The Beginning of Everything: Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet — Book One

by Broderick, Blaire

I placed the tray of food over his lap and prepared his nebulizer treatment. As he ate in silence, I hoisted myself onto his bed next to him and rested my head on the pillow. Maybe it was unprofessional of me, but I was too tired to think clearly.

  Within minutes, I popped up, woken by my faint snoring and my dry, scratchy throat. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  Julian smiled. “You’re officially the first girl to ever sleep in my bed.”

  It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile, and for a split second, he almost seemed likable. Normal.

  “You’re cute when you smile,” I teased. “I never realized that. You should smile more often.”

  Julian blushed and turned away dropping his spoon into his bowl.

  “Did I embarrass you?” I teased some more as I poked him in his side.

  “Ouch. Stop that,” he said, reverting to his old self in a matter of seconds.

  “I’m just trying to lighten you up a bit,” I said. “You’re so tightly wound all the time. Sorry.”

  I reached over and gently lifted his shirt to look at his ribs placing one warm palm over the area I’d just poked.

  “I hope that doesn’t bruise,” I said. “I didn’t mean to poke you so hard.”

  I was so close to him I could feel his breath on top of my head. I could also hear the faint beating of his heart in his chest. I pulled away and locked eyes with him trying to get a read. I imagined what his mother would say if she saw bruises on his ribs, and I imagined Julian making up some elaborate story out of spite. He seemed so resentful of me sometimes, and I couldn’t understand why.

  “You apologize too much,” he said, leaning away from me. “I’ll be fine.”

  Relieved, I scooted further away from him and sunk back into the bed to relax a bit more.

  “You can sleep,” he said as he turned the volume down on the TV. Maybe he didn’t completely hate me after all.

  I closed my tired eyes and drifted off into a sweet little catnap. I awoke hours later. “Oh, geez. I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

  I climbed off the bed, Julian watching my every move, and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a bit with your lunch. Try to eat a little more today, will ya?”

  I returned a bit later with his lunch and situated the tray over his lap like I always did.

  “What’s this?” he said, staring down at the plate. “This isn’t on my menu.”

  “You’re way too skinny,” I told him. “You’re skin and bones, Julian. I bet if you put on a little bit of weight, you’d feel better. Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired. Maybe you’d be able to move around without needing so much help. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  His face twisted as if I’d struck a nerve. “You think you’re the first person who’s ever tried to get me to eat more?”

  “Please try. That’s all I ask,” I replied, my hands in the air.

  He stared down at the hearty bowl of potato soup in front of him strategically loaded with shredded cheddar, bacon pieces, and croutons. He took an inaudible sip from the soup spoon.

  “Not bad, huh?” I asked with a patient smile.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “Potato-bacon corn chowder,” I replied. “A Cawthorn family recipe.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “All right? That’s all I get?” It was like pulling teeth with him sometimes.

  “You did a good job. I like it,” he finally complimented me. “But don’t deviate from the menu too often. That’s all I ask. I have a highly sensitive stomach.”

  “Your routines make you feel safe, don’t they?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?” he said, turning slowly to meet my gaze.

  “Listen, I get it,” I said, standing firm in my suggestion. “You’ve had a pretty shitty life so far. You have this disease that will never go away. You’re tired all the time. You never feel well. You’re stuck in this room all day long. Your parents pawn you off onto someone else, so they don’t have to look after you as much, and your routines are the only constant in your life. They’re your security blanket. They’re the only things you have to rely on. They never let you down.”

  “Good job, Evie. Way to go,” he said with a sarcastic smirk. I’d angered him. “You’ve been here just a few days now, and you have me completely figured out.”

  I stood up and walked over to his window.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded to know.

  “What does it look like?” I asked, flinging open the thick, dark tapestry curtains.

  He buried his eyes in the crook of his left elbow. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  I flipped the latches on the window and slid it open. “Hear that? Listen.”

  Julian lowered his arm and peered toward the window with narrowed eyes. “What am I listening for?”

  “Robins. Do you hear them?”

  “Yes, what about them?”

  “There’s a whole world out there, Julian, and you’re denying yourself the privilege of knowing it,” I said, standing on my soapbox. “You need to be a part of that. You owe it to yourself. Live a little.”

  “Why is this so important to you,” Julian scoffed. “You’re just hired help.”

  “I’m a nurse,” I said, holding my head high. “Believe it or not, I care about you.”

  I grabbed his dishes and left his room returning a few minutes later with a pair of sneakers in hand.

  “What are those for?” Julian asked, wrinkling his nose at me.

  “It took me forever to find these. I think they’re your dad’s, but they should work.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, crossing his arms like a petulant child, his golden eyes burning into mine.

  “I have something I want to show you,” I said. I could argue with him all day if that was what it was going to take. I had all the time in the world.

