Circle of Family

by Mia Ross

  His surprise was almost comical. “Right now?”

  “If you have the time. Otherwise I can work alone—from memory.”

  “Memory of what?”

  Jeanne stood and touched his cheek. “Of the truth I now see in your eyes.”

  He captured her hand in his. “You believe me,” he whispered, and it was not a question. “Oh, Jeanne, if only our paths had crossed sooner. If only...”

  She gently pulled her hand free. “It would not have been the same, August. Each of us in our way had to endure certain trials. It was those challenges that led us to where we are today. It is your trust that gives me the confidence to complete the work we have begun.” She laughed and tugged at his sleeve. “Now come along before we lose the light.”

  But he did not move. Instead he touched her hair with the tips of his fingers, then traced one finger down her cheek to her lips. “We have become quite a team, Miss Witherspoon.”

  Her fingers tightened around his sleeve and when he bent to kiss her she did not step away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For the next several weeks Jeanne and August were inseparable. When they weren’t working together on the portrait, they were walking in the garden, bundled now against an autumn chill, their heads bent close as they discussed events of the day and family news and art. They dined together every evening and accepted every invitation as a couple.

  Yves reported that they were quite the talk of Paris.

  “I don’t care,” she told him. “Let the old gossipmongers think what they will.”

  “Has he proposed yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you think he will?”

  “Yes, because I know that he loves me as I love him.”

  “And if he doesn’t propose?”

  “Oh, Yves, why must you spoil my happiness by speculating about how it will all end?”

  “Don’t you wish to marry?”

  “I wish to be happy and content and spend my time with people who respect me and love me for exactly who I am. People like you.”

  “And his lordship?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are in love with him.” Yves sighed heavily as if this were the worst possible news.

  Jeanne smiled. “And I believe that he loves me in return. I thought I had learned from Gabriel what it meant to be loved. But all he had to offer were the trappings of love—betrothal, a grand wedding and such. With August I feel as if I am in the midst of something so precious that I must treasure every minute we share.”

  “And if he breaks your heart?”

  “Then I must count on you to be here to help mend it,” she said as she gave her friend a quick peck on the cheek. “I must go.”

  August was waiting for her at the bridge. He was staring down into the Seine and she could not help but wonder if he was thinking about another river, another day when tragedy had struck. But then he glanced up as if by some signal he had become aware that she was in the area. In his smile she saw that he had not been mourning the past. In his smile she saw that he was thinking only of her—of them.

  “You’re late but because you are so beautiful and I am mad about you, I forgive you.” He signaled a hackney and gave the driver an address.

  “You’re being very mysterious, August. Where are we going?”

  “Patience.” But he was the one leaning forward as if in doing so he might shorten the journey. “Ah, here we are.”

  While August paid the driver, Jeanne stepped out of the carriage and saw that they were at the base of the Eiffel Tower. “August?”

  “Come or we shall lose the light,” he said.

  The elevator lifted them through the scaffolding past the first level and on to the second. When Jeanne hesitated August held out his hand to her. “I’m here,” he said. “I’ll always be here for you, darling.”

  Jeanne grasped his hand and tentatively made her way to the railing that surrounded the landing. What she saw took her breath away. To the west the sun was a scarlet orb surrounded by vermilion clouds as it slid into the horizon. To the east lights began to twinkle across the city breaking through the dusk like fireflies in a garden. “Oh, August, it’s perfect.”

  “Jeanne, there are a thousand lights out there and at least as many reasons why I should never dare ask you this, but I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love another human being. Will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I will marry you, Lord Groton-Hames.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  “Take some time,” he said. “Think of the years...”

  “Yes, the years we have already missed and those we can now share. The answer is yes, my darling. Let’s not waste a moment.”

  Chapter Twenty

  To Jeanne’s delight, several of her friends from America accepted the invitation to her spring wedding. She was especially delighted when Gabriel and his wife, Lucie, were among those who came to Paris.

  “I could not be happier for you, Jeanne,” Gabe told her. “I thank God every day that you had the courage to see things as they were between us and send us both on our way to discover true happiness.”

  In the flurry of activity that preceded the wedding, Lucie and Jeanne became fast friends. The two women spent hours together as Lucie sewed on the tiny pearls that lined the yards of taffeta for Jeanne’s gown. And it was Lucie who first noticed that Jeanne’s bubbly demeanor had changed from natural to forced just two days before the ceremony.

  “Nerves,” Jeanne assured her, but Lucie was not fooled.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  August had insisted on calling a doctor after Jeanne complained of a slight fever and some stomach cramping.

