Julie walked slightly slower than he did, a half-step behind. With a questioning smile on his face, he turned to her and slowed his step so that she walked beside him. His handsome features were silvered by the light of a moon as white as a magnolia blossom.
"Hear the brook?"
Julie nodded, still gripping her injured finger in her other hand. The lyrical sound of water rushing over rocks grew louder as they approached.
"Watch your step here," Stephen cautioned, gripping her elbow. The rocks, dampened by mist rising from the water, were indeed slick. Once Julie grabbed Stephen's hand.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes," she murmured. She wished she had never started this.
"Now," Stephen said when they stopped on the creek bank. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the rag with which he had wiped the wire that morning. "You may sit on this, so that your clothes will not get dirty from the rock." He spread the cloth out on a large flat rock and settled himself beside her.
The pearl-gray vapor rose from the stream, lending the moon-flooded creek bank a sense of unreality. Damp sand edged the rocks, and on the opposite bank, little saplings dipped low, looking like the acrobats of the tree family. Water purled softly at their feet, singing a song of bewitchery, of moon-haunting in the mist.
Julie put her finger with the torn fingernail in her mouth. She tasted blood.
Stephen saw the flicker of pain cross her face. "Is something wrong?" he asked quickly. "Have you hurt your finger?"
Julie inspected the fingernail. "I tore it when I was trying to get the gate open."
"Here, we will wash it with the water of the brook," Stephen said. He dampened his handkerchief and returned to her, lifting her hand gently as he dabbed at her fingernail.
"Does that make it feel better?"
Numbly she nodded, but the truth was that her hurting finger now seemed of secondary importance. At his touch she felt a flush spread throughout her body, and she was conscious of the soft sibilance of his breathing over the sound of the creek.
He darted a quick glance at her face. He seemed not to notice anything amiss there, and she bit down on her lip, trying to marshal her thoughts and pull them away from this man—this handsome, kind and talented man who openly admired her, obviously enjoyed her company, and cared enough not to let her wander at night in unfamiliar territory.
He tossed the handkerchief aside and resumed his position beside her, holding fast to her hand. She was too overwhelmed by his virile presence to object. From the corner of her eye she could see the dim shading of beard stubble sweeping from sideburn to jaw, the thoughtful set of his lips. Her senses seemed sharpened, her body throbbed with electricity, and her brain seemed to have become inoperative. She tried to swallow only to discover that her throat was too dry.
"I have not been alone with many women since I came to the United States," he said slowly. "I am afraid that I don't know how to act."
She was trembling like a teenager at the thought of being so close to him, and he was going to talk about his love life? She tried not to show her dismay.
"I don't think I know how to go about having what you call a relationship," he said softly.
"Stephen, I—"
"No, no, do not worry, Juliana. I only want to talk for a while." He laced his fingers through hers with a sigh. "To communicate with another human being who knows me. Although I have always felt close to the Andrassys, I left all my friends behind when I left the Moscow Circus. I lost my mother when I was a boy. Even now, there is no one in the U.S. who knows me well, who understands my moods, who realizes what made me the person I am."
"Have you been lonely?" Julie asked carefully, surprised that he was revealing so much of himself. Stephen always seemed so self-sufficient and assured.
"Lonely enough that I know that it is good to have people who can be depended on to be a friend. I miss knowing the kind of person who would mourn if I had a pet that died, someone I could call at three in the morning if I had a problem, and to whom I could reveal anything without being judged. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes," Julie said. "A best friend."
"Is that what it is called? Yes, a best friend." His voice was low, contemplative.
She had never considered the emotional wrench Stephen must have felt at losing his mother at such an early age and being separated from the only family he had ever known. His loneliness touched her, and she felt a blossoming empathy.
Julie thought she would not be able to say the words, but somehow she managed. "Did you have a special woman friend?"
"Oh, several. But not the kind you are thinking of. There were women over the years, but never anyone of long standing or who had had particular meaning in my life. And you, Juliana, surely you have had relationships?"
