“Good morning,” the woman said with a softly cultured British accent. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake from your nap. Amber told us you were recovering and would be resting, but we can be very patient.”
“It comes with age, young lady,” the man chuckled, lifting a tall glass of frosty liquid. “Can we interest you in some lemonade? It’s quite cold.”
“I would like some, yes, thank you,” Anya still didn’t move, watching them curiously.
“You remain still, dear,” the man brought the freshly poured glass to her. “Ian told us you should rest your muscles.”
“Thank you,” Anya felt herself relax. They were dressed for summer, a light and simple white dress and pale crème trousers and a short sleeved shirt. “My name is Anya Miller.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Anya Miller. My name is Tom Trent and this is my wife of many years, Millicent. Amber told us you were very lovely and she was right.”
“Thank you…that is most kind of Amber. You are Ian’s grandparents,” she finally put the pieces together.
“We certainly are,” Millicent sat back comfortably in the cushioned chair, rocking slightly. “This is a marvelous place to recuperate. Amber wasn’t certain how you were hurt, do you mind my asking?”
Evidently Amber was the source of news in the house, Anya thought with a smile.
“I do not mind. I was shot stopping a man from hurting some friends,” she said simply. “My aim was off and I believe I am slowing down in my old age.” Her smile came easily when they both laughed.
“You do realize you’ve quite got our curiosity up, my dear,” Millicent launched ahead bluntly.
“Ian has never brought a girl to the house before,” Tom picked up the conversation. “We often wondered, you understand, though our daughter assured us he did favor girls.”
Anya couldn’t stop the uncharacteristic giggle. “Excuse me,” she said immediately.
“Your accent…”
“Croatian,” Anya answered, uncertainty as she waited for their reaction. But there was none.
“Ahh…that explains it,” Tom snapped his fingers. “We were making wagers on which of his various countries you were from. Is that where you met our grandson?”
“Yes. He was a very good friend to my husband,” Anya heard the words leave her lips without thinking.
“And your husband?”
“He died five years ago,” she answered, swallowing hard and taking a long drink of the crisp lemonade. "I have not seen Ian for a few years.”
“I am sorry, my dear. It is never easy to broach these things,” Millicent shook her head. “So many wars….I keep hoping, Tom says I’m impossibly optimistic when it comes to humans finally learning to stop killing one another.”
“I wish I could believe, Mrs. Trent, I truly do,” Anya said fervently.
“There is a sadness in your eyes,” Tom said quietly. “Now I know why. I’ve seen it in the eyes of so many who return from wars…so many wars.”
“It is not a pleasant place.”
“You grew up there? I am so very sorry…your parents?” Millicent shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Anya, please forgive me. So much death for one so young.”
“Well, this is the place to be cheered, my dear,” Tom broke in, rising and pouring more lemonade from the pitcher for both of them. “We saw your van from our window…it is your van, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is.”
“And your friends this morning? Bringing gifts,” Millicent commented.
“Clothing,” Anya held her arm out. “My clothing is very limited and much more difficult to fit around the sling. My friends….” She smiled softly. “My friends brought me some things to wear.”
“It’s a lovely dress. The colors are perfect for you,” Millicent continued with her curious questions. “Where do you live, Anya?”
“I move around,” she answered vaguely.
“But you are living in the area?” She pressed.
“I believe I will be staying. I will be opening a clothing shop with costumes,” Anya told her with a smile. “Would you like to see my designs?”
“Designs? How marvelous! I would love to, Anya, thank you,” Millicent lit up with a bright smile, watching the young woman struggle to rise from the chaise lounge and go into the house. “She is perfect for Ian, Tom, just perfect.”
“We must see them together, my dear,” Tom declared, rising and pulling another chair beneath the umbrella.
“Dinner,” Millicent said simply, winking at her husband.
Anya laid her drawing pad on the table, one foot curled beneath her on the chair. She had her pencil, turning pages and listening to Millicent’s comments and praise. Jotting down notes in the white of each page as they talked.
“I adore costume balls,” Millicent said when they reached the end of the designs, her wrist tipped up. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse us, Anya! We have to meet with some friends for luncheon. Will you join us in the main dining room for dinner this evening? Please.”
“I…I do not know what Ian…”
“I will call our grandson and all will be well,” Tom assured her confidently, rising and taking her hand in his. “At six, Anya, we shall see you then.”
Anya sat staring at the departing couple, heads bent and voices soft as they ambled over the grass toward the other end of the huge house. How did that happen? A low profile, she thought. Now dinner with the grandparents.
A soft groan broke from her lips when her phone buzzed in her pocket and Ian’s name appeared in the read out.
“Hello?” Anya’s voice was filled with reluctance.
“Anya,” Ian drew the sound of her name out. “I just had a call from my grandmother.”
“I would apologize…but I am not sure how it happened, Ian,” Anya said honestly.
His laughter was soft and amused.
“I know my grandparents, Anya, I’ll be back about five-thirty. Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, thank you.”
“Did you have a shower?”
“Yes, Amber was very kind. I like her sense of humor.”
