Something Beautiful and Lacey's Retreat: Something Beautiful / Lacey's Retreat

And yet, he dared walk across the almost empty restaurant to hand her the two rose blossoms with a knightly flourish.

“Lucas,” she said on a breath of greeting as she took the lush flowers. “Roses. How pretty.” She sniffed them, then lifted her brows in suspicion. “And freshly cut, too.”

“Right out of my aunt’s summer garden,” he said as he unbuttoned his tan linen suit jacket and settled into a chair across from her. “Candlelight becomes you, chère.”

“Thank you.” She pointed toward his suit. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me.”

“Oui, I wanted to get all dressed up for you.”

He also wanted to tell her that she was the first. The first to see his secret garden. The first he’d invited to go up in the Piper with him. The first woman to make his heart feel both heavy and light at the same time.

In that regard, she had all the others beat.

But unlike the others, she seemed as uncertain as he felt. The kiss that had bonded them had also caused an awkward, wary distance between them.

And so they sat there, silent and uncertain, smiling and quiet, until Lorna came out of the kitchen. “Ready to order now?”

Lucas didn’t take his eyes off Willa. “Whatever the special is, love. Surprise me.”

Willa didn’t stop looking at him. “I’ll have…oh, I don’t know. Something light.”

Lorna slapped a hand on the forgotten menus, then picked them up. “Okay, then. Got it. Why don’t you two carry on with whatever you’re doing there. Be back in a few minutes.”

Lucas waved his annoying sister away, his gaze still centered on the woman across the table. “I enjoyed our plane ride today.”

“I did, too.”

“I’ve…I’ve never taken anyone up with me. It’s twice as much fun with a copilot.”

She looked shocked. “You mean, you haven’t taken all your girlfriends for a ride in the sky?”

“Only you, belle. Only you.”

He couldn’t tell from the muted light, but he had a feeling she was blushing. That only made him want to reach across the small round table and touch his hand to her heated skin. But he kept his hands to himself, along with all the crazy feelings tugging at his heart.

Lorna came back with two plates of steaming noodles piled with fat blackened shrimp. Emily followed with bread and butter. “Anything else?”

Lucas saw his sister poking Emily. Lorna seemed to enjoy watching him suffer.

Just to show her he wasn’t, he said, “Maybe some bread pudding—that one you make with the white chocolate.”

“I’ll bring it out later,” Lorna replied. “So…we’ll just leave you two to your dinner then.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks,” Lucas replied absently, his attention still on Willa. Waiting for his nosy sister to depart, he cut a slice of the piping hot bread, then buttered it before handing it to Willa. “Sorry I was a bit late. Last-minute phone calls.”

She took the bread. Was it just his imagination, or did her fingers brush his on purpose in the exchange? She took a bite, then said, “I thought I was the one with the busy schedule.”

The woman would make a great spokesperson for French bread. With her upswept hair and her three strands of pearls, she made chewing seem so classy and intriguing. In fact, she could just sit there and hold the bread, and Lucas would buy it. In spite of the air-conditioning and his lightweight suit, he was beginning to sweat.

“I might not be a fashion plate, but I do have things to get done,” he countered, hoping to take his mind off her beautiful lips. “I have all these side businesses—it’s like spinning plates. Can’t let any of them fall by the wayside.”

Willa finished her bread, leaned forward to prop her elbows on the table, then cupped her chin on her clasped hands, her food obviously forgotten. “What kind of side businesses?”

“Oh, a little of dis and dat,” he replied in an exaggerated Cajun voice. He snagged a fat, buttery shrimp with his fork and ate it with a long sigh of pleasure. “Crawfishing in the spring, fishing all summer long, shrimping, traps to mend, boats to repair and pamper. Moss gathering.”

“Moss gathering?” She twirled flat, creamy noodles onto her fork. “Is that anything like woolgathering?”

He nodded. “Kinda. Only better. We harvest the Spanish moss that grows on the cypress trees and sell it to craft shops and florists—for decorating.”

“I never would have thought—” She stopped, dropped her fork on her plate. “There is just so much about you. You continue to surprise me.”

