Roses Collection: Boxed Set

by Freda, Paula

  A genial family, God loving, respectful, Julie thought. The sort of family I always wished for. Wistfully, she pictured Evan at the head of the table, and though she realized her chances were slim to non-existent, she pictured herself in Kathleen's place. Immediately, the image in her mind changed and it was Carol sitting in Kathleen's seat. Julie shook her head to clear it. Carol had joined in the prayer, but not before Julie had noticed a condescending smile on her airbrushed beauty. Her attention was now completely immersed in Evan, and it seemed, except for doling out small portions for herself from the food platters passed around, all the family members at the table, especially the boys, were invisible to Carol.

  Poor Evan, Julie sighed, imagining them as a couple twenty years from now — Carol bored, no longer so attentive, even bitter; Evan, frustrated with his failure to bring out Carol's sensitivity to the feelings of others.

  "Evan," Julie called over Carol's seductive voice. "Evan," she repeated, when Carol spoke louder, ignoring the woman across the table.

  Evan turned his gaze to her — calm, patient, easy on the spirit, hazel eyes with a hint of blue.

  Carol halted speaking and glared at Julie.

  "Evan, I just wanted to thank you and Kathleen for this wonderful dinner. I've yet to meet a more gracious family and sweeter children. It's a memory I'll treasure."

  "Thanks, Julie," Evan said. "But it's the least my sister and I can do for a gracious lady."

  Too much joy to bear, Julie thought, wishing she could hurry to his side and hug him. Instead, it was little Drew who left his seat and rushed to her and hugged her. "I'm calling you, Auntie Julie, and I don't care what anybody says."

  Bill chuckled, admonishing his son to return to his seat, and adding goodnaturedly, "Stop embarrassing our guest." He said to Julie, "In this family, we encourage freedom of speech, so hopefully you won't mind him calling you "Auntie."

  "Not at all," Julie answered. "I'm honored and flattered." She glanced at Evan, trying to read his expression. She noted a slight furrowing of his brow, but nothing more. He smiled warmly along with the others, except for Carol.

  Not to worry, Carol, Julie thought. You will have plenty of time to attempt to draw him into your web, although I pray fervently he'll be wise enough to sidestep it.

  The evening wove on pleasantly. After dinner, everyone sat in the living room sharing old and funny stories, laughter and opinions. Julie insisted on helping Kathleen and Bill clear the table and clean up until they joined the others in the living room. The boys commandeered Julie to play board games with them. Carol monopolized Evan until he suddenly stood up and announced it was getting late and he had promised to drive Julie home.

  Julie protested, "Oh, no, you can just take me to the railroad station. I can catch the next train to Penn station, and from there it's just a local ride to my apartment."

  Carol interposed, "Why that's a great idea. Evan looks so tired."

  "Absolutely not," Evan said. "I won't have Julie riding the trains by herself late at night."

  "I don't blame you," Kathleen seconded, glancing at her husband, who nodded in agreement.

  "I'll get our jackets, Julie," Evan said, moving toward the closet nearest the kitchen.

  Julie stood up. "Well, thank you again for a marvelous evening. I can't remember having such a wonderful time. God Bless You All," she said, sweeping her gaze over everyone, including Carol who appeared openly annoyed.

  Michael and Drew squeezed her tightly, brazenly asking, almost in unison, "So when will we see you again?"

  Kathleen saved Julie any further embarrassment. "Very soon, we hope."

  Julie thanked her with a hug. "Please let me know when the baby is born. I'd like to give her a small present to welcome her into your lovely family. The boys and Evan have my phone number."

  "Will do," Kathleen replied. "Happily." She returned Julie's hug and walked her to the door. With a hug and a kiss to her brother, she asked "Don't forget to ring my phone once, to let us know when you're safely home at your own apartment."

  "I will, Sis, promise."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "My GPS indicates traffic is light, so you should be home within the hour," Evan said, as he steered the car unto the parkway.

