Small-Town Girl (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) (Mills & Boon Superromance)

by Carmichael, C. J.

  “I’ll bet the energy level’s a little different in a classroom of ten-and eleven-year-olds compared with a classroom of university students.”

  “Oh, yeah. But you know what? The enthusiasm is kind of catching. I had a lot of fun this morning.” He held up his jar of questions. “And I think the kids did, too.”

  From the window, he could see one of the two school softball diamonds. A group of kids, mostly boys and maybe two or three girls, had already formed two teams. Farther over, several groups kicked balls around a soccer field—again mostly boys. Some of the girls were hanging out on the concrete steps by the school. Others sat in cliques by the old, shady poplars.

  He searched for a green-and-white-striped shirt, but couldn’t spot it.

  “Ben opted for a tour of the premises this recess.” Heather must have guessed who he was searching for. “I thought he might find dealing with the chaos of recess a little overwhelming at first, so I asked Craig Thomson to show him around the school. Craig is a good kid. His parents farm just a few miles out of town. Their land abuts the golf course, to the north.”

  “Thanks for taking care of him.” Russell leaned his left shoulder against the windowsill, facing Heather. “How did he cope with the morning?”

  “He was pretty quiet but seemed okay. I sat him next to Craig, near the front. A few of the kids had questions about his accident that I hadn’t been prepared for. I guess I should have realized their parents would have been talking.”

  “I ran into the same thing,” Russell admitted. “Didn’t quite know how to handle it.”

  “Well, it would be harder for you.” Sympathetically Heather put a hand to his arm. “As for me, I tried to be honest, yet brief. I told them Ben was getting stronger day by day, but that he might not be able to participate in sports for a little while.”

  “His coordination still isn’t what it used to be.” Actually, nothing about Ben was quite as it used to be, but Russell knew that with patience and understanding, eventually Ben would regain most of, if not all, the cognitive abilities he’d lost. According to the neuropsychological assessment, healing would continue for at least a year.

  “I guess that’s to be expected. Sounds like it was quite an accident. It must have been horrible for you…and Julie,” she added, after the briefest of pauses.

  “Dreadful.” Russell thought the one word pretty much summed it up. As Heather remained quiet, however, he found himself painting in details.

  “Ben was on an outing to the Vancouver Aquarium. His buddy’s mother had her own kid in the van, as well as Ben. It was early morning. You wouldn’t think you’d have to worry about drunk drivers at that time.”

  Heather listened, and Russell found he wanted to keep talking. He hadn’t discussed the accident much. The memories were still raw and painful. And yet, he didn’t want to hold them in anymore.

  “The accident wasn’t the mother’s fault, but she either blamed herself, or thought we must. She sent us a card first, then a bouquet of balloons once Ben was out of danger. But she never showed up at the hospital.”

  “I’m sure you’re right and that she felt guilty. Her son was okay?”

  “Not a scratch.” Russell curled his lips, acknowledging the irony. “But enough of that. I want to hear about you. You’re all tanned and glowing. Happy?”

  “Getting there.”

  Maybe, but sadness still lurked in the corners of her eyes, in the sigh behind the words.

  “What’s it been? Four years?”

  Heather finished her coffee. “Yeah. Four years sounds like a long time, huh? But it doesn’t feel it.”

  “Mom said you were dating this guy from Church-bridge.”

  “I guess. We’ve gone out for dinner. A few movies.”

  “You don’t sound very impressed.”

  “Oh, hell, Russ. Dating is for kids. It’s a totally different ball game for adults. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. Even the sex is complicated. My place or his. If it’s his, will he expect me to spend the night? If so, should I pack my toothbrush? Or will I look too forward when I whip it out of my purse later? I tell you, it was a lot simpler when we just did it in the back seat of a car.”

  She stopped there, leaving Russ stumped over what to say in reply. They’d done it plenty of times in the back seat of his old Buick. Was he supposed to make a joke of their past now? Or politely pretend it had never happened?

