“This is… really hard to say.”
That didn’t sound good. Brody’s heart sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach.
“Brody, there’s still a lot about me you don’t know. And… I just don’t think that this thing between us…”
She stopped for a moment and that was okay because his pulse pounded in his ears and he could barely hear her.
She didn’t want to be with him.
“I don’t think we should see each other again. Socially.”
Brody searched his memory for something from their last encounter that had gone wrong. Anything. Anything to explain what was happening—why Kate felt they shouldn’t be together. He came up empty.
Maybe he’d… exposed his feelings too early. He knew he’d told Kate how much he liked her. She hadn’t seemed uncomfortable at the time, but… She could have been humoring him.
She probably didn’t want to be with a disabled man.
Brody swallowed hard, but it did nothing to dislodge the boulder blocking his throat. “If that’s—if that’s what you want.”
It wasn’t what he wanted, but how could he argue with her if her mind was made up?
“I think it’s for the best. I’m… sorry.”
Kate whistled for her dog that had run ahead of them and Brody realized she meant to leave. Just as well, he’d rather hide his humiliation in the darkness, alone.
“I’m going to…” he motioned forward, to the beach extended before him, “…keep going.”
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll see you Wednesday?”
“Sure.”
Unless he cancelled his pool maintenance plan. It couldn’t be too hard to do on his own, could it? Then he wouldn’t have to face Kate again.
“Are you going to be okay?” Kate sounded genuinely concerned. She was a kind person at heart, even though she didn’t want to date him.
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Okay, well… good night.”
“Goodbye.”
She turned away, her dog trotting after her with lolling tongue, and Brody pushed his chair forward again in case she looked back. He didn’t want her to see how badly he hurt.
When a glance behind him verified she’d disappeared from the beach, he stopped his chair and simply sat in the twilight darkness, listening to the waves pound against the sand.
After a while, his heard slowed to match the waves’ rhythm.
He felt… empty inside. A lot like he’d felt when he realized he wouldn’t walk again after the accident. He’d believed that Kate would be able to accept him as he was… disability and all. He’d seen compassion in her, but maybe she’d realized exactly how hard it would be to be in a relationship with someone like him.
He didn’t know.
After crying out to God for a long time—long enough that it had grown fully dark around him—he gained a measure of peace, though he still felt an empty place inside his heart.
Kate’s place.
He turned his chair around, noting that the tide had started to come in and began the trek back to his handicap-accessible minivan.
He made it to the asphalt parking lot and was approaching his vehicle when a figure stepped out of the shadows near his van.
Kate.
“Where have you been? Do you know how long it’s been since we parted? Do you need help?” The shrill tone in her rapid-fire questions wasn’t one he’d heard before.
His face flamed. He hoped she couldn’t see it in the dim illumination from the parking lot lamps.
“I’m fine. You didn’t need to stay. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, but your friends all left! What if you’d been hurt or something?”
He was embarrassed that she felt the need to watch out for him. If he’d been a normal guy, she never would have stayed.
“I have a cell phone,” he said curtly.
Her face pinched and her expression made him realize that she’d been asking questions as if she cared what happened to him.
“Wait a minute. Just… wait a minute.” Brody extended one hand, palm outward as his mind raced, his hope was resurrected.
“You care about me,” he stated.
Kate’s cheeked pinked. He could see it even in the dusky half-light.
“Of course I do.”
“Just not enough to date me.”
Her eyes shifted away, a telltale sign that she wasn’t being completely honest with him. Brody took a shaky breath and took a wild guess that his disability wasn’t as big a problem that he had thought.
“You do want to date me.”
“Brody, please…”
Please, what? Please don’t make this more difficult? Or please make me confront the truth?
He waited for a long moment, and when she didn’t deny that she wanted a relationship he took action. Brody set the brake on his wheelchair and reached out for her hand. She gave it to him, but must not have been expecting his next move, because when he gave a sharp tug on her arm, she tumbled right into his lap. Just like he’d planned.
Thank goodness the chair hadn’t toppled.
Before she could get up, before she could protest, Brody took her mouth in a passionate kiss. He tried to show her everything in his heart—that he wanted her in his life, that he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer, that he was falling in love with her.
And Kate kissed him back.
Brody pulled away, still holding her, breathing hard. He pressed his cheek to her ear, felt her trembling.
How could she deny that this thing between them was strong? Too strong to just walk away…
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, and the fine hairs at her temple tickled his lips. “I think God brought you into my life for more than just cleaning my pool.”
“I don’t want to get my heart broken,” she returned, voice low and breath warming his neck, “when you come to your senses and realize that I’m not good enough for you. We’re too… we’re too different.”
His heart—the same one he’d thought crushed into a thousand pieces just minutes ago—pulsed with life. If she was worried about her heart getting broken it meant her heart was involved… right?
He took a chance the old Brody never would have, made himself vulnerable.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
Kate froze. Holding her close like he was, Brody could feel that she even stopped breathing for a moment.