  Julian glanced out the window as a light breeze ruffled his thick, chocolate brown hair pushing it into his eyes. I walked over and pushed the hair off his face. The reflection of the sunlight in his champagne eyes nearly took my breath away. He was beautiful, almost in an otherworldly sort of way as if he didn’t belong here and was merely passing through.

  “Where are you taking me?” Julian asked, his tone relenting and defeated.

  “I’m taking you to my car.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass,” he said with a humored huff. “You know what I meant.”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” I teased.

  Within minutes, we were sitting in my car, buckled in, waiting for the heat to kick on. Julian shivered as he rubbed his hands together saying nothing.

  “We’re just taking a little cruise,” I said, my breath turning into puffy white clouds that quickly dissipated once they hit the warm air that was beginning to blow from the vents. I pressed my foot on the accelerator, and my car lunged forward, the engine rattling.

  “Geez, loud enough for you?” Julian said.

  “I’m sorry, my family isn’t loaded and could only afford to get me this piece here,” I replied. “But it gets me where I need to go, so I can’t complain.”

  He sat still and quiet for a bit as we drove out of his neighborhood. I had less than a quarter of a tank of gas, but it was enough to get us out of that godforsaken mansion for a while.

  “Do you know how to drive?” I asked.

  “Nope. Never learned.”

  “Maybe I can teach you someday,” I offered. I looked over at Julian who had removed his hat and gloves. The heat from the vents was starting to create a sauna in my little car. It was always one extreme or the other with that thing. “You can roll down your window if you want.”

  He pressed the button on the passenger door and cracked the window letting in a burst of frigid February air. “I want to see where you live.”

  “It’s nothing special,” I said with hesitation. “Just a small house on the other side of town.”

  “I want to see it.�
� He was as stubborn as ever.

  “I don’t know. Maybe another time.”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all. I won’t judge if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  I drove north to my part of town, just past the vacated appliance factory and the UAW union hall and further on by the seedy bars and strip clubs that everyone knew existed in Haverford, but no one ever talked about. We drove through a couple more neighborhoods all branded by unkept yards and chain-link fences, and I slowed down as I approached Haverford Avenue.

  “Right there,” I said as I pointed over the dashboard. “That little yellow house with the blue shutters.”

  Julian stared and said nothing. My entire house could probably fit into half of the dining hall at Julian’s house.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Pretty impressive. I know.”

  “Quaint,” he said. At least he was being honest.

  “I grew up there with my parents and little sister. I had my own room, but yes, it’s a very small house. We’re a pretty close family, though, so it’s not that big of a deal to be crammed in there together. You know what’s weird?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Growing up, it never felt small to me,” I said with a nostalgic smile. “It always felt cozy. Perfect.”

  “The Haverford Manse is the only home I’ve ever known,” Julian replied, shuddering from the cold air that seeped in through the cracked window. “My family’s not close at all. Maybe our house is too big.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” I said. I reached underneath my seat and pulled out a CD case and tossing it in his lap. “Pick something.”

  Julian unzipped the case and carefully flipped through my music collection. “Iron and Wine?”

  “You like them, too?” I asked.

  “Love them,” Julian said.

  “I’ve never met anyone else who even knew who they were,” I mused.

  “Sam Beam’s lyrics make you think of everything in a different way,” Julian said, reaching over to turn up the volume as the distinctive guitar plucking of Resurrection Fern began to play.

  “Should we head back?” I eventually asked after noticing the falling needle of my gas tank and the flashing icon on my dashboard telling me to get gas now.

  “Yeah, we can,” he said almost regrettably. “I am getting a little hungry.”

  “I don’t feel like cooking tonight. Can we stop at a drive-thru or something?”

  “I’m not supposed to eat fast food,” Julian protested. “It’s not healthy.”

  “I think we can make an exception, don’t you?”

  I pulled into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint and ordered two cheeseburger meals before heading back to the mansion.

  “We should eat at the kitchen table tonight instead of your bedroom,” I said as I helped him out of the car. He gripped my arm as we shuffled on the frozen, snow-covered sidewalk to the back entrance. I sat him down at the table and grabbed two plates. “I can’t believe it’s dark out already. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

  Julian quietly shoveled food into his mouth and nodded.

  “I think it’s an early-to-bed kind of night,” I said, watching him devour his greasy dinner. “You like that, don’t you?”

  “It’s pretty good,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

  I smiled, secretly proud of myself for getting him to eat so well all week. He would start putting on weight in no time. I planned on making him a huge breakfast the next morning. I refused to let him subsist on plain oatmeal and wheat toast any longer.

  Julian finished his dinner, and I helped him upstairs and into his bed.

  “Was today all that bad?” I asked, pulling the covers over him.

  “I had a nice time today,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. It was probably one of the nicest things he’d said to me all week.

  “You and your backhanded compliments,” I snickered.

  Without warning, Julian moved his hand up to my face and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “That was bugging me.”

  He was starting to come out of his shell even if only in small increments. I was starting to love my job and spending my days with Julian were becoming fun.

