by Leah Vale
Ashley gave the perfect laugh. "Oh, Walter. That was before he met our Juliet." Then she started to pull Juliet away.
Though embarrassed-and a little flattered-by Ashley's comments, Juliet resisted. Harrison planned to shut down a mill? The ghost of the question she had once asked herself flitted through her mind.
Was the man who held her and Nathan in his arms and made them feel so safe the real Harrison Rivers? Or was he the man who shut down mills, put the almighty bottom line above all else and believed it was never good to love someone too much ?
It was past time for Juliet to find out.
"What mill is this?" she asked Jacobson, surprising Ashley enough that she let go of Juliet's arm.
He met her gaze, his sharp blue eyes clearly assessing her. "The Dover Creek Mill. Not big, but it feeds roughly a hundred and fifty families."
A hundred and fifty families including Juliet's. Willie was to have started working there this week.
She pulled in a steadying breath, but her stomach still knotted. "And Harrison plans to close it?"
Walter joined in. "Not permanently, but it will take a good three years to refit the place the way he wants."
The knot loosened a bit. "He probably intends to hire the mill workers to help with the refitting."
Both men chuckled, but Jacobson said kindly, "They're mill workers, my dear. Not contractors. Neither union would allow it."
Walter shook his head. "The fact of the matter is the boy likes to make changes, take risks. Always has." He looked at Juliet, then glanced away, but not before she saw what he'd been thinking.
Harrison had taken a huge risk with her, and had paid the price. But when he closed that mill, the families who it supported would pay the price. He had to know that. Or did he? Juliet needed to find out. Willie's future depended on it;
She excused herself from the group and turned to scan the crowd for Harrison. Taller and broader than most around him and wearing a silky brown shirt and tan pants that drew attention to his build, he wasn't hard to spot across the veranda.
At her side Ashley asked, "Juliet?"
"I need to speak with Harrison."
"He knows what he's doing, Juliet."
She looked over her shoulder at the woman who'd surprised the heck out of her by becoming the sister she'd never had and said, "That's what I'm afraid of."
Harrison watched Juliet make her way toward him with slow and subtle grace. He couldn't help staring.
She was beautiful. And while she had clearly dressed to impress, she seemed completely unaware of the appreciative interest she generated. As a matter of fact, she seemed very determined. Perhaps even angry.
At him.
She wasn't looking at him like a woman in love anymore as she wound her way through the crowd, but more like a woman with a bone to pick.
God help him if she decided to make a scene in the middle of his father's retirement party. Dad definitely would not get over any sort of disruption. While he wasn't sure that his father had even noticed her presence amongst the guests, he certainly would if she did anything unusual.
But the closer she got to him the more she started to smile and nod at the people she passed, particularly the women she'd undoubtedly met at Grandmother's fund-raiser. She looked far too refined to be
contemplating a fit, radiating confidence with every step. Damn if she didn't look utterly at home among their guests.
Like she belonged.
While allowing Juliet's emotions to become so deeply involved in their relationship was now his ultimate act of irresponsibility, he didn't regret bringing her here one bit. This was the world Juliet deserved, and he was ridiculously glad to be able to give it to her.
He couldn't help grinning as she came to stand before him. But when he looked into her eyes and saw the hardness there, his grin faded.
She pursed her lips together for a moment, then lifted her chin. "I need to talk to you. Alone."
Fearing that perhaps someone had insulted her in some way, he gripped her waist with a possessive hand. "What happened?"
"I just..." She looked away for a second, then straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye again. "I'd like to talk to you in private about something. And it can't wait."
The hair on the back of his neck started to rise with premonition. He feared his perfect world was about to hit a glitch. "Okay. Let's go in the house."
Unwilling to let go of her because of a sudden fear she would bolt, he slid his hand to the other side of her waist and guided her toward the French doors. Once in the house he directed her toward his father's study because it was the only room with doors he could close-and lock-on the first floor.
After the doors were secured, he slowly turned to face her, not willing to acknowledge the dread tightening his stomach muscles. "What's wrong?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the red fabric of the closely tailored suit tight over her shoulders. "Are you going to close the Dover Creek Mill?"
Harrison blinked. "What?"
She shifted her weight in obvious aggravation, and Harrison was momentarily distracted from his confusion by the even more unexpected sight of the shoes she was wearing. They were very red, very high and undoubtedly very uncomfortable. And they struck him as being very, very wrong.
She regained his attention by saying slowly and succinctly, "Are you, or are you not, planning to close the Dover Creek Mill?"
Confused as hell over why she even wanted to know, let alone was angry about it, he ran a hand through his hair. "I have to buy it first."
"But then you plan on closing it?"
"So it can be refitted and modernized, yes."
She started to pace, her agitation obvious in her jerky movements and the sharp clicking of her heels on the hardwood floor. "And that will take a few years."
He threw his arms wide and shrugged, "About three, I guess, but what does this have to do with anything? Why do you want to know?"