  “Sorry. I got carried away. I just miss Nick and I wish…”

  “What?” Russell wanted to touch her chin, to lift her face where he could see it more clearly. But the gesture would be inappropriate, he sensed.

  “Oh, nothing. That it hadn’t happened, I guess.”

  Of course she wished her husband hadn’t been shot. But that wasn’t what she’d been about to say, Russell was sure. Still, if she didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t try to force her.

  She blinked away the slickness gathering in her eyes. “Heck, look at the time. I’d better wash this mug and hustle back to my classroom. Want me to take care of yours, too?”

  Russell hung on to his mug, worried about the sexist overtones to having Heather do his washing up. She, realizing his concerns, just laughed.

  “Come on, give it to me. You can do mine next time.” She linked her finger through the handle and tugged. He let the mug slide out of his hand.

  “Thanks, Heather. For the coffee and the talk. For watching out for Ben.”

  She smiled prettily, but her gaze slid over his a little too quickly. Russell sensed a problem but had no idea what it could be. Had he offended her with his questions?

  Or was it something from the past? Something from their past. The ending of their relationship hadn’t been as clean as he would’ve liked. Actually, it had been a bit too clean. Maybe that was the problem.

  Heather’s hips swung fetchingly beneath the light cotton of her dress as she headed for the sink. Russell had no trouble remembering the last time they’d been together, the summer after his fourth year of university, before he’d started on his master’s.

  She’d been in the middle of her education degree in Saskatoon. Home for the summer, like him, to work and save money for the next year. They hadn’t dated, exactly. But they’d spent a few nights together. One in particular…

  Russell remembered soft, freckled skin. Crazy red hair flying in all directions. Pouty pink lips and lots of laughing.

  He knew he hadn’t made any promises that night. Which had turned out to be a very good thing, because just two weeks into the fall term at UBC he’d met Julie.

  And forgotten all about the girl back home, who might, or might not, have been expecting him to come back one day.

  JULIE HAD ALREADY WORKED some of her magic on their new house. Russell noted the wreath on the front door, a fresh welcome mat on the landing.

  He held the door open for Ben, who hadn’t said much on the way home. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Russell hoped Julie would hold back on the questions he knew she’d be dying to ask.

  Ben trudged inside, dropped his backpack, kicked off his untied sneakers.

  “Julie?” Something floral spiced the air. Russell noticed Julie had rearranged the living room furniture—again. A few paintings had been hung in the dining room. In the kitchen, he found his wife sitting at the table, a soft blanket on her lap. Ben, ahead of him, opened the fridge.

  Was she sick? But she looked just fine; her hair was done as usual, and she wore makeup, and heck—she was even smiling. A rare enough sight these days.

  He bent over to kiss her and was surprised to hear a small sound of pleasure. “Have a good day? I like where you hung the paintings.”

  “Thanks. How was your day?” She’d asked him the question, Russell was pretty sure. But her gaze was on Ben as he selected an apple, then rinsed it at the sink.

  “Well, I sure showed those grade-five kids who’s boss. They’ll all be scared to come back tomorrow.” He put the jar filled with scraps of paper on the table.


  “I’ll just bet.” Julie smiled knowingly. “And Ben? How about you?”

  Their son just shrugged as he took a bite of his apple. He was about to walk out of the room, when Julie pulled something out from under the blanket.

  At first Russell had no idea. Then he heard the same mewl that he’d thought had come from Julie when he’d kissed her.

  “A kitten!” Ben stopped and whirled around. “Oh, Mom, can I hold him?”

  “It’s a her.” Julie held the bale of white fluff next to her cheek. “And yes, you can hold her, but be gentle. She’s just seven weeks old.”

  Ben dropped his apple on the table and cupped his hands. Julie transferred the kitten gently.

  “Oh, she’s so cute!” Ben dropped to the floor and cuddled her for a few moments. As the kitten became bolder, he opened his hands and let her walk on the linoleum floor. Curious, the kitten took a sniff of his sock. Then she batted at the drawstring of his pullover.

  Noticing her interest, Ben swung the string in circles, then giggled as the kitten’s head rotated, mirroring the swaying motion.

