Читать книгу Something Beautiful and Lacey's Retreat: Something Beautiful / Lacey's Retreat - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 15

Lucas put down his saxophone, then hopped off the stool centered by the big windows to waylay his sister before she trotted into the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

Lorna drew her brows together in a frown. “About what? Or should I say about whom?”

“Come and sit,” Lucas ordered, gently dragging her to the table he’d shared with Willa. Picking up a fork, he begin stabbing at the bread pudding he’d left.

“Well, I can see your appetite is still intact, even if your poor heart isn’t,” Lorna said, chin propped on one hand as she gave him a sympathetic smile. “You always did eat your way through misery.”

“I’m still hungry,” he said. The rich pudding, made of bread soaked in cream and eggs then smothered in rich white chocolate sauce, hit his rattled stomach like nails hitting a tin roof. “Okay, so mebbe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He pushed the pudding away, then glared at his sister. “What’s going on with Willa?”

Lorna waved to some departing customers. “Bonsoir.” Then she turned to her brother. “Lucas, that’s not for me to tell. Willa has been working hard since she was twenty-two years old—since the day she graduated from college—and that’s been at least five years. She just needs a break.” She shrugged, then removed her chef hat and tossed her tumbling braid over her shoulder. “I met her just before I came back home a little over three years ago—at a posh party in Paris. I was part of the catering team, and she sneaked into the kitchen to get another bite of this fancy chocolate dessert that everyone was raving about.”

She stopped long enough to allow Lucas a smile. He commented, “The supermodel sneaking fattening food—now there’s a tabloid tale.”

“That’s about the way it works,” Lorna said, bobbing her head. “I caught her gobbling away, and we laughed and ate chocolate cake together. She was very lonely, and I guess I was, too—I was between relationships.”

That made him grin. “Wasn’t that always the case, love?”

Lorna slapped him gently on the arm, then continued. “Anyway, we had this instant friendship. So we met a couple of days later to go shopping. I told her all about Bayou le Jardin—how I missed it, how I wanted to come home and open my own restaurant. She was so supportive, even offered to be a silent partner if I needed funding.” Lorna’s expression grew warm with the memory. “I turned her down on the loan, of course. But I did invite her to come and visit.”

Lucas leaned forward in his chair. “Why did she wait so long?”

“As I said, she’s been very busy. She’s in demand, so she’s been booked all over the world for fashion shoots and runway work. Over the years, she’d call and we’d chat, catch up, but she was always on her way to some exotic spot. You see, Willa is very disciplined and organized. She had a five-year plan, and I guess she’s reached that goal now.”

“So you think she decided to just rest a bit?”

Lorna looked at the table, a sure sign that she knew more than she wanted to tell. “I think she needed to stop and regroup.”

“And?”

She looked up. “And…that’s it.”

“Why didn’t she come to your wedding?”

“She was in Spain and then she had to go straight from there to Australia. Something about an ad for a sportswear company.”

He nodded, then pounced. “So why is she here now? I mean, why is she all of a sudden canceling bookings and not returning phone calls to her agent?”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “You know these things for true?”

“I know what I see.” He lowered his voice, his words for her ears only. “Does Willa have some sort of eating disorder?”

Lorna laughed out loud. “Oh, my, non.” Patting his hand, she added, “Willa’s eating habits are perfectly normal. She’s like any other woman in that regard. She loves food but has to watch every bite that goes in her mouth.”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. “Then she’s not sick or anything.”

And that’s when he saw it. The little flair of apprehension in his baby sister’s expressive green eyes.

His heart seemed to go still in his chest. “Lorna?”

Lorna got up, busied herself with clearing away the table dishes. “It’s late, brother. Go home and try to get some rest. Mick should be by any minute for a late dinner, then I’m turning in myself.”

Lucas stopped her, dishes and all. “Lorna, tell me.”

She turned to stare at him, worry coloring her face. “It’s not for me to tell, Lucas.”

He let her go, then pushed away from the table. “Then I’ll just go and ask Willa.”

Holding plates to her white jacket, Lorna tried to stop him. “Lucas, please. Don’t do that.”

But he was already out the door.

On the other side of the huge, sprawling gardens, Willa sat on a bench in a pretty white Victorian gazebo, the scent of trailing wisteria and running roses mingling around her.

Although her bedroom was lovely, she hadn’t been able to go to the isolation of that particular place. So she’d walked through the narrow footpaths, letting the moonlight guide her, until she’d found this idyllic spot.

Now, in spite of the mosquitoes buzzing hungrily around her ears and ankles, she sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night.

