by Noelle Adams
She really should have recognized him.
Cyrus Damon.
Cyrus.
Her Cyrus.
Sitting right there on the stool when she’d thought she’d never see him again.
She literally could not move.
Cyrus was obviously just as taken aback by her presence as she was. He hadn’t been expecting her any more than she’d been expecting him. He’d grown very still, staring at her like she was an apparition.
Then he breathed, “Brie.”
“Oh,” Marietta said with another smile, looking in confusion between Cyrus and Brie. “So you two know each other?”
Seven
Cyrus had been having a very bad day, but was trying to hide it from Harrison, from everyone.
He’d driven up with the others to the bed and breakfast the day before, and he’d been appropriately social and admiring of all the work that had been done. Peter and Kelly Blake had done an excellent job with the renovation, and the contractors and craftsmen they’d employed had obviously all been top-notch. But while he was smiling and making pleasant comments, he was internally waging an endless debate—part of him nearly howling at leaving Brie the way he had and the rest of him explaining over and over again why it was the only choice.
She’d made him happier than he could remember, happier than he’d ever been in his life. But he couldn’t make her happy—not for long anyway. And he couldn’t start being selfish and thoughtless just because his heart was no longer his.
Only Gordon knew he was secretly suffering. Harrison had asked a couple of times if he was feeling all right, but he’d appeared convinced by Cyrus’s responses.
He could do this. He could get through Christmas. Then he could return to England, to his home, and try to remember the man he used to be.
Before these past two weeks. Before Brie.
He was actually almost enjoying watching little Melissa play on the floor in the kitchen, away from the social pressure of the larger crowd. But watching Marietta’s obvious joy in her daughter just made him think again about Brie.
Brie should have children. Brie should have a young husband, one who could stand by her side for the rest of her life. He could never be that man for her. He might be able to father children. Men certainly did at his age. But he could never offer her that whole life.
He kept smiling, even at this aching thought.
But his rigid control and his outward façade all cracked like ice when Harrison came back into the kitchen with a young woman who must be Mitchell’s sister, whom he vaguely recalled was still expected.
Brie. With Mitchell’s dark hair and gray eyes and classic features, with a graceful, Bohemian style that spoke to her artistic nature, and with a warm smile, deep intelligence, and generous spirit that were all her own.
His Brie, whom he had left forever. Standing right in front of him in the kitchen.
He said her name. He knew he did although he wasn’t sure how he’d made his voice work.
She didn’t say anything. She just went so white he stood up automatically to help her, support her, something.
Marietta asked a question with her typical sweetness, smoothing over any rough edges. Then Harrison asked, “Is something wrong?”
Cyrus tried to reply, but there was absolutely nothing to say.
Then Brie made a little sound that was almost like a whimper. She turned on her heel and hurried out of the room.
He started to follow her. Of course he did. She confused and upset and hurting, and he wanted to take care of her.
But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed. Not anymore. So exerting more strength than he knew he possessed, he very slowly sat back down.
“What’s going on?” Harrison demanded, looking baffled and urgent, like there might be a crisis afoot but he couldn’t quite find it. “You know each other?”
“Yes,” Cyrus managed to say. He had to give his nephew an answer after what they’d just witnessed. “We met in Savannah.”
“Oh, well, then what was wrong with her?” Marietta asked. “She looked so shocked and upset.”
Harrison had grown still, and Cyrus knew he was putting the pieces together. “Your young woman,” he said very softly. “The one Gordon mentioned, who was taking up all your time.”
Marietta gave a little gasp and glanced toward the door. “Really?”
Cyrus looked down at Melissa, who was happily rocking her doll like a baby.
“I didn’t expect her to be quite so young.” Harrison looked like he’d had a blow to the gut.
Cyrus felt a prickle of defensiveness at this comment, but he let it wash over him. Naturally, that would be Harrison’s reaction. That would be everyone’s reaction. When he’d gone around the city with Brie in the past two weeks, most people hadn’t looked at them strangely. The difference in their ages hadn’t been shocking or particularly unusual to strangers.
But to family, to those who knew them, it would be a very big deal.
Brie was quite a bit younger even than Harrison. Cyrus should not be romantically attached to her—and age wasn’t even the only reason.
“Harry,” Marietta chided in a hushed voice. She was the only person in the world who called Harrison that. “Can’t you see that they’re both really upset? Uncle Cyrus, why don’t you go after her? I think she was crying.”
Despite all his resolutions, Cyrus almost got up to do just that. He couldn’t stand for Brie to be crying. He simply couldn’t stand it.
But he managed not to move.
“Uncle Cyrus?” Marietta prompted, looking in concern between him and Harrison beside her. “You don’t want to go after her?”
“I… can’t.”
Marietta grabbed for Harrison’s arm, evidently more distressed than ever by the ragged sound of Cyrus’s voice. “Harry, do something. Say something.”
Harrison cleared his throat. He’d evidently recovered his composure and was watching Cyrus very closely now. “I’m not sure what I can do,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “If he doesn’t care about her enough to continue the relationship, then there’s no sense in getting her hopes up. She’s probably just after his money anyway.”
