Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6)

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Suddenly, he’d had enough—enough of Mary Charles, proms gone bad, Noel with the evil eye, and his best friend lying, deceiving, and pregnant. In the next moment he was on his feet, standing over Christian, where she sat. That ought to please ghostly Aunt Amelia.

  “Stop it, Christian. Right now. Stop talking like some made-for-TV movie or politically correct magazine. You are Christian Cauthen Hambrick. I am James Mason Beauford, III. This is Beauford, Tennessee, where our families’ properties have been joined for nearly two hundred years. Our parents were friends. Our mothers put us in the same baby bed to nap. And we found ourselves back in a bed twenty-eight years later, but not to nap. We do not debate fault or whether or not there will be involvement. I am not discounting others who make different choices and find themselves in different situations, but that’s not who we are. We made a baby. We will get married and we will raise him. Or her.”

  “All right,” she said. “Yes.”

  He was in his Jeep halfway back to Beauford Bend before he realized he hadn’t touched her a single time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christian sat glued to the settee where Beau had left her. She’d been there quite a while, because it was already time to put out the wine and cheese plate.

  Sometimes guests never came back from whatever they were doing for wine and cheese hour, but she advertised that coffee and tea was available all day and wine and cheese were served in the parlor from four until five o’clock, so that’s what had to happen.

  But she couldn’t seem to move.

  Allie knew how to do it exactly the way Christian liked with the cheese on the organic geranium leaves and the Gorham coin silver cheese knives. Christian had always believed that the difference between a good inn and a great one was an innkeeper who was never idle when her staff was working, but maybe it was okay to pass off cheese plate duty on the day you found out for sure you were pregnant and got engaged.

  Engaged. She and Beau were engaged. She glanced at her left hand as if a ring had magically appeared there. No. Wasn’t this the part where she was supposed to be rushing off to buy bridal magazines and drink Champagne toasts with her friends? Pregnant brides couldn’t have Champagne, though maybe whoever had it last would give her the dog-eared bridal magazine that had passed from bride to bride in their little circle. It must be Neyland who had it now, though she hadn’t needed it, since she and Gabe ended up eloping. She might not even think about it. Just as well. It wasn’t as if Christian was going to have a dress with a cathedral train, ice sculptures, and a fleet of limos. There was no time for all that.

  Of course, she might be denied the magazine. After all, family trumped friendship, and Neyland was a Beauford now. They might all be livid that she had trapped Beau—Beau the baby, the injured hero, the one whom everyone loved best.

  Ha. She ought to know about that last part.

  Best not to think about any of that; best to think of wine and cheese. She picked up her phone and fired off a quick, polite message to Allie that also contained a lie.

  “Sure,” Allie replied back. “Go upstairs since you aren’t feeling well. I’ll call if I need you.”

  The not feeling well had been the lie. Truth was, in spite of her bare left hand, the proposal that was a statement of fact rather than a question, and the possible denial of bridal magazines and friendship, there was a part of Christian that was elated. How could she not be? Regardless of the hows and the whys, she was getting the one single thing she had wanted her entire life.

  She’d tried to tell Beau no, and he had insisted. She could have argued until October, but he still wouldn’t have budged. That didn’t alleviate all of her guilt, but she would be so good to him that he wouldn’t be sorry. And really, wasn’t this best for him? How could it not be? Wasn’t it always best to be with the person who loved you most? It would be all right—no, better than all right. There might never be earthshaking romance on Beau’s part, but to be with him every day and lie beside him at night was more than enough romance for her. And no one could ever take away their loving friendship and history. Could there be a stronger foundation?

  And in the end, they would have a beautiful, wonderful baby with Carolina blue eyes and a smile that could bring the world to its knees.

  Christian fairly skipped up the stairs to her apartment that would soon be their apartment. She wanted to make some calls, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to do that until she talked to him again. He could change his mind. She pushed that thought away. Beau wouldn’t do that.