  Julie nodded. "That's fine." Now that Carol was no longer present to monopolize Evan and there was ample time to chat with him, Julie suddenly found herself with nothing to say. As she sat quietly beside him, it must be nerves, she told herself, brought on by realizing she had a formidable rival in Carol. It might help to know how he felt about Carol. How would Abby go about finding out. She cringed at the thought that her friend would simply ask outright.

  The tactful approach, Julie reasoned. Ask the question tactfully. "Is Carol your girlfriend?" Oh Lord, that was not tactful. Julie grimaced, and the fact that he seemed to hesitate answering made her wish with all her heart to rewind the past few seconds.

  She heard the strained exasperation in his voice. "No, Carol is not my girlfriend. She is a good friend, and good company when she's not being catty."

  "I didn't mean to affect her that way."

  "Carol has no reason to fear you."

  "Of course not, I couldn't hold a candle to her. She's beautiful, refined, and—"

  "She's selfish, spoiled and immature," Evan said. She fancies herself in love with me, and expects it's her due for me to reciprocate her feelings, despite I've never shown or given her any encouragement."

  He sounded harsh, almost angry. Was he in actuality in love with her, and wishing she were a better person? Me thinks he doth protest too much.

  "Would you return her feelings if she weren't, as you say, selfish, spoiled and immature?"

  Again, he seemed to hesitate answering, and Julie chided herself that she had gone too far. She wasn't Abby, and her efforts to fight her shyness and satisfy her curiosity, made her appear no better than Carol.

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that, I apologize." She turned to fix her gaze on the diminishing trees and woods flanking the parkway as they left the Island behind them and approached the city limits.

  The gentleness in his voice surprised her. "It's all right, Julie. You have a right to be curious. After all, I asked you out. If I sound angry about Carol, it's because I've known her and her family a long time. Her mother and my mother were high school mates. Carol's grandparents died tragically on a Fourth of July holiday, when a stray spark from a firework that was set off too close to a cluster of private homes, ignited the roof of their cape cod on Long Island. The resulting fire destroyed the house. Only Carol's mother escaped the raging flames.

  "Sixteen years old, with no surviving kin, she was left in the guardianship of her father's best friend, seventeen years her senior.

  "At first, their characters clashed. Cybelle's feisty, rustic character clashed with Mark's sophistication and reserve. He was a bachelor content in his privacy and refinement. But as the years passed, she fell in love with him.

  "Mark was first and foremost a gentleman, conscientious and dedicated to fulfilling his friend Jacque's request to protect his daughter should he be taken prematurely from her. A morally upright man, he fought his own attraction to her, relegating her feelings to simply a crush on a benefactor, sure that once she attained maturity and met eligible, younger men, her feelings would change accordingly. But he was mistaken. With the passage of years, Cybelle's feelings only grew stronger. By the time she reached her mid-twenties, and still loved him, she wanted no beau but him. He gave in, married her, and has never regretted their union since.

  "Including Carol, the youngest, they have four children. They are good people, but a stubborn lot, and once set on a course, not easily swayed."

  "I can understand Carol's character a little better," Julie said. "I'd venture she's most like her mother, when it comes to persistence, and getting what she wants."

  Evan slowed as he turned into an exit ramp, leaving the parkway to enter the city.

  "Yes," he went on. But sh
e's not Cybelle, and I'm not Mark. Their love story is unique to themselves.

  "You should be home soon," he said, turning onto the main road that led to Julie's apartment building. "Julie, I've given you some background on Carol, so you won't judge her harshly. True, she's somewhat of a snob, but deep inside, she has a kind heart, if somewhat misguided."

  "I won't judge her," Julie said. "Especially, her feelings for you. I can't fault her for choosing you to be the one she'd like to love her."

  She turned and pretended to gaze out the window at the increasing amount of buildings filling both sides of the avenue on the way to her apartment. He mustn't see the color rising to her cheeks as she contemplated her own feelings toward him. He may have understood her action, for he grew silent until they reached the building where she lived.