“She’s British. Never thought about it much, but you have that kind of humor, too…dry and slightly sarcastic,” Ian commented idly, thinking over his own words.
“Only slightly? I shall work at it,” Anya promised, unaware that she was smiling over their banter.
“I’ll see you later, Anya. Relax, alright?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Ian only groaned dramatically before telling her good bye, striding down the corridor and chuckling. Now he knew the answer to her question. Now he knew why he had done what he did.
It was quiet when he entered the house shortly after five. A soft breeze, sunshine and quiet. Ian set his keys down, heading to the closet for a clean shirt, his feet coming to a halt just inside the bedroom. Wearing a dress, something he had never seen on Anya, she was curled with her bandaged shoulder resting on pillows. Ian stood for several long minutes just looking at her. Soft and vulnerable, dark lashes thick and closed; feathered dark hair a stark contrast to the white pillows she was sleeping on. There was something oddly both sexy and childlike in the naturally pouting full lips.
Ian moved into the closet and pulled a shirt from a hanger, changing quickly and facing the bed when he heard her moving.
“Hi…” Ian sat on the edge of the bed, one palm up and fingers brushing the longish bangs from her forehead.
“Hello,” Anya wasn’t sure where her voice went and tried clearing her throat, wincing as she tried to push herself to sit up. There wasn’t a protest when his hands moved to her good shoulder, adding his strength to her efforts.
“New bandage?” Ian looked at the newly applied gauze.
“Yes, Amber cleaned it after my shower.”
“I like the dress,” Ian held out his hand, a little hesitance before she slid her fingers into his palm as she stepped onto the floor.
“Chloe says I should have g
irl clothes,” Anya held up her finger and moved to the bathroom.
Ian waited in the living area, hands in his pockets. He heard her enter the room behind him, his smile crooked. “I think my grandfather has a crush on you.”
“They were very sweet,” Anya said with a little nod, dropping her sandals and balancing carefully to get her feet into them.
“What did you do with them?” Ian bent over and held her hand while she stepped into the shoes.
“Do? I do not…they brought lemonade and we sat on the patio,” she shrugged. “I showed your grandmother some of my designs.”
“Can I see them?” Ian held her elbow, guiding her to the front door.
“No…”
“Why?”
“It…it is a girl thing,” Anya told him with a slight scowl.
“Have you always liked designing clothing?”
“Very much. Since I was very little, I was drawing clothes,” Anya recalled with a smile.
“Why didn’t you follow that path in school?”
“My parents said it was waste of time. Only way to succeed was to follow medicine,” Anya found herself staring at the meandering house with its multiple wings and sections. They were crossing the wide open yard, the sun tilted to the west above them. “So…I became doctor. What will they think of us, Ian?”
“My grandparents?” He saw her single nod. “They’ll think what we let them think. They’re really easy going people. Sometimes a little…inquisitive,” he said carefully.
“They were afraid you did not like girls,” Anya said as they entered the main house.
Ian wasn’t sure what to say to that one. “You discussed my sexual preferences with my grandparents?”
“It was not me,” she said with a laugh. “You should have brought a girl home to reassure them,” she said with a wink.
“Obviously,” Ian moved his palm to her waist. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”
“Thank you,” Anya’s voice was low and uncertain when he stopped them in the large open foyer. This was all new to her. Not since Will…and she had still been unfamiliar with teasing banter and compliments.
“Ian!” A woman’s voice greeted then with excitement. “I was hoping you would not be working constantly!” She was blond and dressed in comfortable slacks and a light blouse, her arms up and circling her son’s neck with a long hug.
Anya stepped to the side, smiling at the reunion. So very different, her mind told her. All so very new and different.
“Mother,” Ian carefully stepped next to Anya, a protectiveness inside him that burst with need. “I want you to meet Anya Miller. Anya, this is Emily Sheffield and…where’s dad?” He looked around.
“Here…wrestling with some wine,” He held up a bottle and smiled, offering a nod. “Pleased to meet you, Anya.”
“Jason Sheffield,” Ian concluded, his hand possessive on her waist. “And you’ve met my grandparents.”
“We had a most pleasant pitcher of lemonade with Anya this morning, Ian. She’s beautiful,” Millicent said with a smile. “Come join us…dinner is ready.”
Ian guided her to the open chairs, politely seating her before taking the chair next to her. “Thank you for keeping Anya company, she’s supposed to be resting and recuperating.”
“My mother tells me you met Ian in Croatia, Anya,” Emily commented, her British accent was soft and cultured.
“Yes, we met through a friend and I worked with him when I needed his assistance with a patient,” Anya looked at Ian when she tried to accept the platter being passed in her direction. Her right hand went out and together, they carried it closer. “Thank you,” she felt a funny heat in her cheeks.
“You’re a doctor?” Emily looked at her sharply.
“Yes,” Anya answered simply. “A pediatric surgeon.”
The grandparents smiled, taking food and passing it along. “Wine, Jason, please,” Tom held up his glass.
“I thought you were, I’m sorry…a dress designer,” Emily took a drink of her wine, her gaze on her son.
“She’s talented,” Ian answered with a shrug.
