Simone twisted her head and saw a sturdy-looking man of medium height coming out of the woods near the castle. He was dressed in ancient pants, mud-covered boots, an old flannel shirt, and a faded tweed cap. All of that, however, was secondary to the most noticeable thing about him: the bird of prey he carried on his left wrist.
“Wow. Is that a hawk?”
Julia nodded. “Glen is a naturalist. He’s worked with birds all his life. He runs a school of falconry on the property, and when we decided to turn the castle into a hotel, we asked him to stay on. Guests will be able to take hawk walks around the grounds with Glen or one of his students.” She got up. “I’ve known him for years. We began dating a few months ago, and he proposed last week. Would you like to meet him?”
“Sure.”
The three of them converged on the grassy lawn beside the lake. Glen greeted Simone pleasantly, introducing her to Bruce — the hawk — as though he were a person. Then he pulled a leather gauntlet out of his pocket and handed it to Simone. When she put it on, a little mystified, he transferred the bird to her wrist.
“Would you mind if I have a private word with Julia? That will give you and Bruce a chance to get acquainted.”
“Um, okay.”
As Glen took Julia a few paces away and began to speak in a low voice, Simone stared into the baleful yellow eyes of Bruce the hawk.
He looked a little bit terrifying but also quite beautiful. His feathers were a warm reddish brown, and his feet, beak, and eyes were yellow. As the seconds ticked by and Bruce neither flew away nor pecked her eyes out as though she were one of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella, she started to relax.
She wasn’t trying to listen to Glen and Julia, but she couldn’t help overhearing some of their conversation.
“I assumed you’d told him,” Glen was saying. “When I started talking about the wedding, it was obvious that you hadn’t, and then of course I had to fill him in.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Julia said.
Glen shook his head. “I wish he hadn’t found out like that. He looked a bit shell-shocked.”
“Well, what’s done is done. Where is he?”
“He and Isabelle were heading for the temple when I left them.”
“I’ll talk to him when he gets back. In the meantime . . .” She came back to Simone. “Would you like a tour of the grounds, or the castle? Or would you prefer to rest in your room?”
Julia had better things to do than babysit her. “I think I’d like to wander around on my own for a while. Would that be all right?”
“Of course,” Julia said as Glen took Bruce and the leather gauntlet back. “There are trails and walking paths all over the grounds and lots of places to explore.” She checked her watch. “Our staff test run has officially begun, so remember, you’re to consider yourself a hotel guest. You can have lunch in our dining room until three o’clock and high tea after that, but you can get room service anytime.”
“That sounds great. Thank you.”
Simone hadn’t been outside New York City for a few months, so the closest she’d been to nature in a while was Central Park. Even there, you always knew you were in a city—the distant hum of traffic, the skyscrapers on the horizon, not to mention all the people bicycling, jogging, and walking.
Manhattan had everything you could ever want or need except solitude. Simone was so used to that fact that she rarely noticed it anymore. She’d developed the New Yorker’s ability to create her own solitude, whether it was in the confines of her apartment or with an attitude that said The fact that I’m alone at this café does not constitute an invitation to talk to me.
Now, for the first time in months, she had true solitude—not just in her tiny apartment, but outdoors.
The air was different, too. She loved the myriad odors of Manhattan . . . except, of course, for the occasional scent of urine in subway stations and the pungent tang of dumpsters on trash day. But this . . .
She’d taken the path Glen had been on, into the woods beside the lake. She came to a stone bench and sat down, looking around her at the ancient trees and inhaling—
Fresh air.
It smelled like growing things—earth and leaves and moss and tree roots. There was moisture in the air, too, as though a soft rain might be just around the corner.
For five minutes, she just sat and breathed. She’d never realized how satisfying the simple act of taking in oxygen could be.
After a while, though, her thoughts turned to Zach, who’d stated so confidently that his mother would never remarry. How was he doing with the news? And what was going on with Isabelle and her husband? Maybe this time would be different, in spite of what Julia had said.
Eventually she got up and started walking again, listening to birdsong and the sound of wind tossing the leaves at the tops of the trees. The sun, appearing and disappearing from behind fast-moving clouds, filtered down through the branches in shafts of light that seemed almost tangible. After a while she came to a fork in the path and paused.
The path to the right continued to wind through the woods; the path to the left headed straight uphill toward a small structure that looked like . . .
A Greek temple.
She could see it clearly from here, along with the two figures inside it.
It might have been a scene in a movie. The stone temple on the hilltop . . . the beautiful woman, her hair streaming behind her in the wind . . . the strong, handsome man . . .
But it wasn’t a scene from a movie. It was a private moment that she shouldn’t be watching. She was about to turn away and take the right-hand path when Isabelle turned with a flounce—even from the bottom of the hill Simone could tell it was a flounce—and left the temple, heading back toward the castle.
Zach looked after her for a long moment. Then he sat down on one of the stone seats and put his head in his hands.
