Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) (17 page)

Jackson sat up like a dog that could smell steak on a charcoal grill. “Yeah?” He might pant at any second.

“I need my workshop set up. I’d like to do it here in the old loom house. I have savings, but Will says you would want to do it and I have to let you. Something about considering the needs of others.” Besides, he might need those savings for diapers and, well, he didn’t know what else. A car seat. You had to have one of those. Probably if you had diapers and a car seat, that was enough to get you started. Christian probably still had her own baby bed. Nothing ever got thrown away at Beauford Bend, and it was probably the same for Firefly Hall.

Jackson reached for his cell phone. “Right. I’ll get my people on it. We’ll get the best—”

Beau knew it would go like that. “No. I have to choose what I need. Sometimes the most expensive is not the best. And Will’s coming in two weeks to inspect it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jackson only seemed a little deflated. Then he brightened. “I know something else you’re going to need. A ring. And that wouldn’t be from me. We have some that are just as much yours as they are mine.”

Jackson rose, went to one of the cases, removed the guitar, and slid the false door back to reveal the safe hidden there.

A ring? Well, sure. She ought to have a ring.

“I thought everything that was worth anything was sold during the lean years,” Beau said. That would have been the years after the mass funeral and before Jackson was a star, when the four of them and Aunt Amelia were running Around the Bend and the charm school.

“Mama didn’t have much jewelry, though Aunt Amelia did sell a few gaudy old necklaces and brooches that had been in family a long time. I didn’t even try to find them to buy them back.”

As soon as he could afford it, Jackson had tracked down and bought every piece of Beauford Bend furniture, quilt, and piece of silver that could be found. Beau had never thought Jackson cared much one way or the other about the things, but Aunt Amelia had been grief stricken with every sale, and seeing the things home again had made her happy.

Jackson returned to his place on the sofa and set a velvet tray with compartments between them on the table. There wasn’t much—a few necklaces, rings, and earrings. Some looked vaguely familiar, others not at all. There was a string of pearls that looked horrendously expensive. Probably Emory’s.

Then Jackson, looking very pleased with himself, picked up a ring box and handed it to Beau.

The box felt heavier than it should have in Beau’s palm.

“What about this?” Jackson asked.

Nothing could have prepared Beau for what he found in that box—a heavy ring rich with patina and time, made of entwined ropes of gold and platinum. It was the Beauford bride band. There were no jewels, but the ring was surrounded by interlocking gold and platinum bows—a whimsical nod to their surname from the distant Beauford who’d had it made.

Beau knew that ring; everyone knew that ring. Just as it had adorned the hands of Beauford brides for generations, it had adorned his mother’s hand. She had loved that ring.

Shards of glass ripped through Beau, robbing him of breath and speech.

“How?” he finally managed.

“It was never sold,” Jackson said, not understanding the question at all.

“No. The fire. I thought—” She had always worn that ring. He would have thought it had been destroyed. Even if had withstood the fire, it would have been on her hand, heating and burning her finger. Would she have tried to remove it? Or would that place on her left hand have been more painful than anywhere else? With all the punishment he deserved, he tried to never think of the pain of being burned alive, but he couldn’t stop imagining the agony now—agony he had caused.

Jackson looked puzzled. “You thought it was lost in the fire? No. Mama never wore that ring to the beach. She was too afraid of losing it. She always said if she lost that ring all the dead Beauford brides would come back to haunt her.”

“Why didn’t I know that?”

Jackson shook his head. “Beau, you were eight. Do you think you were thinking about swimming or whether or not Mama was wearing her wedding ring?”

Neither. He was thinking about camping out with Jackson and the twins—and it had brought damnation to them all.

“Why didn’t you give it to Emory?” Beau asked. “Or Rafe or Gabe?”

Jackson got that I’m-thinking-about-Emory look on his face. He laughed a little. “I got carried away. When I went to New York to try to get her back, it seemed to work, but I wanted to seal the deal. I took her straight to Tiffany and bought her the biggest diamond ring she would allow and our wedding bands to go with it. For reasons of his own, Gabe wanted to give Neyland that little ring that always went to the oldest Beauford daughter and would have been Camille’s when she was sixteen. Neyland always wears it, and there’s no way to wear an engagement ring with the Beauford bride band. It’s too big and flamboyant. Rafe had Neyland make Abby’s rings. So it comes down to you.”

