Through Love’s Eyes
Synopsis
In an instant, Brittany Yardin’s view in the mirror changed forever. A tragic accident as a preteen left permanent physical scars, but teasing by the mean girl clique left deeper emotional ones. Years later, Brittany has made a life for herself on a tiny remote island, and the last person she expects to run into is high school mean girl and secret crush, Amy Jansons.
Amy, aka Erika James, longs to be more than just a pretty face. As a top fashion model her beauty is the benchmark most women long to attain. She travels the world and wears the latest designer clothes, but as her fortieth birthday approaches, so does the end of her career, and she’s determined to keep her place at the top.
When Amy needs help during a shoot, Brittany puts the past aside and friendship blooms. But so does the attraction neither of them can deny, and life on a remote island is no place for a serious model trying to save her career.
Through Love’s Eyes
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Through Love’s Eyes
© 2020 By C.A. Popovich. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-630-8
This Electronic Original Is Published By
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: March 2020
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editors: Victoria Villasenor and Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Tammy Seidick
By the Author
Edge of Awareness
The Courage to Try
Imperfect Truth
Love Came Calling
Through Love’s Eyes
Acknowledgments
I’d like to gratefully acknowledge all the hardworking folks at Bold Strokes Books who give my books a home and help me strive to be my best.
A special thanks to my friend Ellen who helped me mold a pile of words into something readable.
And thank you editors Victoria and Cindy for your patience with my bumbling.
Thank you to all the readers of lesbian romance. Your support means everything.
Dedication
To the casualties of being a teenager.
Chapter One
Brittany Yardin stood before the bathroom mirror and double-checked her makeup. She’d learned years ago how to combine and blend various shades to match her complexion and obscure the scar covering the right side of her face. She took extra time to apply the special concealer she used when she pulled her hair back into a braid. She removed her glasses before she tipped her head back to drip eye drops into her right eye, then lowered her head and blinked at herself in the mirror. The vision in her right eye would never return to normal, but she’d been able to obtain a driver’s license, and she focused on her attitude of gratitude. She shuddered at the memory of her young self, standing on the wobbly chair and reaching, then the tumbling pot of boiling water that altered the course of her life. Three months in a burn unit put her behind in school, and her return offered fodder for the mean girl group.
She settled her glasses back on her nose and straightened her tie. She ensured her braid lay flat against her spine and took a deep breath to dispel her growing anxiety. She settled her top hat on her head and headed to the task she’d mostly been able to avoid. Driving a carriage. She’d much rather be spending time caring for the horses, away from the stares and sideways glances, and her coworkers were happy to let her shovel manure in exchange for them chauffeuring guests in the beautifully restored Grand Hotel omnibus. Her boss, Ben, was aware of her discomfort in crowds and tried his best to assign the driving to other workers, but the unusual number of visitors to Mackinac Island this early in May had every available worker busy.
She took another settling breath, headed to the waiting carriage, and climbed onto the seat. At least if she had to subject herself to the scrutiny of a carriage full of guests, she’d be driving the premier coach on the island. She waved to the worker who’d harnessed the two Percherons, sat up straight in her seat, swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat, and gripped the reins. She urged the horses forward and they strained in their collars as they tugged the omnibus up the paved hill toward the dock where she’d wait for the ferryboat. She breathed in the scent of the horses mingled with whiffs of fudge emanating from the many fudge shops lining Main Street. The clip-clop of hooves hitting the paved streets and the view of the Mackinac Bridge spanning the straits of Mackinac grounded her as she mentally rehearsed her spiel about the island and the Grand Hotel. She approached slowly and watched the crowd as they milled around the giant dock. A few shifted foot to foot, looking impatient for their luggage to be unloaded from the ferry, and others seemed content to gaze at the view of the island and surrounding water while they waited. She turned her face away from the many onlookers and directed the horses to the ferry luggage unloading area. It took a while, and she enjoyed the view of the water and the banter of the ship’s loaders as they moved the rainbow of luggage onto the dock trolleys, separating out the ones for her to take back to the hotel. When the final suitcase was loaded onto the carriage, she sighed with relief when nobody boarded to ride back to the hotel. She paused for a family of four to pet the horses before she continued back to the hotel stables. She’d made it through the morning without having to interact with too many people, and that was fine with her.
“Hey, Brittany. How’s everything down at the dock?” George, one of Brittany’s coworkers, reached for the harness of one of the horses as they stopped at the hotel’s luggage unloading area.
She kept a firm hold on the reins. “Crowded.” She answered from the carriage seat. “But no riders this morning. I guess they’re all going shopping before checking in.”
They waited for the baggage porter to unload the carriage before heading to the stables.