Had they had a fight? Or was he upset about his mother getting remarried?
Zach wasn’t a hero in a movie. He’d been her white knight more than once, but he was a human being, as flawed and vulnerable as she was.
And now he was in pain.
She started up the hill. Halfway there, a light rain started to fall.
“Hey,” she said when she reached the top, glad for the shelter of the temple roof.
Zach jerked his head up and stared at her. “Simone? What are you doing here?”
She sat down on the seat opposite him, using her sleeve to pat her face dry. “I was walking through the woods and I saw you.” She hesitated. “I saw Isabelle, too, before she left. Is everything all right? Are you all right?”
His blue eyes searched hers. “You’re asking me if I’m all right?”
Was there something wrong with that? “Well, yes.”
He shook his head. “You’re being kind. How can you be kind after what I did to you?”
So that was it. “You didn’t do anything to me. You weren’t expecting Isabelle to show up, but she did—and of course you’re going to put her first. Anyway, I’m doing fine. I’m staying in a castle in Ireland. You don’t have to worry about me.” She put her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “So let me worry about you.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me, either.” He paused for a moment. “But if you insist, you should know that being around you has already made me feel better.”
A warm feeling spread through her. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. But quit changing the subject. I walked up that damn hill in the rain because you looked unhappy, so tell me what’s going on. Unless you’re too proud to admit something could actually get you down?”
“It’s not pride,” he told her, leaning back and sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s English stoicism.”
“You’re only half English,” she reminded him. “Your mother is
Irish, and I don’t think they’re known for being stoic.” She paused. “Speaking of your mother, she introduced me to a man named Glen. I overheard him mention that he’d told you some news.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Very subtle, Miss Oliver. All right, yes—I found out my mother is getting married again . . . and yes, it was a bit of a shock.”
He looked off to the right and Simone followed his gaze. From their vantage point on the hill they could see the ocean in the distance, gleaming in the sun that shone over the Atlantic even as a fine, misty rain fell where they were.
“That’s Galway Bay,” Zach said. “My parents met in Galway. My dad was there on holiday with friends, but he ditched them when he met my mum. It was love at first sight. He asked her to marry him after two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
“That’s right. They had a fairy-tale romance. I used to pretend I hated seeing them kiss when I was a kid, but I didn’t really. They were so in love . . .” He looked back at Simone and shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess I was foolish to think my mother would never feel that way again. You must think I’m naive.”
“No, but that’s a pretty high standard for a relationship. A fairy-tale romance?” She shook her head. “Maybe that’s why you’re still single. Nothing could measure up to that.”
He smiled at her. “So you’re single because you don’t believe in romance, and I’m single because I believe in it too much. Is that it?”
“Something like that. Of course, I’m sure Isabelle has something to do with it, too. Talk about an impossible standard.”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s just so damn beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes ordinary women feel . . . well, ordinary.”
“You must be joking. Simone, you’re—”
She held up a hand. “Stop right there. I’m not fishing for compliments, I’m just stating a fact. I’m perfectly happy with the way I look, but I don’t have love-at-first-sight beauty. I have once-you-get-to-know-me beauty. Be honest, Zach. When you first met me, did you think, ‘My God, that’s a beautiful woman?’”
He grinned. “Actually, I thought you were a scruffy college intern from a local drama department . . . with gorgeous eyes.”
“There, see? And the thing is, I’ve never really wanted love-at-first-sight beauty. At least not since I was old enough to know better. Because if you’re beautiful like that, it kind of becomes your job. It’s what everyone notices about you, and it’s hard not to be defined by it. When you’re a mere mortal, on the other hand, you get to define yourself.”
“I never thought about it like that. But, Simone—”
“No compliments.”
“You honestly won’t let me tell you that you’re beautiful?”
“Nope.”
“What an odd woman you are.”
“I know. Let’s talk about something else. What about this man your mom is marrying? Do you know him?”
Zach stretched his arms along the back of the stone seat. “Glen? Yeah, I’ve known him for years. He taught me horseback riding and falconry when I was a kid. He’s a great guy. My mum’s lucky to be marrying him.” He sighed. “But he’s not my father.”
They were both quiet for a minute, looking off toward Galway Bay. The rain shower stopped and the sun came out, glistening on the droplets that clung to each blade of grass.
“I was only twelve when he died,” Zach said after a while. “I sometimes wonder if I’d think about him differently if we’d suffered through my adolescence together. Maybe I wouldn’t idealize him as much.” He looked at her. “I know you’re not the idealistic type, but what about your parents? Did you ever idealize them?”
She shook her head. “I love them, but I don’t idealize them. Not even my mom, although I admired her more than anyone in the world. And my dad—” She stopped.
Zach looked at her quizzically. “What about your dad? After the way he took care of your mum, I’d think you might idealize him.”
