Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) (16 page)

“Yeah.” She looked at the floor. “I can’t believe you’re letting me off the hook about that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin, Christian? Did I hurt you?” Had he been so out of control that he’d missed that?

“No. Probably since I’m an athlete and I ride. Or did. I’m not sure … though, I’ve been riding. I guess I’ll need to ask. Or look it up.”

“Probably better not to.”

“Yes.”

There didn’t seem much else to say. But there was one thing he had to know.

“Christian, why didn’t you want to tell me?”

Her brown eyes looked black, maybe because she was so pale. “I didn’t want to ruin your life. You’re just getting it back together.”

“I didn’t want to ruin yours either, but here we are.” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Beau knew he’d said the wrong thing. He wasn’t sure he even felt that, but he could not process another thing. It was time for action.

“I don’t consider my life ruined,” she said in a whisper.

“So. How soon can your mother get here? The sooner we get this done, the better.”

She scrunched her eyes up and shook her head, just like she used to do when she couldn’t grasp the trig or the physics. “Do what?”

“We’re getting married, of course.”

She began to shake her head and put her hands in front of her. “No, Beau. People don’t have to do that anymore. If you want to be involved, certainly. Or if not, that’s fine, but I will not—”

Suddenly, he’d had enough—enough of Mary Charles, proms gone bad, Noel with the evil eye, and his best friend lying, deceiving, and pregnant. In the next moment he was on his feet, standing over Christian, where she sat. That ought to please ghostly Aunt Amelia.

“Stop it, Christian. Right now. Stop talking like some made-for-TV movie or politically correct magazine. You are Christian Cauthen Hambrick. I am James Mason Beauford, III. This is Beauford, Tennessee, where our families’ properties have been joined for nearly two hundred years. Our parents were friends. Our mothers put us in the same baby bed to nap. And we found ourselves back in a bed twenty-eight years later, but not to nap. We do not debate fault or whether or not there will be involvement. I am not discounting others who make different choices and find themselves in different situations, but that’s not who we are. We made a baby. We will get married and we will raise him. Or her.”

“All right,” she said. “Yes.”

He was in his Jeep halfway back to Beauford Bend before he realized he hadn’t touched her a single time.

Christian sat glued to the settee where Beau had left her. She’d been there quite a while, because it was already time to put out the wine and cheese plate.

Sometimes guests never came back from whatever they were doing for wine and cheese hour, but she advertised that coffee and tea was available all day and wine and cheese were served in the parlor from four until five o’clock, so that’s what had to happen.

But she couldn’t seem to move.

Allie knew how to do it exactly the way Christian liked with the cheese on the organic geranium leaves and the Gorham coin silver cheese knives. Christian had always believed that the difference between a good inn and a great one was an innkeeper who was never idle when her staff was working, but maybe it was okay to pass off cheese plate duty on the day you found out for sure you were pregnant and got engaged.

Engaged.
She and Beau were engaged. She glanced at her left hand as if a ring had magically appeared there. No. Wasn’t this the part where she was supposed to be rushing off to buy bridal magazines and drink Champagne toasts with her friends? Pregnant brides couldn’t have Champagne, though maybe whoever had it last would give her the dog-eared bridal magazine that had passed from bride to bride in their little circle. It must be Neyland who had it now, though she hadn’t needed it, since she and Gabe ended up eloping. She might not even think about it. Just as well. It wasn’t as if Christian was going to have a dress with a cathedral train, ice sculptures, and a fleet of limos. There was no time for all that.

Of course, she might be denied the magazine. After all, family trumped friendship, and Neyland was a Beauford now. They might all be livid that she had trapped Beau—Beau the baby, the injured hero, the one whom everyone loved best.

Ha. She ought to know about that last part.

Best not to think about any of that; best to think of wine and cheese. She picked up her phone and fired off a quick, polite message to Allie that also contained a lie.

“Sure,” Allie replied back. “Go upstairs since you aren’t feeling well. I’ll call if I need you.”