  “Where’d you find her?” Russell had grabbed his own apple from the fridge. Settling in the chair across from Julie’s, he enjoyed watching his son play with the new pet.

  “I met the local hairdresser at the café this morning. Adrienne mentioned she had a few kittens looking for a home. I hope you don’t mind, Russell. I know I should have discussed this with you and Ben first.”

  “Mind? Julie, I’m delighted.” Although she’d agreed to pets in theory, he had thought she’d need some coercing. Julie had accumulated some beautiful pieces of furniture over the years, and the kitten could be a bit of a problem.

  “Oh, good. I just couldn’t resist. Russell, isn’t she sweet?”

  Ben had pulled off his sweatshirt and was now trailing the drawstring around the kitchen table. The kitten followed, pouncing and running, pouncing and running.

  Russell thought the kitten was just fine. Better was the glow of pleasure on Julie’s face. Her expression reminded him of happier times, and gave him hope that those days might not be gone forever.

  “Can we name her Skip?” Ben asked.

  It was more of a dog’s name, but Russell could see why Ben had chosen it. The kitten did seem to do a lot of skipping.

  “Why not?” Julie smiled at Russell. “When we get a puppy, maybe we can name him Snowball.”

  BEN PLAYED WITH THE NEW kitten until dinner. When Julie called her son to the table, Skip headed straight for the new bed Julie had made for her—a shallow box with one of Julie’s softest plush blankets. The blanket matched the chaise longue that had stood in the foyer of their old home. Julie hadn’t yet found a place for the chair in this new place.

  Possibly she’d have to get rid of it. This house was smaller, and no way would she be able to keep everything, anyway.

  So the blanket might as well go to Skip.

  “Mrs. Sweeney is nice,” Ben volunteered while Julie spooned chicken stir-fry over his rice.

  “That’s good.” Julie paused, hoping he’d volunteer a few more details. She’d had to stifle questions a dozen times already since Ben had come home. If she could, she’d love to know what had happened every minute of his day. But she’d seen the unspoken caution in Russell’s face, and known he was right.

  Don’t push.

  “Well, I certainly enjoyed the commute. We didn’t see a single accident and there wasn’t one backup in traffic.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “We walked, Dad.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Russell winked at Julie.

  “I made a new friend,” Ben said. “His name is Craig. Can he come over sometime, Mom?”

  “Of course he can.” Julie felt her heart swell as she gazed at her son in amazement. He liked his teacher; he’d made a new friend. She couldn’t have hoped for a better start to his year.

  Could it be that Russell had been right? That this town was the best place for Ben to get better? Right now, she admitted, it did seem possible.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JULIE STEPPED INTO THE bedroom wearing her ivory robe and bare feet. In the semidarkened room, the silk fabric glowed like moonlight on the lake.

  “Tell me more about your day.” Already in bed, Russell removed his reading glasses and laid them on his chest. He’d been waiting for Julie as she went through her usual routine of checking on Ben, then taking a bath.

  She headed for the bureau on the wall opposite the bed. Facing the mirror, she began to brush her thick, beautiful hair.

  Russell loved this familiar view of his wife from the back. The fall of her hair to her shoulders, the robe nipped in at the waist with a belt, then the silk cascading over Julie’s slender hips and down the long length of her legs.

  In the mirror he admired the delicate line of her neck as she smoothed cream from her forehead to her collarbone.

  “Not much to tell.” Julie capped the cream container. “After you and Ben left for school, I stopped in at the café for a coffee. As I said, that’s where I met the hairdresser who had the kittens.”

  “Adrienne Jenson. I can’t remember her, but I knew her elder sister, Bronwyn. Family of three girls, all of them real individuals.”

  “Well, Adrienne certainly is that.”

  As Julie walked toward her side of the bed, she slipped loose the knot at the front of her robe. Russell watched as the silk slid off her shoulders, leaving a short, sleeveless chemise with a plunging neckline and nothing—absolutely nothing—else.