  “You can call me Jules if you want,” he said.

  “Like Jules Verne?” I asked. “I like Julian. It suits you better. It’s sort of all buttoned-up and proper… like you.”

  “I’m not buttoned-up,” he scoffed.

  I laughed, the tension in my body fading slowly. “I beg to differ.”

  Julian sat up in his bed and inched closer to me, and for a brief moment, I felt like he wanted to kiss me. I quickly snapped out of it telling myself I was imagining things.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m not tired anymore,” he said. “Want to stay up and talk?”

  He patted the spot on his bed next to him.

  “Or we can stay up and watch a little TV or something,” he suggested.

  “Sure, okay,” I said, sliding in next to him and leaning back against the headboard.

  Julian flipped the TV to a boring cable news show where two pundits were discussing the economy and debating whether or not we were truly out of the recession. I glanced over at him through the corner of my eye. In the glow of the TV, he looked normal. I didn’t see his sunken cheeks or under-eye circles. He didn’t look sick. He was quite handsome with his square jaw, full lips, penetrating champagne eyes, and perfectly straight nose.

  I yawned and instinctively scooted my back down the headboard until my head hit the pillow.

  “Stay awake,” Julian said as he nudged me.

  “I know. I’m trying. I’m so tired.”

  “I want to show you something.” He turned off the TV and sent the room into pitch darkness which sent me into a state of instant alertness. I heard him clicking a few buttons, and in an instant, the ceiling lit up with stars. “It’s my own little planetarium.”

  “Julian,” I said, sitting up. “This is beautiful.”

  “I turn it on every night before bed. I have it on a timer. It helps me fall asleep sometimes.”

  “I love this. Does my room have one?”

  I sunk back into his soft bed and slipped my hands behind my head as I took in the simplistic, starry sky above us. Lying there in the dark, I felt the warmth of his breath close to my face and the soft caress of his hand upon my cheek gently pulling my lips toward his. I thought about pushing him away, but confusion paralyzed me, and it felt so good to be wanted again. His lips pressed against mine, softly and tenderly. Perfectly sweet.

  I pushed him away the second I remembered how much I loved working there and how much I needed that job. “I should go to bed.”

  4

  JULIAN

  She left my room in a hurry, and I thanked God she couldn’t see how red-hot my cheeks were burning. Why’d I have to go and kiss her? I clicked off the planetarium and threw my remote across the room.

  The taste of her lips lingered on mine. A mix of cherry lip balm and cinnamon gum—that was what Evie Cawthorn tasted like. She was my first kiss. At twenty-fucking-four years old, she was my first kiss.

  Riding around town with her, listening to music, and talking about whatever happened to come to mind, I felt different around her. The Julian Garner-Willoughby who had returned to the mansion earlier that night was not the same one who’d walked out of there that morning.

  I pulled the covers over my head, desperate to forget what had just happened, and closed my eyes.

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of Evie’s voice and the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet as she carried my breakfast over to the table by my window.

  “I made you an awesome breakfast,” she said proudly. Much to my relief, she was pretending like the kiss hadn’t happened.

  I wasn’t half the person Evie was, though, and I couldn’t pretend. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I just spent an h
our downstairs making this for you,” Evie pouted. “I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t touch it.”

  “Then you eat it.”

  “I want you to have it. I made it for you.”

  I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see her baby-blue eyes pleading with me or the pout of her full lips, the very same ones I’d claimed the night before in a fit of I don’t know what. I didn’t want to see the way her t-shirt hugged the slight curve of her hips or the way her black yoga pants left very little to the imagination.

  “I said I’m not hungry,” I repeated, not mincing my words.

  “You know,” she said with a frustrated sigh, “I was perfectly fine acting like nothing happened last night. I don’t know why you have to be this way.”

  I forced myself to look right at her, and the vision of her pretty face and soft features in the faint light of my room was like pouring salt into an open wound. I’d never wanted something so badly in my life, and the fact that I couldn’t have her drove me insane.

  “I can’t do that,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s all I can think about.”

  She sauntered up to the bed tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and sitting down next to me. “Look. I genuinely care about you. I want to work for your family for years to come. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

  Her voice was soft and sweet but not reassuring enough for me. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I’m assuming I’m the first girl your age that you’ve spent this much time with,” she said, treading lightly. “I’m sure you’re confused about how you feel toward me. We were lying in bed last night in the dark. The stars were lit above us. We’d just spent the entire day together. It was romantic, I’ll admit. I can see how it happened. I don’t want to jeopardize anything, okay? I want to be around for as long as I can.”

  “I guess,” I said, my eyes falling to the floor releasing her gaze.

  The faint shudder of the front door opening and closing below us brought us out of the conversation, and Evie ran to the window to see who was here.

  “Your parents are back early,” she said. I could hear a hint of disappointment in her voice whether or not she realized it.