No, it did not. There is no way he could give that ring to Christian, no way he could look at it for the rest of his life, have her touch him while it was on her hand.

Jackson reached for the ring and held it up to the light. “It’s better suited for Christian, anyway. She’s taller than the others. She can carry it off.”

Beau cast about for a reason why he couldn’t give the ring to his tall, pregnant bride-to-be. What was it Jackson had said about an engagement ring?

He handed the ring box to Jackson and reached for the tray. “I think Christian would like an engagement ring.” He picked up an old-fashioned looking ring with some small green stones and diamonds. “I think she could wear a thin, plain band with this, don’t you? There’s not one here, but I can buy one.”

Jackson frowned. “You could give her that, and then she could wear it on her right hand after the wedding. That way, she could wear both.” He held up the bow ring.

“No,” Beau said. “I’ll take this, if it’s okay.”

“Sure, but you’re the last of us. Are you sure?”

Beau’s temper flared. Enough. “The rest of you gave the rings you wanted. Can’t I?”

“Of course.” Jackson put the bow ring back in its box and closed the lid. “There’s always the next generation. We’ve already got a good start.”

No effing kidding.

Beau nodded and rose. “I’ll tell the others later. I’ve got some stuff to do now.”

He had to go do right by Christian. There were lots of things that had been thrown in his path that he hadn’t particularly wanted to do—physics, baseball pitching instead of catching, waiting on people at Around the Bend parties, and keeping up with those damned white lights. He’d done those things well.

This would be no exception.

He wasn’t a soldier anymore, but he had been—one of the best. And a soldier did what he had to and did it perfectly.

Christian stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in one of the big, luxurious Firefly Hall robes. After that four-hour nap, she’d probably be up half the night—though maybe not. Now that she thought about it, maybe the fatigue she’d felt lately was more about the pregnancy than her grief over what might have been with Beau.

What might have been.
Was it going to be? Yes—one way or the other, though she wasn’t certain what those ways were. But no matter what, it would be enough for her. Sometimes love was taking what you could get, and she’d rather have something with Beau than everything with someone else.

She parted her robe and ran her hands over her abdomen. It was still flat. For the first time, a wave of true excitement without fear rippled through her.

“Hi, there,” she whispered. “I love you. I love your daddy. He will love you and protect you because that’s the kind of man he is. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Maybe she should eat something or at least drink some milk. She didn’t like milk, but she was going to have to do a lot of things she didn’t like doing—getting up in the middle of the night, changing messy diapers, and spooning food that looked like—well, she’d just never found the look of baby food anything short of disgusting.

Maybe she wouldn’t eat tonight, after all. Tomorrow would be soon enough to be a responsible mother-to-be. Tomorrow, before going down to serve coffee and talk with the guests at breakfast, she wouldn’t shove a Little Debbie oatmeal cream pie in her mouth. She would eat real oatmeal, some fruit, and a scrambled egg. The thought of washing all that down with milk made her stomach lurch, but she could eat yogurt. That would be even better. Wouldn’t it?

It was only when the knock came at the door and the relief washed over her that Christian realized show deeply she had suppressed the worrying and wondering about Beau.

She tied the belt of the robe and hurried to open the door. Surely, it was Beau. She hadn’t heard the front door chime, but she’d been in the shower.

And it was Beau. Not only that—he held a heart-shaped, red foil candy box and bouquet of roses that had probably come from the grocery store, but he’d removed the cellophane. It was almost as if he had come courting. His hair had been freshly washed, and he wore the sweater he’d gotten for Christmas that was exactly the same color as his eyes.

And then he smiled.

He was so beautiful that if she had been an artist, she would have painted him. As it was, she painted the image on her heart.

“Can I come in?”

Stepping back, she pushed her damp hair off her face. “I’m a mess. Clean is all I’ve got.”