The not feeling well had been the lie. Truth was, in spite of her bare left hand, the proposal that was a statement of fact rather than a question, and the possible denial of bridal magazines and friendship, there was a part of Christian that was elated. How could she not be? Regardless of the hows and the whys, she was getting the one single thing she had wanted her entire life.

She’d tried to tell Beau no, and he had insisted. She could have argued until October, but he still wouldn’t have budged. That didn’t alleviate all of her guilt, but she would be so good to him that he wouldn’t be sorry. And really, wasn’t this best for him? How could it not be? Wasn’t it always best to be with the person who loved you most? It would be all right—no, better than all right. There might never be earthshaking romance on Beau’s part, but to be with him every day and lie beside him at night was more than enough romance for her. And no one could ever take away their loving friendship and history. Could there be a stronger foundation?

And in the end, they would have a beautiful, wonderful baby with Carolina blue eyes and a smile that could bring the world to its knees.

Christian fairly skipped up the stairs to her apartment that would soon be their apartment. She wanted to make some calls, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to do that until she talked to him again. He could change his mind. She pushed that thought away. Beau wouldn’t do that.

She was sure enough of him that she considered cleaning out the bedroom closet and drawers to make room for him. But the cashmere throw from the back of the sofa called to her.

She slept for four hours.

Beau opened the door of Jackson’s music room. Though Jackson sat with his eyes closed, wearing headphones, and strumming a guitar, he looked up immediately like he always did when Beau was within twenty yards of him. He had some kind of sixth sense about that, it seemed.

“Oh, hell.” Jackson removed the headphones and laid the guitar aside. “What truck ran over you?”

“Do I look that bad?”

Jackson opened his eyes wider. “You don’t look good. I’m beginning to think Merritt and Will Garrett weren’t good for you after all.”

Beau walked around the perimeter of the room, inspecting the guitar cases that Will had made. Beau had seen them a thousand times, but never with this eye. The cases did not stand like soldiers, all identical, in a straight row. Some of the shelves were like that, but here and there Will had thrown in something unexpected—a few horizontal spaces and some diagonally tilted niches designed to fit particular guitars. All that, and the hand carved musical score that bordered the top, had always been evident. It was only now that Beau noticed how the grain of the wood had been selected to enhance each design and there were no nails or screws.

Beau didn’t have the skills to make something like this—not even close. But he knew he had the talent to get there. Was that over, too?

“Merritt agreed with me.” He came to sit on the sofa that faced the one where Jackson sat. Now, or never. “It would seem that I’m getting married.”

Jackson’s smile froze. Beau thought his expression would go serious and worried, but instead he began to laugh. “Don’t tell me Missy finally succeeded at one of her matchmaking schemes. You were her last hope. Don’t worry. Now that you’re back, that Missy voodoo will dissipate and you’ll get your bearings back. She fixed me up with a girl when I went down for that celebrity golf tournament. I was kind of taken with her, but she ran off in the middle of dinner with that Yankee baseball player Polo MacNeal. ”

“Jackson, I’m serious. And it has nothing to do with Missy.” Thank goodness he had refused to go out with that girl who worked in Harris’s office. Stupid as he was, he’d probably have gotten her pregnant, too.

Ah, there it was—that Jackson serious, worried look. “I am seldom at a loss for words.”

“You said a mouthful there.”

They both laughed at the irony of that, but it was nervous, what-the-hell, I-might-throw-up laughter.

Jackson shook his head. “Now that we’ve had our afternoon chuckle …”

“Right.” Where to start? It didn’t matter; there was no good way. “It’s true. I’m getting married, and the sooner the better.”

“I don’t guess I have to ask why.” Jackson ran his hands through his hair. “Beau, how did this happen?”

Beau just looked at him.

“Okay. Never mind. Please tell me it’s not Christian.” Jackson practically shuddered at the thought. “Better yet, tell me it’s not a stripper named Candy.”

“It’s not a stripper of any name. I’ve never slept with a stripper.”

“And you have, just as I knew, slept with Christian.” It was a statement.