Cyrus stiffened dramatically with a sharp inhale, his eyes flashing at this insult to Brie, which he knew perfectly well wasn’t even close to the truth.
Harrison’s face changed, and Cyrus realized he’d been testing him, checking to see his responses so he could gauge the nature of Cyrus’s feelings.
And Cyrus had fallen right into the trap because his feelings were so far out of control where Brie was concerned.
“So it’s like that then,” Harrison continued in a different tone. His eyes were unexpectedly gentle. “Then maybe you should go after her.”
Cyrus let out a breath and let the pain wash over him, knowing he deserved it. “I can’t. Please don’t ask me again.”
He’d always known that he wasn’t a perfect man. Sometimes he wasn’t even a good one. But despite all the successes and failures and pride and tragedy in his life, he’d always felt whole.
He didn’t feel whole anymore.
***
Brie couldn’t seem to stop crying.
She’d thought she was in control of her emotions when she arrived at Eden Manor, but obviously she’d just been fooling herself.
Her heart was broken, and it was horrible—and she’d seen it so clearly when she’d encountered Cyrus again in the kitchen.
She knew she should have tried to put on an act so Cyrus wouldn’t see how broken she was and so everyone else wouldn’t be uncomfortable. But she couldn’t. She’d never been a very good actor, and there was just too much emotion to keep down.
She wasn’t sure how long had passed when she heard a knock on the door.
She might wish it was Cyrus, but she knew it wasn’t. If he’d been coming after her, he would have come right away.
“Go away, Mitchell,” she called through the door.
“It’s not Mitche
ll.” The voice was female and familiar. “It’s Kelly. Are you all right?”
“Oh. Yes.”
Kelly evidently took this as an invitation to enter. She opened the door a crack to look in. “Are you okay?”
Brie managed to sit up and wipe at her face. “Yeah. I’m okay. Did Mitchell send you up here?”
“No. He’s still in the parlor with Grandmama and the others.” Kelly was a slim, attractive girl several years younger than Brie with small glasses and a casual look to her. Her face was concerned as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. “No one sent me up. I was checking on the rooms and heard you crying. What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure how to explain it.”
“Just start at the beginning. I have time.”
There was no way Brie could start at the beginning—there was too much to say, and it was all still too raw. But she’d always liked Kelly, and she needed to talk to someone. “I, uh, met a man in Savannah I really liked.”
“Oh. Yeah. Deanna might have mentioned that.” When Kelly realized what she’d said, she hurried on. “That’s all she said. She didn’t give me any details or anything.”
“Yeah, she didn’t really know any details. Anyway, we’d agreed we were just having fun for a week or so, and we didn’t have any sort of future.”
Kelly nodded. “I’m sorry. Did you fall for him anyway?”
“Yeah. Pretty hard. But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What’s the worst of it?”
“I was supposed to never see him again, but he’s here.”
Kelly gasped. “He’s here? Like at Eden Manor?”
“Yes. Here.”
Brie could see the wheels turning in Kelly’s head. She shook her head as she obviously thought quickly. “But… how… The only unattached man here is… is…”
“Cyrus,” Brie said, knowing the reaction she would see on Kelly’s face. “It’s him.”
Kelly was a kindhearted person, but this news was obviously quite a shock. Brie could see quite clearly the succession on emotions on her face. Surprise. Confusion. Disbelief. Then something akin to discomfort.
She couldn’t see Brie with Cyrus. Not at all.
Everyone else would have the same reaction as well.
Brie and Cyrus just shouldn’t be together—at least no one would ever think they should be.
“Oh,” Kelly said at last. “Oh my.”
“I know it sounds crazy and no one would expect it, but we really got along… well. We had such a good time together. But I didn’t know who he was, and he didn’t know who I was, and now… now he still doesn’t want me, but it’s worse because he’s right here.”
Kelly’s surprise was clearing, and she looked sympathetic again. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make it look like I didn’t think you should be—”
“Don’t apologize. I know it sounds crazy. I mean, all the differences… But we were really good together. And now we’re not together at all.”
“I wish I could help.”
Brie had slumped down onto the bed again, but now she sat up quickly. “You can’t tell Mitchell. Please don’t tell him. He would… Please don’t tell him.”
“I won’t. But maybe you should talk to Mr. Dam—to Cyrus. He’s seemed really down since he got here yesterday. Nothing obvious, but it’s like he’s always brooding about something he’s trying to hide. Maybe he didn’t want things to end either.”
“I wish it were that easy.” Despite herself, the thought that Cyrus had been depressed made her feel a little better. It wasn’t like she wanted him to suffer, but at least leaving her hadn’t been easy for him. At least she wasn’t as foolish as to have fallen into a one-sided thing.
There was another knock on the door, and Marietta stuck her head in. “Brie? I’m just checking on you. Just tell me if you want me to leave.”
“No, you can come in. Thank you.”
Marietta’s eyes were deeply sympathetic as she sat in the upright chair. “Are you okay?”
Brie nodded, sitting up again. “I’ll be okay.” She let out a breath. “So he didn’t want to talk to me?”