“It’s all you need.” He closed the door behind him and handed her the roses. “I’ve never had much patience with too little, too late, but I’ve learned a lot of things today, and one of them is a man can react badly.”

Christian buried her face in the roses. Her first flowers from Beau. Maybe her last, but that would be okay. She met his eyes. “Under the circumstances, I thought you did pretty well.”

“I’m here to do better. I’m here to be the man my Aunt Amelia would expect me to be. And I can tell you right now, she would not cotton to a man issuing orders and telling a woman what she was going to do, especially where matrimony is concerned.” He took her hand, led her to the sofa, and—dear, Lord—he knelt in front of her. She was in a fairy tale, a Disney movie, and a 1940s film where they would go out and dance in the street, gathering people behind them as they went. Her heart raced and sang the sweetest song ever written.

“I didn’t do one thing to make you feel special before, Christian. And you are special. My efforts are pitiful, but the Publix out by the highway helped me out. He nodded to the roses in her lap and handed her the heart-shaped box. “I know chocolate’s not your favorite. I wish I had brought you something from that fancy little candy store in Merritt, but at least the box is pretty.”

She ran her hand over the satin bow. She would keep it for always.

“There’s also this.” He reached into his pocket and held out a small wooden horse. “I told you’d I’d make you something while I was with Will. It’s cedar from Will’s woods that he cured last year. It’s not perfect, but I used the tools you gave me for Christmas. If I hadn’t had such nice tools, it would be a lot less perfect.” He pressed it into her palm. “At least it didn’t come from Publix.”

Christian was overcome with emotion as she ran her fingers over the beautiful little figure. He’d made this for her, and only her. “I think it’s perfect. You’re going to be a wonderful woodworker—better than Will Garrett.” She lifted the little horse to her nose to take in the cedar aroma. It smelled like Beau had when they’d made love on Christmas.

“Spoken like a loyal fiancée. It’s not true, but I appreciate it anyway.”

Fiancée.
That’s who she was. “And I appreciate this.” She closed her fingers over the horse and brought it to her heart. “I love it.”

“I wanted it to look like Quicksilver, but I don’t have that kind of skill yet. Someday maybe I will.”

Had she not already been a puddle, this was the moment she would have melted. She had first learned to ride on Quicksilver, and though she’d loved all her horses since then, there had never been another like Quicksilver. Much like if Beau carved her a hundred horses, each more artistic than the last, there would never be another like this one. She cast around for words to express herself without giving away too much. There weren’t any.

It didn’t matter, because Beau spoke again. “Will you forget what I said earlier? About what we were going to do because of who we are? Can you do that?”

“Yes. Already forgotten.”

Christian, will you climb the Eiffel Tower and bungee jump off, please? Oh, yes, Beau. I’ll do it twice if you’ll just smile and touch me again.

She wanted to stroke his cheek. With a start, she realized she could. He was going to be her husband—
her husband.
And he even acted like he wanted to. He smiled when she touched him, caught her hand, and kissed her palm. Then he brought her hand to rest between both his.

“Christian Hambrick, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? The sooner the better?”

What was it he’d said before?
The sooner we get this done, the better?
That had meant, “Might as well get it over with.” Now, he sounded like he wanted this marriage, wanted her. That probably wasn’t completely true, but knowing that didn’t stop the warm happiness that radiated through her and sent her stomach into a tailspin.

“Yes, oh, yes,” she whispered just like she’d always dreamed she would.

And then, just liked she’d dreamed he would, he took a ring box out of his pocket and opened it.

It could have been a plastic ring from a bubblegum machine, but it wasn’t that. Oh, no. It was Amelia’s emerald and diamond platinum filigree ring that had been a gift from her father on her twenty-fifth birthday. Amelia had loved that ring so much. She had always joked that by then, her old maid status had been carved into the stone wall surrounding the rose garden at Beauford Bend. She’d always thought that her father had bought her the ring because she was never going to have an engagement ring. “Though I wouldn’t say it to them, I hope one of the boys will use it for an engagement ring some day,” she’d told Christian. Christian had said that Amelia would still be wearing that ring when her nephews got engaged and married. Sadly, she had not lived to see any of them in happy, settled relationships.