by April Wilson
“The family bedrooms are up there,” Jamie says. “All private suites. The recreation facilities are located downstairs – there’s an indoor pool, a fitness center, a theatre, an arcade. The south wing houses security personnel, who are on site twenty-four seven, as well as private suites for the occasional client who requires secure accommodations. Elly and her husband live here full time. Come, I’ll show you the lake view out the back of the house. That’s the view I’d like you to paint.”
I follow Jamie and Gus down a hallway to the rear of the house, passing a library on the left and a huge, formal dining room on the right.
“Is that an elevator?” I say, when we pass a wooden panel embedded in the wall.
“Yes.”
The hallway leads to an impressive great room at the rear of the house. I walk to the center of the room, trying to take it all in. The space is huge, yet visually organized into several distinct areas, which makes the space feel cozy in spite of its size.
There are several seating areas arranged beneath soaring ceilings. There’s a full-sized bar in one corner of the room. And the focal point is a massive stone hearth that extends all the way up to the exposed wooden rafters overhead. But my eye is drawn to the back wall, which is floor-to-ceiling glass providing a sweeping view of the Lake Michigan shoreline and the vast body of water that extends as far as the eye can see.
I walk up to the glass and peer outside at the wooden terrace that wraps around the back of the house, with several bistro style tables arranged for entertaining. Wooden steps lead down to a beautifully tended lawn that slopes gently toward the shoreline. I can see docks off to the south where quite a few boats are moored beneath metal canopies. I can make out at least two speed boats, a pontoon, a sailboat, and a catamaran, all bobbing gently with the ebb and flow of the water. In the distance a number of yachts glide effortlessly over the surface of the water.
My heart rate picks up. “What a magnificent view.”
Jamie laughs. “So I’ve been told.”
I’m such an idiot! “You’ve never seen it?”
He shakes his head. “I was still active in the military when Shane built this place. I was stationed either at Coronado, in California, or overseas in Afghanistan or Iraq. I never had a chance to visit before my accident. After I left the military, Shane brought me here to recuperate, and I lived here for several years until I moved to Wicker Park.”
He leans close and bumps my shoulder with his. “Describe it for me.”
“I’m sure someone’s described it to you before now.”
“Yes, but I want to hear it from your perspective. You’re the artist. I’m sure your interpretation is different than anything I’ve ever heard.”
I do my best to ignore the thrill that flashes through me at his compliment. He has no idea how validating his words are – and how much I need that kind of validation. Todd humored my career choice, but he never took it seriously. In college, where we met, he saw my art major as cute and quirky. He indulged me only because he could afford to. As soon as he finished his law degree and started working for his father’s law firm, he’d be raking in a six-figure income right off the bat. He could afford to support a wife who had a frivolous career, as he viewed it.
“Well?” Jamie says, leaning into me.
“You really want me to?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
I glance at him, taking advantage of the fact that I can secretly admire his profile. Then I look back at the view and describe it to him as a painter would see it. I describe the shape of the land, the movement of color and form as the view transitions from lawn to wild grasses to the sandy shore. I describe the trees surrounding the beach, as well as the outcroppings of rocks in the water. I describe the waves of water cresting against the rocks, splashing and spraying before they flow back out into the lake. I describe the colors I see, the multitudes of blues and greens, the creams, ochres, and browns, even the complex layers of blue and gray and white filling the skies. It looks like rain is headed our way.
“It’s beautiful,” I say wistfully, already mentally sketching out my plan for capturing the view.
He lays his arm across my shoulders and pulls me close. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard. You win, hands down.”
Chapter 13
Molly
Jamie’s arm feels solid and comforting across my shoulders, sending waves of warm pleasure down my spine. I glance at his face, which is turned toward the window, and study his profile. I love how his beard frames his lips. The contrast between the short, neat hairs of his beard and the dusky pink flesh of his lips makes my pulse race.
I’ve kissed more than a few guys in my life. I dated several guys in high school and college before I met Todd. But I’ve never paid such acute attention to the nuances of a man’s body.
Even now, the heat radiating from his big body warms me, making me want to lean into him. I breathe in, drawing in the subtle fragrances of laundry soap and a man’s expensive cologne, and something else, something far less tangible, the natural scent of him, of his skin, his maleness. He smells so good.
I’m overwhelmed by a sudden desire to melt into him, to turn to him and feel those long arms wrap around me and hold me close. I want to press my nose against his shirt and breathe him in.
I swallow hard, shaking myself out of my fantasy, and attempt to focus on the reason we’re here. “The view really is lovely,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “It’ll be a pleasure to paint.”
He chuckles. “So, how will you paint it?”
“Since I paint abstracts, it’s not my goal to realistically recreate the view. Instead, I latch on to the themes of the view, to the shapes and the lines and the color palette. My goal is to capture the feel of the place and recreate that in color and texture. It’ll be recognizable to those who are familiar with this view, but it won’t be a photographic representation by any means.”