  “He...” Suddenly Jeanne began to sob. “I can’t... I must...but I love him...”

  “Sh-h-h.” Lucie cradled her like a child. “Are you seriously ill?”

  “He did a full examination and he says...he found...” The horror Jeanne had felt when she’d heard the news washed over her. “I cannot have children. Oh, Lucie, August has dreamed of a family for so long and...”

  “It’s one opinion,” Lucie reasoned.

  “My mother confirmed the news. When I was a child I had a riding accident—I barely remember. She has known all along. I’ve written this note explaining everything. Will you give it to August for me?”

  “No. You can’t solve things by running away, Jeanne. This man loves you. I know that as surely as I know Gabe loves me. You owe him the opportunity to hear the news and work through a solution together.”

  “But it’s because I love him that—”

  “Then stop protecting him. I am going to send him to you. You have time to run if that’s your plan.” And she was gone.

  A moment later there was a light tap at the door and August entered the room. “Lucie said... Oh, my darling, what is it?”

  In the shelter of August’s embrace Jeanne poured out the story of the childhood riding accident, the secret her mother had kept from her, the doctor’s confirmation, and all the while August held her.

  “I am so sorry, love,” he murmured. “I know how you love children, how much you looked forward to...”

  “Not for me,” she protested. “For you, August. If you marry me, there will be no heir, no one to carry on the title, treasure the estate you will leave...”

  “Do you think I care at all about that, Jeanne? I love you—you are what I treasure, the life we will share together, the adventures we will have. I am marrying you for one reason—the right reason—for love.”

  It was what she had always longed to hear—that she was loved unconditionally whatever the future might bring.

  “Oh,
August, are you so very sure of the future?”

  He grinned. “No, but with you at my side I know that I can face anything. Now, we have guests and I believe there is a certain painting to be unveiled.” He wiped away the remnants of her tears. “Your ladyship,” he said with a bow.

  Together they descended the staircase and to a throng of smiling faces gathered around the portrait covered with a satin cloth. August nodded and as Charles pulled the covering away everyone gasped, then applauded.

  “What do you see?” Jeanne asked. “Innocence?”

  “No, my love. You did not paint the past.”

  And Jeanne realized for the first time that the sadness she had always seen in August’s dark eyes had been replaced in her portrait of him. Those eyes looked out at the world now with joy even as the man himself looked at her with abiding love.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of The Promise of Home by Kathryn Springer!

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  Chapter One

  “Please follow the highlighted route—”

  Jenna Gardner tapped the tiny screen on the GPS and silenced the voice of her invisible navigator once and for all. Not only because the high-tech gadget seemed to be as confused as she was by the tangled skein of roads winding around Mirror Lake, but because Jenna was tempted to take its advice.

  She wanted to follow the highlighted route right back to her condo in the Twin Cities.

  “You passed it, Aunt Jenna!”

  A panicked cry reminded her that going home wasn’t an option. Not for awhile, anyway.

  Jenna glanced in the rearview mirror. Once again, she experienced a jolt at the sight of the two children in the backseat.

  Silver blond hair. Delicate features. Wide blue eyes.

  Jenna had met Logan and Tori for the first time only three days ago. The children were practically strangers.

  Strangers who were the mirror image of her younger sister, Shelly, as a child.

  For a split second, Tori met Jenna’s gaze. Then she buried her face in the tattered scrap of pink flannel that doubled as a blanket.

  Jenna pressed her lips together to prevent a sigh from escaping.

  One step forward, two steps back, she reminded herself. The five-year-old girl was adjusting to the idea of having an aunt the same way Jenna was getting used to the idea of having a niece and nephew.

  “You have to turn around,” Logan insisted.

  “Are you sure?” Jenna tipped her Ray-Bans down and tried to peer through the hedge of wild sumac that bordered the road. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Uh-huh. It’s back there.” Logan, the self-appointed spokesman for the two siblings, nodded vigorously.

  Under the circumstances, Jenna was willing to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. She put the car in reverse and began to inch backwards.

  In Minneapolis, a dozen horns would have instantly chastised her for the move. But here in the north woods of Wisconsin, the only complaint Jenna heard came from a squirrel perched on a branch near the side of the road. More than likely voicing its opinion on her presence rather than her driving skills.

  She spotted a wide dirt path that could have been—if a person possessed a vivid imagination—a driveway.

  Pulling in a deep breath, Jenna gave the steering wheel a comforting pat as she turned off the road. Her back teeth rattled in time with the suspension as the vehicle bumped its way through the potholes.

  Logan leaned forward and pointed to something up ahead. “There it is.”

  Well, that explained why Jenna had driven right past it.

