by Bird, Peggy
“You’re worried about him.” She traced a finger along the edge of a marble side table.
“He’s a stubborn old goat. Has a rattling cough that is deep enough in his chest that, yeah, frankly, it scares the hell out of me.”
“You should go to him. Take the Burroughs collection and cut out early. I’ll be fine here. I can call the state and get a nurse out by this afternoon.”
“Nice try, rosebud. I’ve already called the lumberyard, and they are delivering our supplies later this morning. We said one month, and I intend to hold up my end of the bargain.”
“I’m letting you out of your end. I’m not angry, I swear.”
“No. You’re scared. And that, I can work with. Tell me the truth, Eva. Are you sorry about last night?” Beau willed her to look at him, holding his breath as he waited for her response.
“You know I’m not.” She continued to stare at the side table.
“I know you’ve been weird all morning. I know you’re trying your damnedest to push me away. So I think it’s a legitimate question. Do you regret that we made love?”
“No, dammit! I’m just … you’re … leaving.” The last word came out a hiss. Finally she looked up, her eyes filled with anguish.
“Instead of pushing me away, let’s make the most of the time we have together. How about you make us some lemonade? You’ll find everything you need on the counter this time.”
Beau waited until Eva wheeled out of the library and he could hear her moving things around in the kitchen. Then he tiptoed upstairs to grab some items he’d need for the next part of his plan. She was just putting the heavy jug of lemonade in the fridge when he entered the kitchen, his arms loaded down with supplies.
“So what room gets the best light? I realize you probably did this outside when you were painting before, and we’ll get you there. But while you’re waiting, I thought you might like to keep yourself busy.”
He set her watercolors on the small kitchen table, adding a mason jar full of brushes and a stack of empty canvases. The half-finished painting of the rose garden he clutched to his chest.
“Beau … ” She didn’t finish her sentence, instead maneuvering her chair over to the table to touch her things.
“I had this ridiculous idea to keep you from watching me working out there. I wanted it to be this grand surprise. But it’s going to take me the better part of two weeks, and I can’t ask you to keep away from the windows.”
“And you won’t be here, inside, to talk to, so you wanted me to have something to keep me busy,” she finished his thought.
“You mad at me?” He threw her a lopsided grin, figuring a healthy dose of charm couldn’t hurt.
“Your heart is in the right place.” Looking up quickly, she smiled back at him before returning her attention to personal effects she hadn’t seen in five years. Her fingers stroked lovingly over the brush bristles, her eyes sparkling like Christmas morning had arrived early.
“I need to clear out a spot for the delivery men to stack the lumber. I’m going to leave the patio door open. You need anything at all, just holler.” He started to walk away, realized he was still hanging on to the unfinished portrait, and brought it to her, setting it in her lap.
“Guess I really ought to finish this, huh?”
“Only if you want to.”
“Yeah, I think I do.” Eva slid her fingers into his hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
“It was sincerely my pleasure.” He squeezed back, winked, and headed out to meet the delivery truck.
• • •
“I am so happy you reached out to me after all this time.” Camille Forrester, Eva’s nearest neighbor, sat on the floral couch in the living room and sipped her coffee.
“Me too,” Eva murmured. “It was brought to my attention that I was hiding out here and that it would do me good to get out of my shell, so to speak.”
“I would have visited sooner, but … ” The woman’s skin stretched across her cheekbones in a wan smile.
Camille had come by right after the accident, offering her condolences and asking if there was anything she could do. She was the first one that Eva had sent packing. That shameful afternoon was burned into her memory bank. They’d been good friends before the accident, but terrified that she’d lose Camille like she’d lost Darren, Eva had made sure she did the leaving first.
“I wouldn’t have blamed you for turning down my invitation for coffee. I was an outright beast to you.”
“You were in pain. Physical pain, yes, but so much emotional pain.” Taking a sip of coffee, Camille peered speculatively over her rim and continued, “You seem to be in a much better place now. Can I assume it has to do with the gorgeous eye candy working out in the yard?”
Jealousy slapped at Eva, swift and hard. Her head snapped up, and she bit her tongue before she said something she’d regret. Camille chuckled, setting down her cup before holding her hands out, defensively, in front of her.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Don’t you even worry on that front. While you were busy hiding away from the world, I found Mr. Amazing. Kenneth and I have been married for almost a year.” She dangled her left hand, and the resulting sparkle was enough to make someone go blind.
“Congratulations.” Eva felt the tension ebb from her muscles, leaving her neck and shoulders sore.
“Maybe I’ll be able to say the same thing to you soon.” Camille’s smile was conspiratorial.
“Oh, no, it’s not like that with Beau and I. He’ll be leaving soon.” And taking her heart with him.
The women visited for a while longer before it was time for Camille to leave. They made plans to meet the following week, for another coffee date. When Eva had first picked up the phone to dial her former friend, she’d been terrified. But she was so glad she had.
A steady tap-tap-tap told her Beau was still hard at work, wielding the nail gun. Every night he came in looking filthy and bone-weary. She’d been doing her best to have dinner on the table when he got inside, so he wouldn’t have to cook for them. It wasn’t as fancy as he always made them, but it was filling.