“You, Kate,” he went on. “Pool cleaning girl. Night school attendee. Silly dog owner. Woman who has captured my heart.”
She groaned softly. “Brody… how can I say no when you say things like that?”
He chuckled, heart light. Maybe she was finished arguing with him.
“But—”
Or maybe not. Brody stopped her words with another tender kiss. He pulled away, breathless.
“Why don’t we let God worry about all those ‘what ifs’ and concentrate on building a relationship?” he asked when he could finally speak again.
She raised luminous eyes to him and Brody let her look into his heart, hoping his feelings for her, his commitment were shining right through.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want to be with you.”
“You’re not going to change your mind again?” he teased, hugging her waist.
“Nope. You’ve convinced me. No more doubts.”
“Good. Wanna get a cup of coffee?”
“Now?”
“Sure, why not? Tonight… and tomorrow… and the day after…”
THE END
THE BLUESTOCKING AND THE BLUEBLOOD
By LACY WILLIAMS
Chapter 1
This certainly wasn’t the trip I’d planned on.
Engine problems delayed my flight into Manchester. On top of that, the rental company gave away my luxury car and I was left with something that looked like a toy. Worst of all, this honeymoon had turned into a trip for one.
At least the cottage was everything I’d imagined.
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I stood for a moment in the waning light, admiring what I could see of it. White stucco walls seemed to almost glimmer in the fading light. Roses climbed the trellis and onto the slanted, thatched roof. Their sweet fragrance reached me, for a moment overpowering the scents of exhaust and travel grime that clung to me.
Sighing, I hefted my bookbag full of romance novels and hooked it over my shoulder. I’d been planning this trip for six months. I should be happy. I was happy. So why did this ugly feeling of disappointment rising in my throat make me want to cry?
Because I had dreamed it differently?
Who needed a man to carry the luggage, anyway?
It took some effort, but I wrested my suitcase from the miniature trunk –wasn’t it called something else here in the U.K.? – and trudged up the walk. As I juggled my luggage and tried to find the key that had disappeared into the abyss of my backpack, my cell phone began playing the Oklahoma State University fight song.
“Not now,” I mumbled. For a nanosecond I considered who it could be. I’d called Aunt Donna from the airport earlier and promised to call again tomorrow. Considering that my best friend had run off with my now ex-fiancé a week before the wedding, hearing from either of them was out of the question. That left only one person.
Erik.
I ignored the ringing phone and kept digging. I knew what Erik wanted, and it wasn’t something I could give, not right now. I could still feel his hug as he had dropped me off at the airport in Oklahoma City. “Find a way to forgive them,” he’d whispered against my temple. “Don’t let your hurt turn into bitterness.” I shook my head to dispel the memory and the pinprick of guilt that it brought with it. I didn’t want to think about the people or the God who’d betrayed me.
Finally, my fingers closed around the key. “Aha”ing with triumph, I stuffed it into the lock.
The inside of my dream cottage was as beautiful as the outside. Warm wood floors showed off a recent buff job. An oversized sofa and chair created a perfect reading corner in front of the fireplace, while the other half of the room made up a kitchenette and small dining area. Everything about it spelled warmth and promised relaxation. It was everything I’d dreamed of.
Before Jared shattered my heart.
Too keyed up to sleep yet, I dumped my stuff on the king-sized bed just around the corner from the fireplace and patted myself on the back when I didn’t tear up thinking about being in it alone tonight.
A quick apple-snack in the stocked kitchenette was all I needed before I headed out the back door. A bark, almost a yelp, was the only sound in the twilight stillness and made me pause on the step. It had sounded close.
“Here, boy.”
I don’t know what made me hesitate, but I felt a peculiar reluctance to step out into the gathering darkness. The familiar, heady scent of roses swirled around me. Decaying leaves rustled in a random dance, provoked by the light breeze that tickled my bare arms. I could barely see the outline of the gate that led to the garden.
When the yelp came again, I imagined the poor dog caught in a fence or lying in the street, hurt. That wouldn’t do. Not when I could do something about it.
Ignoring the peculiar quivering in my stomach that warned me to go back inside, I stepped from the stoop and pushed through the garden gate.
As soon as I moved through it, dizziness engulfed me. A swarm of bees thrummed inside my head and my limbs felt as if an anvil weighted each appendage down. My heart fluttered erratically against my ribcage. Blackness took over the edge of my vision and then I was falling, falling…
###
The sound of unfamiliar voices roused me. For a moment, I couldn’t place where I was. My head throbbed, making it doubly hard to understand the thick British accents. I strained my ears anyway.
“We’ve naught left to trade, miss.”
“There has to be something.” A clanging noise, like heavy metal pots being thrown together, almost made me cry out. “Where is the little jar we hid back here?”
“Gone. It’s all gone. There’s naught but the locket Miss Matilda kept and she won’t give it up.”
In my sleep-dulled state, I couldn’t understand their conversation. Who were the two women? How did they know my name?
