or with what. And he didn’t even bother to rearrange the bones afterward. Same goes for every other part of Wiley that he cracked or smashed—ribs, legs, toes, all healed on their own.”
Julia cringed and gasped as her arms joined Simon’s in a huge hug for Wiley. “Oh, how horrible!” she whispered. “I can’t even imagine how much agony he must have been in.” She met Simon’s gaze, unashamed for the first time in a long time of the tears that flowed freely from her eyes. “Is he still in pain?”
“Nah. He’s on daily megadoses of glucosamine and chondroitin, very good stuff for healing old damage and preventing future wear and tear.” Simon kissed the bridge of Wiley’s nose and got a big “thank you” lick in response. “I figure all that abuse shaved three to five years off his life. A dog like this oughta last twelve, minimum, so I aim to make whatever time he’s got left the best it can be.”
Sitting this way, with their arms wrapped around Wiley and their faces were mere inches apart, they were close enough that Julia could see flecks of blue and brown in Simon’s sea green eyes. And why hadn’t she noticed before that his eyelashes were long and lush and inky black? He must spend a lot of time in the sun, because didn’t most blonds have lashes that matched their hair?
Windy chose that moment to join the group and leaped onto Wiley’s back. Julia stared into the cat’s round golden eyes and sent a silent Thank you for the distraction. Something told her that if she had continued looking into Simon’s beautiful face a moment longer, she might have given in to the temptation to kiss him. Not a romantic kiss, but one that would tell him what a good and decent man she believed him to be.
When the grandfather clock in his foyer chimed, announcing the seven o’clock hour, Simon got to his feet. “Guess we’d better head out,” he said, dusting fur from his trousers, “if we don’t want to be late.”
“You’ll probably think I’m nuts,” she said, standing, “but what would you think of having dinner here? If you have eggs, I can whip us up an omelet….”
His brows drew together. “Why would you want to do that? The Rainbow Dinner Theatre is a great place.”
“Oh, I know, but”—she glanced at the pets, flanking him like fuzzy statues, looking from their master to his guest, as if they knew what she was about to propose—“but after hearing those stories, I can’t ask you to leave them.” Meeting his eyes squarely, Julia added, “They need you far more than we need to be entertained by the actors at the Rainbow.” She grinned. “But I’ll gladly take a rain check on that, because I hear—”
“Julia,” he said quietly, “the eggs are in the fridge.”
Move, you ninny, she scolded. Get into the kitchen and start scrambling eggs before he figures out that you don’t just sound nuts and sends you packing! But her shoes seemed nailed to the floor, and she couldn’t make herself break the intense eye contact that connected her to him, and him to her.
Slowly, he reached out with both hands. To pull her close in a sweet embrace? To bracket her face so he could kiss her cheek? Heart hammering, Julia licked her lips, hoping for either, hoping for both. She wondered about the peculiar expression clouding his handsome face. Hannah and William had explained how, since his wife’s death, Simon often spoke of his yearning for a wife and kids to fill this big, beautiful house. Maybe, as the Gundens said, Simon’s loneliness and hers gave them a common bond. And maybe—
Gently, Simon tucked her hair behind her ears. “Such a pretty face,” he whispered.
She rested her hands upon his thick wrists and took a small step closer.
“Such soft hair, and—”
Two huffy barks and a drawn-out meow put an instant end to the magical moment. When he gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze, Julia heard the steady tick-tick-tick of his watch. She tapped it with a fingertip. “It makes quite a racket for such a little thing.”
A chuckle began deep in his chest, bubbling up and out until the delightful notes of masculine laughter filled the room. His mood was contagious, and Julia’s tears, shed moments earlier because his pets had endured such pain, now turned to joy. It quickly became one of those “the more you laugh, the more you want to laugh” moments. Weak-kneed, she leaned into him, felt his big arms encircle and support her, felt his warm breath on her cheek. For the second time in minutes, they were close enough to kiss, but this time, rather than hoping it would happen, Julia hoped it wouldn’t. Instead, she reveled in the pleasant feelings evoked by their harmonious laughter. It felt good. So good, in fact, that she wondered why she hadn’t gone searching for reasons to do it a hundred times a day!
Without warning, he went silent and stood perfectly still.
Still smiling but confused by the sudden change in his demeanor, she looked up, searching his face, his oh-so-amazing face…though she had no idea what she was searching for. Simon shook his head so quickly that if she’d blinked, she might not have noticed at all. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours? she wanted to ask. Why are you looking at me as if you just woke from a dream?
But before she could put her questions into words, he drew her closer—so close that not even the faint spring breeze puffing through the front screen door could have passed between them. Time, it seemed, had stopped. Even Windy and Wiley hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound. If she thought God would listen to her, Julia might have sent a prayer heavenward, asking Him to help her understand what was happening in this amazing moment, and why He’d sent this amazing man into her life.