Remembering the sound of Lucas playing the saxophone.

It was the song. That was what had made her cry. That was what had made her long for something she couldn’t envision, couldn’t grasp. It was a lovely song—sweet and full of a tender yearning. Willa longed to know the words to the tune that lingered in her head like a music box being wound over and over. She also longed for answers to her confusing questions.

“Child, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Whirling, Willa was surprised to find Hilda Dorsette making her way up the path to the gazebo, the doorknob tip of her trusty walking cane gleaming silver in the night.

Getting up to come and help her, Willa said, “Oh, Aunt Hilda, you startled me. I thought I really was alone out here in the dark.”

Hilda gave her a penetrating look. “Would you prefer it that way?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’d love some company,” Willa admitted, surprising herself. Then she sniffed.

Aunt Hilda placed an aged hand on her arm. “Have you been crying?”

Willa waited as the older woman settled onto one of the cushioned box seats. Then she sank down across from Aunt Hilda. “I…yes…I was feeling sorry for myself, I guess.”

“Then you were not alone, after all.”

“What do you mean?” Willa asked, wiping her damp face.

“God was here with you, Willa.”

Willa held her breath, then let out a tired sigh. “Then I hope He was listening.”

“Oh, He was. You can be sure of that. The Lord is always in His garden. It’s here that He walks with us and listens to us—just as the old song says.”

Without thinking, Willa said, “Then maybe that was the song—the one Lucas was playing earlier on the saxophone.”

Hilda nodded. “Yes, I heard my nephew playing. Decided to take a walk myself.” Then she gave Willa another sharp-eyed stare. “The song moved you?”

“It did. It was so…pretty.”

Aunt Hilda settled, adjusting a flowing silk floral scarf around her shoulders. “I know the song he played. It wasn’t the one to which I was referring, but it is another favorite of mine,” she said, one hand on her cane as she sat on the bench. “It’s a fairly modern church hymn, written by William Gaither in 1971. It’s called ‘Something Beautiful.’”

Willa closed her eyes briefly, wondering why Lucas had picked that particular song to play tonight. And wondering why it had moved her to tears as she’d stood there in the shadows, watching him play.

Opening her eyes, she asked Aunt Hilda, “Could you tell me the words?”

Aunt Hilda nodded. “I could—it’s all about how the Lord takes us when we are broken and makes something beautiful out of our life. But I think it would be better if you came to church Sunday, as my guest, to hear the words for yourself. I’ll make a request to the choir director.”

“Church?” Willa held the one word near her heart, felt it settle there with a gentle tugging. “It’s been so long—”

“Too long, perhaps?” Aunt Hilda asked, her smile all serenity and light. “It doesn’t matter, you know. He welcomes all of us back with open arms.”

Willa lifted her head. “Aunt Hilda, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Would it be…wrong of me to begin praying to God now, after not having done it for so very long?”

“Prayer is never wrong, love. And besides, He’s always with you, even when you’re not completely with Him.”

Willa digested that, then shook her head. “It just seems as if…well, now that I’m facing some unpleasant things in my future…it just seems almost foolish to turn to Him now. I never appreciated my blessings when things were going great for me. I just went about my life, thinking I had things under control.”

“And now, you’re finding you’re not in control at all?”

“Not even a little bit. And I’m so tired. Just so tired.”

Aunt Hilda held out a plump hand. “Come here, child.”

Willa couldn’t resist that invitation. She crossed the small space between them, then settled next to Aunt Hilda on the rounded bench, tears brimming in her eyes.

Aunt Hilda took her into her arms, hugging her close. “Rest then. Rest here as long as you need. You’re safe now. You’ve come home to the Father.”

Willa couldn’t speak. So instead, she wept. Gently, with little sound, but with deep, cleansing, purging tears of relief and restoration. If only her haughty, distant adoptive mother would have ever held her in her arms. If only she could have known her real mother. Could have. Would have. There were so many things she needed to know, so many things she needed to take care of. Urgent, frightening things.

But not tonight. Tonight, in spite of her growing feelings for Lucas and her determination to curtail those feelings, she felt safe and secure, as if she truly had returned home from a very long journey.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said into Aunt Hilda’s lace collar. “I’m acting like a big baby.”

Hilda chuckled, then patted Willa on the arm. “Not a baby, dear. A child. A child who needs desperately to be held and loved.”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, me?” Hilda lifted Willa’s head, then placed a warm hand on her wet cheek. “I’m not referring to me. Our Father is holding you now, darling. And He won’t let go.”

