Beauty from Pain (35 page)

“
She wants me to have a wife, and
you’re the closest thing she’s seen. Ever.”

“
Oh.” I’m not sure if her surprise
is at Mum’s intentions or because I bring it up. “I guess she
didn’t get the memo about our agreement.”

“
She’d shit if she knew what I’d
been up to.”

“
But didn’t you tell her I was
leaving permanently next month?”

Permanently
. What a shitty word. I hate it as much as
no
. “She knows but
doesn’t care. She’s determined.”

“
Maybe we should roll with it. You
know, make her happy.”

Hmm. It isn’t a terrible idea and getting her
to back off for a while would be nice. “I’ll do it if you’re sure
you’re up for it.”

“
Puh-lease
, like you and I don’t know
how to pretend.”

–––––

Of course, I wake before Miss Sleeping Beauty. She’s
so peaceful, I want to let her sleep longer. Besides, she’ll need
her rest for what’s ahead of her today. Margaret McLachlan can be
exhausting.

I’m wearing sleep pants only, so I put on a
T-shirt before going downstairs. I’m the first one up, as always.
I’m even awake before baby Mila.

I make a cup of coffee, but opt to wait on
breakfast until Chloe’s up. I’m certain she’ll have some new dish
she wants to try out on us.

I fetch the newspaper and sit at
the bar. I start at the back—because it’s my routine—and resist the
temptation to thumb through for the photo I’m certain will be
there. I turn the page a second time and there it is, just as I
knew it would be.
We made the news,
baby.

We’re in the “My Sydney” section.
Laurelyn is beautiful in the photo, even if it’s only newspaper
quality. I scan the small caption beneath and laugh.
“Multimillionaire bachelor Jack McLachlan at the
Sydney Opera House with mystery woman.”

Mystery woman. She’s definitely
that.
I really can’t believe anyone cares
about this kind of shit. Except Audrey. She thinks she successfully
sent Laurelyn on her way, so she’s going to flip out if she sees
this. It might be wise to have Jim tail her for a few days so I
know her whereabouts. I’ll need to call him later today.

I hear someone come into the kitchen and I
know it’s Mum without looking. She’s the only other early riser in
the family. “Good morning.”

“
Morning, Mum.”

She waits for her cup of coffee to finish
brewing. “Have a good night?”

Damn, I think the old girl is
asking if I had a naughty with Laurelyn last night?
I lower the newspaper and glance at her over the
top. “I slept fine.”

“
And Laurelyn?”

This is too bloody much.
“She’s still sleeping.”

She’s not done, not even close. “I thought I
heard something come from your bedroom last night—like maybe you
raising your voice to Laurelyn.” She’s giving me that look, the
same one she gave me the night of my birthday party when she
thought I left a sick Laurelyn home alone. It tells me I better not
have screwed this up with her.

I’m in a shitload of trouble. I feel like a
toddler about to be disciplined. I lift the paper up so I don’t
have to look at her and return to reading. “Don’t worry. We’re
fine.”

That’s all I give her because that’s all she
needs to know.

“
Jack Henry, you shouldn’t have
shouted at that sweet girl like that. I didn’t teach you to
disrespect women like that.”

I couldn’t argue with her because she was
right. I hate that I yelled at Laurelyn. “I knew it was wrong the
minute it came out of my mouth. I told her how sorry I was and she
forgave me. We’re fine, so stop worrying.”

“
Women hold grudges. She might
have told you that you were forgiven last night, but now she’s had
time to think on it. You’ll be lucky if she speaks to you
today.”

I hope Laurelyn gets up soon, but judging on
the time, it will be another couple of hours. “She doesn’t play
games like other women. If she says she forgives me, then I’m
confident she does. You’ll see when she gets up.”

“
Yes, we’ll see, son.”

Luck is on my side. Laurelyn gets
up early. I’m still reading the paper when she comes into the
kitchen. She walks up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders.
I peer at her over my shoulder. “Good morning, love.”
Is she going to think the endearment is too
much?

She leans around and kisses the
side of my face. “Good morning, darling.”
No, she’s good with it.
My mum is
all detective-eyed, analyzing Laurelyn’s interaction with me
following the lovers’ spat.

She sits on the stool next to me at the bar.
“I wasn’t expecting you up so early.”

“
I couldn’t
sleep after I woke and you weren’t there.”
Oh, she’s laying it on thick for dear ol’
Mum.

I turn to the social page to show Laurelyn our
picture since I don’t have to keep her in the dark anymore. “Look,
we made the news. You’re a mystery woman.”

She leans over my shoulder for a better view.
“Hmm, at least it’s a good picture and I’m not making some kind of
goofy face.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Which was a real
possibility since I wasn’t expecting a total stranger to shove a
camera in my face.”

I sense Mum’s scrutiny. “This is new for
Laurelyn. We don’t attract this kind of attention in Wagga
Wagga.”

“
Yes, I’m sure
you’ve enjoyed being innominate in a small town. I know how you
love your privacy.”
She has no
idea.
Laurelyn’s eyes meet mine and we
smile at our private joke.

–––––

Dad does well, so he is discharged home and we spend
the next two days with my family. Laurelyn and I play the part of
being in love for my mum, at times making a game of it to see who
can be more convincing. It’s fun and I’m surprised by how natural
it comes for me. Sometimes it’s unintentional and I wonder if it
comes as easy for her.

It’s her second day with my family and she has
already found a comfortable place among them. She and Chloe are
almost the same age and have a lot in common, but she connects most
with Emma. I think it’s because she plays with the girls and they
have taken a special liking to her, which is unusual. Mila doesn’t
like anyone. Especially me.

She’s on the floor with the girls and I see
the way my mum watches her. Her natural ease with my brother’s
children doesn’t escape her attention.

