Lights and Shadows (Oregon In Love) (15 page)

Julia brought him a cup of coffee and sat down opposite him at the
table. “I read in one of her books that it’s helpful for the new
mom to wear a bathrobe while she has visitors. If she’s dressed and
up and around, people will be inclined to stay longer, which will
only make her more tired.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know.” Brian took a long drink of his
coffee. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

Julia kept her expression bland. “I’m going to church.”

“Oh, then could you tell Pastor McKenzie that I won’t be able to
help with ushering today?”

Lightly clearing her throat, she took a breath. “I’m going to a
different church, but I’ll be glad to make a call for you.”

“Which church?”

“I’m not exactly sure what the name of it is.” She lowered her
eyes. “It’s in Portland.”

Brian leaned back in his chair. “So, you’re going with Marc?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, when you see him today, tell him to give me a call. I still
need to get some more details about that equipment rack he wants
built.”

“You’re making an assumption,” she said, piqued.

“But I’m right.”

Julia felt heat rise in her cheeks.

“What are you being so defensive about?”

“I’m not being defensive.”

Brian drained his coffee cup and stood up. “You just don’t want
to admit someone finally got under your skin. Personally, I couldn’t
be more pleased.”

“Brian, if this mug wasn’t full of coffee, I’d throw it at that
smug expression of yours.”

“Does Marc know about your appalling temper yet? Maybe I should
caution him.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m warning you.”

Brian patted her head. “Just let me know when the wedding is.”

“No one’s talking about any weddings,” she said in a thin
voice.

Brian stretched his arms high above his head. “Whatever.”
Striding from the room, he turned. “Thanks for perking me up this
morning.”

Julia looked about for a handy missile but he disappeared into his
room before she could find anything.

As she went back to the cottage, she thought about his words. Last
night, she’d gone as far as admitting to herself she was in love
with Marc. She hadn’t dared allow her thoughts to go any further,
but now that the word
wedding
was out in the open, her heart
swelled with an uneasy—and terrifying—yearning.

***

After visiting the hospital and chatting with Sara for a few minutes
to assure herself all was well, Julia headed up to Portland. She went
into Marc’s building and knocked on his door. A few minutes later,
he opened it, appearing freshly showered but sleepy, wearing a T
shirt and sweat pants.

“I’m afraid I slept in,” he said with a groggy smile.

“I’m glad somebody got some rest,” she said thinking of her
restless night.

He ushered her inside and closed the door. “How are you this
morning?”

“I’d be better if you kissed me,” she whispered, feeling brave
and anxious at the same time. A look of relief flitted across his
feature as he pulled her into his arms. She gave herself over to the
sweetness of his lingering kisses.

He raised his head and spoke in a hoarse voice. “Oh man, we’re
going to be late!”

Julia stifled a smile as he rushed into his room to change. While she
waited, she wandered about the living room, looking at all the
pictures on the wall—some his work, and some done by other artists.

A few minutes later, he reappeared wearing black pants and an indigo
dress shirt. He shrugged into a black jacket and hastened her out the
door.

The commute brought them into an older, well-kept neighborhood that
reminded Julia of English country gardens. Stately homes presided
over lush green lawns, amid riotous blooms of flowers and bushes. The
church, built from old stone, was beautiful. Inside, the stained
glass windows depicted the life of Christ, complemented by massive
wooden arches that drew one’s attention heavenward. She could see
how such a sanctuary would appeal to Marc’s aesthetic
sensibilities.

Gentlemanly ushers greeted them as they selected a pew near the back.
Marc put his arm around her. Julia nestled against his side, aware
she was becoming needful of his touch. She was intrigued that he
would choose a church as formal as this, populated by primarily older
saints and established families. Most Christians she knew frequented
younger, more trendy congregations.