“Well, I’m about out of surprises,” he replied with a wink and a nod. “I’m just plain ol’ Lucas Dorsette, a simple man with very simple needs.”

He saw the flicker of wonder in her vivid blue eyes. Heard the husky inflection of her tone. But he didn’t miss the confusion in her question. “What do you need, Lucas?”

He leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap to keep from touching her. “Another kiss from you would surely be nice.”

She immediately pushed herself back in her chair. “We can’t do that again.”

“And why not?”

“I…we…”

“I’m listening.”

“No, that’s the problem.” She threw her hands in the air, then let them drop to her lap. “You haven’t been listening at all. I can’t get involved with you, Lucas.”

He figured she was arguing more with herself than with him. He could see the battle in her defiant eyes.

“Give me one good reason why not?”

She took a sip of iced tea, then sat the goblet down, one long finger moving over the condensation on the side of the tall glass. “Well, I’ll be leaving soon, probably sooner than soon. And I have no idea where I’ll be going from here.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lucas crossed his arms and lifted his brows. “I can fly a plane. I can drive a boat. I even have a horse. I’ll find you.”

He saw the effect that statement had on her. Panic. Plain and simple.

Keeping her eyes on her tea glass, she said, “Sometimes we don’t want to be found.”

“Yeah, I know all about that.”

“Then you need to understand that I have to—”

“I’ll go with you, you know.”

That brought her head up. “Go with me where?”

“To find your birth mother. I’ll go with you, help you get through the rough spots.”

She lowered her gaze again, then pushed her plate away. Staring at her hands in her lap, she said, “I haven’t decided if I want to go see her. I’m still debating.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I just want you to know I’m willing to help you through this.”

Emily came out of the kitchen to bring them their bread pudding. She sat the rich cream-colored dessert down. “Coffee, Lucas?”

Lucas lifted a brow toward Willa. When she shook her head, he took the time to give Emily a patient smile. “Non. But thanks, suga’. We’re good.”

Willa glanced at the teenager, apparently glad for the interruption. “How did the dress turn out?”

Emily giggled, then bobbed her head. “It was perfect. You were right—the pink one looked better than the red one.”

“I’m so glad. And I’m sure your mother is much more pleased about you going to the dance now that you’ve decided to wear a more demure design.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Non, it’s my papa who’s happy. He didn’t want me wearing the red—pas de tout.”

“I have to agree with him,” Willa replied. “The red was gorgeous, but a bit too old-looking for a sixteen-year-old. You’ll be the hit of the school dance, I’m sure.” Then she added in a conspiring whisper, “Especially since hot pink is the really big color on all the runways this summer.”

“I’ll start a new trend,” Emily said, her expression full of pride. “Merci, Willa.”

“You’re welcome,” Willa responded. “Let me know if I can help with your hair and makeup. And remember, Emily, less is more.”

The awestruck teen gave Willa a shy smile, then backed away. “And you let me know if you need anything else.”

Lucas gazed at the woman sitting across from him. “Apparently, you’ve been busy coaching our young Em on her wardrobe.”

Willa watched as Emily headed into the kitchen. “Just steered her in the right direction. The pink dress is a bit more tame, and it looks great on her.”

“You’re amazing,” Lucas said. “Emily will never forget you for giving her such good advice.”

“And I’ll never forget her.”

Lucas didn’t want to think about forgetting or remembering right now. He wanted to get back to the subject they’d been discussing. “Well, about your birth mother.” After making sure they were alone again, he spoke softly. “I mean it, Willa. I’ll go with you, if you’re afraid.”

She looked into his eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”

He reached out to her. He put a hand on her arm, just a brush of fingers over skin. And watched as she closed her eyes. “Because I want to take that pain out of your eyes, love. I want to see that smile. The one that’s so famous the world over.”

“That smile is strictly for the cameras,” she said, her voice raw and low. “It’s not the real me.”

He tugged her forward, his hand gentle on her arm. “Then let me see the real you, Willa. Let me…let me show you how to find the real you again, through God’s grace, through what we feel for each other.”

“I don’t know anything about God’s grace. It’s too late for me to ask Him for help.”