  Julie tossed her robe carelessly at the chair on her side of the room, but even so the robe posed artfully—a thing of beauty in itself.

  That was Julie’s gift. She created beauty naturally, effortlessly—moving an object from one position to another, angling a chair into a room, flinging a scarf over her coat.

  Julie slid between the sheets, and Russell caught the scent of her cream as she reached for her own book. He’d always loved these quiet moments at the end of the day, when he and Julie would snuggle together to read, then later, some nights, make love.

  But now he felt as if their books had become shields and the middle ground of their king-size mattress an off-limits buffer zone.

  Julie opened her novel at the marker with apparent interest, but even after several minutes she hadn’t turned a page. He wondered if she would meet him halfway should he move over a foot. He compromised by turning to his side and facing her.

  “Be careful you don’t roll on your glasses.”

  He glanced down and saw they had slid off his chest into no-man’s land. He disposed of them on the night table, along with his biography, facedown at the appropriate spot. Julie hated his careless habits with books, but tonight she said nothing, perhaps not having noticed.

  “Did the telephone people come to connect the Internet?”

  “Yes. I meant to ask you to show me how to use the new fax machine.”

  Before they’d left Vancouver he’d bought her one—a printer-scanner-fax combination—as a gesture of good faith. If she wanted to continue her work long distance, he would do his best to support her.

  “I’ll set it up for you tomorrow,” he promised.

  He had to give Julie credit. Although she hadn’t wanted to make this move, once she’d agreed to the decision, she hadn’t complained. Not once. He hoped it wasn’t asking too much for her to be happy here. That she’d made the effort to drop in at the café was a good sign. And he’d been so delighted to see her with the kitten. Stroking the tiny bit of fluff had softened her for a few moments, exposing the girl who rarely surfaced from behind the sophisticated veneer of an accomplished, elegant woman.

  Russell loved them both. The girl and the woman. But lately he felt he could observe either only from a distance, as if a glass bubble had formed around his wife. From rare disagreements in their past, he knew Julie dealt with problems by withdrawing. But the time had come to put Ben’s accident in their past. Why couldn’t she do that?

 
; And why couldn’t she see that her husband needed her? Maybe he was being selfish. Wasn’t he the one who’d told her this was the time to focus on Ben? But he hadn’t meant to the exclusion of each other.

  “What would you say to getting away for a weekend? Just the two of us?”

  Julie’s expression wavered between puzzled and surprised. “Without Ben?”

  “We could leave him with my parents.” He and Julie had never had that luxury before—grandparents as baby-sitters, and the opportunity to spend more than four or six hours together as a couple.

  “Maybe one day, Russell. But it’s too soon now. At the dinner table I couldn’t help but think back to last year at this time. His first day of grade three.”

  “Yes. I remembered, too.” It was impossible not to. Last year Ben, their precocious Ben, had held them both rapt as he’d described his new teacher and fellow students.

  He’d had an anecdote about everything, all delivered with a vocabulary far exceeding his grade level. He’d made fun of the spelling list, the recommended book for their first book report, the easy math questions.

  And yet, behind the teasing had been a small boy’s delight at starting a new year. Pleasure about the friends who’d been placed in the same class as him. Excitement for the enriched research projects that would be introduced at the school that year. And pride at being asked to play soccer at recess with the older grade fours.

  Compared with all that, Ben’s two comments at dinner—about making a friend and liking his teacher—positive as they were, seemed like such a miserly cause for celebration.

  “He sure loves the new kitten,” she said.

  “Yes. We should get the puppy soon. Before Skip becomes too territorial.”

  Julie smiled, he assumed, at the name. He had to admit, the christening had allowed another glimmer of the real Ben to shine through.

  “Yes, let’s do that,” she agreed.

  “Maybe tomorrow someone will be trying to get rid of a puppy at the café.”

  “The country version of eBay? Who knows, you may be right. There’s certainly a voracious exchange of information in that place.” She told him how everyone had talked about Bernie and Chad English. “If I was having infertility problems, I don’t think I’d want the entire town to hear about it.”