Chapter 5 Mona #2
“To a point. Yes. They never mention it anymore, and they say they’re proud of me.
They really are pretty good as far as parents go.
They love me, and I’ve never doubted it.
But still…” For no good reason, my eyes suddenly burn.
My throat swells. “But I sometimes catch a whiff of a feeling from them. Like I might still be a disappointment.” My voice cracks on the last word.
It only takes a minute or two for me to pull my emotions back under control and turn to look at him. His eyes are focused forward. He’s lost in his own thoughts.
“No comment?” I finally ask, wondering if he’s decided I’m an emotional mess.
“I was thinking about it,” he says slowly.
“Since I don’t know them, I can’t say for sure.
But there’s a certain kind of confidence and security in the way you carry yourself, the way you go through life.
Anyone can grow into that, but I see it most often in people who have been loved all their lives. ”
His soft words startle me so much I gulp. “I… I have been loved.”
“That’s what I thought. Your parents love you.
Your brothers all love you too, I would bet.
You’ve had strong relationships and connections to community all your life.
All of us—every one of us—has to adjust when people we love do things counter to our plans for them, but your parents love you.
I can’t believe they’re truly disappointed in you.
And if they are, it’s only a fleeting thought that passes by occasionally and means nothing compared to the swell of their love for you. ”
Well, shit.
A few tears stream down my cheeks. No way to stop them.
“Thank you for saying that,” I say with a sniff, swiping the tears away quickly. “I hope that’s true. I think it is.”
We’re still walking, and when the gravel slips slightly beneath my feet, he reaches out to put a hand on my back for support.
It’s a protective instinct. Nothing more. But I really like the feel of his hand there.
I like it a lot.
“What about you?” I ask to distract myself.
“What about me?”
“Are you loved?”
There’s only a slight pause before he responds, “I have been.”
The verb tense cracks something in my chest. “Your parents?”
“Yes. They loved me. They died when I was in my twenties, so they’ve been a long time gone.”
“I’m sorry. What happened? An accident or something?”
“Yes. A car accident.”
“And you have a sister?”
“Yes. She’s younger than me, so I had to step up to take care of her after our parents died. But we’re still close.”
“I’m glad you have her. Have you never been married?” I’m not sure where I get the courage to ask that, but I really want to know.
“I have.”
“Really?” I sound surprised. I am surprised. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been imagining him living his whole life in that library.
“Yes. I married when I was twenty-eight.”
“What happened?”
“She died too.”
“Oh no!” I cover my mouth with my hand and stare up at him. “Oh no. That’s terrible.”
He gives me a half shrug. “It was a rare blood disease. She had it all her life, and we always knew it might take her early. We had fourteen years together. They were good years.”
“I’m so sorry you weren’t able to have longer with her. You didn’t have children?”
“No. She couldn’t have children, and I was fine with that.”
“I see. So you’ve only been locking yourself away for ten years?”
He frowns at me. “I wouldn’t call it locking myself away. But, yes, after she was gone, I focused on my work. I haven’t felt the need to travel or socialize. I feel like…”
“What?” I ask when he trails off. “You feel like what?”
“I feel like I had my life. And now my primary contribution to the universe is the work I have left to do.”
It bothers me so much I want to snap at him about how ridiculous that view is, but I manage to hold my tongue.
“I can understand why you feel that way. But you’re smart enough to realize it’s a feeling and not reality.
You have a lot of your life left to live, and you don’t need to spend it all in that library. ”
He doesn’t answer immediately. In fact, the silence goes on so long my stomach starts to flip.
Finally I ask, “Are you mad at me?”
“No.” He gives me a rueful half smile. “I’m fighting a kind of defensiveness that makes me want to lash out at you. But I’m afraid it’s because I know you’re right.”
I blink at him. I’ve never once heard a man—heard anyone—respond to a challenge in that way.
“Still,” he goes on, “I have a good life. I’m content in it. I don’t feel any inclination to change it.”
“Maybe. But maybe you will. Eventually.”
“Maybe.”
We’re silent for several minutes after that.
* * *
Our walk takes two hours, and I’m on a weird, exhilarated high as we come back into the house.
It’s kind of like that thrill after a great first date, but nothing in these particular circumstances warrants feeling that way. So I try to contain it. Force it back into a safe corner of my mind.
If I know anything is true, it’s that Douglas Saxon-Barrington is not boyfriend material. He as much as said so himself on our walk, and I can see it plain as day.
I’ve been silly about romance plenty of times in my life, but I’m not going to be silly now. I would like to find someone, but it needs to be someone with real potential.
Not this too-old, too-cerebral, too-detached man with whom I have nothing in common.
“Thank you for the walk,” he says, holding my gaze as we stand in the entryway, “and for the conversation.”
