by Kaye Dacus
“Please, dear Lord, please let her work through this and forgive me.”
He sat up. Perhaps that prayer had already been answered. He hadn’t prayed for her to be found. Rising, he shrugged into his robe. Pink light edged the blinds. He grabbed his Bible, journal, and phone and went out through the kitchen to the veranda. Sinking into the plush deck lounger, he breathed deeply of the early morning air and soaked in the colors of the sun rising over the duck pond behind the house.
“Heavenly Father, You are all-knowing and all-seeing. I have faith You are protecting Anne. She’s a rational woman. If she needs this time to herself, don’t let us find her before the right moment. When I do see her again, please give me the appropriate words to say to gain her forgiveness.” The stress of the night melted away, and he rested his head against the thick cushions of the chaise.
When he woke, his neck was stiff, and the sun was well risen in the sky. A glance at his watch confirmed he’d been asleep for over an hour.
Comeaux. What was it Anne had said when they were in Comeaux that day? As they’d driven to the restaurant…a large Victorian house…the Plantation Inn Bed and Breakfast.
“I’ve stayed here a couple of times, too, when I just needed to get away,” she’d said.
He picked up his phone and dialed information. He let the computer automatically connect him with the inn. His heart pounded as the proprietress answered.
“Plantation Inn Bed and Breakfast. How may I help you?”
“Good morning. I’m a friend of Anne Hawthorne’s, and I was calling to see if she got checked in all right yesterday.” He held his breath, praying he’d guessed right.
“She did. Would you like me to connect you with her room?”
He pounded his fist against his leg as he tried to control his relief. “No, I don’t want to wake her if she’s still sleeping. Thank you.”
“Would you like to leave a message for her?”
“Oh no, that’s quite all right. Good day.”
“B’bye, now.”
He disconnected and rushed inside to dress. It would take him nearly twenty minutes to get out to Comeaux, and by then, Anne should have had sufficient time to get out of bed. He had to talk to her before her family found her and made more of a mess, but he couldn’t leave them in suspense. He called Forbes.
“Did you find her?” Forbes answered without preamble.
“I know where she is. I’m on my way to go see her.”
“Where? I’ll meet you.”
“No. I need to see her alone.” George grimaced, imagining what Anne’s reaction would be at both of them showing up at her secret getaway. “I’ll have her call you after we have our chat.”
Silence met him from the other end of the connection. George checked the phone just to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.
“Fine.” The single word betrayed Forbes’s frustration. “I’ll talk to you later.” The line went dead. George hadn’t realized until now just how much Forbes liked to be in control of everything and everyone around him.
He didn’t take time to shave but brushed his teeth, then wet his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. It was probably his imagination, but there appeared to be a few new gray hairs mixed in with the brown this morning.
At a quarter of eight, he drove into Comeaux. The inn sat on the corner two blocks north of the Fishin’ Shack; he turned onto the side street and into the driveway, pulling up behind Anne’s dark green convertible and leaving her no room to pull out.
The aroma of bacon, coffee, and whatever sweets the inn was serving for breakfast made his stomach rumble. Perhaps they could converse over breakfast.
He wasn’t sure whether to knock or enter until he saw the DINING ROOM OPEN, PLEASE COME IN sign. The door swung open into an entryway much like the one at his employer’s house. He heard soft voices to his left and closed the door to reveal the dining room. A few tables were filled with patrons who looked like they’d stopped for breakfast before work. Anne wasn’t among them.
“Good morning, and welcome to Plantation Inn. Just one for breakfast?” A middle-aged woman wearing a pristine white apron over a flowered dress approached him from the other end of the entry hall. She carried a silver coffeepot.
“I’m looking for Anne Hawthorne.”
“Oh, Anne is taking her breakfast on the back porch.” She motioned with her nearly gray head over her shoulder toward the french doors at the end of the hall. “Can I bring you anything?”
“A spot of coffee would be lovely, thank you.” Walking down the hall at a civilized pace was hard, but he eventually made it to the doors. Taking a deep breath, he swung them open and stepped outside.
* * *
Anne drew her gaze away from the blue jays fighting in the birdbath when she heard the doors open. George stepped out onto the porch, and her heart leaped. She shouldn’t be happy to see him. Her hand shook a little as she reached for her coffee cup.
Finally, he turned toward her. She fought to keep from smiling back at him. She returned her gaze to the birds in the yard, his presence too unsettling for her peace of mind.
He strolled over to the table. “May I join you?”
“It’s a free country.” Yeah, that was a mature thing to say.
He walked around the small scrolled-iron table and sat in the only other chair, which happened to be immediately to her left. If she stared straight ahead, he was in her peripheral vision. She wanted to look at him, to memorize the contours of his face, to gaze into his brown eyes. But she was still mad at him.
“Anne, I cannot begin to express to you how utterly sorry I am. I never set out to hurt you—that is the very last thing I would ever want to do.”