  She’d been looking for a house.

  The weathered structure crouched in the shadow of a stately white pine looked more like a shed. Jenna’s gaze shifted from the rusty skeleton of an old lawn mower to the faded sheets tacked up in the windows.

  Oh, Shelly.

  Why hadn’t her younger sister admitted that she needed help? Why hadn’t she accepted Jenna’s offer to move in with her after Logan was born?

  Throughout her pregnancy, Shelly had claimed that she and her musician boyfriend, Vance, planned to marry before the baby arrived. But when Jenna had visited her eighteen-year-old sister in the maternity wing of a Madison hospital, there hadn’t been a ring on Shelly’s finger. Not only that, she’d been alone. Faced with a choice, Vance had decided that a gig at a club in Dubuque was more important than being present for the birth of his child.

  Shelly had made excuses for him—the same way their mother had made excuses for their father every time he’d walked out the door.

  While Jenna was pleading with Shelly to return to Minneapolis with her, Vance had sauntered into the room. The guy might have been a mediocre guitar player, but his acting skills were nothing short of amazing. He’d apologized to Shelly for not being there and promised that she and the baby could travel with the band as their “good luck charms.”

  When Jenna had asked her sister if she was willing to sentence her child to the nomadic lifestyle they’d experienced while growing up, Vance had turned on her. Accused her of being a troublemaker. He’d convinced Shelly that Jenna was jealous of their relationship and didn’t want them to be happy.

  The stars in Shelly’s eyes had blinded her to the truth. She had embraced Vance—and turned her back on her only sister.

  Jenna hadn’t seen or heard from her again. Had no idea where Shelly was or even how she and Logan were doing.

  Until last week.

  She’d been sitting at her desk, sipping an iced vanilla latte and working on her next column for Twin City Trends, when she received a telephone call from a social worker named Grace Eversea.

  It didn’t matter how gently the young woman had tried to break the news, each piece of information had punctured a hole in Jenna’s heart.

  A house fire. Shelly in a rehab center for prescription drug abuse. Seven-year-old Logan and Tori, the niece Jenna hadn’t even known existed, in temporary foster care.

  As the children’s closest relative, Jenna had been asked if she would be willing to help. She could think of a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t get involved and only two—very small—reasons why she should.

  Forty-eight hours later, after being granted a temporary leave of absence from the magazine, Jenna had packed her bags and driven to Mirror Lake, a small town where people knew each other’s name and each other’s business.

  The kind of place she had deliberately avoided for the past ten years.

  Her plan had been to take her niece and nephew back to Minnesota. But when Jenna met with Grace Eversea, the social worker had explained it would be in Logan and Tori’s best interest to remain in familiar surroundings for the time being.

  Jenna could see the
wisdom in Grace’s suggestion—especially after learning that Tori and Logan had run away when they’d heard that she was on her way to Mirror Lake to meet them.

  Jenna and the children had already spent several days at the Mirror Lake Lodge at the invitation of Abby and Quinn O’Halloran, the couple who owned the charming bed-and-breakfast, but she didn’t want to impose on the newlyweds’ hospitality any longer than necessary.

  Until Shelly returned, Jenna decided that her only option was to move into the cabin where the family had been living before the fire. She’d been assured there had been only minimal damage to the interior and the local fire chief had pronounced the structure safe and sound.

  But now, looking at the place her niece and nephew had called home, Jenna wasn’t sure she agreed with either description.

  “Are we getting out, Aunt Jenna?” Logan ventured.

  Jenna realized she hadn’t moved.

  “Of course we are.” Forcing a smile, she slid out of the driver’s seat and went around to open Tori’s door. “You’re first, Button.”

  A corner of the blanket dropped, unveiling a pair of periwinkle eyes that stared back at her with guarded apprehension.

  Jenna recognized the look of someone who no longer trusted easily, and her heart wrenched. Within the space of a few weeks the little girl had been separated from her mother and then from Kate Nichols, the foster care mother she’d become attached to, before being placed in Jenna’s care.

  “It’s okay, Tori.” Logan patted his sister’s hand and the sweetness of the gesture pierced Jenna’s soul.

  How many times had she comforted Shelly when they were growing up? Protected her from danger—both imaginary and real?

  Jenna mentally pushed the thought away. Her life was different now. She was different now.

  She reached for the buckle on the booster seat but Tori shrank back.

  “Don’t wanna get out!”

  Jenna hesitated, wondering if the little girl was remembering the night of the fire. Once again, the reality of what she’d agreed to flooded through her, eroding her confidence. She wasn’t a child psychologist. She wasn’t even the type of person that small children flocked to.