Marietta shook her head. “He wants to, but he won’t.”
“He said from the beginning that we had no future. I only have myself to blame for… letting myself hope for more.” Brie’s eyes strayed to the closed bedroom door. “Is he okay?”
Marietta gave a little shrug. “I really don’t know. I’ve known him for a long time, but I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always been a good man, but for a long time there was this hardness inside him, underneath all the manners and sophistication. But he’s been changing over the past few years. He’s closer now to his family than he ever was before. And now… now it seems like he’s changed even more, even since I last saw him a few weeks ago.”
Brie was almost hanging on the words. She wanted to know this about Cyrus. She wanted to know everything. “But I don’t think he’s going to change his mind about this.”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it, and he’s always been impossibly stubborn about what he believes is right. But I wonder… it’s almost like he thinks he doesn’t…”
Brie leaned forward. “He thinks he doesn’t what?”
Marietta shook her head helplessly. “I guess I don’t know. I’m sorry, Brie. I wish I could help.”
“You have helped,” Brie said, reaching out to put her hand on the other woman’s arm and then reaching over to squeeze Kelly’s arm too. “Thank you both.”
“So what are you going to do?” Kelly asked.
Brie shrugged and wiped at her face. “What can I do? I’m going to be a grown-up and get on with my life. I just have to get through Christmas first.”
Kelly stood up. “Well, here. Come and pat Igor’s head.”
“Igor?”
“He’s a stuffed cat. He was a gift from my grandmother, and we had to explain his presence in the house, so we put him on a pedestal in the hall and we tell everyone that patting his head brings luck.”
Brie and Marietta followed Kelly out into the back hallway, where Igor had been given a position of honor in a glass case on an ornate pedestal.
Brie had been picturing a stuffed animal cat, but that wasn’t what Igor was. He was a dead Siamese cat who had been stuffed into a living pose and was staring out at the world with creepy glass eyes.
“Oh my!” Marietta breathed.
“Pat his head,” Kelly instructed, opening the top of the case.
Marietta reached inside and gave the furry head a little pat, and then Brie did as well.
“Does it really bring luck?” Brie asked.
Kelly gave an adorable little shrug. “It hasn’t yet. But there has to be a first time, right?”
***
Several hours later, Brie was staring up at a mural on the ceiling of the dining room.
It was close to a traditional Victorian sky scene but was filled with light and life and unexpected details, and it was absolutely gorgeous.
As strange as it sounded, Brie was almost positive that the artist who had done this ceiling was the same one who had painted her lovely little fishing pond.
The room was crowded, as were the parlor and hall and kitchen. The Blakes had invited quite a few people to their Christmas Eve party, in addition to the guests who were already present. Brie had made it through the afternoon by avoiding Cyrus and pasting on a smile anytime she felt too emotional. But she would be really glad when this party was over and she could be alone in her room.
She was still staring up at the ceiling when a woman came up beside her. “Do you like it?”
Brie straightened her head and smiled at the woman, who looked around her own age, with lovely, long hair and a delicate look about her. “Yes. It’s amazing. Do you know who did it?”
“Her name is Cassandra Vance.”
Brie gasped. “I knew it! I knew it!”
The woman drew her brows together. “What did you know?”
“I have a painting by her—of a fishing pond. It’s so amazing, and I knew she must have painted this ceiling too.” She gave the other woman a smile. “Sorry. I’m Brie.”
The woman shook her hand. “I’m Cassandra.”
It took a moment for the name to sink it. “Cass—you’re not….”
“I am,” Cassandra admitted. “And I’m absolutely thrilled that you love the ceiling and that you bought that painting in Savannah. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I didn’t exactly buy it,” Brie explained, prompted by her innate honesty. “It was a gift. But it was… It’s so special to me. Thank you for painting it.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for loving it. That fishing pond is special to me too.”
Brie was still putting pieces together. “Vance? You’re not related to Silas Vance, are you? The one who did the stained glass?”
“He’s my husband.” Cassandra’s face took on that pleased pride that Brie always saw on Mitchell’s face when he talked about Deanna’s beadwork. “He’s here tonight, but he’s probably hiding out somewhere. He doesn’t like crowds.”
“I’d love to talk to him sometime. I do stained glass too.”
“He’ll definitely want to talk to you then.”
Cassandra looked around, evidently in search of her husband. And Brie looked around as well.
She knew Cyrus wasn’t in sight. She’d known exactly where he was every moment of the afternoon and evening. She looked around anyway, her eyes landing on two couples who were standing near the fireplace. She’d met them briefly. One couple were the contractors who had done the work on the house, and the other couple had done the landscaping. Or something like that. She couldn’t remember their names, but they’d seemed very nice.
She focused on them now, standing together, laughing at a private joke, evidently very good friends with each other. The women were both pretty, and the dark-haired woman was pregnant. The men were strong and young and attractive and healthy—clearly in love with their wives.
And it struck Brie then that one or the other of those men were the kind of husband she’d always assumed she’d eventually have. In any vision of her future, she’d pictured being part of a couple like that.