His courteous tone and quiet sobriety almost embarrass me. My cheeks grow warm as I look downward. “You’re welcome. Thank you. I’m glad you got out of your library.”
“If you’d like to take a walk again tomorrow, I would enjoy it.”
I suck in a breath as I dart my eyes up to his face. “So I was right?”
“About what?”
“About how you need to get out more.”
He huffs, his mouth tilted up just a little. “I do not acknowledge any such thing. I merely said I’d be amenable should you like a companion on another walk.”
I giggle.
He sighs. “What’s amused you now?”
“I merely said I’d be amenable should you like a companion on another walk.” I pitch my tone to mirror his. “Who talks like that?”
“I do.”
“I know you do. And I had a good walk too. We should do it again. Actually…” A new thought hits me and takes hold in exactly three seconds. The idea consumes me like a brainstorm or a miracle revelation.
“Yes?”
“That will be my job this month other than giving Colleen and Roy their break and taking care of stuff when your guests come.”
“What will be your job?”
“Getting you out of your library. Do you have a deadline coming up?”
“A deadline of what kind?” His brow is wrinkled as he tries to keep up.
“A work deadline. Is someone expecting you to produce something substantial this month?”
“Ah. No. Of course not. I write books and articles when I feel like it, and I finish them when they’re finished. Only then do I look for a publisher. I don’t do well working under pressure, and there’s no reason for me to do so in my situation.”
I’m smiling as I shake my head at him. “Wow. My parents and brothers would raze empires for that kind of academic freedom. But anyway, that’s what I suspected, so you have no excuse not to let me do this job.”
“You still haven’t specified what you believe this job of yours entails.”
“It entails getting you out of the library. So I’ll figure out things for us to do this month rather than you sitting in your library and working.”
His brows arch sky-high. “And you believe I’ll agree to this outrageous suggestion?”
“Yes. Because part of you wants it too. And the other part of you knows I’ll pester the crap out of you if you don’t agree.”
He surprises me then. Completely.
He bursts into warm, soft laughter.
“I mean it,” I go on, taking advantage of his mood.
“You need a break from your routine. You know it will be good for you. How can you write a book on joy if you cut yourself off from feeling it? You can call it sociological research if you must. Tomorrow we can maybe take another walk, but we can start for real on Monday.”
“And what do you get out this scenario?”
“The satisfaction of a job well done.”
“You mean it? You want me to tag along with you this month?”
“Not all the time. But at least something every day. Just for the month. Take a holiday from your life. Don’t you want to?”
I have no idea why I’m so urgent. Why I care so much. But despite the teasing plea in my tone, I’m desperate for him to agree.
He stares at me for a long time. I have no idea what he’ll decide.
Then, “Very well. One month. A holiday from my life. As long as you understand that, at the end of December, the holiday will be over.”
The words give me a weird jolt. A self-conscious one. “Of course. What else?”
He peers at me, and whatever he was thinking is answered. His expression softens. “I see.”
“You might see, but I don’t. What are you even talking about?”
He clears his throat. Glances away. “I’ve had… certain experiences with women. Who expect things from me that are neither in my nature nor in my goals for life. I did not believe you to have similar expectations, but I do try to be careful. I don’t want anyone to be hurt because of me.”
The explanation is so precisely circuitous it takes me a minute to unravel. Then I do in another rush of self-consciousness.
I hide it the way I always have. I never let anyone see that I’m embarrassed. “Oh, I get it. You’ve had women hit on you and had to reject them. So while you weren’t assuming I was doing that, you wanted to make sure.”
“Exactly.” He slants me a quick look. “You’re not angry at my presumption?”
“No, I’m not angry.” I’m actually trying not to giggle again.
“And you might as well have stepped out of a Victorian novel if you think that was presumptuous. But to get everything out on the table, I’m not opposed to romance.
I date semiregularly. But, no offense intended, you don’t fit any of the criteria I’m looking for in a romantic partner. ”
“I wouldn’t imagine so.”
“I have absolutely no secret hopes about this job or this month turning into more. I make enough money on my own that your fortune is not a temptation to me in that way. And, while you’re a good-looking man, you’re—”
“Far too old for you.” He nods, obviously not offended.
“Of course I am. I knew that. And I’m not generally an arrogant person.
My mind works better than most, but there’s nothing else particularly appealing about me except for my money.
But I’ve found the money is often enough to… attract attention.”
I snort. “Of course it is. I’m sure you’re besieged wherever you go by fortune hunters. But I’m not one of them. And I have no hopes or expectations beyond the thrill of success in getting you out of your library for the month.”
He smiles at me. A real smile. “Very well. We can start on Monday. For one month, I’m at your mercy. But I haven’t had much social activity for years, so I hope you’ll be gentle.”
“I’ll start gentle.” I’m so excited I could jump out of my skin, and it’s honestly ridiculous. “Then we’ll see.”