Читать книгу For Joy's Sake - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

JULIE HAD THOUGHT about Hunter a great deal on Monday. Only because she was bracing herself to hear from him. Hoping she hadn’t given him any hint of how much she’d enjoyed being at the festival with him. Afraid he’d turn on the charm even more.

Secondary to that fear was the fact that she’d been at a crowded public festival for more than an hour without a panic attack. She wanted to celebrate her progress, but was too busy worrying that her lack of anxiety had been due to him—that she’d been so taken with him she was distracted from her usual sense of discomfort.

When she got up Tuesday morning to find the late-night email from him, telling her that he’d signed the girls’ group, she was relieved that there was no need for a phone call now. She’d see Hunter at Thursday’s meeting—a dress rehearsal for the acts they’d be showcasing at the following week’s gala—and then one more time, at the gala itself. After that, she’d be done with him.

Yes, she was relieved about all of that.

No matter what Lila McDaniels said, she was not hiding from life. She was living the life she’d chosen for herself. A life of giving.

Of making the world a better place for children who weren’t growing up with the kind of privilege she had. For children who didn’t always understand the world around them. Just...for children in general, because children brought her joy.

Being a child had brought her joy.

And she spent time with victims of abuse because she felt comfortable with them.

Still, she hesitated when she saw Lila’s number pop up on her cell Wednesday morning. She’d been about to leave the house, heading to LA for a lunch meeting with a couple of board members of the Sunshine Children’s League. Among other things, the league supported a home for children awaiting adoption, and Julie was on a committee that was planning an October Open House, for later in the month, with food trucks, Halloween fun and tours of the facilities guided by the kids themselves. They were hoping to attract prospective parents for older children.

She made it through three rings before picking up.

“Hello?” In her studio, she looked over the current work in progress, a drawing on her easel—and the words that went with it on the table with her watercolors.

It’s okay to have a day that goes wrong in every way.

The drawing showed a glass of spilled milk, a broken toy and a chubby-faced little girl frowning at a big jelly stain on her shirt.

“I need your help.” Lila’s first words, after a quick hello, made her stomach hurt.

“Of course. What do you need?” She’d step up. No matter what. The alternative, to stay locked away in her fairy-tale world, wasn’t right. Or enough.

You didn’t die from anxiety. Not her kind of anxiety anyway. And even if you did, she’d rather die than be dead alive.

Lila told her about a little girl, Joy. A new resident at the Stand whose father was abusive and whose mother was missing—presumably taken by the father. The seven-year-old had been with them since Monday night, but so far hadn’t said a word to anyone. Or even nodded or shaken her head. She followed instructions.

And she stared vacantly.

Except when it came to Julie’s book about a little girl, Amy, who was afraid of her own shadow—Amy’s Shadow.

“I’m not sure she reads the words, but Sara and the women whose bungalow Joy’s staying in, until her aunt’s out of the hospital, have read it to her several times. And whenever she’s not being told to do something else, she’s got the book in her hands. Sometimes turning the pages. Sometimes just holding it.”

Tears flooded Julie’s eyes. She used to think her sensitivity, her drama and intense emotions, made her special. Then they’d made her fragile.

Which was why she hated when her feelings took over.

There wasn’t time for that right now.

“Can I see her?” Julie asked. She might not be a counselor, but she’d studied child development. And she knew Amy, the girl with the shadow, very, very well.

“That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you could make time this morning.”

The Sunshine League meeting was important. But it could go on without her. The others could fill her in on any decisions made in her absence.

Within half an hour, she was sitting in the front room of one of the larger bungalows on Lemonade Stand grounds with Joy, a small-boned, dark-haired girl. The child’s big brown eyes were filled with a blankness that tore at Julie’s heart.

Vanessa, one of the adult residents of the bungalow, sat across from them, thumbing through a magazine. The television was on, a family sitcom playing softly in the background.

Sara Havens Edwin was in the kitchen with the older woman who’d agreed to have Joy stay in her room. Hannah was a grandmother of two. And as soon as she got legally disengaged from her abusive second husband, she was going to be moving across the country to live close to her grandkids. If her own kids had had their way, she’d be there already.

Hannah had insisted that she had to get healthy before she took up life with her kids. Julie had spent an evening with her the week before, baking cookies. And listening. What she’d figured was that Hannah needed time to find herself again before she dared to join the grandchildren she adored.

“Would you like me to read to you about Amy?” Julie asked, hands in her lap. Joy didn’t reply. She didn’t offer the book. And Julie didn’t take it from her.

She just started talking. About Amy. About some of the things behind what was on the page. Things that Julie, as the author, knew. Things that hadn’t made it to the page. She explained all of Amy’s thoughts and feelings.

Sara had come into the room and was now sitting several feet away. Hannah was there, too. Listening. Vanessa was no longer reading. The TV still droned softly.