  She was sure enough of him that she considered cleaning out the bedroom closet and drawers to make room for him. But the cashmere throw from the back of the sofa called to her.

  She slept for four hours.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Beau opened the door of Jackson’s music room. Though Jackson sat with his eyes closed, wearing headphones, and strumming a guitar, he looked up immediately like he always did when Beau was within twenty yards of him. He had some kind of sixth sense about that, it seemed.

  “Oh, hell.” Jackson removed the headphones and laid the guitar aside. “What truck ran over you?”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  Jackson opened his eyes wider. “You don’t look good. I’m beginning to think Merritt and Will Garrett weren’t good for you after all.”

  Beau walked around the perimeter of the room, inspecting the guitar cases that Will had made. Beau had seen them a thousand times, but never with this eye. The cases did not stand like soldiers, all identical, in a straight row. Some of the shelves were like that, but here and there Will had thrown in something unexpected—a few horizontal spaces and some diagonally tilted niches designed to fit particular guitars. All that, and the hand carved musical score that bordered the top, had always been evident. It was only now that Beau noticed how the grain of the wood had been selected to enhance each design and there were no nails or screws.

  Beau didn’t have the skills to make something like this—not even close. But he knew he had the talent to get there. Was that over, too?

  “Merritt agreed with me.” He came to sit on the sofa that faced the one where Jackson sat. Now, or never. “It would seem that I’m getting married.”

  Jackson’s smile froze. Beau thought his expression would go serious and worried, but instead he began to laugh. “Don’t tell me Missy finally succeeded at one of her matchmaking schemes. You were her last hope. Don’t worry. Now that you’re back, that Missy voodoo will dissipate and you’ll get your bearings back. She fixed me up with a girl when I went down for that celebrity golf tournament. I was kind of taken with her, but she ran off in the middle of dinner with that Yankee baseball player Polo MacNeal. ”

  “Jackson, I’m serious. And it has nothing to do with Missy.” Thank goodness he had refused to go out with that girl who worked in Harris’s office. Stupid as he was, he’d probably have gotten her pregnant, too.

  Ah, there it was—that Jackson serious, worried look. “I am seldom at a loss for words.”

  “You said a mouthful there.”

  They both laughed at the irony of that, but it was nervous, what-the-hell, I-might-throw-up laughter.

  Jackson shook his head. “Now that we’ve had our afternoon chuckle …”

  “Right.” Where to start? It didn’t matter; there was no good way. “It’s true. I’m getting married, and the sooner the better.”

  “I don’t guess I have to ask why.” Jackson ran his hands through his hair. “Beau, how did this happen?”

  Beau just looked at him.

  “Okay. Never mind. Please tell me it’s not Christian.” Jackson practically shuddered at the thought. “Better yet, tell me it’s not a stripper named Candy.”

  “It’s not a stripper of any name. I’ve never slept with a stripper.”

  “And you have, just as I knew, slept with Christian.” It was a statement.

  “For what it’s worth, I listened to you that day. I stopped it and tried to set thin
gs to right. And it seemed to be going fine. It was awkward at first, but we had our friendship to fall back on. We talked a lot while I was in Merritt, and we were okay. Things were going well with Will. And now I have come home to this.” Had it only been this morning he’d left Merritt? It seemed years ago.

  Jackson nodded. “You always did listen when it was too late. Or maybe I never warned you until it was too late.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Beau said. “And I listen to you more than you think. I just never want to admit it to you or myself.”

  “My rebellious child,” Jackson said.

  On another day, Beau would have pointed out that he wasn’t Jackson’s child, but this wasn’t another day. Besides, this was where he’d come first, wasn’t it?

  “Do you love her?” Of course Jackson, who’d written a hundred love songs and seen those songs played out in his own marriage, would ask that question.

  Beau hesitated, which made Jackson look sad and shake his head.

  “I see,” Jackson said. “Then the next question is can you love her?”