And she certainly wasn’t going to admit that she had any feelings for Lucas Dorsette, Lucas decided. Maybe he’d better concentrate on helping her find some peace of mind, at least.

“No, chère, it’s never too late to turn to God. He’s always here in these gardens, He’s in the very air we traveled through, the clouds we passed today. You have to know that in your heart.”

“My heart hurts, Lucas. My heart can’t take anymore pain.”

“Then let me help you. Let God help you. He can heal your hurts, Willa.”

“And has He healed yours?”

It was a cruel question. And he knew the answer could be just as cruel, if he gave in to his doubts. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m alive. I’m secure in my faith.”

She got up, dessert and roses obviously forgotten. “Are you really, Lucas? Is that why you go and sit in that sad old garden? Is that why you test yourself, push yourself to the edge in airplanes and out in the swamp? Is that why you don’t ever take anything seriously?”

Well, he was taking this conversation very seriously.

He shot up after her as she turned for the door. Seeing the surprised expressions of his sister and Emily, who stood hovering at the kitchen door, Lucas waved them away and followed Willa outside. “Hey, wait a minute. How do you know I’m not serious? What do you know about me, anyway?”

“That’s it exactly,” she said, spinning on the stone path. “I don’t know anything about you except what I’ve heard. I’ve been warned to stay away from you. Warned that you’ll break my heart.”

“And you believe those warnings?”

She held herself, her arms wrapped against her stomach. “No. I don’t believe them at all. But there is something you should believe, something you should know about me.”

He stood back, distancing himself from the need to hold her close. “Oh, and what’s that?”

“I have the power to hurt you, Lucas. That’s why I can’t let things go any further between us.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Why don’t you relax and…let things happen naturally?”

“Naturally?” She almost laughed. But it was a bitter laugh. “Like sickness and death? Like Lacey suffering through losing her husband, or you suffering through losing your parents?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he told her, anger coloring all the other emotions rolling through his mind. “I’ve learned to accept that.”

“Have you?” She turned to go, then twisted to stare at him. “Well, maybe I’m not so good at accepting the natural course of things. Maybe I still want to be the one in control.”

He reached for her, but she moved away.

“Willa, listen to me. I have my good days and my bad days and so does Lacey—and Lorna, too, for that matter. Death isn’t easy, it isn’t something you can rationalize or understand. But we’re here, we’re alive. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she asked. Then she turned and headed up the path toward the mansion.

Frustrated and completely confused, Lucas turned to stalk into the restaurant. He didn’t bother to finish eating, and he sure didn’t bother to explain anything to his obviously curious sister. He didn’t even stop to visit with the few patrons still lingering.

He went straight to the corner where the piano and saxophone had a permanent spot. Grabbing the sax, he sat down on a stool and thought about what to play. An old blues tune came to mind, but it didn’t suit his mood. Lucas needed help tonight, so he turned to the gospels for inspiration.

He played a song that seemed perfect even though it was short and sweet. It was the hymn he’d thought about the day he’d first seen Willa.

“Something Beautiful.”

Lorna came out of the kitchen to listen. A hush fell over the couples scattered here and there at the intimate tables. Lucas played on, his gaze moving toward the big window that opened to the night and the gardens.

Then he saw her.

On the path, bathed in moonlight and star shine, he could see the silhouette of a tall blond woman as she stood listening. Until the song was finished.

And then she turned and walked away.

Chapter Seven

Lucas put down his saxophone, then hopped off the stool centered by the big windows to waylay his sister before she trotted into the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

Lorna drew her brows together in a frown. “About what? Or should I say about whom?”

“Come and sit,” Lucas ordered, gently dragging her to the table he’d shared with Willa. Picking up a fork, he begin stabbing at the bread pudding he’d left.

“Well, I can see your appetite is still intact, even if your poor heart isn’t,” Lorna said, chin propped on one hand as she gave him a sympathetic smile. “You always did eat your way through misery.”

“I’m still hungry,” he said. The rich pudding, made of bread soaked in cream and eggs then smothered in rich white chocolate sauce, hit his rattled stomach like nails hitting a tin roof. “Okay, so mebbe this wasn’t such a good idea.” He pushed the pudding away, then glared at his sister. “What’s going on with Willa?”