And why did I taste dirt?
I cracked open my eyes to dappled sunlight shining directly in them. Quickly, I shut them again. But not before I’d seen the rose garden that surrounded me.
With a groan, I remembered coming outside in the near-dark last night. I must have fainted or something, and spent the night out here. And I had been planning to get full enjoyment out of that king-sized bed, too.
A shiver crawled up my spine, reminding me that I hadn’t been dressed for a night out in the elements. My jeans and t-shirt weren’t much insulation against the cold creeping from the ground into my bones. Maybe that’s why my entire body ached. Or maybe I was just getting older and needed a mattress.
When I tried to sit up, I found my legs caught in a net. I looked down to find that I wasn’t wearing jeans after all, but some long nightgown that I didn’t remember putting on last night.
“What the—”
I struggled with the gown that seemed to be longer than I was tall and finally managed to get to my feet. Too bad my movements and noise had attracted notice.
Two women, one who looked to be about my age and the other only in her teens, appeared on the cottage’s back stoop and gaped at me over the hedge of roses.
“What are you doing in my rental?” Thankfully my mouth was functioning better than the rest of me. I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “I mean, who are you? And what are you doing in my rental?” There. Hopefully the firmness in my voice would scare them off before I had to call the cops. Did they even have 911 in the United Kingdom?
The older woman, whose features seemed vaguely familiar to me, glared at me and turned to go back inside. Whoa. That was some major fury steaming from her eyes.
Stepping down to my level, the younger woman approached me, concern wrinkling her brow. “Miss Matilda, what are you doing outside at this hour? And without a wrap? Why, you’ll catch your death of cold.”
She reached for me, as if to pull me inside with her. I yanked my arm out of her reach.
“How do you know my name?”
Surprise flickered over her face for a moment, but it quickly disappeared and her brown eyes darkened. With sadness? “Why don’t ya go back to bed, miss? It’s early yet.”
She reached for me again. Distracted by a remembrance of the big bed I’d left behind last night, I wasn’t as fast to pull away this time. She was stronger than her thin frame suggested, easily propelling me toward the cottage. I dug in my heels.
“Who are you?” I asked again, as she pushed me through the door. Instant surprise overtook me, and I froze.
The interior of the cottage had morphed from the warm ambiance I remembered to something more like a living history museum.
Where had all the sparkling appliances gone?
A rough wooden table and chairs almost touched the back of a sofa, but not the one I’d seen last night. This one was covered in an awful striped pattern and looked old-fashioned and uncomfortable. Somehow, a wall had been erected to block off the kitchenette.
The furious woman sat at the table with papers strewn over almost the entire surface. She chewed her lip, but when I came in the door her face blanked, going completely neutral.
Again, I was struck by a feeling that I knew her from somewhere. I couldn’t place her dirty-blond hair or blue eyes, but maybe I’d seen her last night in my hurry to get away from the bustling airport and to my country cottage.
That two strangers were invading right now.
“Who are you?” The question was beginning to feel redundant.
The younger girl squeezed my arm before letting go and moving to stir the fire that danced merrily in the fireplace. “Miss Matilda, I’ve been serving your family for years now. Don’t you remember, I styled your hair f
or the Rochdale Ball, where you met—” She broke off and looked chagrined, before quickly turning back to the fire.
Serving my family? The closest thing to a servant Aunt Donna and I had been able to afford was Eddie, who mowed our yard every other week during the summer. This wisp of a girl definitely didn’t look like Eddie.
I glanced around the room again, a ball of panic rising in my throat. “What happened in here? Where did all the nice things go?” There was no way these two women were strong enough to steal the appliances and furniture. Did they have help? I glanced around, but the three of us seemed to be the only ones here.
Now the woman at the table sighed. She kept her eyes on the papers in front of her. “I dare say you are aware that we’ve been trading the candlesticks and china for some time now.”
“What?” Who cared about plates and candles? “I’m talking about the dishwasher, the couch, all the appliances. Where did you put them?”
She looked up, her eyes flashing. “Matilda, you know very well that we have not had a dish washer in ages. We’ve had no servants save Ruth for more than three years.”
I began to feel lightheaded. Was I speaking a foreign language or something? This time, I spoke slowly so she would be able to understand. “I want to know where the dishwasher,” I pointed to the place it stood last night, “stove,” I wasn’t sure you could call the black wrought iron thing I pointed at a stove but I went with it, “and refrigerator are. You can keep the microwave for all I care.”
She shook her head, her lips compressing until they were white, and began to pore over the papers again. Her nonchalance bothered me more than I cared to admit. She was sitting in my cottage, after all! And acting like she owned the place.
“Is this a scam?” My voice rose. I couldn’t help it. I watched her for signs discomfort while she pretended to ignore me. “Because I don’t have any money. I’m a veterinary student. Well, I was – before…”
The woman stood up. For the first time, I noticed how drawn and pale her face was. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if she bore the weight of the world on them.
Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed Page 8