The worship began, aided only by an organ. Julia, used to a live
worship band with a full complement of instruments, was surprised how
completely the reverent hymns hushed her soul. She closed her eyes,
humming softly, irresistibly drawn near to the Lord. The gentle
tugging of the familiar lyrics revealed an old ache in her
soul—something she struggled with, but couldn’t name.
How can
I admit to an unexplainable hunger inside me? Isn’t that like
saying God isn’t sufficient?
She’d always concentrated on
pleasing God with her life. Times like this, when she felt there was
still something missing, when perfect peace seemed just out of her
grasp, left her bewildered.
It just doesn’t make any sense!

Julia fought against the heat developing behind her eyes.
I don’t
want to cry. I’m so tired of crying
. Fear of losing emotional
control made it difficult for her to fully surrender all to the Lord.
She clenched her hands in her lap and prayed.
Help me try harder,
God, with all my heart, I want to be a pleasure to you.

The music ended. Julia opened her eyes and glanced up at Marc. When
she saw the tender concern in his eyes, she almost lost it again. He
took her hand in his and caressed her fingers with his thumb. She
managed a small smile and turned her attention to the rest of the
service, hoping this feeling of vulnerability would pass.

After an encouraging sermon by a venerable, white-haired pastor, the
congregation was dismissed. They were quickly approached by several
of the parishioners. Speculative comments and praise by smartly
dressed matrons that Marc was ‘such a nice young man’ kept them
occupied for quite a while. Julia stopped trying to remember all the
names of those she shook hands with.

On their way out to his truck, she couldn’t resist teasing just a
little. “‘fess up, Marc. How many dinners have you been corralled
into by sweet grandmas trying to fix you up with their
granddaughters?”

He grinned and refused to comment.

They had lunch in a nearby restaurant, and afterwards drove to a park
in an area he said was noted for its many weeping willow trees and
verdant vegetation. They sat on an old wrought iron park bench and
talked while the breeze tugged locks free from the confines of the
pins in her hair. After a while, Marc lapsed into silence and studied
her face.

“Can I take your picture?” he said at last.

She pulled a strand of hair from her eyes, unsure whether to be
nervous or flattered. “Okay.”

He stood up.

Julia put out her hand. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“
Chiaroscuro
.”

She sent him a puzzled look. “Is that an Italian word?”

Marc pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Yes.”

“What does it mean?”

He studied the surroundings with a photographer’s eye. “Lights
and shadows.”

As he walked over to his truck, she glanced around, trying to see
what he saw. Bright sunlight shimmered through the lacy leaves of the
willow trees, dappling her form with a movement of patterned light.

Marc returned, shrugging out of his jacket, and unloaded his tripod
and camera case. He set it up on the sidewalk a short distance from
her. Julia sat patiently while he went through all the motions of
preparing for a shoot. She glanced down at her sheer white poet’s
blouse worn over a white camisole, combined with a plum colored linen
skirt, and hoped it was a suitable look for what he had in mind.

When he appeared to be satisfied with his equipment, he walked up to
her. “Are you sure you don’t mind this?”

“Actually, I abhor having my picture taken, but for you, I’ll
make an exception.”

Marc smiled and lightly traced the curve of her jaw with his
fingertips. Then he bent down and brushed a feather soft kiss against
her lips.

Dazed from the sweetness of his touch, Julia watched as he went
behind the camera and pressed the shutter release. The electronic
whir of automatically advancing film was the only sound beside the
faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. She did her best to appear
relaxed, but was unable to look at the camera for long. Trying to
bring her galloping pulse under control, she turned away and absently
noticed a few people in the distance walking their dogs.

Marc came up and repositioned her arms. She tolerated it, glad she
could be so close to him, but after an extended time of fussing
about, Julia grew impatient and pulled him down onto the bench next
to her. “Enough. I need another kiss to sustain me before you take
any more pictures.”

With a soft laugh, Marc pulled her close. His kiss, light and
teasing, ignited unexpectedly and soon she was lost to the world,
anchored in the velvet haven of his arms. The sound of his camera
whirring brought her back to reality with a start. Julia eased from
his embrace and looked up.