Lorna waved to some departing customers. “Bonsoir.” Then she turned to her brother. “Lucas, that’s not for me to tell. Willa has been working hard since she was twenty-two years old—since the day she graduated from college—and that’s been at least five years. She just needs a break.” She shrugged, then removed her chef hat and tossed her tumbling braid over her shoulder. “I met her just before I came back home a little over three years ago—at a posh party in Paris. I was part of the catering team, and she sneaked into the kitchen to get another bite of this fancy chocolate dessert that everyone was raving about.”

She stopped long enough to allow Lucas a smile. He commented, “The supermodel sneaking fattening food—now there’s a tabloid tale.”

“That’s about the way it works,” Lorna said, bobbing her head. “I caught her gobbling away, and we laughed and ate chocolate cake together. She was very lonely, and I guess I was, too—I was between relationships.”

That made him grin. “Wasn’t that always the case, love?”

Lorna slapped him gently on the arm, then continued. “Anyway, we had this instant friendship. So we met a couple of days later to go shopping. I told her all about Bayou le Jardin—how I missed it, how I wanted to come home and open my own restaurant. She was so supportive, even offered to be a silent partner if I needed funding.” Lorna’s expression grew warm with the memory. “I turned her down on the loan, of course. But I did invite her to come and visit.”

Lucas leaned forward in his chair. “Why did she wait so long?”

“As I said, she’s been very busy. She’s in demand, so she’s been booked all over the world for fashion shoots and runway work. Over the years, she’d call and we’d chat, catch up, but she was always on her way to some exotic spot. You see, Willa is very disciplined and organized. She had a five-year plan, and I guess she’s reached that goal now.”

“So you think she decided to just rest a bit?”

Lorna looked at the table, a sure sign that she knew more than she wanted to tell. “I think she needed to stop and regroup.”

“And?”

She looked up. “And…that’s it.”

“Why didn’t she come to your wedding?”

“She was in Spain and then she had to go straight from there to Australia. Something about an ad for a sportswear company.”

He nodded, then pounced. “So why is she here now? I mean, why is she all of a sudden canceling bookings and not returning phone calls to her agent?”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “You know these things for true?”

“I know what I see.” He lowered his voice, his words for her ears only. “Does Willa have some sort of eating disorder?”

Lorna laughed out loud. “Oh, my, non.” Patting his hand, she added, “Willa’s eating habits are perfectly normal. She’s like any other woman in that regard. She loves food but has to watch every bite that goes in her mouth.”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. “Then she’s not sick or anything.”

And that’s when he saw it. The little flair of apprehension in his baby sister’s expressive green eyes.

His heart seemed to go still in his chest. “Lorna?”

Lorna got up, busied herself with clearing away the table dishes. “It’s late, brother. Go home and try to get some rest. Mick should be by any minute for a late dinner, then I’m turning in myself.”

Lucas stopped her, dishes and all. “Lorna, tell me.”

She turned to stare at him, worry coloring her face. “It’s not for me to tell, Lucas.”

He let her go, then pushed away from the table. “Then I’ll just go and ask Willa.”

Holding plates to her white jacket, Lorna tried to stop him. “Lucas, please. Don’t do that.”

But he was already out the door.

On the other side of the huge, sprawling gardens, Willa sat on a bench in a pretty white Victorian gazebo, the scent of trailing wisteria and running roses mingling around her.

Although her bedroom was lovely, she hadn’t been able to go to the isolation of that particular place. So she’d walked through the narrow footpaths, letting the moonlight guide her, until she’d found this idyllic spot.

Now, in spite of the mosquitoes buzzing hungrily around her ears and ankles, she sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night.

Remembering the sound of Lucas playing the saxophone.

It was the song. That was what had made her cry. That was what had made her long for something she couldn’t envision, couldn’t grasp. It was a lovely song—sweet and full of a tender yearning. Willa longed to know the words to the tune that lingered in her head like a music box being wound over and over. She also longed for answers to her confusing questions.

“Child, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Whirling, Willa was surprised to find Hilda Dorsette making her way up the path to the gazebo, the doorknob tip of her trusty walking cane gleaming silver in the night.