But she’d called out to Him before, in times of fear and fierce turmoil, and He hadn’t answered. She had no reason to expect He’d respond to something as silly and unimportant as a budding romance…or whatever this was. Once again, she’d have to rely on her own wits if she hoped to puzzle out the meaning of—
Simon’s lips touched hers just then, in the merest hint of a kiss. She felt him tremble, and the tremor traveled from his fingertips to his shoulders. She felt his heart, beating hard beneath her hands. She’d never been in love before. A time or two she’d thought she had, only to discover, too late, that handsome faces and pretty words could be deceiving.
Disturbing. Dangerous.
The haunting memory of her deepest and darkest secret crashed into her like the foaming surf of a stormy sea, propelling her backward and off-balance, away from the safety of Simon’s arms, far from the risk of pain and shame.
She put her back to him and, staring at the plush square pattern carved into the navy area rug, pressed her fingertips into her temples. She shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t have accepted his dinner invitation. Shouldn’t have been lured by his kind words and gentle touch. Shouldn’t have—
“Julia,” he said, planting himself in her path, “look at me.” Tenderly, he cupped her chin in a palm. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
A ghost? If only! she thought, unable to maintain eye contact. In time, she might have convinced herself that ghosts didn’t exist, that what happened to her had been a hideous nightmare and nothing more. Might have found a way to explain away the grisly images etched deep into her brain and the angry ropelike scars that still glowed on her skin.
She sensed that Simon was a good and decent man. If the way wild wolves, his pets, and Amish friends reacted to him wasn’t proof enough of just how good and decent he was, she need only look into his face, brimming now with genuine concern, to know that he’d never harm her. Not intentionally, anyway.
William and Hannah’s sentiments echoed in her head: Simon is a lonely man, they’d said, who needs a loving wife, a woman who’d share his life and help him raise a house full of children.
Her life to date was fraught with misery, her heritage too shameful to inflict on a man like this. She’d known him less than a day, yet she knew Simon deserved a far better woman—one with a pure heart and a pure past.
Clearly, she was not that woman.
Windy wove a figure eight around her ankles, reminding her why she and Simon had come here. As if to add to the reminder, Wiley’s damp nose nudged her fingertips. She stooped and hugged them both. Focus on them, Julia told herself. The dog and cat, like the sanctuary’s wolves, offered unconditional acceptance and affection. Even if they’d known every gory detail about that night, it wouldn’t have mattered one whit.
Experience had taught her that to dwell on what had happened changed nothing, accomplished nothing, except to open the door to dark, brooding moods. So, yes, she’d focus on Windy and Wiley and on their master, who stood but a foot away, looking worried and bewildered and so concerned that something had upset her.
She had no right to expose him to the memory that had upset her. No right at all. That almost-kiss? It had to be their last. She’d be his friend—if he wanted another—but nothing more.
Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then rose and forced a bright smile. “Wow,” she said, dusting her hands together. “Guess that’ll teach you not to tell me sad stories about animal abuse!” A nervous giggle escaped her lungs. She took another deep breath to disguise it and grabbed Simon’s hand. “Now if you’ll show me the way to the kitchen, I’ll get busy on that omelet while you cancel our reservation.”
He had to hand it to her. Somehow with the meager ingredients in his refrigerator and pantry, she pulled together a hearty, rib-sticking meal. Onions, ham, and cheese made their way into the omelet; half a head of lettuce and two pucker-skinned tomatoes went into a delicious salad; and ordinary white bread, buttered and topped with spices, became crispy garlic toast. And in the short time it took for the omelet to go from yellow to golden, she’d whipped up a pitcher of home-brewed iced tea. Her biggest regret, she’d said, was that he didn’t have anything she could turn into dessert.
“Seems only fair,” he said once they’d loaded the dishwasher, “that I take you out for an ice cream.”
“Frozen custard?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You won’t have to twist my arm….”
Now, sitting side by side on the weatherworn bench of a hand-hewn picnic table outside the ice cream stand, they lapped chocolate-vanilla-twist cones.
He had let her lead the conversation while she cooked. Gave her control over their dinner conversation, too, because while whatever happened back there in his living room had piqued his curiosity, a mood swing like that…. Simon shook his head, knowing that what little he remembered from college psych classes couldn’t provide him with nearly enough insight to help her.
