Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) (22 page)

He wrapped his arms around her. “Christian, I do find that I love you.”

Yes. Hallowed ground was this place filled with history and a promise for the future where Beau could learn, create, and heal. It was fitting that love was born here.

“And I love you, Beau. I suppose you know that.”

“I didn’t, but I do now.” He kissed her long and sweet. When they parted, he said, “I guess we need to go back to the party.”

“Or not,” Christian said.

“What? Abandon our guests?”

“You sound like Miss Amelia. But haven’t we already done that?” she asked.

“You have a point.” He looked hopeful. “You think we can ditch the pink?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “We’ve had a lot of sex.”

“Yes, we have.”

“Really, really good sex.”

He kissed her temple. “Incredible sex.” He let his lips drop to her ear. “The best sex ever had by anyone.”

“Yes. We’ve done all that. I say it’s about time we made love.”

And that’s what they did. Between Firefly Hall and Beau setting up his shop, there was no time for a trip, but they held hands all the way to Nashville, where Jackson had booked the presidential suite for them at the luxurious Hermitage Hotel. The rooms were impressive, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they had been in the smallest room in an economy hotel.

After the day of a surprise wedding, up and down emotions, confessions, and declarations, all they wanted was quiet and each other.

Beau didn’t say he loved her again, and neither did Christian, but when he came to her, it was different. Christian didn’t bother with the nightgown Emory had given her, but without hesitation or a trace of inhibition, she stripped naked and went into her husband’s arms.

There was no frenzy or hurry. It was all soft, sweet, slow, and very, very thorough. When the moment was right, when they couldn’t wait a second longer, Beau took her hands so that they were palm to palm and entered her slowly until they were hipbone to hipbone. They rocked together, feeding the fire, their eyes open and faces inches apart, until at last, for the first time, she exploded just as she felt the hot sensation of him erupting inside her.

It was the best feeling in the world, the best night, the best life.

Truthfully, she hadn’t even minded all that pink.

“The next baby shower will be yours, Christian.” Noel handed Emory and Christian glasses of sparkling white grape juice and refilled Abby’s, Neyland’s, and Gwen’s wine glasses. She let herself down on the leather sectional sofa and put her feet on the large common ottoman where everyone else’s feet rested. The guests had left, leaving piles of baby gifts for Emory and Jackson, and the women had gathered in the library, their favorite room in Noel’s new house. “I still feel bad that you didn’t have a bridal shower.”

“Don’t be silly. I couldn’t have asked for more.” Christian’s answer was automatic and trite. She tried to manufacture the expressions that her friends had worn as new brides—the same look she’d seen in the mirror the morning after her wedding night two weeks ago, but not much since.

The same questions were on everyone’s lips:
How are things? How is married life? Are you as happy as you look?

And her answer was always the same:
Things are wonderful—better than I could have possibly imagined.
Considering all the years she’d spent imagining,
better
would have been a tall order to fill by anyone’s standards, but in truth, the answer was … fine. Marriage to Beau was fine, no better, no worse.

She had thought they’d crossed a barrier on their wedding night and had landed in a good place, but sometimes she had to wonder if she had dreamed the whole thing and they had never said those things to each other, never come to a clearer understanding. For sure, Beau hadn’t spoken of love again, and neither had she.

Still, she was with Beau, and some people would have sold their souls for
fine. Fine
was something to be thankful for. Wasn’t it? Maybe, and she might have been thankful if she had not had to watch Beau go off into what she had come to think of as ghost land, where she knew he was thinking of the past and punishing himself.

To be fair, there were times—even beyond the sex—when things were better than fine. Sometimes he rested his hand on her stomach, asked how she was feeling, and smiled with real joy. Or he would become animated when telling her about how well his work was going. And then there was the day when he’d come in all excited and shown her a sketch of the cradle he planned to make as soon as he finished the commissioned jewelry box he was working on. She’d burst into joyful hormonal tears, and he’d laughed and danced her around the room.

But it didn’t last; it never lasted. It seemed that just as he stepped toward the edge of happiness, a ghost would appear and snatch him away with a reminder that he didn’t deserve to be happy.