Getting up to come and help her, Willa said, “Oh, Aunt Hilda, you startled me. I thought I really was alone out here in the dark.”

Hilda gave her a penetrating look. “Would you prefer it that way?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I’d love some company,” Willa admitted, surprising herself. Then she sniffed.

Aunt Hilda placed an aged hand on her arm. “Have you been crying?”

Willa waited as the older woman settled onto one of the cushioned box seats. Then she sank down across from Aunt Hilda. “I…yes…I was feeling sorry for myself, I guess.”

“Then you were not alone, after all.”

“What do you mean?” Willa asked, wiping her damp face.

“God was here with you, Willa.”

Willa held her breath, then let out a tired sigh. “Then I hope He was listening.”

“Oh, He was. You can be sure of that. The Lord is always in His garden. It’s here that He walks with us and listens to us—just as the old song says.”

Without thinking, Willa said, “Then maybe that was the song—the one Lucas was playing earlier on the saxophone.”

Hilda nodded. “Yes, I heard my nephew playing. Decided to take a walk myself.” Then she gave Willa another sharp-eyed stare. “The song moved you?”

“It did. It was so…pretty.”

Aunt Hilda settled, adjusting a flowing silk floral scarf around her shoulders. “I know the song he played. It wasn’t the one to which I was referring, but it is another favorite of mine,” she said, one hand on her cane as she sat on the bench. “It’s a fairly modern church hymn, written by William Gaither in 1971. It’s called ‘Something Beautiful.’”

Willa closed her eyes briefly, wondering why Lucas had picked that particular song to play tonight. And wondering why it had moved her to tears as she’d stood there in the shadows, watching him play.

Opening her eyes, she asked Aunt Hilda, “Could you tell me the words?”

Aunt Hilda nodded. “I could—it’s all about how the Lord takes us when we are broken and makes something beautiful out of our life. But I think it would be better if you came to church Sunday, as my guest, to hear the words for yourself. I’ll make a request to the choir director.”

“Church?” Willa held the one word near her heart, felt it settle there with a gentle tugging. “It’s been so long—”

“Too long, perhaps?” Aunt Hilda asked, her smile all serenity and light. “It doesn’t matter, you know. He welcomes all of us back with open arms.”

Willa lifted her head. “Aunt Hilda, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Would it be…wrong of me to begin praying to God now, after not having done it for so very long?”

“Prayer is never wrong, love. And besides, He’s always with you, even when you’re not completely with Him.”

Willa digested that, then shook her head. “It just seems as if…well, now that I’m facing some unpleasant things in my future…it just seems almost foolish to turn to Him now. I never appreciated my blessings when things were going great for me. I just went about my life, thinking I had things under control.”

“And now, you’re finding you’re not in control at all?”

“Not even a little bit. And I’m so tired. Just so tired.”

Aunt Hilda held out a plump hand. “Come here, child.”

Willa couldn’t resist that invitation. She crossed the small space between them, then settled next to Aunt Hilda on the rounded bench, tears brimming in her eyes.

Aunt Hilda took her into her arms, hugging her close. “Rest then. Rest here as long as you need. You’re safe now. You’ve come home to the Father.”

Willa couldn’t speak. So instead, she wept. Gently, with little sound, but with deep, cleansing, purging tears of relief and restoration. If only her haughty, distant adoptive mother would have ever held her in her arms. If only she could have known her real mother. Could have. Would have. There were so many things she needed to know, so many things she needed to take care of. Urgent, frightening things.

But not tonight. Tonight, in spite of her growing feelings for Lucas and her determination to curtail those feelings, she felt safe and secure, as if she truly had returned home from a very long journey.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said into Aunt Hilda’s lace collar. “I’m acting like a big baby.”

Hilda chuckled, then patted Willa on the arm. “Not a baby, dear. A child. A child who needs desperately to be held and loved.”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, me?” Hilda lifted Willa’s head, then placed a warm hand on her wet cheek. “I’m not referring to me. Our Father is holding you now, darling. And He won’t let go.”

Willa closed her eyes. “Never?”

“Ever,” Aunt Hilda told her.

“You seem so sure. How can you do that—let go and just believe?”