Simone looked down for a moment. If she told Zach a secret she’d never told anyone, would it help him gain perspective about his own parents?
“I love my father with all my heart,” she said finally. “But no, I don’t idealize him. During the time my mother was sick, he . . . he had an affair.”
Zach stared at her. “Oh, Simone. I’m so sorry. Did your mother know?”
She shook her head. “No one did but me. And I never confronted my dad about it, so he doesn’t know I know, either. I was mad at him at first. I even hated him. But the way he was with my mom . . . God, he loved her so much. That never changed. I realized eventually that he was just weak. You know? It almost killed him to watch my mother go through her illness, knowing he was going to lose her. I think he needed an escape to survive an unbearable situation. The affair was just his way of . . . I don’t know, blowing off steam.”
She rose to her feet, crossed the space between them, and sat down next to Zach. “So you see, you can love someone without idealizing them. Your mom has flaws. Your dad had flaws, too, even if you don’t know what they were.” She smiled at him. “Even Isabelle has flaws.”
When she’d sat down, she’d been careful to leave some space between them. But now Zach reached out and took one of her hands in both of his.
“So that’s why you’re single.”
She tried to ignore the waves of pleasure his touch set off in her body. “What do you mean?”
“That night we stayed with Henry, you said you weren’t looking for a soul mate because you didn’t want him to watch you deteriorate. But that’s not really it, is it? You’re afraid he wouldn’t stay to watch. You’re afraid that when you’re at your most vulnerable, he’ll betray you. And so you’ll never give anyone the opportunity.”
Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about those waves of pleasure anymore.
She jerked her hand away and got to her feet. “I didn’t tell you about my dad so you could use it against me. I just wanted you to realize that you can see people for who they really are and still care about them.”
Zach rose to his feet, too. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Isabelle, for example, is a self-centered narcissist who’s been jerking you around for years. If you choose to continue caring about her after coming to terms with that, then fine. But at least open your eyes to who she really is.”
The instant the words were out of her mouth she knew she’d gone too far.
For a moment he just stared at her. Then:
“I know you think I idealize everyone, and maybe I do. But you condemn everyone. You don’t even know Isabelle, and you . . .” He shook his head. “You think you’re being realistic, but that’s not it. You’re just protecting yourself. If you decide everyone’s an asshole, then no one can ever disappoint you.”
“That’s not true,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t think everyone’s an asshole. But even if I am protecting myself, what about you? You’ve forgotten one side benefit of your hopeless love for a married woman. It keeps you from having to deal with an actual relationship. You could never handle the reality of that, and this way you don’t have to. And that’s why you’re still single.”
Then she turned on her heel just like Isabelle had and walked away.
Two women pissed off at him. Maybe he should pick a fight with his mother and make it a trifecta.
A part of him wanted to believe that jealousy was behind what Simone had said about Isabelle, and maybe it was. But he knew she also believed it was true. If there was one thing he could count on when it came to Simone, it was that she would always tell the truth.
Most people would say anything except what they really meant. Simone was the opposite. She might not say everything she was thinking or feeling, but what she did say, she meant.
But that
didn’t mean she was right. And she wasn’t right about Isabelle.
Or him.
Isabelle might not be as straightforward as Simone was, but she was in a tough position. She was in an unhappy marriage, and while Zach had been trying to get her to leave for years, he knew it wasn’t that easy. She and Nigel had two children together, and—
He’d been looking down toward the castle, and now he caught a glimpse of the woman in question. Isabelle was in the rose garden, walking the gravel paths with her head bowed.
Zach felt a pang of guilt. He was the selfish one, not Isabelle. His old friend had come to him in a time of need, and she’d had every right to be upset when the news about Glen and his mother had distracted him from their conversation . . . especially since he’d already been distracted by Simone. Isabelle had accused him of not caring about her before she’d walked away.
Between his friend’s sudden appearance, his confusion about Simone, and the news about his mother, he’d needed a few minutes to get his head together before going after Isabelle. Then Simone had showed up, bringing her unique mixture of warm comfort and abrasive honesty . . . and reminding him of how damn attracted he was to her.
And then he’d bollixed things up with her, too.
One thing at a time. Before he could mend fences with Simone, he needed to talk to Isabelle.
He’d reached the walkway outside the rose garden when he heard her voice. He thought she was with someone until he realized she was talking to Nigel on her cell phone.
“Because you neglect me. Yes, I said neglect. Well, what do you call it? All those functions you send me to alone . . . Yes, of course I understand the demands of your career. I’ve understood the demands of your career through the birth of two children, and I . . . Well, then, what?” A short pause. “That’s not fair. At least Zach actually listens to me when I talk to him. Why can’t you be more like that? Why do I have to fly to Ireland to get you to pay attention to me?” Another pause. “Of course I want things to work between us. Don’t you think I want my marriage to be a success? But you take me for granted, and I—”
Nothing Like Love Page 16