  "I see the guard at the entrance. And there's a woman with him. Do you recognize him? Is that Abby next to him."

  "Yes, that's Phil. He's our regular night watchman. And that is Abby."

  "She's seen us."

  Abby hurried toward them, a broad smile on her face. "Well, it's about time you two got back. I was beginning to worry."

  Julie was both embarrassed for Evan, and gratified for her friend's protectiveness. "Abby, it's only ten p.m. and you knew where I was."

  "I know, I know. What can I say, I'm a worry wart — minus the warts, that is."

  Evan chuckled. "I'm glad she has a good friend to take the place of an older sister."

  "You wouldn't perchance have an older brother?" Abby asked in all seriousness.

  Julie cringed. "Abby!"

  Evan laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm the eldest and only male in my family. But I do have a good friend you might like to meet."

  Abby's eyes widened. She drew closer. "Okay," she drawled invitingly.

  "I'll talk to him. We can arrange a blind date. Make it a foursome?" He glanced askance at Julie.

  She didn't trust herself to speak. He might hear the excitement in her tone. A timid nod and a smile would have to suffice.

  "Good," Evan said. "Abby, are you going back upstairs."

  "Yeah," she said.

  He spoke to Julie. "Well then, I was going to park the car and escort you upstairs. But you have ample company, and I must confess I am tired and looking forward to getting home. I'll call you. Thank you, Julie."

  Later she would think about her besotted expression, and the shock on her face when he leaned toward her, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. She hadn't returned the kiss, completely overwhelmed, but later she'd remember its warmth and the sincerity and earnest concern in his gaze. That calm and patient gaze that often had filled her dreams over the intervening years.

  He was a good and gentle man, and she mustn't read into his charming behavior toward her. It was simply his way with all those around him. But there was no denying to herself, as she left the car and watched him drive away, that like Carol, she was totally enchanted by him, and probably stood as little a chance of requital as her rival did."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  On Sunday morning, as Julie drank her morning coffee, her phone rang. Kind of early for her mother to be calling, as it was her mom's habit to call during the afternoon. Julie picked up the receiver on the landline she kept on the kitchen aisle. "Mom," she answered.

  "No, it's Evan."

  "Oh, Evan," she tried to sound casual. "I'm used to mother calling on Sundays, and I neglected to check the caller I.D. I guess I'm not fully awake yet. Not a morning person."

  "I'll remember next time not to call this early."

  "No, it's perfectly all right. Is everything all right at home, your sister, the children?"

  "Everything's fine. I'm not calling you about them. Um... I normally attend Sunday Mass at noon, and since we're both of the same faith, I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

  "In Long Island?" Julie asked.

  "No, of course not. We'd never make it in time. I checked a couple of churches in your area, and they have noontime Masses scheduled. I remember you as a teen attending Mass with your mother each Sunday."

  During the intervening pause, Julie reasoned she had fallen asleep over a cup of coffee and was dreaming.

  "Julie, are you there?"

  She took a sip of her coffee. It was hot. No this was no dream. "Yes, I'm here."

  "Is this an inconvenient time, or don't you attend Sunday Mass any longer?"

  "No, I've kept close with the Lord. College didn't change that. Busy or not, I always made time."

  "I've gathered as much from your charitable disposition."

  Stop beating so fast, she told her heart.

  "So, would you like to join me?"

  "Yes, I would," she answered honestly.

  She heard him sigh in relief. Was his heart beating as quickly as hers?

  "That's great," Evan said. It's 9 a.m. and on Sundays traffic into the city is usually light. I should be there within a couple of hours."

  "Okay. I'll get ready."

  With a jovial goodbye, he hung up.

  Julie took another sip of her coffee. It wasn't as hot, but warm enough to prove to her, his call had been real. Was he becoming romantically interested in her, or was he simply feeling sorry for an old friend? She honestly had not expected him to call again, and let time ease their distancing without impoliteness.

  She finished her coffee, made herself a quick breakfast — in the present, only an hour fasting and a state of grace was required to receive the Lord in Holy Communion.