His openness made it easy for her to confide. "Once, long ago, I loved a man," she admitted. "It was after the accident, when I tried a lot of new and different things, frantically hoping to make sense of what had happened. His name was Brent, and it lasted almost a year, but we simply weren't right for each other and I broke it off. I don't like to talk about it."
"No one since then?"
"I had Nonna to take care of, I had my work, and it was enough."
"You appointed yourself to take care of your grandmother? Or the others expected you to? How did it happen that you are solely responsible for her, Juliana?" His voice was soft, seductive.
"I had to, it was my fau—" Horrified at what she'd almost said, Julie yanked her hand from his. She tried to scramble to her feet, but her heel slipped on the mossy rock and she landed with a thud.
"What, Juliana, what were you going to say?" Stephen's intent face, damp with mist, loomed in her field of vision, so close that his riveting blue eyes were only inches from hers.
"Nothing, I wasn't going to say anything!"
His eyes held hers for interminable seconds until he suddenly relaxed and drew away. He clasped his hands loosely around his upraised knees and leaned his head back so that he could see the stars through the thin break in the tree branches above the creek bed. When Julie slipped, she had been about to say something. Suddenly he knew that there must be a key to Julie's fear—a key that would unlock her pent-up emotions.
Julie was taken aback by her moment of near-revelation. She had let him get too close; she had almost said too much! How had he gained her trust in such a short period of time? How had he insinuated himself into her confidence? No one knew, no one, not even Eva, who was not only her cousin but her closest friend. She shivered, stunned by what she had almost revealed.
"Juliana, are you feeling cold?" Stephen said compassionately. "I will warm you for a moment." He settled an arm around her shoulders, infusing her with the heat of his body. She didn't want him to see her face. He knew her too well, would read her thoughts, and so she buried her face in his sinewy shoulder, inhaling the new-mown hay scent of him, resting for only a moment, only a moment.
He raised a hand and reflectively smoothed her hair back across his arm, reveling in its softness. He resisted an impulse to pull the band off and throw it in the creek. He knew that she would be appalled if he did. She would not only be furious, but he would also lose her confidence. And now more than ever he wanted to know her depths, to understand her, to unlock her fear, to be her best friend.
When Julie finally lifted her head, Stephen was smiling, but there was something serious in his smile. Before she could define it, he said kindly, "Let us go, Juliana. You should not get a chill. But I would like to be with you sometimes like this, just the two of us. To be friends."
Silently she nodded, and he removed his arm. She shivered again as he helped her to her feet.
"Juliana, come," he said, reaching out a hand to capture hers. "Put your feet in the exact same place I do, and you will not fall."
She did as he said, clinging tightly to him as they traversed the rocks. They emerged into the wide moonlit pasture, but Stephen didn't release her h
and until they reached the front porch of the house. The inside was quiet and dark with only a single night-light burning at the head of the stairs.
"I am going to get something to eat from the kitchen," Stephen said when he had locked the front door behind them. "Would you care to join me?"
"No, Stephen. I'm very tired." Not the truth. Julie doubted that she would sleep at all tonight, so aroused were all her senses.
"Then I'll say good-night. Thank you, Juliana. I enjoyed being with you." His eyes were bright, his voice much too formal.
Julie could do no more than nod before she fled up the wide staircase. She crept quietly into bed, hoping that neither Eva nor Gabrielle would awaken. She didn't want to have to explain what had happened between her and Stephen down at the creek.
She wasn't sure she even understood it herself.
Chapter 5
"Why don't you come to the meadow and watch us sometime?" Albert asked Julie as they sat eating breakfast one day. "We're doing so well together."
"Good to know."
"You'd be proud," he said in a wheedling tone.
"Pride's a sin, isn't it?"
"The author of that rule most likely wouldn't apply it to the satisfaction derived from overcoming family tragedy," Albert said with a meaningful look.
"Albert, I had no idea you were a philosopher," Julie retorted, but she smiled at her cousin as she said it.