He’s facing forward again, as if looking out the window, and smiling. I look outside again and put my artist’s hat on, trying to focus on the landscape and not on the man standing beside me.
“I love the color palette of Lake Michigan,” I say. “The greens of the foliage, the neutrals of the sandy and rocky shoreline, and the grays and blues of the water. I love the way the light and shadows interact with each other on the water’s surface. Looks like there’s a storm rolling in, I see lots of ominous storm clouds bringing shadows and depth as they swallow the light.”
He nods. “The juxtaposition of calm versus the storm.”
I smile, thrilled that he gets what I see. “The moment before all hell breaks loose.”
Jamie nods in approval. “Shane and Beth have faced some pretty significant challenges in their relationship. I think they can weather the threat of an oncoming storm. Besides, stormy seas are much more exciting to sail than calm ones.”
I wonder if he’s still talking about his brother and Beth, or if he’s talking about himself now, because God knows, he’s had his own stormy seas to navigate.
Jamie skims his hand across the glass until he locates the latch on the sliding door. “Let’s walk down to the shore,” he says.
As he slides open the door, cool air wafts inside, bringing with it the scent of water and foliage and earth. I shiver as I zip up my jacket.
Gus jumps to his feet, eager to join us outside, but Jamie tells him to lie down. “You’d better stay inside, buddy,” he tells the dog. “We’re walking down to the water, and you won’t like that.” Then he offers me his arm. “Do you mind being my guide?”
I slip my arm around his, smiling. “I’d be happy to.”
* * *
I grab my camera bag, and we step through the open door out onto the wooden terrace.
I pause at the edge of the terrace to get out my camera. “Before we go down to the shore, I want to take some reference shots from here.” I get some panoramic shots of the landscape and the vista, trying to se
t the stage for the painting. Once I have enough shots, we start down the terrace steps.
Jamie lays his hand on my shoulder and follows right behind me down the steps and along the well-worn path leading to the beach.
He squeezes my shoulder and laughs. “You don’t have to go slowly on my account. I can keep up.”
We walk down to the shoreline, which is mostly sand. There are some outcroppings of rocks and tall grasses along the edge of the private beach. I take pictures of everything from every possible angle… the rocks, the sandy beach, the water as it laps against the shore. I take pictures of the boats docked to the south.
Jamie is patient and silent as I concentrate on surveying the area. I jot down notes in my little fieldbook and make some rough sketches.
I glance out across the water, watching sailboats zip across the horizon. “If I lived here, I’d never want to leave.”
As soon as I say that, we hear a chorus of horses whinnying off in the distance.
“Elly’s probably giving them hay,” Jamie says. “Would you like to see the horses and the barn?”
“I’d love to.” I glance up at the darkening skies, thinking our opportunity for exploring will be coming to an end soon. “We’d better hurry. The rain isn’t far off.”
Jamie points me toward the sound of the horses. “There’s a path that cuts through the woods and leads right up to the barn. Do you see it?”
There’s an opening in the trees and a shady path through the woods. “I see it.”
He lays his hand my shoulder and follows me, matching his steps with mine. I’m amazed by how confidently he moves through space, following my lead. If I were in his shoes, I don’t think I would be nearly as confident.
When we come into view of the barn, I see Elly in the corral with the horses, who are all busy munching on hay. Two of the adults are a lovely chestnut color, reddish brown with darker manes and tales. The third adult is a lovely silvery gray. The fourth – the foal’s mother – is a pale cream color with even paler mane and tail. The foal looks like a perfect miniature version of the mother.
“I know absolutely nothing about horses,” I say.
“Take us to the gate,” he says. “It’s near the barn. They’re all American Quarter horses, three geldings and one mare.”
“How old is the baby?” I ask.
“He’s about four months old.”
Just as thunder rumbles in the distance, Elly disappears inside the barn. She returns a moment later carrying a halter with an attached lead. “Would you two mind bringing Giselle and Casper in for me? I don’t want the colt out in this storm, and I need to go inside to start on your supper.”
As Jamie holds the gate open for Elly, she hands him the lead and gives me a warm smile and a wink.
Jamie latches the gate behind us. “Would you lead me to the mare?”
Just as before, I walk Jamie to the mare and her foal. Once I get him there, he takes over, clearly in his element.
Talking in a low, soothing voice, he reaches for the mare’s head and gently strokes her face, running the tips of his fingers from her forehead to her muzzle. He leans closer, brushing his nose against hers, blowing air out of his nostrils. She returns the gesture, nickering at him in greeting. It’s obvious they’re old friends. Giselle moves closer to him, brushing her head against Jamie’s shoulder as he settles the halter over her head and buckles it in place.
Just as we hear thunder rumbling in the distance, a light rain begins to fall. The colt prances nervously around his mother, never straying far from her side.
“Would you walk us to the barn doors?” Jamie says, laying his hand on my shoulder.
I lead Jamie to the barn, and he leads the mare. The foal follows his mother.
The inside of the barn is warm and smells like freshly-cut hay, leather, and grain. There are several horse stalls on each side of the wide central corridor, and in the loft above the stalls there are countless stacks of hay and straw bales.