No question about it, Julia was in pain. Did his heart ache for her? Sure it did, and he’d hit his knees tonight—and every night from now on—asking God to heal her. What she didn’t need was some clown in a lab coat masquerading as a shrink. Oh, he’d check on her now and then, to make sure she was safe. What would that cost him, other than an hour here, an hour there, and a few gallons of gas—
“I used to have a machine,” she said, interrupting his reverie, “and a terrific recipe to make this same custard. After one of my moves, I looked and looked but couldn’t find them.” With a nonchalant wave of her hand, she added, “Oh well.”
“How many moves have there been?” The instant the words were out he regretted them, because only God knew what can of worms he’d opened this time.
Thankfully, Julia laughed. “You want the list in alphabetical or numerical order?”
“Lots, I take it.” Hopefully that would close the door on the topic.
“Eighteen, last time I counted, and that was before Lancaster.” Another shrug. “So counting Paradise, lots.”
It hadn’t escaped his notice that since her trip down memory lane, her smile looked a bit too wide…and never quite reached her lovely eyes. Or that her laughter—while there had been plenty of it—sounded too forced to be completely genuine. While he admired her attempt to cover the tracks left by the strange turn of events back at his place, Simon couldn’t help but wonder what was behind it all.
Maybe William or Hannah would know….
And maybe he’d better let sleeping bears lie.
A few years ago he’d vacationed in Alaska, where a pal who worked for the state’s Department of Fish and Game had let him traipse along on a “seek and find” mission. A grizzly, fitted with a tracking collar, had gone missing. Their assignment? Find the bear, tranquilize him, and replace the faulty collar. When they finally located the animal, miles from where he’d last been spotted, he was snoring in a shallow cave. Even after a full dose of knockout drugs, the beast had nearly torn the heads from two officers, one who probably still sported scars to remind him of his run-in with the once-snoozing bear.
Some lessons, Simon reckoned, come to a man for very good reasons.
“You don’t like frozen custard?”
He’d been so deep in thought that her words startled him. “What? No. Sure. I mean, I love the stuff.” He frowned. “Why?”
“Oh, I dunno,” she said, grinning. “Maybe because you haven’t said a word in five minutes, and…” She pointed, indicating his cone.
“Man, oh, man,” he complained, grabbing a napkin to sop up the drippy mess his melting ice cream made on the table.
“Guess I’m not the only one who pays occasional visits to la-la land.” And to underscore her meaning, she hummed the Twilight Zone theme.
He tossed the soggy napkin into a nearby trash can. “I read someplace that deep thinkers like us are smarter than the average bear.”
“Really.”
He nodded. “Really.”
“Well, don’t that just beat all.”
“What…?”
“I always figured that people who completely zone out were a little, you know….” She drew tiny circles in the air beside her temple. “Not that it’s a bad thing, necessarily. Though I guess admitting that it’s a bad thing would be the same as saying ‘I’m loopy as a bedbug! Take me away, men in white coats!’”
She got a kick out of her little joke, so much so that Simon couldn’t help laughing, too. Hard to believe how someone so lovely—inside and out—could harbor a secret so haunting it had the power to change the very atmosphere in a room. He’d come this close to kissing her. Really kissin
g her.
Who was he kidding? He had kissed her. Would’ve kept right on kissing her, too, if his four-legged interlopers hadn’t barged in. And if she hadn’t backed away as if he’d attacked her.
He forced himself to focus on the fact that God knew what was best for her—and for him, as well. Simon saw the interruption as a sign from above that the Almighty hadn’t granted permission for them to forge a relationship. At least, not of the romantic kind. And so He’d inspired an intrusion to remind them both to ask for divine guidance before embarking on journeys of the heart.
Pity, he thought, grinning to himself, because Julia’s lips had tasted every bit as good as they’d felt, and that was saying a mouthful.
Sorry, Lord, he prayed, no pun intended.
“You look like the Cheshire cat,” she said.
“Who?”
“You know, from Alice in Wonderland?”
“You’re not gonna believe this, but I’ve never seen that cartoon.”
“Read the book?”
“Nope.”
“So in addition to being a la-la land visitor, you’re illiterate, to boot.”
The rich warm tones of her laughter touched a chord in his heart. As much as he’d loved his wife, he’d never shared goofy jokes with her, never traded teasing barbs, never laughed until his jaws and his sides ached. Not with Georgia. Not with any other woman, for that matter. Was this a sign that he’d misread God’s signal about him and Julia?
Julia snapped her fingers. “Earth to Simon, Earth to Simon….”
Chuckling, he said, “Sorry.”
“Don’t come down to Earth on my behalf,” she said. “I think you’re kinda cute, staring off into space that way. It’s just…” Again she pointed, indicating his ice cream-covered hand. “If you’re not gonna eat that thing, well, I’ve finished mine, so give it to me!” She crinkled her face, as if she believed it necessary to come up with a rationale for her comment. “It’s gotta be some kind of sin, wasting perfectly good frozen custard.”