“Sorry I couldn’t take the run this morning,” George said as he unhitched one of the horses.
“No problem. I know Ben has you doing inventory, and it is part of my job.” Brittany pulled off the harness from the other horse and carried it to the tack room. “It’s probably good for me to get used to it.” She took a moment to allow the feeling of triumph over her fear to soak in. Her therapist would be proud that she pushed herself out of her comfort zone. She decided she would be, too. “I’m going to take care of the horses and take off early today.”
“That’s fine. I’ll give you a call if we need you. See you tomorrow and good job today.” George grinned and waved as he walked away.
Brittany grabbed a few brushes and headed to the large stalls where the two Percherons stood chewing hay. She brushed the smooth hair on their backs and necks and combed out their flowing manes as she talked to them. She marveled at the peace being near them gave her. No judgments, no pointing and teasing. She finished their grooming and checked their grain and water supply before letting Ben know she was leaving for the day. Part-time work definitely had its advantages.
She took the long route home to her two-bedroom apartment so she could stop at her favorite spot by the
water. It was her private place to meditate and quiet the memories of the name-calling voices in her head, which were still hard to drown out, even after all this time. She allowed herself a few minutes to reflect on the torture of her high school experience. She’d come a long way with therapy in the twenty-three years since the accident. Positive self-talk and meditation helped her get through the tough days, and she refused to surrender any more of her life to that pain. Still, some days it was easier to do than others, and today the past held fast. She shook her head to clear away the disturbing memories, unlocked the door to her apartment, and headed straight for the bathroom. She hated wearing makeup all day even though wearing it had become automatic and she wouldn’t go out in public without it. She splashed water on her face and squirted face cleanser on a washcloth to gently blot at her scarred cheek and rinsed away the makeup. The initial second- and third-degree burns and subsequent skin grafts had caused significant scarring to the right side of her face and eyelid. The doctors told her the scars might be sensitive for the rest of her life, and they were right. She’d become used to the sight of the pink pigmentless skin over the years, and the painful memories of the accident had faded. The emotional pain of the adolescent teasing, however, had taken much longer to heal, and at the time, she had no idea it would follow her into adulthood as she dealt with stares, whispers, and avoidance of eye contact. Some days were harder than others. Today, though, she considered a win.
Chapter Two
Erika didn’t think she’d ever tire of traveling, of bright lights, and of the constant pressure to be perfect. Perfectly manicured, perfectly coifed, perfectly perfect. She was Erika James, one of the top fashion models in the country, and she refused to believe the only thing good about it anymore was her bank account and the one she’d set up for her parents. With her fortieth birthday looming, she feared her time in the spotlight was near its end, so she took every job available and worked twice as hard and long as any other model. She’d been groomed to be a supermodel since birth, so at eighteen, small town Amy Jansons had become Erika James. It was how she identified herself. She’d found a way to be the best and had stayed on top even though there were already several young beauties taking over the covers of Vogue and Elle magazines, which she’d graced for years. But she’d been with the same agent throughout her career and trusted him to continue the search for new opportunities.
She paced her spacious living room in her tenth floor New York condominium. The upcoming photo spread in a new magazine targeting millennials had her curious. Her agent had pushed hard for her to be featured in the magazine she’d never heard of, but she wasn’t ready to star as the mom in the centerfold ad. Maybe he figured she’d be an inspiration to the younger readers as someone to emulate as they aged. Had she become the aging beauty? She grinned as she tossed a pair of shorts and a cropped top into her suitcase. Her age didn’t matter. She still maintained a perfect model figure, and she knew quite a few younger models envied her flawless complexion. She’d only had a week off and now she was packed and ready to fly to Michigan for a series of photo shoots. The short time off wasn’t what bothered her. The destination did. Guilt still roiled in her gut whenever she allowed the disturbing memories of her teenage years to surface. It had been twenty-three years ago. She’d been a kid. She repeated the words to herself several times until the shame dissipated. She checked her reflection in her full-length mirror and called the porter to deliver her suitcase to the waiting limo.
* * *
Erika slid the ferryboat ticket stub into the back pocket of her designer jeans and followed her agent to the section of the vessel designated for their group. She chose a seat next to the window where she could watch the water and enjoy the view of the Mackinac Bridge as they passed near it. She listened to the voice over the loudspeaker telling the story of the bridge and the two Great Lakes it traversed, glad the group had agreed to take the ferry instead of flying to the island. At least if she had to return to this state, she could enjoy the beauty of the waters surrounding Mackinac Island. They’d be spending the next two weeks traipsing from one end of it to the other, stopping at places chosen by the magazine for photo shoots. She looked forward to staying at the historic and elegant Grand Hotel, but she still hoped the two weeks went by quickly, as if her continued absence from the state could erase the memory of the cruel behavior of her past.