She closed her eyes and tried to swallow. His voice was so soft, his accent so endearing. She’d picked up the room phone to call him three times during the night to demand an explanation. She’d wanted to hear his story, to understand what had happened. “George, I—” She stopped when his hand covered hers on the table.
“Please, allow me to say this. I came to Bonneterre expecting to meet a middle-aged woman who wouldn’t question anything I said to her. Instead, I met you, my beautiful Anne. I wanted to tell you the truth from the beginning, but I was bound by the contract my employer made me sign that I wouldn’t reveal to anyone my true role. I was legally bound to pretend to be Courtney’s fiancé. They thought it would be easier, thought there’d be fewer questions that way.” He paused, and she could feel him searching her face for some reaction.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
He cleared his throat. “My employer…and Forbes.”
Her cousin had a lot of explaining to do.
George rushed to continue. “But that was before I’d met you. As I started to get to know you, the deception was already in place. When Forbes realized that I had…come to care for you, he interceded on my behalf with my employer and got that clause removed from the terms of my contract. He told me you would understand.”
“I’m sorry Forbes misled you. He knows how I feel about people lying to me.”
“I’m not here to talk about Forbes.” George made lazy circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, sending shivers up her spine. “I’m here to apologize for not telling you the truth from the beginning and to beg your forgiveness, even though I don’t deserve it.”
Part of her jumped at his words, ready to forgive him and move on to explore what their relationship could be. The other part kept her silent for a long time. Her confidence in him was shattered. She’d always dreamed the man she fell in love with would be as honest with her as she always tried to be with everyone around her. Would George lie to her again if his employer told him to? The whole situation didn’t do much for her opinion of his ethics.
The slight whoosh of the doors opening broke the silence. Cheryl appeared with a coffee service tray, which she set on the low side table behind them. “Y’all doing okay?” she asked. “Hon, are you sure I can’t bring you an
ything more than coffee?”
“I’m not certain how long I’ll be here,” George answered.
Anne finally turned to look at him. She sighed and shook her head. “Cheryl, go ahead and bring him your breakfast special. We’re going to be here for a while.”
He continued to hold her hand but didn’t say anything while they waited for his food. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many questions.
After his food arrived, she gave him a few moments’ peace to start eating while she pushed the remainder of her omelet around the plate. The birds in the centuries-old oak trees that shaded the large yard provided background music, and a light breeze brought the fragrance of roses and honeysuckle.
When he stopped to spread Cheryl’s homemade strawberry jam on his toast, he broke the long silence. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever questions are on your mind, I can handle it.”
She rested her fork on the edge of the plate and folded her hands atop the white napkin on her lap. “How am I ever supposed to trust you again?” She’d meant to lead up to that question, not just blurt it out. She didn’t take her gaze away from his face, though.
He grimaced, then let out a slight chuckle. “That’s my Anne, always straight to the point.”
She tried to stop her heart from fluttering at being called “my Anne” but wasn’t entirely successful. She was woman enough to admit to herself she was enjoying watching him eat breakfast. He was so fastidious. Not a crumb hit the table as he bit into the toast.
He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “The irony of the situation is if I promise I will never lie to you again, you won’t know whether or not to trust me. So all I can do is promise to try to earn your trust and regard.” He reached for the coffeepot and leaned closer to refill her cup. “Will you allow me to do so?”
He smelled wonderful. And the stubble on his face gave him a rugged look she’d never imagined. What was he wanting her permission for? Oh yes, he wanted to try to regain her trust. “Yes, I’ll allow you to do so.”
His grin tugged at her heart. “Excellent.” He lifted her left hand from her lap. “Now, more to the point, will you forgive me for deceiving you?”
Charm is deceitful.… Was he for real, or was he trying to charm himself back into her good graces? But she couldn’t call herself a Christian and not forgive someone when asked. “Yes, I forgive you.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to me.”
The silence that fell between them brought a sense of comfort. He returned to his food, and she picked up her coffee, watching him over the cup’s rim. “How much of what you told me about yourself is true?”
He frowned and cocked his head to the side as if surprised by her question. “Everything. I’ve never lied to you about anything— other than who the groom is.”
“How did you do it? I mean, didn’t it bother you to have to live a lie?”
“Yes. It bothered me very much. There were times I couldn’t sleep at night, when I almost called you at 3:00 a.m. to tell you the whole truth.”
“I wish you had.” She set her cup down and started to relax. He hadn’t lied to her about anything else…if she could believe his statement. She wanted to. “How did you know where to find me?”
“You told me the day we were out here you occasionally escape to the inn. How is it none of your family know you come here?”
“My family?” Anne frowned. “Why would they need to know?”
Instead of answering, he handed her his phone. “Call Forbes. He was sick with worry looking for you last night.”
“He could have called me.”
“You left your mobile at home.”
She groaned and accepted his, immediately dialing Forbes’s number. It didn’t ring twice before he picked up.
As soon as he heard her voice, he said, “Anne? Where are you? Do you realize how much you’ve upset Meredith and Jennifer by disappearing like this?”