“For what it’s worth, I listened to you that day. I stopped it and tried to set things to right. And it seemed to be going fine. It was awkward at first, but we had our friendship to fall back on. We talked a lot while I was in Merritt, and we were okay. Things were going well with Will. And now I have come home to this.” Had it only been this morning he’d left Merritt? It seemed years ago.

Jackson nodded. “You always did listen when it was too late. Or maybe I never warned you until it was too late.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Beau said. “And I listen to you more than you think. I just never want to admit it to you or myself.”

“My rebellious child,” Jackson said.

On another day, Beau would have pointed out that he wasn’t Jackson’s child, but this wasn’t another day. Besides, this was where he’d come first, wasn’t it?

“Do you love her?” Of course Jackson, who’d written a hundred love songs and seen those songs played out in his own marriage, would ask that question.

Beau hesitated, which made Jackson look sad and shake his head.

“I see,” Jackson said. “Then the next question is can you love her?”

He had to give some kind of answer—not only to Jackson, but also to himself and eventually to Christian.

“I do love her, of course I do. She’s always been there. She’s my oldest friend. I can trust her.” All except for her lying lately, and that was situational.

“But can you fall in love with her?”

“I hadn’t ever planned on that.”

“Nobody ever does—at least not stubborn, broken Beaufords. Yet, the twins and I all got there. The paths might have been a little twisted, but they led to good places—the best places.” Given the look on Jackson’s face, Beau believed him. “I wanted that for you. Do you think you can get there?’

“Does it really matter, Jackson? This is Christian. Do you really think I can take her up on her offer to ‘be involved or not?’ Do you think I can let her have my baby without being married? Or even, marry her temporarily until the baby comes?”

Jackson shook his head. “No. I don’t think you can do any of those things.”

“I don’t know about this woodworking now. Maybe I need to forget it and join Rafe’s business. I need an income.”

Jackson’s head snapped up. “No.”

“You surely don’t think I’m going to live off Christian.”

“We have all done what we wanted to do and have satisfaction in our work. I want that for you, too. You don’t want be in the rough stock business. I admit, I wanted you to go to law school, but after talking with Will and seeing how happy you were, I know you’ve found your calling. And you have to answer it.”

“Jackson, I have to work. Will plans to throw a project my way that will earn me some money, but it’s one project, and I don’t even know how much.”

“What is it exactly you have to pay for? I assume you’ll live at Firefly Hall. The business pays for the upkeep and the insurance.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“Because my wife has a MBA from Harvard. She and Christian talk. Christian’s business is doing fine.”

“But babies cost.”

“You have the best health insurance to be had. Look, I know you aren’t going to take anything from me. I don’t understand it, but I respect it. You’re going to have a commission. Start there. See what happens. And unless I miss my guess, you won’t feel like you’re living off Christian’s business. There’s always going to be something to do, and you’ll be doing some of it.”

“I’m no innkeeper.”

“And I am no party planner. But last week the fairy lights went out in two of the oak trees two hours before some big do. Who do you think was up in the cherry picker with Sammy? Me, that’s who. That tree cared not how many CMAs and Grammys I have. And neither did my wife. She just wanted her damned lights fixed.”

There was a look of satisfaction on Jackson’s face at having solved his wife’s problem—though Beau could hardly fathom it. Of all the jobs they’d had to do as kids and teens to help keep Around the Bend going, they had all hated the maintenance on those little white lights the most. And back then, they hadn’t even owned a cherry picker. It was ladders and climbing.

“I’d rather try the rough stock business than go to work for Emory, though I suppose that’s an option.”

“You don’t have to do either, but that’s another thing. You wouldn’t have to go to work
for
Emory. You own a quarter of Around the Bend. That’s another source of income. Try the apprenticeship, Beau. Will Garrett has made a fortune, and he’s willing to teach you. That means something. You owe it to yourself to give it a shot. And if it doesn’t work out, Rafe’s business will still be there. I know Christian would say the same thing.”

She would.

Beau sighed. “All right. But you’re wrong about my refusal to take something from you.”