She stepped onto the dock as their group disembarked and gazed at the expanse of water as the hotel employee directed them away from the throngs of people. She watched a couple trying to control two excited children as they raced ahead, pointing and laughing. Sadness washed over her at memories of her childhood and her parents’ rigid expectations of her. They never would have allowed her to run in public. Or display such playfulness. Had she ever been allowed to have fun and be a kid? She forced herself back to the present and continued with her group toward the Grand Hotel carriage. The driver, a small man with a neatly trimmed beard and warm smile, tipped his hat and climbed off the driver’s seat to help them board. “Good morning, folks. Welcome to Mackinac Island. Your luggage and equipment will be loaded on board in a few moments. Will you be traveling straight to the hotel, or did you want to explore a bit before checking in?” He looked to each one of them as he spoke.
Erika’s agent replied for them. “We’ll head to the hotel first and get settled. We don’t meet with the magazine crew until this afternoon, and I know I’d like to freshen up before we go to work.”
“I agree wholeheartedly, Peter,” Erika said. She envisioned herself soaking in a tub of hot water with scented bubble bath in her private room. She added a glass of red wine and a beautiful view out her window to the fantasy. She hoped there’d be enough time before preparing to pose for the camera, something she was finding more tedious as the years went by. Maybe if this was getting so difficult she should consider retirement. But it was the only life she knew. She couldn’t even imagine a new career. What else was there? Being a magazine fashion model was who she was. She had no idea how to be anything, or anyone, else. It was probably just the fact that she was back in her home state with the memories of her nasty behavior as a member of the mean girls in high school. She’d never had the opportunity to say she was sorry and probably never would.
Erika and her group stepped into the carriage for the short ride to the hotel. She watched the people stroll down the main street and enter the various shops along the way noting the difference in atmosphere from her home in bustling Manhattan. Most of these folks were probably enjoying a vacation. She was there for work, and that was fine with her. She was doing what she’d been groomed to do her whole life, something she’d grown to love. At least, she loved the traveling and the attention and the designer outfits. And the difficult parts paid well. She did, however, plan to take time to enjoy the beautiful surroundings. Their carriage turned uphill and the view of the Grand Hotel elicited oohs and aahs from the group.
When they arrived, the carriage driver climbed down from his seat to help them exit the coach, and workers appeared out of nowhere to tend to the horses. An attractive blonde caught her attention, and she detected a flash of recognition in her pale blue eyes before she quickly turned away. Erika was used to being recognizable since her picture had been in most magazines across the country for years. The woman looked as if she had a facial deformity of some kind, but she disappeared before Erika could get a better look. She shook off the unexpected twinge of attraction and curiosity and headed into the hotel.
Erika entered her room, relieved to see her suitcase set neatly by a wall. She hoped everything she’d read about the service at the Grand Hotel being as good as any around the world would turn out to be true. She admired the décor of the suite, although the purple couch was a bit gaudy for her taste. The spacious bathroom had a shower, dashing her fantasy of a hot soak, but the view from the parlor took her breath away. She read the plaque on the wall dedicating the room to Dan Musser, a former chairman of the hotel. She chose a bottl
e of wine from the well-stocked wet bar, poured herself a glass, and settled into one of the parlor chairs to enjoy the spectacular view of the Mackinac Straits. At $1,650.00 a night, it was no wonder she’d never been here as a child. Her parents spent all their disposable income on her dance and modeling lessons. There wasn’t much left for travel or fun vacations to the lake. They’d driven her to succeed and to take advantage of her beauty to become a model. They’d sent her to acting school, no doubt picturing her as the next well-known movie actress, but they’d settled on modeling when they were told she had “no talent for acting” by the administrator. She chuckled at the memory. She’d been accepted by the first modeling agency to which she’d sent her portfolio, much to her parents’ relief.
Erika swept away the childhood memories and finished her wine. She did a few yoga poses before she took one more look at the view and headed to the shower. She stripped and tossed her travel clothes on the floor. She’d be primped and prepped soon, undoubtedly dressed in the latest Versace or Armani. She lost track of who the shoots were for, and had largely stopped caring. She got dressed, posed, and went back to her own clothes. Routine, and little more. She stepped into the oversized shower and allowed the hot water to wash away the stress of travel. She allowed herself a few minutes to reflect on the memory of the pale, blue-eyed blonde with the solid looking body beneath the jeans and Grand Hotel T-shirt. Maybe the time spent here wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter Three
Through Love's Eyes Page 1
