Torchlight (8 page)

“That’s amazing. I would think that the settling of the house over the last hundred years would have thrown them off-center or something. Here, help me take some of these diaries into the library.”

Julia grabbed two more volumes from the shelves and walked
through the huge secret doorway into the room. She placed the books on a table near the window, which faced the lighthouse and sea, then turned to take five more volumes from Trevor’s hands. “Is this all of them?”

“That’s it.”

“What about that tin box up high? Could you grab it for me?”

“Can do.”

Trevor emerged from the passageway a moment later, then carefully shut the bookcase behind him. Setting down the tin, he went to work looking for the secret latch that opened the case from inside the room, while Julia began reading.

Finding the first of the volumes by date, she opened the first page and began reading Anna’s elaborate, flowing script.

“Julia?” Trevor stared at her. She was so absorbed in Anna’s journals that she didn’t hear his voice. Her distraction afforded him the chance to watch her intently, observing how her hair shone in the soft light of the lamp beside her, and how her violet eyes eagerly took in the words upon the pages before her.

“You are beautiful,” he said simply. But she did not hear him even then. “You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered,” he said, more bold.

This, she heard.

She raised her head slightly and looked up at him. Her eyes threatened to melt his heart. Never had he encountered a woman like her. After only four weeks, he knew he was in trouble. “I’ve only seen eyes like yours in the Middle East. There are people there who have eyes the color of teal or the impossible violet of your own. Yours are amazing. I could sit and stare into them for hours.”

“Trevor …”

“I know, I know,” he raised his hands in immediate surrender. “You’re practically engaged to our friend Miles, and I’m the hired man. Still, you should know that I’m intrigued, Ms. Rierdon, and it takes a lot for me to be intrigued. You can take it or leave it. I just have to be honest. I agreed to no games when you hired me. I’m not flirting. I’m … declaring.”

She was apparently at a loss for words. “Thank you,” she said lamely.

He smiled at her. “You’re welcome.”

B
en finished his blueberry pie as Tara served another customer and then returned to him to continue chatting. “And anyway, she said she’d put me in touch with some big New York publishers. Maybe it could really happen!”

“Well, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“Oh, Ben, dream a little with me! Think of it. I could finish this cookbook, maybe another. Maybe I could even do a local cable cooking show in Portland.”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“Why are you being so negative?” It made her cross that he was bringing her down from her high mood.

“I just don’t want to see you disappointed.”

“Well,
you’re
disappointing me. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy that you might up and leave to be a big-city author? Happy that you might start your own cable show in Portland? I like things the way they are.”

“And how are things, Ben?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Well, you know.” He squirmed in his chair.

“No. I don’t.”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” He got up and laid a five-dollar bill on the counter.

“When I’m like what?” She raised her voice. The other customers in the tiny restaurant were watching them. “When I finally push you to tell me how you feel?”

“Good night, Tara.”

She turned away from him. Their relationship had reached a stalemate. She would
not
be the first to confess. It had to be his move.

Tara put her hands on the back countertop, not turning to face him. “Good night, Ben.”

All eyes followed Ben as he put on his hat and walked out the door.

“I know something that will make you happy as a cow in a field of clover,” Trevor announced as he arrived in the living room, where Julia was moving furniture. He wiped his greasy hands on a shop towel, and grinned from ear to ear.

“Don’t know if I like the comparison to a sister of the bovine species, but I’ll bite. What?”

“Come with me.”

Obediently she followed behind as he led her to the kitchen. He nodded at the sink. “Try ’er out.”

“No! The water? It’s done?”

“Give her a whirl,” he said, like a daddy playing as Santa.

“Oh, Trevor! If I have clear water, I
will
be pleased as a cow in a field of clover.” Tentatively, she reached out and twisted the knobs. The faucet sputtered and spit and then ran quickly with the first clear, clean water she’d seen since arrival. “Oh, Trevor!” she repeated. Without thinking, she turned and gave him a quick hug. She was in his arms before she realized that it was rather unorthodox behavior for a boss and her employee. She pushed away and focused on the
running water. “Thank you, thank you,” she said lightly. “I’m ever so grateful.”

“How ’bout I make you dinner to celebrate?”

Trevor asked. Julia had been working with him and the men all week, ripping out the walls in preparation for the new plumbing and bathrooms while the guys did the primary work in the basement. She and Trevor had at last reached the master bedroom and were almost done with the ripping work. She glanced at him as he yanked at a piece of kitchen wallboard covered with layers of wallpaper, but she was careful not to look too long. He hadn’t made another move toward her since his declaration of admiration in the library a week before. She had pretended his offer was a casual one of friendship and camaraderie, and yet she had carefully placed Miles out of her mind.

“Sounds great,” she said, after an awkward moment of silence. “What are you going to make me?”

“I’ll surprise you. My place or yours?”

“Mine,” she said. Trevor had managed to fix up the lighthouse cottage in the month since he arrived, in addition to the work he had accomplished on the main house. The cottage was quaint and very livable, and Trevor enjoyed its easy access to the lighthouse. But, as she had made clear earlier, she felt surer of herself in her own living space.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Seven o’clock?”

“Great.” Then she said deliberately, “This is just dinner between colleagues, right?”

