Heath's Hope (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 5) (2 page)

“Let me bring you a chair from inside,” Miss Sticky said. “Sit with us and enjoy the festival. We’ve got candy for the children. You can help us give it out. We might even sell some yarn.”

Hope shook her head. Under other circumstances, she’d be tempted. But she was in Beauford for a purpose. “I can’t. I need to get back to the hospital pretty soon to relieve Mama. My cousin Neyland is kidnapping me to grab some dinner and see the festival, since Halloween is my favorite holiday. But I should go.”

After saying her goodbyes, Hope walked toward Piece by Piece, the quilt shop where Neyland sold her handcrafted jewelry. She had to pass by Heath’s shop, Spectrum, on her way to meet Neyland, but the streets were so thick with people, there was little chance he’d see her.

Her parents had never given up hope that she’d return home and go to work in the family bank. She sometimes wished for that, too, but as long as Heath was in residence, that would never happen. But no matter. She was happy in Charlotte with her impressive client list and ever-growing salary.

But if Beauford were capable of calling her home, it would be on a night like this. The air was just crisp enough, and the streets were resplendent with pumpkins, gourds, and mums. Costumed children played games in the closed-off street and music drifted from a portable stage a block away. Beauford’s most famous citizen, country music star Jackson Beauford—soon to be Neyland’s brother-in-law—would perform later.

Hope was getting near Spectrum. Just to be safe, she’d cross the street and double back to Piece by Piece.

But just as she started to do that, something round and orange in Spectrum’s window caught her eye. Could it be? Her stomach rolled over as she walked toward the window. She knew she ought to run, ought to do it now. But she couldn’t. The memories came hard and fast.

Fall, senior year. They’d been together eight months. Heath had been sweetly amused when he’d discovered her almost giddy love of Halloween, had said he’d given up hope that there was anything beyond a spreadsheet that would excite her—though that wasn’t true. He’d excited her plenty. But he’d made her the jack-o’-lantern sun catcher that now hung in his shop window. Having no place for it in her room at the sorority house, she’d left it at Heath’s off-campus apartment. It had hung in his apartment window even after Halloween passed, and it had still been there that raw, March day when she’d left him for good.

But was it the same one? Or had he smashed it or sold it and made another that was no more than a decoration for his shop? It looked the same. The jack-o’-lantern was wearing a top hat with a bat on top and, with its star-shaped eyes and crooked sweet grin, it looked like it was in love. When she’d told Heath that, he’d given her one of his smiles that was so quick it was almost gone before it appeared, and said he’d tried to put how he felt in the jack-o’-lantern’s expression. It was the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her.

Now she was inches from the window. Yes. Even after all this time, she knew the nuances of the glass—the bubbles, the swirls, the little bead of lead in the corner of the mouth that Heath had said ruined the whole thing.

But she’d laughed and kissed Heath’s mouth in the precise spot that worried him so on the sun catcher. And then she’d settled her mouth on the sweet spot on his neck above his collarbone, and he hadn’t worried about that little imperfection anymore.

She put her hand against the shop window. “My jack-o’-lantern,” she whispered as she caressed the spot that would have been its cheek if the glass of the window had not been there.

“Hello, Hope.” The voice was familiar, beloved, and far from gentle.

She spun around to look into brandy-colored eyes.

There was no surprise on Heath Beckett’s face for two reasons. First, he lived so inside himself that his expressions never betrayed his feelings, never had. Second, even if his face had been an open book, he wasn’t surprised. He’d been preparing for this moment for seven years, ever since he’d moved to Beauford. Though she didn’t live here anymore, Beauford was Hope’s hometown, and he knew that sooner or later he’d see her—though that wasn’t the reason he’d moved here. Far from it. He’d opened his shop here because of the town’s size, location, and reputation. The Arts Council probably thought they’d had some influence over his decision, but he’d needed to get out of Ashville, and he’d chosen Beauford in spite of the hard-pressure courting they’d given him. Heath didn’t like to be noticed, let alone courted.