And every night he insisted he was no handyman, yet every morning she would go to the patio door or the window in the library and see just how much more he’d accomplished the day before. It was almost complete. A means to reach her fragrant sanctuary.
“Rosebud? Your friend gone yet?”
Beau stuck his head through the patio door and looked around. Sweat slicked down his body in wavy rivulets. He wiped a forearm across his grimy forehead. Eva licked her suddenly dry lips and nodded. She couldn’t remember how to speak.
“Allow me to reintroduce you to your blushing beauties. Kindly roll this way, please.” He held out a hand, beckoning her toward the sliding glass door.
Unaccountably nervous, she let out a tittering laugh before steering her chair in his direction. It was time. This was really happening. She blew out a shaky breath and took Beau’s hand in one of hers, using the other to guide her wheelchair over the tracks that had been covered with a thick mat.
“Oh, Beau!” She gasped at the wooden ramp that began at the edge of the flagstone patio and meandered across the lawn to the arc in the rose garden.
It had raised sides, was comfortably wide so she wouldn’t fear getting stuck, and looked quite sturdy. Anxious to try it out, she looked to Beau to make sure he gave the all-clear. He must have sensed that she was a little scared, because he stepped backward onto the ramp and coaxed her forward. Together they moved slowly toward the rose garden at the edge of the lawn.
Every inch closer they got, the stronger the scent of her mother’s roses became. Memories flooded her mind, wrapped her in a warm blanket of comfort. Tears flowed down her cheeks unchecked. She couldn’t wait to feel the petals between her thumb and forefinger.
He could have ended the ramp once it reached the first rose bush. But Beau had extended it to the left and right, at least four feet on either side. Eva had easy acces
s to each variety of plant that she and her mother had cultivated over the years.
The backbreaking work that had gone into this ramp. The love and concern for her happiness. Not in a million years could she ever repay him for what he’d done for her. Not just bringing her roses back into her life, but bringing her back to life. She could start by giving him her grandfather’s book collection. She only wished she could give more.
Chapter Eight
“It’s not like that with Beau and me.”
The conversation he’d walked in on the other day replayed on a loop in his head. The two women hadn’t noticed his arrival, and since Eva had yet to address it, he assumed they hadn’t seen him sneak out as well. He hadn’t really expected her to return his feelings. She’d told him she loved him. And he didn’t doubt that she meant it, to some degree. Just not the way he felt about her.
But his last night here had arrived, and because he was going to miss her terribly, he began the painful process of letting go by spending the evening by himself, where he wouldn’t be tempted to do something so foolish as to beg her to ask him to stay. He busied himself in the library, the room that once had been his sanctuary to hide from his slave-driving master, but now only held memories of how close they’d become in the scant few weeks they’d had together.
“I waited for you. It’s a beautiful evening.” Eva’s smoky voice snuck in on his personal thoughts.
“Sorry. Thought you’d enjoy some privacy out there. I feel like I’ve intruded on every moment you’ve had in your rose garden.”
“What I enjoyed most about finally being able to access my roses was having you there with me.”
That flustered him. Not knowing what to say in return, Beau remained silent. Eva wheeled herself into the center of the room and angled her chair to get a better look at what he was doing.
“You’re rearranging the titles.” She peered up at the books he was placing on the top shelf. “Why?”
“Just making things easier. This library is as ineffectual for you as the stables, the pool, and all the other amenities you can no longer partake of. And yet the room itself is completely accessible. It just seems cruel not to fix that while I’m still here.”
“You know I can reach any of the books on the first three shelves. That’s plenty. I don’t understand why you felt the need to … ” Her jaw slackened, and Beau could see the very second her eyes lit on the actual titles he’d placed within her grasp and she understood what he’d been spending the last couple of hours accomplishing.
“I knew you were a good listener. I just never realized you had other reasons for getting me to talk about my favorite books.”
“This only came to me a little while ago. I wanted to make sure you’d be okay after I’m gone.” It was the first time in days that either of them had mentioned him leaving.
Eva didn’t respond right away. Instead, she was circling her chair around in front of the lowest shelf, her finger trailing the spines of the books of her youth. “So what time are you leaving tomorrow?” she asked abruptly. “You’ll want to box up those books from the Burroughs collection tonight.” She wouldn’t look at him.
“I’ll miss you, rosebud.”
Tears clogged his throat as he waited to see what she’d say. Ask me to stay. He didn’t even know if he would stay. But it would have felt amazing just to be asked.
“I … Dammit!” She swiped roughly at a tear running down her cheek, still unable to look him in the eye. “You keep doing these nice things for me. You keep making me … feel things. I don’t deserve it. Just leave me to live out my life alone, like I was meant to. This is … too much. I can’t—” That proud chin trembled as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
Beau stuffed the book in his hand onto the nearest shelf and dropped to the floor in front of Eva. He plucked her hands out of her lap and gripped them tightly, rubbing his thumbs against her petal-soft skin. Shaking his head, he leaned in until they were practically touching noses.