So, no, fine was not okay. If that had been the only possibility, it might have been, but in her heart, Christian knew there was more out there. Beau did love her. He had to, because despite the ghosts and the world of
fine,
she felt that love. But love was meant to be celebrated, and Beau was never going to celebrate anything as long as he believed he’d caused the deaths of his parents and sister.

Christian would have crawled across the Sahara Desert at high noon to obtain proof to the contrary if it were possible. Unfortunately, the past didn’t talk.

“Nobody cares that I didn’t have a bridal shower.” Neyland brought Christian back to the present.

“You didn’t deserve one,” Emory said. “You cheated us out of a wedding.” At seven and a half months, she looked adorable in her pale blue maternity top, leggings, and the Converse tennis shoes that she swore were the only shoes she could walk in these days. Leave it to Emory to be secure enough to wear Converse to a party in her honor where Taylor Swift, Reba McEntire, and Carrie Underwood would be in attendance. Of course, Emory had every reason to be secure. Her marriage went way beyond the bounds of fine, and Jackson celebrated every second of their life together and wrote songs about it.

Not that Christian was jealous. Much.

Emory addressed Neyland. “I have tracked down a picture of every Beauford bride in her wedding dress since Beauford Bend was built. I’m getting them all framed alike to hang in the ballroom. And what have I got for you? The best dressed of all of us? A shot taken with Gabe’s phone of you wearing a Tennessee Titans jersey, with a balloon crown on your head, and carrying a handful of glow sticks instead of flowers.”

“Gabe bought me that crown and those glow sticks,” Neyland said loyally. “I love them. What’s happened to you? Pregnancy has made you mean.”

“I feel mean,” Emory admitted.

“It’ll do it,” Abby said. “Just wait.”

“I’m already mean,” Neyland said.

Gwen laughed. “There aren’t many women who’d threaten to make a donation to the Satanic Church of America in her husband’s name and call the
Today
show and tell them.”

“He wasn’t my husband then, and he had it coming,” Neyland said. When Neyland’s business was failing, Gabe had hired actors to buy her jewelry. Now that Neyland was successful, they could laugh about it, but at the time, it had made Neyland feel worthless. But sad as that had been, it couldn’t compare to the burden Beau carried.

Noel got up and idly wandered over to the corner where Emory’s shower gifts were stacked—on the table, four chairs, and the floor. “You sure got a haul. The few people who couldn’t come sent stuff.”

“Everyone was really kind.”

Gwen wandered over and began to peruse the pile. “And some people were just kind of crazy. Seriously? Baby Uggs? In cammo, no less. A Burberry diaper bag. And what is this thing? Oh, it’s supposed to tell you why a baby is crying. Let’s see. Bored, stressed, sleepy, hungry, annoyed. They left out the most important one: because he knows you’re asleep and he just effing feels like it. Useless.” She tossed it back onto the pile. “Here’s the grand champion of useless.” She held up a leather bound book, embossed in gold. ‘A Mother’s Memories: My First Year With You.’”

Abby started to laugh. “You are
kidding
me. A journal? Emory, you might as well trash that right now, because it will be just as blank this time next year as it is now.”

Everyone laughed, and Noel made another pass with the drinks, but something prickled at Christian.

Journal. Diary. Leather bound.

Miss Amelia had kept a journal, and not haphazardly, either. She’d once told Christian that she faithfully wrote in it every night, had for years. The proof had been on the bookshelves behind the little writing desk in the sitting room of her suite. There’d been dozens of them. Miss Amelia had said it was important to record not only your thoughts, but also daily happenings. She had advised Christian to do the same. It was a nice idea, though Christian had never taken it up. Maybe, just maybe …

It was a long shot. It would probably come to nothing, but if there were any possibility there was any tidbit of information that might help Beau, it was worth a look.

“Emory,” Christian said. “When you renovated to incorporate Miss Amelia’s suite into yours, do you know what happened to her personal things?”

Emory frowned slightly and shook her head. “I don’t. They’re probably in the attic. There was so much going on with the renovation and planning the wedding. I was so busy. But Sammy would know. He packed up the room. Why?”