“Heath.” Hope removed her hand from the window and turned her back on the jack-o’-lantern just like she’d turned her back on it and him ten years ago. She nodded a greeting like she was granting a boon to a peasant, which about summed up her outlook on life. If she’d carried herself like a princess at twenty-one, now she looked like she owned a crown but was too blasé to bother with it. She’d abandoned the headband she’d always worn in college, and her dark blond hair barely brushed the top of her shoulders, providing a frame for her wide-set, green eyes and high cheekbones. It suited her. She lifted her chin. “It’s good to see you.”

I’ll just bet it is.
Maybe he’d call her on it.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come inside? I’ve got cupcakes.”

“Oh, no. I—”

“You sure?” He didn’t really intend for her to come in. He just wanted to make her uncomfortable. “I would have thought you’d want your favorite food on your favorite holiday.” There. That would show her he remembered that she liked Halloween and cake.

She set her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “All right.”

Hellhound on a roller coaster. He’d brought that on himself.

It was not Heath’s nature to touch people, but he put his hand on her elbow to guide her inside. Must have been a muscle memory. That was something she had taught him to do.
“A gentleman takes a lady’s arm to guide her through crowds and doors, and from curbs. It’s just polite.”
Heath had faced a long time ago that it wasn’t part of his basic nature to notice the things that everyone else seemed to. He would have never in a million years figured out on his own that a perfectly able-bodied woman wanted to have her arm touched, like that would do any good even if she needed help. It still didn’t make sense to him, but he’d been willing to do it—do it for Hope. One of the things he’d loved best about her had been her willingness to tell him what she expected instead of glaring at him and slamming doors when he hadn’t responded appropriately. Even with her help, he hadn’t always done the right things, but he had tried hard. He’d not quite been able to believe his luck, and he’d thought if he was very, very good, he might get to keep her.

Turned out, he wasn’t so lucky—or maybe he was, depending on how you looked at it. Now, he was boiling over inside, something so foreign to his nature that he barely recognized himself. It was like some hidden mean streak in him had come to life and was riding him like a witch on a devil’s back.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t have a table on the street.” Clearly, Hope was trying to put him on the defensive. She knew he was about as likely to sit on the street and make small talk with the good people of Beauford as he was to paint himself blue and turn cartwheels down Main Street naked. He wasn’t good at big talk, much less small talk.

He wasn’t rising to her bait today or any other day. “I’m not the only one,” he said pleasantly. “The dry cleaner and the mortuary don’t have tables. I bought cupcakes.”
What else do you want?

“You’re not wearing a costume.”

“True that.” He was doing good to be here and fooling with this crowd at all when he could have been working on the tiered, peacock-feather chandelier that Vince Gill had commissioned for Amy Grant’s Christmas gift. Making a graceful, flowing feather from glass hadn’t been easy, but he’d finally mastered it. Now, he wanted to get on with it, not celebrate Halloween. But, though it had been a hard lesson that was slow in coming, he’d learned a while back that being a team player was sometimes called for.

“Hope!” June, who owned Eat Cake and had come to help set up the refreshments, came from behind the table and embraced Hope. She was dressed like the Queen of Hearts, probably because she made tarts. The table looked nice. He had only ordered cupcakes, but June and her apprentice, Gabriella Charbonnet (dressed like Alice in Wonderland), had brought a spider web table cloth, a galvanized tub with ice and drinks, little bowls of candy, and platters shaped like witches, pumpkins, and ghosts for the cupcakes. And orange napkins; he hadn’t thought of napkins, orange or otherwise.

“Have a cupcake,” June said to Hope. “We have apple cider cinnamon with cream cheese frosting, maple-frosted pumpkin pecan, and devil’s food with salted caramel frosting.”

Really? Heath had thought they’d just be plain cupcakes.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Gabriella held up a platter. He hadn’t asked for decorations, hadn’t thought of that either, but on top of each one they’d drawn a likeness of Hope’s jack-o’-lantern with some kind of see-through gel stuff so it looked like stained glass.

“Nice.” Heath nodded.

“We thought since you hang that jack-o’-lantern in your window every year, this would be fun. Here, Hope. Try the apple cider cinnamon.” She handed Hope a cupcake.

Hope cupped it in her hand and studied it for a good long time. Then she looked up and made him meet her eyes. Damn it all to hell. Looking into people’s eyes wasn’t his favorite thing, but apparently she still had the power to make him do it. “You hang it every year?”