“Smart and beautiful,” Millicent nodded her approval. “At least when you finally bring a girl home, you display excellent taste, Ian.”
Anya choked slightly, looking around at the various faces as the conversation turned to local events and family outings. It was near dessert when the conversation turned back.
“Have you worked often with my son, Anya?” Jason Sheffield nodded to the woman clearing the dishes away.
“Several times in Croatia,” she said with a smile. “He is a very good physician to have in emergencies.”
“Do you have permission to practice in the US? Is that how you were granted entrance?” Emily asked, curious about this woman her son brought into their home.
“I am considered a resident because I was married to a soldier,” Anya formed the words and heard them leave her lips, studying the slice of pie on her plate.
“She was married to Will Miller, Mother, I wrote about him when I was there,” Ian put his palm on her neck, fingers stroking gently.
“Oh yes, I remember, I am sorry, Anya,” Emily kept all his letters and the ones that told of his friendship with Will and his eventual death had been filled with emotion. “That was a few years ago. Do you live here now?”
“I am opening a costume shop with a friend,” Anya pushed her plate back and held her water glass between her fingers. “It was five years ago and yet it feels like it was yesterday at times.”
“I know it will sound trite, my dear,” Millicent offered a soft smile. “But it really does get easier with time. I like the Irish way of celebrating a life, not a death.”
Anya battled the hot stinging in her eyes, her head up and a smile aimed at Millicent. “I agree…and thank you…I lost my relatives and you have been most kind to me.”
“I am always available for advice, dear,” Millicent assured her. “Elders should be used for teaching and learning from as often as possible.”
“And on that, I am taking Anya home. She needs sleep. Tomorrow she starts some physical therapy for her shoulder,” Ian stood up. “I have a regular schedule now, Mother.”
“But you are a doctor,” Emily said proudly.
“I can’t deny that,” Ian agreed, lifting Anya’s palm and walking toward the wide patio doors. “We’ll take the short cut. Good night.”
“Good night and thank you again,” Anya said with a smile. She was silent as he guided them over the grass beneath the half moon. “You have a good family. They worry about you but your mother does not understand you.”
“My choices have confused her,” Ian admitted, leading her toward the wide stone wall overlooking the Sound. He lifted her before she knew what he was doing and moved to stand in front of her. “You…confuse me,” he said softly, taking her hand in his and letting his mouth cover hers softly. A gentle, learning kiss that caressed across the fullness of her lips.
Anya broke off the kiss, breathless, her palm went against his chest, their foreheads resting on one another. She offered no protest, no complaint when he surrounded her with his arms, holding her close for a long minute.
“Do you believe a kiss makes things less confusing, Ian?” She pushed against him, wanting to look into his eyes, blinking at the reflection of the moon in his glasses.
“I believe…a kiss is a beginning. I know you and I are here, now, Anya,” Ian framed her face between his palms, his thumbs stroking over the full pout of her lower lip. “I also know I’m not going to let you go so easily this time.”
“We are being watched, Ian,” Anya saw the figures near the dining area doors. She laughed when he frowned and looked in the direction she was, her right hand up with a wave that was returned. “This is all a plot to prove that you really do like girls, true?”
“Ahh…yeah…that’s it…a devious plot, let’s go, girl…you need rest and I have early rounds,” Ian lifted her to the ground, stridi
ng with her toward the end of the mansion.
“There is a spare bedroom?” Anya left her sandals at the door, savoring the scent of the fading tide.
“You take the room you’re in,” Ian went in search of sleep pants and left her standing in the middle of the room. “Do you need help with the dress?”
“No…no, I am good, thank you,” Anya went into the bathroom without looking back, leaning heavily against the door. Moving slowly, she unzipped the dress and opened the button at her neck, stepping out of the dress and lifting it to lay on the counter. Her fingers smoothed over the fabric, her eyes looking up to peer into the mirror.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was safe to be a girl, she heard in her mind.
And the voice sounded like Will’s.
It is your time to live, Will had said to her once. Never stop living.
The morning smells of coffee and toast flowed through the house. Ian stepped from the shower, inhaled and realized how hungry he was. He pulled a jersey over his head and found a pair of pale chinos, shoes last as he gathered his watch and phone and entered the living area. Spread across the kitchen island were scrambled eggs, toast and a mug waiting with coffee.
Ian stared at the woman with a colorful sarong wrapped around her, lying on the sofa with a blanket pulled over her. He lifted the cover on the eggs and found toast beneath another bowl covered plate. Fresh coffee poured from the carafe, a fork lifted and eggs and toast devoured. Ian saw her lashes flutter, the wince crossing her face had his eyes go immediately to the gauze on her shoulder.
“Good morning,” Ian met the dark eyes peeking through bangs that hung on her forehead. She reached up and brushed them aside.
“Good morning,” Anya yawned and closed her eyes again.
“Thank you for the breakfast. Is your shoulder bothering you, Anya?”
“No…could not sleep. The shoulder is fine, Ian, do not nag,” Anya ignored the laugh he offered.
Coincidences: #3 Diana & Anya Page 18
