Beautiful in My Eyes (7 page)

“Mind if I join you?”

She smiles. “Not at all. I would love some company.”

I pull out a chair and get Aidan situated.

“He’s so adorable,” she says. “And he looks just like your husband.”

“Thank you. And my husband thanks you. He’s a handful, and definitely his father's son. ”

“I'll bet. You are very fortunate.”

“I am,” I agree. Taking in her somber expression, I find myself wishing I could read her mind because she seems so reserved. But then again, the hurt of loss runs deep, and though I don't know what it is like to lose a husband and a child, I can greatly empathize.

We talk for a while and discover we have many things in common. We love old
movies,
reading, traveling, and we possess a terrible dislike for sewing.

“I made a shirt during my senior year in home economics class,” Cassie says. “It turned out two sizes too small and I ended up giving it to a friend.”

I laugh. “Well, at least your friend got a free shirt out of it. I’m sure she was happy.”

“Oh she was. She told me to feel free to keep sewing and she would just sit back and patiently wait for me to furnish her new wardrobe.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Well, fortunately, my teacher took pity on me and let me do other domestic things.”

“Good teacher.”

“Yeah, I haven't touched a sewing machine since.”

During a lull in the conversation, I turn and scan the yard for Julian. Instead, I find Dad intently staring at Cassie. He smiles at her and she smiles back.

Oh, this is just too good!

“Mark told me how hard it was on your father to lose your mother.”

“It was. He left for work that morning, then came home to find her lying on the floor having had a heart attack. She was already gone.” I swallow hard against the swell of emotion I still feel at the memory. “It has taken him a while, but emotionally, he's in a good place now.”

“I understand.” She quickly looks his way again. “He's very handsome.”

Glancing at Dad, I mentally agree. He is a very attractive man. From his short, tousled, slightly-graying blond hair, to his amazing dimples and the small cleft in his chin, to his beautiful pale gray eyes.
He's definitely a
good looking
guy.
Dad has
always kept himself in shape and he is almost as lean and muscular as Julian.

As I watch the object of our conversation approach our table, Aidan reaches up and tangles his fingers in my hair. When I pull his hand away, a generous amount of my hair is in his fist. My heart lurching from both shock and sadness, I quickly leave to give Cassie and Dad some privacy to get to know each other.

And to get rid of the hair.

Instead of going back outside, I change Aidan into his pajamas and sit in the comfortable rocker in our room, quietly holding him. He is so tired, he can hardly keep his eyes open, and I know in another minute he will be asleep. I hold his little hand in mine, pulling a stray strand of my hair from between his fingers. The laughter of the Hayes
’
grandchildren softly filters through the cracked window and I smile, grateful for our own little boy. He brings so much love and laughter to our life and makes my heart lighter. I really need that now.

I frequently tell myself I should be ashamed that I haven't been handling the hair issue better, because there are so many people in the world with trials a million times greater than mine. Still, that fact doesn't make this any easier,
but at the moment it strengthens my resolve to be more positive.

I look up as Julian sticks his head through the half-opened door.

“Are ye all right, love?” he whispers.

I nod and smile. “I'm fine, just a little tired.”

“I
didnae
mean ta abandon ye
oot
there.”

“You didn't abandon me, you were socializing. I'm glad you were able to get to know Mark's family. They are great people. And I enjoyed talking with Cassie. She and dad are really hitting it off.”

“Aye, they seem ta be
gettin
' on
weel
enough.”

I stand and place Aiden in the portable play yard Mark's sister was kind enough to lend us. Tucking the blanket around him, I watch him sleep for a moment. I can feel Julian's gaze and I try to brighten my countenance without much success. Julian slips his arms around me and it takes all my strength to keep from giving in to my urge to have a good cry. There would be no way I could blame that on being tired.

He kisses my ear. “Are ye sure
yer
all right?”

I lean back against him, longing to melt into him, and his arms tighten around me. “I'm fine.”

“Would ye like me ta sit an' hold ye a bit?”

“I would.”

We move over to the small sofa by the window. Wrapped in his arms, I close my eyes against the tears and rest my head against his chest. I love that he is so perceptive to my needs. He simply holds me in silence.

“I love you, Julian,” I whisper, feeling myself starting to drift off, the combination of the trip and the emotional strain taking a toll on me. I am sure a good night's sleep is just what I need.

His lips caress my brow. "I love ye,
mo
nighean
donn
.”

Julian

Something has been bothering Giselle for a while now. He can see it in her eyes at times, feel it in her embrace.
He wishes he could read her mind
,
see inside her heart
. He longs to take whatever is troubling her and throw it away, to heal whatever is hurting with his love.

Giselle has always been the most open and giving person he has ever known, always concerned for others and putting everyone else first. She is completely devoted to him and their son, and he can't imagine a better wife, nor can he imagine ever being without her.

Julian's thoughts stray to John and Libby and their failing marriage. To have a marriage fall apart after twenty-
five long years together is
a sadness
he can't possibly comprehend. After being together so long, there shouldn't be anything a couple can't overcome. However, he will not judge. He can only keep Libby and John in his prayers and hope that one way or another, all will be well with them.

Softly rummaging his lips over Giselle's brow
,  he
closes his eyes, again wishing to know what is wrong and how he can help.

Help me ta know, God. Help me ta know
wha
'  tis
in her heart an' how I can help. If she has need o me, I wan' ta be there for her. I
need
ta be there for her. She is
everythin
' ta me.

He holds her tighter.

Help me ta be
wha
' she needs.

Chapter 6

Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart.

Friedrich Schiller

“
S
he is amazing!” Dad tells us the next morning.

Julian and I exchange knowing smiles. “How late were ye
oot
with the lassie last night?”

“Oh . . . until after midnight.”

I whistle, shooting him a wide grin. “She's a special lady, Dad. And it's obvious to everyone she is as taken with you as you are with her.”

“She
is
something special,” Dad agrees. “But what about the age difference? I mean, I know there is ten years between you two, but there is twelve between us. You think it makes a difference?”

“No, Jack,” Julian answers. “In fact, I thin' I read in one o those magazines for women
tha
' the lassies are
beginnin
' ta like older men.
Isna
tha
' right,
darlin
'?”