He shrugged. “It’s easy.” He couldn’t stand the tenderness in her face. “Tell the truth, I’m tired of it, though.”

“But it’s an icon,” Gabriella said. “Everyone loves it.”

“Yeah?” He picked up a piece of candy corn from one of the bowls. “Gabi, can you hide this in one of the cupcakes? Without messing it up?”

Gabriella looked puzzled. “I suppose. But why?”

“You’ll see. Lawrence, come here a second,” he called to the kid who worked for him part time.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Make a sign that says whoever gets a cupcake tonight with a piece of candy hidden inside wins the jack-o’-lantern sun catcher. Hang it in the window beside the pumpkin.”

“Sure thing.”

That would cause even more people to tromp through Spectrum, but the look on Hope’s face made it worth it.

“You’re going to just give it away?” she said.

“It’s not important,” he said. “It never was.” The piece was signed, but so what if whoever won it sold it on eBay for an obscene amount of money?

Heath and Hope looked at looked at each other long and steady.

“Well!” June said. “I need to get back to Eat Cake, but Gabi has everything under control here.” She turned to Hope. “It was good to see you, honey. I hope you’re not
too
upset about Neyland and Gabe’s engagement.”

Hope gave him one last, hollow look before turning to June. “Why would I be upset? I’m happy for my cousin.”

“Well, now. We all remember how things were with you and Gabe.”

“Oh.” Hope laughed that warm-molasses laugh that he could have sworn he’d forgotten—and it went straight to his gut. “I hadn’t thought of that. Miss June, Gabe and I were sixteen. We dated a few months. It was a very long time ago.”

Except nothing was a long time ago in this town, and nothing was ever forgotten.

“Well, that’s fine. First loves are hard to get over.”

Hard for some; not so much for others.

Hope laughed again. “It was never that way with Gabe and me, Miss June.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Reading people was not on his list of top ten—or even top one hundred—talents, but even he could tell June didn’t believe Hope. “Heath, I’ll be back at the end of the evening to help break this down.” She gestured to the cupcake table.

“So.” After June left, Heath moved Hope toward a more secluded spot. “I could have told her you never wanted to date Gabe in the first place, that it was Rafe you liked.” His tone was threatening and challenging, just like he’d meant for it to be.

Heath still remembered how they’d laughed when she’d told that story. Though Hope had gone to Harpeth Hall, a girls’ private day school, rather than Beauford High School, she mainly socialized with the kids from town—including the Beauford twins. She hadn’t been able to tell them apart, and when Gabe had asked her to the Homecoming dance, she’d been excited because she’d thought it was Rafe. Since Gabe had played football for her uncle, it had never occurred to her that he’d have the guts to date her. By the time she’d figured out her mistake, she was in too deep. And for a while, Gabe kept asking, and she kept going because she couldn’t see a way out. When he gave her a silver-plated bracelet and dumped her, she’d been relieved.

“Shut up!” Hope stage whispered. She never had learned to whisper. “You’re the only one I ever told that. You promised you’d never tell.”

“We both made a lot of promises,” he said. “Anyway, if you’re still carrying a torch for Rafe, that ship has sailed, too. He’s seeing Abby Whitman. They came by with their kids a little while ago. Did you hear Rafe has twin girls? Abby has a little boy. They make a good-looking family.”

Hope stood there like a statue, still clutching the cupcake. He’d forgotten how it felt when she went all cold and quiet. Maybe she was thinking about the kids they’d talked about having together.

Finally, she spoke. “You know very well I’m not carrying a torch for Rafe Beauford. I was a kid. So go ahead and tell everyone my adolescent story. I don’t care. But, Heath, I have a question. Did you drag me in here just to be mean? I tried to tell you no, but you insisted. Do you need so much for me to feel bad?”

Did he? Maybe.

She looked at the cupcake and then at him. For a second, he thought she was going to smash it into his face, but, in the end, she set it on the counter and quietly glided out the door like a queen on the way to the guillotine.

Why had he done that? If she felt bad—and he had no doubt she did—he felt worse. And that wasn’t fair.

She
was the one who’d promised to love him forever, but had taken it back when he became inconvenient.
She
was the one who had been so rigid that she couldn’t find it in herself to believe in him.