Julie tuned it all out.

Smiling at Joy, she talked to her calmly yet confidently. She knew Amy better than anyone.

She shuddered at the thought of anyone, other than Lila and Sara, knowing that she’d written the new bestselling Being Amy series of children’s books. But considering the confidentiality code at The Lemonade Stand, she hoped that if Vanessa and Hannah had guessed, they’d keep her secret.

The little girl, dressed in jeans and a pink-and-purple short-sleeved shirt, with matching pink-and-purple tennis shoes, opened the book. Turned the pages. Almost as if she was following along with the story. Julie purposely spoke out of page order, to see if Joy got to the right page. Talking about the time Amy was in the bathtub in the morning instead of at night and her shadow was on the wall beside her. Then she moved on to her shadow being in the dentist’s office with her. Joy turned back a couple of pages.

Julie wanted to look at Sara, to let her know the little girl was engaged.

But she didn’t. She wanted Joy to feel her full attention. As though it was just the two of them there.

Just the two of them—and Amy.

For as long as Joy needed her.

* * *

A BUSY WEEK turned into a maelstrom. Hunter got everything done, with his easygoing nature intact. Most of the time he even managed to keep a smile on his face.

Except for the meeting he’d sat in on with Edward and Lila McDaniels, managing director of The Lemonade Stand. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d called Brett. But it hadn’t been an immediate appointment with Brett’s top employee at the Stand. He was told to bring Edward in. Hunter had already been vetted for safety purposes when he was hired to run the fund-raisers. And for this one visit, Edward, who had a current medical license, could get in on Hunter’s credentials. Just to Lila’s office and back outside.

That short trip down one hall had been more than Hunter had bargained for. The entire atmosphere—uplifting, supportive and yet somehow desperate, too—had been unlike anything he’d experienced in his life.

But his visit and Edward’s had worked. Sara and Chantel had gone to collect Joy from the neighbors and as of that very first night, Joy had been inside the safe environment, which had round-the-clock security.

Mary would be welcome there, too, if she chose to avail herself of the opportunity once she was well enough to leave the hospital. She’d suffered a severe blow to the head, and it looked like there could be complications, so she might not be out for a while.

Edward had not yet met his granddaughter. He was voluntarily undergoing a full evaluation, with background checks, to prove to anyone with questions that his daughter’s lack of contact with him was not a result of some horrible deed in his past. Or being a horrible man.

What Hunter knew, and others might not, was that if Cara wasn’t found alive, Edward was planning to take every step possible to be awarded full custody.

It was all way more drama than Hunter generally had in his life, and he got most of it from Edward, in the evenings, over beer.

He even felt that the strange week had impacted his carriage. His purposeful gait, as he entered the dinner theater he’d booked to host the Sunshine Children’s League gala, was different from his usual laid-back style. Hunter always built extra time into his schedule. For things like traffic. Catastrophes. Unexpected phone calls. His world was successful partially because of his ability to leave “urgent” out of his days.

But that Thursday he arrived with barely fifteen minutes to spare before dress rehearsal was due to begin for the following week’s gala. Still in the golf shirt he’d put on that morning, he was sweating. At least the dark color of the shirt hid most of the giveaway on that one. Again, not his usual style.

The lack of proper hygiene time irritated him, which put him even more off his game. And here he wanted Julie Fairbanks to be impressed enough to go out with him.

Or rather, accept a single invitation to dinner.

He’d neither seen the woman nor spoken with her since Sunday. He’d been hellaciously busy, and still, she was on his mind the second he woke up that morning. He’d finally reached the day he’d be seeing her.

That thought had sprung him out of bed and into the kitchen for coffee with a whistle.

Coffee was the first thing that had gone wrong. He’d emptied his canister the day before and had neglected to open a new one. Which meant going to the storage cupboard out in his garage to retrieve the canister waiting there, emptying the individual white plastic cups into their holder on the counter, and disposing of the canister.

A small problem. One he’d whistled through.

And then he’d turned on the hot water for his shower and discovered he had none. The thermostat on his hot water heater had gone out. A hundred-dollar fix—he knew a guy who’d come over half an hour later and had it fixed for him in less than that. Then a quick shower and he’d been on his way.

His route had been slower due to traffic he usually managed to avoid. Edward had asked to meet him for lunch, and since the guy was technically family, knew no one else in town and was really broken up about his missing daughter, Hunter agreed. He’d had a business lunch planned, which he attended, met Edward at two, and had to rush to his midafternoon meeting. From then on, he’d never quite caught up to himself.

No time for the second shower he’d planned before seeing Julie again.

“Hunter. I thought I’d be the first one here.”

Either her voice had invaded his brain, along with the images he’d been playing for weeks now, or she was standing behind him.