“You deserve this and much more. You deserve to dance around the house in your underwear. You deserve to run after your children until you’re exhausted. You deserve to take long walks with your soul mate. And I hate like hell that you can’t have that. I want to give you what I can, while I’m still here to give it to you.” I want you to have something to remember me by, he left unsaid.
“I don’t deserve you.” But she placed her palms on his cheeks and pulled him in for a long kiss.
It was their last night together. Beau wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again. Scooping her into his arms, he lifted her from her wheelchair and carried her out of the library and down the hall, not stopping until he’d placed her gently on the plush counterpane in the room that had been more theirs than hers for the last week. If this was the last time he got to make love to Eva, he was damned well going to make it last.
Memorizing every gasp, every moan, Beau collected it all. Slowly he uncovered every inch of her skin, softer than any of the rose petals in her garden. A rosy, pink blush began at her hairline and traveled all the way down to her pretty, unpainted toes. He kissed her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her sharply defined cheekbones. He kissed her trembling lips and her chin, that strong chin that jutted out whenever she felt threatened. He’d miss that chin.
Shucking his own clothes in record time, he returned to her side. Her fingers splayed across his chest, trim fingernails leaving a trail of fiery sensation as they raked down toward the center of his being. She knew just how to touch him, how to drive all thought from his brain until he was a pulsing, throbbing pile of need.
In no hurry, they took turns touching each other. Long, slow strokes that raised gooseflesh and elicited soft moans. Light, teasing tickles that made him squirm and caused her to let out a snort that had them both giggling. Questing fingers began to speed up. Their laughter had ceased, replaced by shuddering breaths and unintelligible murmurs.
Beau yanked open the bedside drawer, reaching blindly for a condom. His hand uncovered papers, coins, and something that felt like it might have been an unwrapped cough drop. Heart racing, he groaned in relief when the sharp corner of a foil packet poked the center of his palm. He held it up victoriously. “Last one.”
“Like it was meant to be.” Once he’d put it on, she held her arms open for him.
Gripping her hips, he tilted her body up to meet his. Her smile was soft, sleepy. If he never saw her again, this was the image he wanted to take away with him. His rosebud. She looked so serene, so happy. Her wet heat embraced him as he slowly entered her. This was where he would always want to be.
Too soon, he felt the tightening that signaled his release. Eva realized it, too. She was a master at reading his cues. She gathered him close, pulling his head toward the crook of her neck.
“It’s okay. Let go. I’ve got you.”
And just like that, he was flying, sailing out of his own body for untold seconds as the world shattered into thousands of pieces, only reforming again when his heartbeat returned to normal. “I want to hold you for the rest of the night.”
“So do it.”
“No, I mean, I don’t want to fall asleep.” I don’t want the night to end.
“Good luck with that.” She chuckled.
Even as she said it, his eyelids were drooping. He was still inside her. Before sleep overtook him, he shifted gingerly to his side, making sure not to lose their connection. Draping her across his chest, he succumbed to oblivion.
• • •
The scent hit her as she rolled out of her bedroom the next morning. It took her back to a time when her family was still alive. Roses. Everywhere, the sweet smell of roses. Tears sprang to her eyes, yet again. Blinking them back, Eva wondered if she had ever cried as much as she had this past month that Beau had been living under her roof. Not that she begrudged them. Tears were a sign that she was living again, feeling.
Peering into the library, she didn’t turn up Beau, but she did discover a fragrant vase of
Glory Be roses. Their deep yellow hue seemed to soak up the sunshine that blasted through the windows. He wasn’t in the living room, either, but lovely apricot-colored Heaven on Earth blooms sat in twin bud vases on either end of the mantel.
She felt as though she were playing some sort of hybrid game of hide-and-seek and a scavenger hunt. Wheeling her chair down the hall, she sniffed the air, trying to figure out which rose she’d find before she entered the room. The small bathroom was full of the scent of Prince Charles, a mauve rose that looked gorgeous against all the white porcelain and tile. The long dining table held a shallow bowl of Belle Amour, her personal favorite. There was even a tall vase on the table in the entry hall, just inside the front door. Sleigh Bells. She had told him about the roses her mother brought in to display around the house. But she’d never told him that this white rose was exactly the variety her mother had always left in this same spot.
But where was Beau? Surely he hadn’t left yet? An icy terror settled in her veins. He hadn’t said goodbye. She yanked open the front door, and a hoarse shriek jerked from her lungs when she found him standing just on the other side. He rested a hip against the iron rail, holding a single red rose between his thumb and forefinger.
“Falstaff,” he identified correctly as he held it out to her. At her impressed smile he grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t have to do any research or anything. You and your mom did a great job labeling everything out there.”
“It’s beautiful. They’re all beautiful.” Eva rolled backward, giving Beau enough room to step inside the entryway.
“Car’s all ready to go. Are you sure you want me to take your dad and brother’s clothes?”
“They don’t need them anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t need them anymore.”
“My dad’s doctor ordered him a chest x-ray. He’s going in later this afternoon.”
“You should go then. Traffic is light this time of day. You’ll make good time.”
He dropped to his knees, wrapping his long arms around her waist and laying his head in her lap. Eva ran her fingers through his multicolored tresses. It was time to let him go.