The mare pushes eagerly forward, heading straight for an open stall.
“They go in the third stall on the right,” Jamie says, controlling the mare’s eager progress.
I lead him to the designated stall, and Jamie guides the mare right inside, the foal following her in. Once they are both safely inside, he latches the stall door, then removes the mare’s halter as she hangs her head over the door. The foal nuzzles its mother and begins to nurse.
The other three horses stroll single file into the barn and head for their respective stalls. Jamie walks up and down the corridor, latching the stall doors and securing the horses. Then he throws a bit of hay into each occupied stall.
“Just in time,” I say, because I can hear the rain hitting the roof. I move to stand by the open barn doors to look out at the approaching storm and watch the rain, which is now coming down pretty hard. Lightning streaks across the darkened skies, followed quickly by deafening cracks of thunder.
It looks like we’re stuck in the barn unless we don’t mind getting drenched. I, for one, am content to wait here for the rain to pass.
I set my camera bag down on a stack of straw bales, safely out of the way of the raining blowing in through the open barn doors.
“Molly?”
“I’m over here,” I say.
Jamie follows the sound of my voice, using a rough-hewn walking stick as a guide. When he reaches me, he props the stick against the barn wall and stands beside me. Outside, it’s chilly, but inside the barn it’s rather cozy.
“That was pretty impressive,” I say. “You haltering the horse and leading her in.”
He laughs. “Elly did that on purpose. I can take care of these horses with my hands tied behind my back. I can groom them, muck out their stalls, feed them, saddle them, even ride. I used to spend hours each day out here working with the horses. There’s something very comforting about manual labor and carrying for animals. I think Elly sees it as a form of therapy.”
“Elly sounds like a pretty smart woman.”
He nods. “Yeah. She is.”
We stand there for a few moments, listening to the storm. The cool, damp air blowing into the barn feels good on my face.
I shiver when I feel Jamie tug on a strand of my hair. Then his hand slips beneath my hair and cups the back of my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.
He runs his fingers down a strand of my hair, measuring its length. His fingers complete their trek just shy of my bra strap, making me nervous. I pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, releasing my hair.
“No, it’s fine.” I laugh nervously to cover up the awkward moment. His touch felt good. Too good, in fact. That’s the problem. “It’s fine, really. I’m just not accustomed to being touched.”
He’s pensive for a moment. “Have you dated anyone since your divorce?”
“No.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Who, Todd? God no.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because, he’s not the same man he was when I met him. He’s changed. Or, maybe he let down his guard and is showing his true colors now. No, I don’t love him. The day he betrayed our marriage vows, he became someone I could never love.”
“Do you think about dating again?”
His question takes me by surprise. “Not really.” I’ve had enough rejection to last a lifetime. I can’t tell him that, though, so I tell him the other part of it – which is also true. “Frankly, I’m enjoying being on my own for the first time in my life. I’ve never lived alone before now, and I’m finding I like it. I’m finally figuring out who I am.”
He nods. “I know what you mean. I’m living on my own for the first time too. I went from my parent’s home to a college dorm to the military, where I shared a house with two other guys. Then, after my accident, I came to live here. Now, I’ve got my own place, and I’m enjoying it.”
Lightning fills the sky to the south, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that sounds like i
t’s awfully close. I jump, taking a step back from the open door and coming up against Jamie. He lays his hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Sorry,” I say.
“That’s all right.”
The wind changes direction and begins blowing rain through the open barn doors, spraying us with a fine, icy mist. Jamie draws me away from the opening.
“It looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” I say.
“I’m okay with that. I’m in good company.”
I laugh nervously. Oh, my God, is he flirting with me? Surely not. “What about you? Are you dating someone? Is there a girlfriend in the picture? For a while, I thought Beth might be your girlfriend. You two seem close.”
“We are close, yes. She lived here for a couple of months over the summer, and we got to know each other well. She was having a rough time of it, recuperating from some injuries. She needed a friend. I think we both did. She’s one of my best friends now.”
“She seems nice.”
“She is. She’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. Shane’s very lucky. And to answer your question, no. I’m not seeing anyone.”
His hand slides down my arm until it reaches my hand, and he links our fingers together. His big hand practically swallows mine, and his grasp is warm and comforting. His touch makes me go weak in the knees.
He squeezes my hand gently. “Molly? Would you consider going out with me?”
My heartbeat quickens. “You mean, on a date?”
The corners of his mouth quirk up in a half smile, betraying his amusement. “Yes, on a date.”
Of course, he meant on a date! But I don’t know what to say. God, I want to, yes. But I can’t. “Jamie, I – ” My response comes to a stuttering end as my desires go to war with my common sense.
“I know you think you’re not ready to be with someone again. I realize your ex-husband hurt you, and maybe you’re not over that yet. I know you’re afraid that he’ll target me if I get too close to you. I get all that, and I understand. But I also think we’d be really good together, and we’re worth taking a chance on. I’m hoping you agree.”