She abruptly halted and turned to glare at him. "Why do I want to know? Gee, let me think. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I know- firsthand, mind you-what it's like to be on the other side of a mill closure. I know what it's like to have the powers that be-you, for instance-not give a rat's butt that entire communities are sent into tail-spins because the main employer locks the doors-"
"I won't be shutting that mill down for good. And when it reopens, it will be a better, healthier place to work-"
"After three years! What are those people supposed to live on for three years? Anticipation of a better, healthier place to work?"
"Juliet, please. Why are you so angry at me over this?" He looked out the window at the people gathered on the lawn. "Why now?"
"Because I realized that your zest for change affects an awful lot of people, Harrison, and I need to know if you are aware that it's not always for the better."
"I am very aware of my responsibilities. I have always done my damnedest to do the right thing."
"But you interpret doing the right thing to mean growing the bottom line of your company-"
"Which feeds hundreds of people quite nicely, thank you."
"You can do that without putting other people out of work, sparky."
Frustrated by her seemingly unmotivated hostility, he planted his hands on his hips. "Is that so. And you learned how to run a corporation in the course of one conversation? I'm impressed."
"No, right now you're a jerk. A jerk I don't particularly feel like impressing anymore." She bent and yanked the red pumps from her feet.
"You don't have to impress me-"
With an arch look, she interrupted him. "Because I'm bad at it?"
"No, damn it. You've always impressed me, Juliet. From the second I laid eyes on you and saw your ability to find peace in something as simple as the sun on your face and joy in fake flames duct-taped to an old racing motorcycle. And the way you love our son. That impresses the hell out of me. You've even managed to remind me how luck
y I am."
He pointed at the shoes she gripped suspiciously like weapons. "You don't have to cram your feet into those things and get all dressed up to impress me. Or anyone. Why don't you go upstairs and change into some jeans and come back down-"
"Oh, I'd come back down, all right, and the smart thing would be to keep going right out the front door. I can't do this after all, Harrison. This," she waved the toe of one shoe at her expensive suit, "is not me. I can pull it off, but I'm not sure I want to. Even at the price of giving all this-" she indicated the den with both shoes "-up."
"But what about Nathan?"
"What about him? You said you love him, but what would you be willing to give up for him?"
One thing he did not want to give up was his son's mother. Thinking that it might not be so nuts after all to legitimize his relationship with her, he offered, "How about if I give up my freedom?"
"What?"
"How about if we get married? You know, so Nathan will be raised in a more traditional family setting."
"Traditional? Oh, you mean the kind where the dad won't admit to loving the mom because loving someone too much is bad? That kind of family?"
He recognized his own words coming back at him, and, hearing her say them, he realized he didn't like how they sounded. He stared stonily at her. The last thing he wanted to teach his son was that loving was bad. He wanted Nathan to know the joys of love, not the pain. But Harrison's gut twisted with the knowledge that he didn't know how to teach him anymore.
She shook her head and blew out a breath. "Look, Harrison, I'm sorry. I know you mean well, that this is your way of still trying to fix your mistake the same way you want to fix that mill and make it better. But you're blind to your own needs, just like you're blind to what closing that mill will cost other people."
"I am not blind to anything, Juliet. I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to make sure no one suffers while I refurbish the mill. And as far as my needs go, why do you think I'm asking you to marry me?"
She arched a brow. "Are we talking emotional needs or physical needs here?"
"Why does it matter?"
Both of her delicate eyebrows jerked high. "You're joking, right?"
He raised his hands in frustration. "What do you want from me?"
"The one thing you won't give me."
"And what, precisely, is that?"
"Your heart."
Said organ froze in his chest. "My heart?"
"Yes, your heart. As in, 'I love you Juliet, with all my heart.' But you won't tell me that, will you? That's not part of your proposal package because you don't feel it."
He clenched his jaw tight. She was asking for the one thing he'd sworn to never give up. Or was she just interested in platitudes? Would she put to words what he had sworn he'd seen in her eyes? Did she really feel it? He turned the tables on her. "So you want a declaration of love. Are you willing to give me yours?"
Her stubborn chin went up. "I think I've given you enough already." She walked up to him and slapped the red pumps into his hands. "I need to make sure that Nathan gets some of your dad's cake before he goes down for his nap. Ashley said ol' George insisted. Go figure." She headed for the door.
A spurt of panic made his heart pound. "Then what will you do?"
She paused at the door but didn't turn around to face him. "I don't know. I've got a lot to think about. But I do know I don't feel like hanging around masquerading as something I'm not." She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him what might have been a smirk if it weren't so heartbreakingly sad. "That whole 'to thine own self be true' thing."
He watched the door shut behind her. He dropped his gaze to the high-heeled shoes in his hands, numbed by the dread oozing through him. What in the hell had just happened here?
The woman you wouldn't admit to loving just walked out on you, sparky.
He shook his head at the irony of her being so entrenched in his life that he heard her in his head, but she wouldn't have him.
He wandered behind the large desk and plopped down in the black leather chair. Setting the red pumps on the green blotter, he studied them as if the answers would jump out of them like cobbler's elves. He was losing it.