  Before dressing, Julie said her daily Rosary to the Blessed Lady, and prayed, "Is it really happening? Have I finally found him, the one for me? Or am I reading into it. Is it all a play of my imagination? You can see into our hearts. Please, make me wise. If he is the one, don't let me lose him." She made the sign of the cross, then began preening herself to look her best.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kneeling beside him in the church pew, formed a memory she would not soon forget. Praying alongside him, joining her voice with his in prayer and hymns, and receiving Holy Communion, stirred her emotions to the extent that she struggled to keep tears from welling up in her eyes and spilling over. Much like watching a longed for happy ending in an emotional film. It was not her happy ending. But she could dream, pretend for a little while that his invitation to take her to lunch after Mass at one of the better restaurants on the avenue, was offered out of love for her, and his need to be near her. With this pretense, conversation flowed easily between them.

  Over a lunch of Tortellini Alfredo, he began to talk about himself, about his youth, his years at college, his work as a Grumman's engineer. Julie listened, enrapt and honored that he should choose to confide in her until, apologizing for monopolizing the conversation, he asked, "Julie, what makes you happy?"

  It took a moment for her to hold back telling him, You make me happy! That wouldn't do. He didn't love her, admire her, nor given her any encouragement to think that. He was a kind man treating a friend with respect and fondness, far more than she expected.

  "What makes me happy?" she echoed. "I suppose, like most human beings ... feeling appreciated." Yes that was the word that best fit her situation in life, past and present. Except for a friend or two, including Abby, the world in general had always seemed to look down on her. Nature hadn't done much to make her attractive or desirable. Even her mother, though she loved her daughter and had never abandoned her, always made her feel overprotected, as if Julie, herself, was incapable of structuring her own life. As she matured and set forth on her own, she stopped blaming her mother for her simple, old-fashioned ways. Evelyn was not a spiteful woman. She had reared her daughter in the best manner of which she was capable.

  "Yes, that's it, Appreciated," Julie confirmed, head downcast and solemn.

  "There's no denying that appreciation of whole-hearted efforts builds confidence," Evan said. "It's why most of the time you're shy and timid, often to the point of frustration."

  Julie raised h
er head. He was right, but to fault her point blank, felt rude. And he had never been rude to her before. A retort rose on her lips, but his quick explanation, silenced it.

  "I don't mean to insult you. You deserve appreciation. You're sweet and kind, easy on the eyes, lovely in fact. The kind of woman most men can be happiest with. I would so like to see you believe in yourself and your self-worth. Young men would fall at your feet in droves."

  The waiter's approach with a tray of delectable desserts halted further character comments. They finished their glasses of wine and delved into their desserts. The soft chocolate chip brownie on a bed of vanilla ice cream, pushed all Julie's thoughts of shyness aside, while Evan did full justice to his slice of hot-fudge spritzed cheesecake.

  Later, taste buds satiated, and spirits high, they strolled arm in arm down the lighted avenue, browsing and commenting on the illumined window displays of the large department stores and boutiques. As the hour grew late, Evan suggested they head back to the restaurant's valet parking lot, and retrieve his car so he could drive her home.

  This time, only the guard stood at the entrance. Evan parked his car in front of the apartment and escorted Julie up to her apartment. "Julie, I'll wait out here until you make sure everything is okay inside."

  When she had made her safety check, she rejoined him at the door. "Thank you for worrying. Everything's fine."

  "Good. I didn't mean to sound paranoid, but I've lived in this part of New York long enough to know Manhattan has its beautiful sites, but also its dangers, especially for a young beautiful woman living alone." He turned to leave.

  The earnest worry and tenderness in his voice overwhelmed her shyness and sense of propriety. Because it was true what he had earlier faulted her with, and because he was the only one who seemed to understand her completely, she clasped his arm and dared, "For the sake of appreciation and self-confidence, you've said I lack, would you kiss me, goodnight." O Lord, what have I—?