“I’m sorry I worried everyone.” Her guilt over the concern she’d caused her family was tempered by anger at the way Forbes had handled the entire situation. “After family dinner tonight, you and I are going to have a long talk.”
“So you’re going to be at dinner tonight?”
“Practice begging my forgiveness between now and then.”
Forbes laughed. “Will do, Anne-girl.”
When she finished with Forbes, she dialed her own number to check her voice mail. Several from Forbes, which she deleted. Then one from George. She glanced at him as she listened to it. He sounded even more distraught than her cousin had.
She waited until he finished refilling their coffee cups to hand him the phone. “Why were you so frantic to find me?”
He reached up to cup her face. “You were upset, and I didn’t know what you were thinking. I couldn’t bear to think you might hate me and would never want to see me again.”
Emotion gathered in her throat. “I was upset, yes, but not like that.”
He glanced at her; then his cinnamon-hued eyes scanned the yard. “Why don’t we take a walk?”
She nodded and stood. George assisted with her chair, then offered her his arm. When she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, she could feel his tension. “George, there’s more to this than your worrying about me being mad at you, isn’t there?”
He led her down one of the many gravel paths that led to the gardens hidden beyond the tree line. “It’s not important.”
“You’re going to try to regain my trust by being honest with me, remember?”
He grimaced and patted her hand. “Right.” Their shoes crunched on the gravel path, and the daytime symphony of locusts, birds, grasshoppers, and other insects started to warm up as the sun grew hotter. He stopped at a marble bench hidden beneath an enormous oak tree. They sat in silence for a few moments.
George took a deep breath. “This isn’t the first time deception has nearly ruined my life. A very long time ago, I fancied myself in love. Felicia was unlike any woman I’d ever met. We were both too young—I nineteen and she seventeen. I’d been forced to leave home three years before, give up my dream of attending university, and start working to support my mother after my father suffered a debilitating stroke. I’ll admit I was as attracted to the idea of the daughter of a duke falling in love with me as I was to Felicia herself, but I convinced myself I was in love with her, despite our youth, despite her immaturity.”
He picked up a leaf and twirled it between his fingers. “She talked about eloping, running away together, and then surprising her parents. I told her I couldn’t bear lying to her parents and insisted on going to them and telling them everything.” He let out a rueful laugh. “I know now that she never wanted to marry me. She was just trying to manipulate her parents into sending her to Paris for the summer. The man she really loved—an earl, married with three children nearly her age—summered there and wanted to set her up as his mistress.
“Of course, my employment was terminated immediately, much to Felicia’s amusement. Felicia was sent to Paris in the care of the governess who’d introduced her to the earl in the first place.” He dropped the leaf on the bench, rose, and paced, hands clasped behind his back.
“What did you do?” Anne retrieved the leaf and pressed it between her hands.
“Rumor spread amongst the aristocracy as to what had happened—all from the point of view that I’d lead dear, innocent Felicia astray—and I couldn’t find employment anywhere. I went to work for a British actor. That gave me entrée into other circles and allowed me opportunities for travel and employment I wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. Dare she trust him enough to confide her own story of falling for someone who was only using her for his own end?
George knelt in front of her. “I’ve never told anyone else—aside from my mother and brothers—about it. I’m glad you know.”
“I
’m sorry I frightened you by disappearing.” The thought of opening up old wounds with George when the new ones weren’t yet healed kept her from sharing that part of her past with him.
“I trusted God would keep you safe. I prayed He wouldn’t let us find you until the time was right.” His brown eyes sparkled. “Was the time right?”
She couldn’t resist his grin. “Apparently so.”
“Speaking of time.” He glanced at his watch, then stood and offered his hand. “If we’re going to finish planning my employer’s engagement party, we’d best be going.”
“It’s a good thing I cleared my calendar for today.” She got a schoolgirl thrill when he intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked back up to the inn. Cheryl had cleared the table and left the check anchored under the vase of fresh-cut roses.
George reached for it, but Anne snatched it from him.
“Anne, please, it’s the least I can do.”
“The least? George, you’ve already paid enough in worry and stress for this date. It’s the least I can do.”
He nodded his agreement. As she settled up with Cheryl, his phone started to beep. He winked at her, then stepped out onto the front porch to answer the call. After paying for breakfast and her room, she went upstairs and quickly threw everything into the bag she’d packed in haste last night before her getaway.
When she joined George outside, he was still on the phone, deep frown lines etching his forehead and mouth. “Yes, sir. I understand. Yes, she called me last evening.…” His frown dissolved into a smile. “No, I did not plan on calling them.… I agree, sir. I will run anything like that past you before any calls are made.…” He reached his free hand out toward Anne and she took it. “Yes, I believe I will be able to speak with the wedding planner about it sometime today. Good-bye, sir.” He ended the call and clipped the device back to his belt. Over her protest, he took her bag from her. “My employer. Courtney called me last night and asked if we could call to see if Cirque du Soleil would perform at the reception.”
Anne laughed. “Really? And was your employer putting the brakes on that?”