Willa closed her eyes. “Never?”

“Ever,” Aunt Hilda told her.

“You seem so sure. How can you do that—let go and just believe?”

Hilda waved a hand in the air. “Look around us. This is my Father’s garden. He created all of this. He created you and me. And because He loved us so much that He was willing to send His son to give us everlasting life, I have to trust that no matter what happens to me, good or bad, God will be there to comfort and sustain me.”

Willa thought about her future. She might be facing some very uncomfortable, life-altering things. And what if the worst did happen? Who would she have to turn to? Who would she have to trust?

“It would be nice to know that kind of assurance and comfort, no matter what.”

Hilda sat silent for a minute, then said, “All you have to do in order to receive those gifts, those assurances, is accept. Accept that God will see you through.” Then she took Willa’s hands in hers and smiled.

By the time Lucas found them there, they were laughing and talking like old friends. It burned him to no end that Willa seemed to be having a great time with his aunt while he suffered in silent misery. But he hid that unwarranted jealousy behind his usual carefree manner.

Leaning into the open gazebo with a flourish, he asked, “Now what are you two whispering about, out here in the dark?” Fanning at his ear, he added, “With nasty mosquitoes gnawing at your heads.”

Aunt Hilda lifted up off the bench, her hand tightly encircling Willa’s. Willa stood, but Lucas noticed she looked different somehow. Almost…peaceful.

And she also looked as if she’d been crying.

“Lucas, Willa is coming to church with us Sunday,” Aunt Hilda said, beaming.

Lucas whistled low, then shot his aunt a loving but quizzical look. Then he studied Willa’s face. “She got to you, didn’t she, jolie fille?”

But before Willa could answer, Aunt Hilda shook her head. “Not me. Apparently, it was you. You and your saxophone. She liked the song you played. It touched her.” She held a hand to her heart. “It touched her here, Lucas.”

Lucas shut up his whining and stared in amazement at Willa. She did seem different. “Is that true?”

Willa’s eyes went wide. “Your music, Lucas…It was so beautiful, so perfect. I don’t know…I just walked and walked and I wound up here and then Aunt Hilda found me—”

“And we had a good heart-to-heart talk,” Aunt Hilda said, filling in the blanks. “A good soul talk.”

“Le coeur a ses raisons,” Lucas replied dryly, wondering why he couldn’t have been the one to break Willa’s code of silence.

“Yes,” Aunt Hilda said, nodding, “the heart does indeed have its reasons. And humans also have reasons for not opening our hearts to the abundant love in front of us.”

“Is this a quiz?” Lucas asked, frustration dripping like Spanish moss from each word, his gaze still on Willa.

She looked more at peace, but she also looked as if she didn’t want to talk to him.

“No,” Aunt Hilda replied, smug and proper. “But you might want to relax and figure things out for yourself. Everything comes to pass in God’s own good time, Lucas.”

He ran a hand through his tattered curls. “Oui, but I’m tired of waiting for that good time to come.”

His aunt stepped forward on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Lucas bent to receive the show of affection, his eyes moving over Willa.

“I’m going to turn in now, children,” Aunt Hilda told them. “This has been a good night. A very good night.”

She was still chuckling as she went off down the path.

“Shouldn’t you help her to the house?” Willa asked, her voice strangely quiet.

“She would refuse my help. She has her pride.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Besides, she’s walking on air from saving another lost soul.”

“She has been a tremendous help to me,” Willa replied, her head bent. “At least, she’s made me see that with God’s help, I might be able to come to some conclusions about my life.”

Lucas couldn’t be angry for that. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Willa caught his hand in hers. “I want you to be—happy, that is.”

Casse pas mon coeur. He didn’t say the words out loud, but he wanted to. He wanted to tell her, Then don’t break my heart.

He gave an eloquent shrug, then pulled his hand from hers. “I’m happy. Completely happy.” For about three seconds, he stood there, a hand on his hip. Then he pivoted toward her. “That’s not the truth. I’m not happy. I used to think I was. But that was last week, before I saw you standing in my gardens.”

Willa held her head down. “See, I’ve already made you regret—”

He pulled her close then, needing answers, wondering how she could tell his aunt things she had yet to tell him. “I don’t regret meeting you. I only regret that you can’t trust me the way you seem to trust my dear aunt. I want you to share with me the things you just told her.”

“I didn’t tell her anything, Lucas.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. We talked…about God. About me.” She stopped, sucked in a breath. “Something happened here. Something I can’t explain.”

And then she burst into tears and fell into his arms.