“It’s anything you want it to be.”

“It’s a platonic dinner. Let’s keep the lines clear.”

At five minutes to seven, Julia looked at herself in the mirror one more time. After taking a long, luxurious bath in the blessed clear,
and hot, water, and redressing, she was at last ready for dinner. She chided herself for being nervous and thought of Miles, due to arrive again later that week. “Why am I more excited about dinner tonight than my upcoming weekend with Miles?” she asked her image in the mirror.

The thought of Trevor downstairs cooking dinner distracted her. What an amazing man. He had traveled the world. He was good with a hammer and in the kitchen. He could make rusty water clean. And he was obviously infatuated with her. “In-fat-u-at-ed,” she enunciated at her image, just in case she was thinking it was anything more. Then she turned and walked downstairs.

Obviously not wanting to put Julia off, Trevor had set a table in the brightly lit kitchen rather than in the darker and more intimate dining room. When she entered, he glanced at her briefly, then looked again as if to make sure what he had seen was true. “You … you’re stunning.”

“Thanks. Thought I’d dress for dinner.”

Julia wore a lavender silk blouse, which brought out the color of her eyes, tucked into a slim black denim skirt that tapered to her lower calf. Her hair was pulled up in a graceful chignon.

Trevor looked down at himself. He wore jeans and a white Henley, with a handwoven vest. “Sorry I couldn’t dress up more. My luggage should be arriving any day.” He had been living out of his duffel bag for an entire month, but it hadn’t mattered to Julia. To her, his easy ways and simple, if slightly foreign, clothing were reassuring.

Trevor turned back to his work at the sink. “That Miles is a very lucky man. Glad you’re with me tonight and not him.”

Me too
, she reluctantly admitted to herself.
I’m just not in the mood to see Miles.
“So what’s for dinner?”

“A bit of Thailand. Curried chicken and all the fixin’s.”

“Hmm. Been to Thailand, too, eh?”

“Ten years ago. Fascinating country, fascinating people.”

“You’ve wandered far and wide.”

“I’ve done my share.”

“Why? I mean, I like traveling just as much as the next person does, but Europe and a couple of other trips have pretty much sated that desire. What drove you to see so much?”

“I wanted to see it all. I really started after college and didn’t stop for twelve years. Here we are in this huge, wonderful, diverse planet—I wanted to see it. I wanted to know other cultures, other people, learn other views. It was a passion. I worked my way through four continents and forty-two countries.”

“Forty-two?” She reached for some cheese to put on her cracker.

“Forty-two.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a salad.

“So what happened? Did you see all you needed to?”

“I just reached a point where I felt like I’d gotten a solid overview of the rest of the world. I wanted to come home. I’ll always want to travel, but that won’t be my entire focus anymore. I told you I’d been dreaming about lighthouses. And Bryn was in Maryland, so I went there and started driving north. Which led me to Torchlight.” She felt as if he wanted to add “and you,” but his lips had quit moving.

“Is that how you’ve always done it? Just found your way, followed your nose, until someplace tickled your fancy?”

“Pretty much. I’d run into someone friendly or interesting or find a place so gorgeous I knew I had to stay and see it through at least one seasonal change. I’ve seen some amazing places, met some fantastic people.”

“I bet.” She chewed another bite of cracker and cheese, thinking back on her postcollege trip. “I saw Europe, briefly. Twelve countries in a month.”

Trevor smiled knowingly. “Dead guys’ grave sites, big buildings?”

“Yes,” she said, aware of what was coming.

“You missed the people, the texture. Are they all jumbled together in your memory, hard to decipher, one from the other?”

“Somewhat. Language changes help.”

“Uh-huh. I decided right away that it took at least three weeks in a country to get a real sense of it.” He turned to stir a pot, and Julia studied him. He was so worldly, so earthy, so sensual … so different from Miles, who considered himself worldly-wise.

Trevor handed her a tiny clay cup with hot green tea and raised his arm to toast. “To Torchlight.”

“To Torchlight,” she echoed.

After dinner they sat in the living room and settled into two chairs drawn close to the fire. Trevor had had the fireplace fixed right away so Julia could get heat from the wood-burning fireplaces and not just from the more expensive electric floorboard heaters. Heatilators were installed in each fireplace, making efficient use of the fire. Still, Julia and Trevor both pulled blankets over themselves.

“So where’s Grandmother Anna today?” Trevor asked with true interest. Julia had been reading Anna’s diaries nightly, and each day she was keeping him abreast of the news.

“Oh, Trevor! She was a wonderful writer. They’re still in the middle of the Atlantic, and she describes everything so well that it’s like I’m traveling with her.”

“Would you read me some? I’d like to hear what you’re so charged about.”

Julia’s smile was warm. “I’d love to.”

As she went to retrieve the diary from the library, she felt his gaze rest upon her. When she came back into the firelight, she paused to turn on the lamp beside her chair. “Sorry,” she apologized as the white light intruded upon their cozy atmosphere.

“The better to see you with,” he quipped.

She ignored him and began to read.

Julia paused and looked up at Trevor. He smiled at her.

“Are you listening?”

“Of course! It’s wonderful.”

Julia continued reading.