My mum is sitting next to me on the couch. “I
don’t know how she won Mila over. That kid doesn’t like anyone.” I
think I could be a little jealous. “She likes Laurelyn better than
me and I’m her uncle.”

“
Laurelyn’s mother material. Mila
senses that about her.” We watch them play a few more minutes and
Mum leans over to whisper in my ear. “If you don’t do something
about it, she’s going to make a wonderful mother for some other
man’s children.”

I’ve watched the way my family has interacted
with her for two days and realize my mistake. I shouldn’t have
brought her here. They’re all falling in love with her.

41

Laurelyn Prescott

We’re driving back to
A
valon and I’m thinking
how I’ve enjoyed the last three days with Jack Henry’s family.
We’ve spent the last seventy-two hours pretending to be head over
heels in love. It was so easy to play the part, I have to ask
myself if I was pretending at all.

I’m curious to see if we revert back to our
former selves now that we’re away from his family or if we’ll
continue our romantic façade. I’m too afraid to ask because the
answer—either one—scares me.

He reaches for my hand and rubs his thumb
across the top of my hand. “You’re quiet.”

I can’t tell him what I’m thinking. He would
freak out. I think. “You have a great family. I’m glad I got to
meet them.”

“
They think you’re pretty great
too. Especially Mum. She was in heaven seeing us together.” He
squeezes my hand. “Thank you for helping me make her
happy.”

“
My pleasure.” And it was my
absolute pleasure.

I go to sleep in the car and it’s late when we
get to the vineyard. Mrs. Porcelli is already gone for the evening,
but we find she has left us a welcome-home dinner on the stove.
I’ve never minded cooking or cleaning, but I must admit that
walking in to find a home-cooked meal after a five-hour drive is a
definite perk of living with Jack Henry.

He brings our bags in from the car and drops
them in the laundry room before he joins me in the kitchen. I lift
the top of the casserole dish to see what we have. Hmm, maybe it’s
some kind of chicken casserole? “Smells good. Are you ready for
dinner now?”

I feel him behind me and his hands are
creeping under my cotton dress. “I’m ready for dessert
now.”

Mmm … I love me some him.

He goes straight for the kill, sliding his
hand down the front of my panties. “Jack Henry, we just walked
through the door.” I check the clock on the stove. It’s only a
quarter past five. What if Mrs. Porcelli is still hanging
around?

“
It’s been a week,” he groans in
my ear as he teases me with his fingers.

“
It’s been three days,” I correct
him as I drop my head back against his chest. But it could be three
minutes and I think I’d want him again.

He slips a finger inside me and then another.
“I can’t help myself. It feels like forever since I’ve been inside
you.”

I feel his rock-hard erection grinding against
my bottom while he slides his fingers in and out of me. The way his
hand is positioned, his fingers are rubbing my sweet spot and each
stroke brings me closer to orgasm.

“
Come for me, Laurelyn, and say my
name when you do.”

Now, I’m grinding down on his hand and I’m
saying his name in my head over and over until I fall over the edge
into pure oblivion. “Jack Henry,” I cry out with the familiar
spasms I’ve come to love so much.

I recognize the sound of a tearing wrapper so
I know what’s he’s doing. I feel his fingers loop around the
waistband of my panties and he drags them down my legs until I step
out of them. “Hold on to the countertop. We’re not going to make it
to the bedroom.”

I wrap my hands around the edge of the solid
granite in front of me and he uses his knee to push my legs apart.
One of his arms loops around my waist and yanks me so that I’m bent
just the way he wants me. I feel him there, against my wet core,
and then he pushes inside me with a force reflecting that of his
pent-up sexual frustration.

I cry out at the surprise of the sudden
intrusion and he stills. “Too rough?”

It only takes a moment for me to adjust to
this position and then I’m rocking against him wanting more. “No,
don’t stop.”

We synchronize our rhythms and he pounds into
me over and over until I hear my name. That’s when I know he’s
slipped over the edge. So I follow him.

–––––

Two Weeks Later

I wake at four in the morning with lyrics
racing through my head. I almost leave the bed to go to the piano,
but I don’t. I can’t stand the thought of losing one minute of
lying next to Jack Henry.

After he’s gone to work, I scramble to the
piano to play the tune that danced in my head all morning and
struggle to remember the exact words I was sure I couldn’t
forget.

I jot down lyrics telling my story—how I
wonder who will take my place after I’m gone and how I am secretly
desperate for him to ask me to stay because I love him so much. I
struggle because my hand isn’t fast enough to get the lyrics down
as they flow from my head.

I put the words to music and sing them aloud,
adjusting the melody for the best sound. I raise the key to test
the tone of the chorus.

As I sing, I have that feeling you get when
you’re being watched. Since Mrs. Porcelli often listens to me play,
I look toward the doorway expecting to see her, but it’s not. It’s
Margaret McLachlan.

My heart jumps into my throat. I immediately
think something terrible has happened to Henry and she sees the
fear in my eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, Laurelyn.”

I bring my hand to my chest, as if to calm my
erratic heart. I get up from the piano and she meets me halfway for
a hug. “Jack Henry is out on the vineyard. Should I call
him?”

“
No. I didn’t come to see
him.”

I’m confused by this and I gesture toward the
couch. “Come sit with me. Would you care for some
coffee?”

“
No. I’m fine,
thank you.” She takes a seat on the sofa and I sit on the edge of
the chair across from her. It seems the appropriate place for me to
be—on the edge of my seat—because I’m dying to know what has
brought her to
A
valon.

“
I’m sorry. I would have called,
but I had no way of getting your number unless I asked Jack Henry,
and I don’t want him to know I’m here to see you.”