Nonna pored over her directory of 800 numbers. "Who shall I call today—Hot Spa Incorporated or the Gabriel Clinic of Cosmetic Surgery?"
"I vote for Hot Spa Incorporated," Julie said.
"They will try to sell me a hot tub. Maybe they'll offer a free trip to their display room to see it."
"Nonna dear, you won a free trip once. We had a heck of a time giving it back."
"It's easier giving back a trip than a face lift, which is what I'm afraid I'll get if I call the Gabriel Clinic."
"I thought you never bought anything," Claire commented as she hurried through the kitchen bearing a load of damp towels.
"I don't, but what if they sign me up for something I can't cancel?"
"Hold that thought," Julie said as she shared an eye-roll with Claire and got up to sweep the floor. She had been appointed Housekeeping Goddess by Claire, who had likewise designated herself Laundry Goddess. Nonna was Kitchen Goddess, but she only had to participate in meal preparation if she felt like it.
"You know," Nonna said reflectively, "I should call a number where they send you a free catalog. Do you suppose the Gabriel Clinic of Cosmetic Surgery has a catalog of new faces they can make?"
"Nonna, I can't imagine."
Albert drained his coffee mug. "I'm late. Guess I'd better get on with it. 'Bye, Nonna." Before he rushed out the back door, he bent to kiss his grandmother's cheek. Nonna smiled a beatific smile, and Julie hurried upstairs to make beds.
Their days on the farm had settled into a peaceful routine. Everyone woke up early, and Claire, Nonna, and Julie cooked breakfast. Then Stephen, Albert, Michael, Gabrielle and Eva went to the meadow to practice. At dinnertime everyone gathered around the big oval dining room table, and talk revolved around the day's happenings on the wire.
"Eva is doing so well on her half turns. I would never guess that she had left the wire for eight years."
"I will never do a headstand on the cable without my balancing pole. It's simply not safe. It is—"
"Tomorrow I will attempt the forward roll over you and Eva and Gabrielle. Soon I'll be ready to do a forward roll over four of you. Just give me time, a bit of time."
"We can't practice outside if it rains. That's why we need to set up the cable in the barn as soon as possible, Paul."
And on and on it went, every night, until Julie thought she couldn't stand it anymore.
The person who saved her was Claire. She seemed to be the only one of them with her feet anchored firmly on the ground. She didn't talk nonsense about walking the wire; in fact, she said very little. But she remained constantly cheerful, happy and upbeat.
"Doesn't it bother you, having all of us here?" Julie asked Claire curiously one day as they hung sheets on the long clothesline in back of the house.
"No, I love it." Claire smiled. "It's great to get to know Paul's family."
"It's good of you to put up with us."
"To tell the truth, I've never gotten used to being home alone all day," Claire admitted, snapping clothespins onto the corners of wet linen with decisive clicks. "I'm a registered nurse, you know, and I liked working at the hospital. Paul thought I might like to try being a stay-at-home mom for a while, and so did I, but now that the boys are teenagers, they're not around much. Paul's busy with his business. So it's been wonderful that you're all here. I'll hate to see everyone go."
They'd been living at the farm for almost a week. One more week to go, and then Julie and Nonna would leave. Julie faced their leave-taking with mixed feelings. She would have looked forward to returning to Florida if it hadn't meant leaving Stephen. Much to her surprise, she'd begun to respect him in ways that she'd never have believed possible.
It wasn't that Stephen had changed. Stephen remained intense and dedicated. When working on the wire, he pushed the others to the limits of their endurance and skill, but never once did Julie hear her cousins complain about Stephen's becoming angry or disparaging. As a teacher of gymnastics, she grew to appreciate his sensitivity with those who were learning from him.
Toward her, Stephen remained kind, interested and polite. Several times they found themselves alone, and each time he charmed her with his ability to relate to the person she was. He did not see her as Julie, another Andrassy. He saw her as a gymnastics teacher, and he asked effortless questions about her work and her hopes for Molly, the student with Olympic possibilities. He saw Julie as Nonna's granddaughter, concerned about her grandmother's health, and his astute comments told her that he understood the problems of being a caregiver.