  He had to give some kind of answer—not only to Jackson, but also to himself and eventually to Christian.

  “I do love her, of course I do. She’s always been there. She’s my oldest friend. I can trust her.” All except for her lying lately, and that was situational.

  “But can you fall in love with her?”

  “I hadn’t ever planned on that.”

  “Nobody ever does—at least not stubborn, broken Beaufords. Yet, the twins and I all got there. The paths might have been a little twisted, but they led to good places—the best places.” Given the look on Jackson’s face, Beau believed him. “I wanted that for you. Do you think you can get there?’

  “Does it really matter, Jackson? This is Christian. Do you really think I can take her up on her offer to ‘be involved or not?’ Do you think I can let her have my baby without being married? Or even, marry her temporarily until the baby comes?”

  Jackson shook his head. “No. I don’t think you can do any of those things.”

  “I don’t know about this woodworking now. Maybe I need to forget it and join Rafe’s business. I need an income.”

  Jackson’s head snapped up. “No.”

  “You surely don’t think I’m going to live off Christian.”

  “We have all done what we wanted to do and have satisfaction in our work. I want that for you, too. You don’t want be in the rough stock business. I admit, I wanted you to go to law school, but after talking with Will and seeing how happy you were, I know you’ve found your calling. And you have to answer it.”

  “Jackson, I have to work. Will plans to throw a project my way that will earn me some money, but it’s one project, and I don’t even know how much.”

  “What is it exactly you have to pay for? I assume you’ll live at Firefly Hall. The business pays for the upkeep and the insurance.”

  “How do you know so much about it?”

  “Because my wife has a MBA from Harvard. She and Christian talk. Christian’s business is doing fine.”

  “But babies cost.”

  “You have the best health insurance to be had. Look, I know you aren’t going to take anything from me. I don’t understand it, but I respect it. You’re going to have a commission. Start there. See what happens. And unless I miss my guess, you won’t feel like you’re living off Christian’s business. There’s always going to be something to do, and you’ll be doing some of it.”

  “I’m no innkeeper.”

  “And I am no party planner. But last week the fairy lights went out in two of the oak trees two hours before some big do. Who do you think was up in the cherry picker with Sammy? Me, that’s who. That tree cared not how many CMAs and Grammys I have. And neither did my wife. She just wanted her damned lights fixed.”

  There was a look of satisfaction on Jackson’s face at having solved his wife’s problem—though Beau could hardly fathom it. Of all the jobs they’d had to do as kids and teens to help keep Around the Bend going, they had all hated the maintenance on those little white lights the most. And back then, they hadn’t even owned a cherry picker. It was ladders and climbing.

  “I’d rather try the rough stock business than go to work for Emory, though I suppose that’s an option.”

  “You don’t have to do either, but that’s another thing. You wouldn’t have to go to work for Emory. You own a quarter of Around the Bend. That’s another source of income. Try the apprenticeship, Beau. Will Garrett has made a fortune, and he’s willing to teach you. That means something. You owe it to yourself to give it a shot. And if it doesn’t work out, Rafe’s business will still be there. I know Christian would say the same thing.”

  She would.

  Beau sighed. “All right. But you’re wrong about my refusal to take something from you.”

  Jackson sat up like a dog that could smell steak on a charcoal grill. “Yeah?” He might pant at any second.

  “I need my workshop set up. I’d like to do it here in the old loom house. I have savings, but Will says you would want to do it and I have to let you. Something about considering the needs of others.” Besides, he might need those savings for diapers and, well, he didn’t know what else. A car seat. You had to have one of those. Probably if you had diapers and a car seat, that was enough to get you started. Christian probably still had her own baby bed. Nothing ever got thrown away at Beauford Bend, and it was probably the same for Firefly Hall.