A woman holding the leash of a little white dog stood near the camera
and shrugged. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” With a cheeky wave,
she set off down the sidewalk.

“Did she take a picture of us?” Julia asked, tucking a strand of
hair behind her ear.

Marc got up to examine his camera, and gave her an apologetic grin.
“Yep. Luckily, I do all my own developing.”

Julia groaned, embarrassed to be caught kissing in public.

He coaxed her into letting him finish exposing the roll. With that
done, he loaded his equipment back into his truck.

“Are you ready to go?”

She nodded.

“Do you want to come with me to get these developed?”

Julia gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if she could bear to part
from him at all. “Okay.”

In an industrial area of town, not far from his apartment, Marc
pulled up alongside a brick warehouse. He unlocked an unmarked door
and stood aside to let her enter. It was dark and smelled musty and
stale.

“What is this place?”

“There’s a darkroom here that I share with another photographer.
We split the rent. My apartment is just too small for me to use for
developing.”

“Doesn’t everyone do digital photography now? You don’t need a
darkroom for that.”

“I do have a digital camera, but for some things, I still prefer
doing it the old fashioned way.”

He unlocked another door, and they entered a room furnished with a
couple of chairs and stacks of boxes labeled with words Julia guessed
to be names of chemicals. If she’d been with anyone else, she’d
feel very creepy about being in such a place.

Marc flipped a switch and all the shadows fled. A small door on the
right posted a hand-written sign that said
knock first!
He
turned the handle and went right in, closing it once Julia was
inside.

“You forgot to knock,” she teased.

“We’re the only ones here. The other photographer is on an
assignment in Alaska.”

He turned on a light, bathing the room in an eerie red glow. Julia
remained silent as she observed him remove the strip of film from the
canister. Watching the meticulous way he worked was satisfying to a
perfectionist like herself. First Marc developed the negatives and
inspected them by holding them up to the light. Next, using an
enlarger, he transferred the images from the negatives to specially
coated paper. Absorbed in his task, he didn’t explain the process,
and she was content to let him work without chatter.

“Come here,” he said. “This is the fun part.”

Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Julia watched a black and
white image of herself appear on the paper submerged in a tray of
developer. When the appropriate contrast had been achieved, he moved
the print into the fixer bath. One by one, he developed each print
until they were all done. After the prints were hung on the line and
the tiny room tidied, he turned on the regular light.

The sudden brightness made Julia wince after the soft, intimate
dimness. In the light, Marc examined each print. Julia peered around
his shoulder at the prints, and felt chagrined to see the look of
unabashed love radiating from her eyes. Did he see it as well? And
the picture of them on the park bench was even more disconcerting. If
she’d seen a couple act with such abandon in public, she probably
would’ve deemed it improper behavior. Yikes.

Noticing him frown slightly, Julia cleared her throat. “Do they
pass muster?”

Marc turned to her with an odd expression. He spoke in a tight voice
she’d never heard him use before. “They’re perfect, of course.
I’m sure you’re told often enough that you’re beautiful.”

She averted her eyes in confusion.
Doesn’t he know it doesn’t
mean anything unless it comes from someone you care about?
“Not
really,” she said finally. Julia bit her lip, made uneasy by the
vibes she sensed coming from him. The darkroom suddenly seemed
cramped. She had a mad desire to escape.

As if reading her mind, Marc opened the door and let her out. He
followed her through the second door and out onto the street. A chill
wind flew down the block, blowing a page of newspaper against his
leg. He kicked it away before opening the door of his truck for her.

The drive passed in silence. Julia wracked her brain trying to figure
out what had changed between them. And something definitely was
wrong. She saw a muscle twitch in Marc’s jaw as he gripped the
steering wheel.

After arriving back at his apartment, in a voice void of enthusiasm,
he asked if she wanted to come in. Too insecure in the newness of
their relationship, she didn’t feel she could ask him the reason
for his strange behavior. “I should probably get back and see how
Sara’s doing.”