"Damn it," he swore in bitter frustration. Why couldn't things have continued the way they were? Why couldn't Juliet be content with what he could give her? If she wanted the moon and the stars, by God, he'd arrange delivery. But no, she wanted the one thing he couldn't do.
With an exasperated huff, he propped his elbows on the desk and held his head in his hands, massaging his scalp with his fingers.
Just like his father always did.
A chill claimed him with suffocating swiftness. Here he was, sitting like his dad, feeling useless and bitter. The exact way he had thought he would avoid feeling by making the choice he had thought he should make. The choice of never loving a woman too much.
He'd thought that by holding tight to his heart he'd
be able to escape this fate, that he'd always be in control.
He let loose the loudest snort he was capable of. He hadn't had a shred of control from the moment he'd laid eyes on Juliet. And seeing the hurt in her eyes when he'd denied her his heart left him feeling scraped raw and aching.
He did love Juliet and he couldn't imagine living without her. It was worth losing control over.
Good Lord, he wanted the family the three of them made more than he wanted anything.
More than he wanted his grandfather's company.
He eyed the shoes on the desk as he rose to his feet. They'd struck him as wrong for a reason. More than anything, he wanted this beautiful, barefoot, brown-eyed girl in his life. He'd be damned if he'd lose her.
After finding out that Juliet had headed for the river once she'd given Nathan his cake and been assured by Dorothy that she would put the baby down for his nap as soon as he finished eating, Harrison hurried to the boathouse upriver from the dock. What better way to prove to Juliet that he was serious about giving her his heart than from the river she loved?
While he hadn't personally used it in years, the old green canoe had been kept clean and ready to be slipped in the water by the groundskeeper. Harrison had no trouble launching the canoe and hopping in. The current, swift from the summer melt-off of mountain snow, carried him out away from the bank.
Having had no doubts that she would be there, he steered the canoe toward the dock where Juliet sat in the Adirondack, her red suit hard to miss. She was staring at the water, and her forlorn expression tore at his heart. Determination pumped through his veins.
"Juliet!" His shout from the river visibly startled her out of her musing. She jerked forward in the chair at the sight of him paddling toward her.
"Juliet," he called again, and started to paddle backward to keep from passing the dock. The current of the river swirled so that he doubted he'd be able to land the canoe there because of the angle he'd taken.
Rising to her feet, she yelled, "What are you doing?"
He paddled harder. "Losing control, that's what."
"Stop fighting the current. You'll have to cut over to the bank farther down."
"Not of the canoe. Of me! I've lost control of me. From the second I laid eyes on you. And I can't fight it anymore. I don't want to."
"What?" She glanced over her shoulder, obviously thinking of the lawnful of corporate stiff-lips over the rise behind her. He followed her gaze, and sure enough, some of them had wandered toward the impressive view the river presented and were now captivated by the spectacle of their boss madly paddling to keep a canoe even with the dock.
Juliet turned back to him and hissed, "Are you nuts?"
"Yes, I'm nuts. I'm nuts over you. I want to be with you, in front of God and everyone!"
Juliet gaped at him, but he couldn't take the time to enjoy her stunned expression. The river was winning the battle, and he drifted past the dock.
"Ah, hell." He gave up and stowed the paddle. Without a moment's he
sitation, he dove into the river toward her. With a few quick strokes he reached the dock.
She hurried to the edge to help him, but he flattened his palms on the decking and hoisted himself out the way he used to do when he had the time and inclination for swimming in the river, then shook himself like a dog.
"Good Lord, Harrison, what are you doing?"
"Well, proposing to you from the river seemed like a good idea at the time." He swiped the water from his face with his hands, then glared at the swirling water at the end of the low dock. "I forgot about that damn current, though."
Her glorious brown eyes wide, she quickly glanced at the steadily growing crowd on the rise and groaned. "But what will your father say-"
"I don't give a damn." He reached for her and gripped her upper arms, his wet hands soaking through her red blazer and sending a shiver through her. God help him if it was just from the cold. "I only care what you have to say. So will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Marry me."
"Harrison, we've been through this. You yourself gave me the courage to refuse to settle for less than what I want. I'd rather walk away than be with you knowing you won't let yourself love me." She tried to pull away from his grasp but he wouldn't let her go. He couldn't.
"No."
"I won't take Nathan away, if that's what you're worried about. Is there a carriage house or something on the estate where Nathan and I can move so he'll still be-"
"I won't let you walk away from us."
"There is no us," she insisted, and shrugged out of his grasp. She turned away, her determination to resist made dignified by her squared shoulders.
"Yes, there is. There always has been. From the second we first laid eyes on each other, there's been an us." He moved close behind her, the water running off him forming a pool around their feet, making her bare toes curl. He spoke in her ear. "It was there even before. I remember feeling like I was searching for something. At the time I'd thought it was for a way to deal with my grief. But it wasn't. I was searching for the kind of peace that goes beyond being able to accept death. The kind of peace I found with you."
He reached up a hand and touched her shoulder, to solidify their connection. "I felt so centered after being with you."