  Jackson reached for his cell phone. “Right. I’ll get my people on it. We’ll get the best—”

  Beau knew it would go like that. “No. I have to choose what I need. Sometimes the most expensive is not the best. And Will’s coming in two weeks to inspect it.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Jackson only seemed a little deflated. Then he brightened. “I know something else you’re going to need. A ring. And that wouldn’t be from me. We have some that are just as much yours as they are mine.”

  Jackson rose, went to one of the cases, removed the guitar, and slid the false door back to reveal the safe hidden there.

  A ring? Well, sure. She ought to have a ring.

  “I thought everything that was worth anything was sold during the lean years,” Beau said. That would have been the years after the mass funeral and before Jackson was a star, when the four of them and Aunt Amelia were running Around the Bend and the charm school.

  “Mama didn’t have much jewelry, though Aunt Amelia did sell a few gaudy old necklaces and brooches that had been in family a long time. I didn’t even try to find them to buy them back.”

  As soon as he could afford it, Jackson had tracked down and bought every piece of Beauford Bend furniture, quilt, and piece of silver that could be found. Beau had never thought Jackson cared much one way or the other about the things, but Aunt Amelia had been grief stricken with every sale, and seeing the things home again had made her happy.

  Jackson returned to his place on the sofa and set a velvet tray with compartments between them on the table. There wasn’t much—a few necklaces, rings, and earrings. Some looked vaguely familiar, others not at all. There was a string of pearls that looked horrendously expensive. Probably Emory’s.

  Then Jackson, looking very pleased with himself, picked up a ring box and handed it to Beau.

  The box felt heavier than it should have in Beau’s palm.

  “What about this?” Jackson asked.

  Nothing could have prepared Beau for what he found in that box—a heavy ring rich with patina and time, made of entwined ropes of gold and platinum. It was the Beauford bride band. There were no jewels, but the ring was surrounded by interlocking gold and platinum bows—a whimsical nod to their surname from the distant Beauford who’d had it made.

  Beau knew that ring; everyone knew that ring. Just as it had adorned the hands of Beauford brides for generations, it had adorned his mother’s hand. She had loved that ring.

  Shards of glass ripped through Beau, robbing him of br
eath and speech.

  “How?” he finally managed.

  “It was never sold,” Jackson said, not understanding the question at all.

  “No. The fire. I thought—” She had always worn that ring. He would have thought it had been destroyed. Even if had withstood the fire, it would have been on her hand, heating and burning her finger. Would she have tried to remove it? Or would that place on her left hand have been more painful than anywhere else? With all the punishment he deserved, he tried to never think of the pain of being burned alive, but he couldn’t stop imagining the agony now—agony he had caused.

  Jackson looked puzzled. “You thought it was lost in the fire? No. Mama never wore that ring to the beach. She was too afraid of losing it. She always said if she lost that ring all the dead Beauford brides would come back to haunt her.”

  “Why didn’t I know that?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Beau, you were eight. Do you think you were thinking about swimming or whether or not Mama was wearing her wedding ring?”

  Neither. He was thinking about camping out with Jackson and the twins—and it had brought damnation to them all.

  “Why didn’t you give it to Emory?” Beau asked. “Or Rafe or Gabe?”

  Jackson got that I’m-thinking-about-Emory look on his face. He laughed a little. “I got carried away. When I went to New York to try to get her back, it seemed to work, but I wanted to seal the deal. I took her straight to Tiffany and bought her the biggest diamond ring she would allow and our wedding bands to go with it. For reasons of his own, Gabe wanted to give Neyland that little ring that always went to the oldest Beauford daughter and would have been Camille’s when she was sixteen. Neyland always wears it, and there’s no way to wear an engagement ring with the Beauford bride band. It’s too big and flamboyant. Rafe had Neyland make Abby’s rings. So it comes down to you.”

  No, it did not. There is no way he could give that ring to Christian, no way he could look at it for the rest of his life, have her touch him while it was on her hand.

  Jackson reached for the ring and held it up to the light. “It’s better suited for Christian, anyway. She’s taller than the others. She can carry it off.”