That was so far from the truth. It was actually the other way around. Her refuge in the shop had fueled an artistic creativity in her she didn’t know she had. She started helping Molly decorate and make wreaths, but soon she was painting the windows and molding Nativity scenes out of clay. She was keeping so many painful, confusing things inside; it was easy to give her mind over to the intricacies of her art. It was only her good fortune that she was talented at what she did and was able to turn her therapy into a career.
The rumble of car tires across the gravel caught her attention. A moment later, Molly’s Buick rounded the house and parked beside her Camaro.
Julianne got up and walked to the stairs to meet her. “Morning, Mama. Is Daddy doing okay?”
Molly nodded. “He’s fine. Feeling well enough to shoo me home for a while. His surgery is tomorrow morning, so he wants me to take a break now, while I can.”
That sounded like Daddy. He hated to be fussed over, just like she did. “I’ve made some coffee.”
“Thank goodness,” Molly said, slowly climbing up the stairs. “That sludge at the hospital hardly qualified.”
They went inside and Julianne poured her a large mug with a splash of cream and one spoon of sugar. She joined her mother at the kitchen table, where she and Heath had had their uncomfortable conversation the night before. Looking at the weary, worn-out woman across from her, Julianne knew she just couldn’t let her parents find out she’d eloped with Heath right out of high school.
It wasn’t because of whom had she married, or even how. If Julianne hadn’t been such a mess and things worked out, Molly wouldn’t have been happy about them eloping, but she would have come around. The problem was explaining what went wrong between them and why she wasn’t willing to work things out. Everyone would want to know how they could marry and break up in an instant. She couldn’t even tell Heath that. How could she tell her parents, who had no clue that Tommy had ever laid a hand on her, much less ruined their daughter?
Julianne refused to be anything other than the cool and confident daughter of Ken and Molly. She supposed it was growing up as the only child of parents who desperately wanted more children. They loved her without question, but at the same time, they were always vocal about their disappointment in having only one. When they started taking in foster children, it made it even harder to get attention. At first, she tried to excel in school to prove to them that she was good enough to make up for being the only one. She was well-behaved, polite and never caused the tiniest problem for her parents.
It had worked. To a point. They were always quick to praise her, but her parents continued to bring in foster children. Perfection became her way to stand out and get noticed. It wasn’t until after the incident with Tommy that she threw an uncharacteristic fit and demanded her parents stop bringing in other children and pay attention to her for once. It was selfish. And she felt horrible doing it. But she couldn’t risk another boy coming to the Garden of Eden who might look at her the way Tommy did.
“Are you doing okay this morning?” Molly asked her.
“Yeah. Heath stayed in the guest room so I wouldn’t be alone. We talked last night and a couple of us are going to come stay here for a few months. Through the New Year, at least, to help with Christmas and such.”
Molly’s chin shot up—her mother was ready to argue—but she stopped herself and nodded. They both knew she couldn’t run the farm alone. Her petite frame and increasingly stiff fingers couldn’t haul Christmas trees twice her size. Having the kids here would take the pressure off of her and keep Ken resting the way he should. “Which of you are coming up?”
“Heath and I. He’s taking a few months away from the advertising agency. I’ve sold my house in Sag Harbor and I’m moving here until Dad is better, then I’ll find someplace new.”
“What about you and, uh...” Molly’s voice trailed off.
Her mother couldn’t remember the name of her boyfriend. That said volumes about her ill-fated relationship history. “Danny,” Julianne offered. “We’ve broken it off.”
“Oh,” Molly said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Liar,” Julianne said, smiling into her coffee mug as she took a sip.
Molly shrugged, but didn’t argue with her on that point. “I’ve been speaking with a private medical care company about bringing your father home to recuperate instead of putting him in a nursing home. They recommended moving a bed downstairs, and they could provide a live-in nurse for a few weeks.”
“That sounds perfect.” She wanted her father to have the best possible care, but she hated the idea of him in a nursing home, even if temporarily.
“Well, except that you’d have to stay in the bunkhouse. We’d need to move one bed downstairs and have the other for the nurse. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” Julianne responded, although the idea of close quarters with Heath didn’t thrill her. Last night was bad enough. “It will give me some room to store my equipment, too.”
“Speaking of which, what about your studio? And your gallery showing? You have to keep working, don’t you?”
“The store is fine without me. My place in the Hamptons does too well to move and my staff there run it beautifully. As for my studio, I’m thinking I can work here and it wouldn’t impact the show. Since I’m staying out there, maybe I can use part of the bunkhouse.”
“You know,” Molly said, “the storage room there hasn’t been used in ages. We could clean that out and you could use it.”
“Storage room?”
“Yes. You know what I’m talking about. In the bunkhouse, under the staircase. It’s about twelve by twelve, I’d say, with a window and its own door to the outside. That’s where we used to hide your Christmas presents when you all were small. Right now, I think it might just have some boxes of the boys’ old toys and sporting equipment.”
Honestly, she hadn’t given much thought to the nook under the stairs. Her time in the bunkhouse was usually spent watching television or messing around with the boys, not surveying the property. “Now I remember. If it’s as big as you say, that would be perfect.”
“If Heath is staying,” Molly continued, “perhaps he can help you get the space ready. There should be some time before the holiday rush begins.”
“What am I helping out with?” Heath stumbled sleepily into the kitchen in jeans, a casual T-shirt and bare feet. His light brown hair was tousled. It was a far cry from his expensive tailored suits and perfectly styled hair, but it impacted Julianne even more powerfully. This morning, he looked more like the Heath she’d fallen in love with. The successful, powerful advertising executive was a stranger to her.