He turned slowly, his ready smile pasted on his face. “Then you don’t know me well enough yet,” he told her, immensely relieved to find that in spite of his tardiness, he’d beaten her to the venue. Timeliness mattered to her. He’d figured that out when another board member was late for their first meeting. She’d been gracious. But the way she’d continuously rubbed her hands together while they were waiting had given away her distress.

He was trained to notice stuff like that.

Or rather, the psychology degree he’d earned in college, in an effort to better understand people so that he could better know how to please them, had taught him that he needed a class in body language. Which he’d sought outside of his college training.

“I know you arrive fifteen minutes early for every meeting,” she said, coming toward him. Her long dark hair was pulled back, but the white shirt buttoned up nearly to her throat covered any skin she might have left exposed.

Hunter swallowed, pretty sure that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Then he shook himself awake. Yeah, Julie Fairbanks had a perfect figure, great features and memorable eyes, but he was a California boy, and he’d had his pick of more beauties than most men met in a lifetime.

“Ah, but this is a dress rehearsal,” he said, leading her to the stage at the front of the room. He’d reached for her arm, but he’d somehow missed making contact again, just like at the festival. He wondered if she’d avoided his touch this time because she could tell he was sweating. He stopped just short of sniffing his armpit.

That she would certainly have noticed.

“Tensions tend to run high when acts come face-to-face for the first time,” he said. “They’re all vying for position in the lineup, while trying to determine which position would be best for them. They’re looking at the venue, determining how to fit their act into the space, assessing stage wing options for props or easy entrances and exits. They’re also finding out who they know, avoiding people they might’ve had words—or relationships—with in the past. Plus, they’re staking their claim to dressing-room space. And they’re doing all this while trying to appear blasé about the whole thing.”

In Hunter’s world, he and his staff dealt mainly with talent that could make it big, but hadn’t done so yet. Galas like Julie’s could be a chance at a big break. If the right person noticed them. Was impressed by them. Was in the audience at all...

Usually, with events of this size, there was at least one well-known agent or producer in the audience. He always saw to that. Kept the talent coming. Made the whole evening a win-win. And the level of his talent brought the producers and agents back.

All of it was in a day’s work for him.

Not that he expected Julie Fairbanks to know or care about any of that.

“So, what position would be best for them?” She actually met his gaze as she turned her head to look at him.

That was a first. Normally their eyes meeting, no matter how hard he tried to make it happen, turned into yet another near miss.

Blue. Her eyes were blue. He’d known that, of course. His were, too.

Blue and blue make blue. Crazy thought. From a crazy man. He needed to get a grip fast.

She’d asked a question. His mind struggled to recall it. Position. Right. She’d asked about position.

He had a flash of her on the couch in his study with her shirt unbuttoned...

No. What the hell was wrong with him? Hunter had never looked at a woman he was with and pictured her with her clothes off. Not unless he knew she wanted him to see her with her clothes off.

Some men did that. Lots of normal men did. Not him.

Just a rule he’d set for himself after a particularly heated fight between his parents, with his mother accusing his father of mentally undressing some woman at a party. His father had eventually become so riled, he’d admitted to having done that. Hunter, a kid at the time, had been completely sure his mother was wrong, but having heard his father’s admission, he’d made the rule for himself.

Julie turned those blue eyes on him a second time.

Position. Oh, yeah.

“I’m not sure there is a best position in a show like this one,” he said now, more serious than usual as he considered her question. Serious because he had to focus to stay on topic. “First is good since it guarantees you’ll be seen by everyone. But it’s so early in the evening that some folks might not have arrived. People are still eating. Chatting. Catching up. Generally just enjoying themselves. And not worried yet that the evening might end too soon.”

“Because the first acts are covered in the initial ticket price, no one needs to pay attention or push their buttons to stay. It won’t affect their wallets.”

“Exactly. It gets more intense, with more people actually watching the show as folks start to really pay attention. They have to decide whether the talent warrants another spend. Some will stay for the duration, just to donate, but a lot won’t. They’ll stay as long as they’re enjoying themselves.”

“So maybe, for the performers, it’s more about not getting the worst position,” Julie said. “Because if the talent that comes ahead of you isn’t good, you might not get to go on. And even if you do, there’ll be fewer people there watching.”

“The evening is wearing down at that point. People are usually quiet and watching the stage. Besides, any talent scouts in attendance are going to stay until the end.” At least Hunter’s did. Which was why his shows drew the level of talent they did, and why people paid so much money to attend one of his functions...

They’d reached the door that led backstage. Holding it for her to precede him, he told himself not to look at the perfectly shaped backside in the black jeans, or notice the way her wedged heels gave height to legs that had been crashing his thoughts for weeks now.

Still, as she turned toward him, waiting for him to follow, there was something...different about her. Like maybe she’d found the lightness in her step that he’d lost from his. Maybe she’d stolen it from him on Sunday. Yeah, maybe that was it.

Starting to feel a smile coming on, Hunter got to work.