He saw her as a woman.
She divined his appreciation in the light warming his eyes as he smiled at her when he was sitting at the breakfast table in the early morning, his fingers curved around a coffee mug. His admiration was subtly expressed by the intimate angle of his body whenever he leaned toward her to talk. She sensed it in the sensual droop of his eyelids, the firm set of his chin, the full curve of his lips. She knew as a woman knows when a man is undeniably attracted to her.
She responded to his charm with an answering charm of her own. She couldn't help it. It just happened.
The electricity flowed freely between them, an unseen bond that the others didn't detect. It carried thoughts, ideas, emotions—all unspoken, but no less real. The result was that Julie felt incredibly energized, refreshed and renewed. After a few hours in Stephen's presence she found herself imbued with his special force and vigor. It was sexual and yet not sexual, and Julie was at a loss to define it.
Stephen and the others customarily worked on the wire every day but Sunday. When their first Sunday at the farm rolled around, Gabrielle declared her intention to take a long nap after their noonday meal.
Paul, Claire, and Sam were scheduled to go to a promotional barbecue at Andrassy Acres. Nonna and Albert became involved in an old Errol Flynn movie on television, and Michael's family went on an outing to Lake Lanier. Always a reader, Eva settled down with a book, and Julie decided that she would give herself a manicure and try to repair her torn fingernail.
Julie had just sat down in the swing under the grape arbor when Stephen approached. He was wearing a navy-blue polo shirt and khaki slacks; his hair rippled in the slight breeze as he strode toward her.
"I would like to go for a ride," he said, smiling down at her. His smile tugged at her heart, and for a moment she felt giddy.
"And since you have a car," he continued, "I thought maybe you would let me borrow it."
"Of course, Stephen," she said, her cool answer belying her tripping pulse. "The car keys are in my handbag on the coffee table in the l
iving room."
"I don't want to go alone. Go with me?"
"You're perfectly welcome to use my car," Julie said. "I don't mind."
He knelt beside her, toying whimsically with the rainbow-striped sash of her yellow sundress. "You miss the point, Juliana. I want your company as much as I want the car."
"We should invite Nonna and Sam."
"Don't be silly. They are swashbuckling." He was entirely serious.
Julie couldn't help the corners of her mouth turning upward at his misuse of language. "They're watching a swashbuckler, that's the kind of movie it is. It's not called swashbuckling, or would you rather not know that?"
Stephen laughed out loud. "I make funny mistakes with the language sometimes. Now, will you please come with me? Everyone else is busy with his or her own pursuits. No one will miss us for a few hours. And you will be free to correct my language silliness all afternoon."
Julie gave up. He was so appealing that there was no saying no. "You win. Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd drive about an hour to the north to a very scenic place." He grinned at Julie in happy anticipation.
Before she knew it, Stephen's hand was at the middle of her back, propelling her gently toward the car.
"We're going to Tallulah Gorge," he told her once they were headed down the driveway.
"What is it?"
"You don't know what is Tallulah Gorge?" he teased.
"No, I don't."
"Then I will tell you," he said, looking pleased that he knew something she didn't. "Tallulah Gorge is the oldest natural chasm in the eastern part of North America."
"Here in Georgia?"
"In Georgia."
"Why do you want to go there?"
"Various reasons, not the least of which is the fact that as a future citizen of this country, I owe it to myself to see the sights. Not to mention that I did not want to sit around on a lovely Sunday afternoon watching Errol Flynn saving well-endowed ladies from pirates."
Julie smiled and turned her eyes away to watch the scenery skimming past. The highway was a ribbon festooning a countryside quilted with shades of green. Trees in a peach orchard drooped laden boughs toward the ground, and two black-and-white ponies grazed in the shade of a hickory tree. Occasionally, leaves flickered green overhead, providing welcome relief from the hot sun.
Touch the Stars Page 6