“Would you mind if I went through her books?”

“Of course you should. You were close to her. You don’t even need to ask. You’re family.”

Maybe the past did talk. And maybe it wouldn’t take crawling across the Sahara. Climbing the stairs at Beauford Bend would be way easier.

Will Garrett ran his finger over the underside corner of the jewelry box. “Not a scratch. Wood grain,” he muttered to himself. He’d been inspecting the box for over an hour. Finally, he sat back and looked a few feet away to where his little boy, Avery, was playing with an exquisite set of hand carved blocks. “Are you doing okay over there, pal?”

The boy looked up and smiled. “I building a tree house.”

Will laughed, just like he was a real person, which sometimes Beau doubted. He was more like a living, breathing part of nature or something. That didn’t make sense, but what did these days?

“Avery’s mother and I have a difference of opinion of whether or not Avery should have a tree house.”

“Who will win?” Beau asked.

“Now or in the future? For now, she wins. In the future? We’ll see.” Finally, he gestured to the jewelry box. “Good job, Beau.”

Relief settled over him. Will had driven up this morning for the inspection. “Criticism?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t have any. If I did, we wouldn’t be shipping it to the client, but we are.”

“It’s not perfect,” Beau said.

“Nothing ever is,” Will agreed. “The trick is you need to be the only one who knows.” He looked around the workshop. “I see you made the changes to the shop I suggested.”

Mandated, more like
. “Yes.”

“I’m impressed that you got so much done on top of getting married.”

“Would you have accepted that as an excuse for delays?”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Would you have?”

“I guess not. I wanted to get to work.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Will said.

Beau laughed. “If you’d tell me what you’d like to hear in advance, it would make my life easier.”

Will laughed, too. “No doubt. I’m more sympathetic to that line of thought now that I’m married.”

“I heard that,” Beau said like he was the vice president in charge of the What the Hell Does She Want? Nashville Chapter of the Confused Married Men’s Club. But he knew what Christian wanted. She wanted him to love her, to love the baby, and to be excited and happy—and she wanted to hear him say he loved her. The irony was, those things were true, so true that his guilt grew stronger every day. Saying I love you used to come naturally. At one time, it had slipped off his tongue so easily. But the people he’d told most often were dead. He had said it to Christian that one time, and he’d meant it, still meant it. Sometimes he was overwhelmed with his feelings for her, but every time he tried to find the words, the ghosts swirled around him, making him remember that he didn’t deserve her. And it was cutting her to the bone.

“The wedding was nice,” Will said. “Thank you for inviting us.”

Beau eyed him to see if he was lying. No. Will probably had thought the wedding was nice. He was not the kind of man to give much thought to weddings.

“Sorry we ran out on everyone.”

“Are you?”

“No. Not really.” It had been a hell of a sweet night—one he hadn’t deserved.

Will nodded. “I thought not.” He looked across the way at Avery. “You’re lucky, you know. I didn’t know about Avery until he was three years old. I missed a lot.”

“That must have been rough.”

Will nodded. “Probably rougher on Arabelle once I found out. I was not very rational there for a while. But everything has worked out. I learned to concentrate on what I have instead of what I missed. Though I admit, I look forward to the future when little Peter or Penelope comes along. It won’t be until Avery gets a little older, but I’m looking forward to the baby years.”

Oh, dear God in heaven. That was something Beau had never considered—another baby? More family? No. But of course Christian would want that. Why wouldn’t she, with her big heart? His own little, selfish heart began to pound.

Avery ran up and pulled on Will’s knee. “I need Jiffy.”

“You do?” Will addressed his son in a tone that Beau would never have thought this man was capable of producing. It was love and wonder all wrapped up together Beau knew he had that inside him, but it was so deep he didn’t know how to find it. Will fished in his canvas bag, brought out a stuffed giraffe, and handed it to the boy.

Avery addressed Beau. “Me and Jiffy not at school. We rode in Daddy’s truck.”

Will laughed. “Yeah. We played hooky from nursery school. We needed a little road trip, didn’t we, pal?”