Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(84)

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Two Weeks Later

I wake at four in the morning with lyrics racing through my head. I almost leave the bed to go to the piano, but I don’t. I can’t stand the thought of losing one minute of lying next to Jack Henry.

After he’s gone to work, I scramble to the piano to play the tune that danced in my head all morning and struggle to remember the exact words I was sure I couldn’t forget.

I jot down lyrics telling my story—how I wonder who will take my place after I’m gone and how I am secretly desperate for him to ask me to stay because I love him so much. I struggle because my hand isn’t fast enough to get the lyrics down as they flow from my head.

I put the words to music and sing them aloud, adjusting the melody for the best sound. I raise the key to test the tone of the chorus.

As I sing, I have that feeling you get when you’re being watched. Since Mrs. Porcelli often listens to me play, I look toward the doorway expecting to see her, but it’s not. It’s Margaret McLachlan.

My heart jumps into my throat. I immediately think something terrible has happened to Henry and she sees the fear in my eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, Laurelyn.”

I bring my hand to my chest, as if to calm my erratic heart. I get up from the piano and she meets me halfway for a hug. “Jack Henry is out on the vineyard. Should I call him?”

“No. I didn’t come to see him.”

I’m confused by this and I gesture toward the couch. “Come sit with me. Would you care for some coffee?”

“No. I’m fine, thank you.” She takes a seat on the sofa and I sit on the edge of the chair across from her. It seems the appropriate place for me to be—on the edge of my seat—because I’m dying to know what has brought her to Avalon.

“I’m sorry. I would have called, but I had no way of getting your number unless I asked Jack Henry, and I don’t want him to know I’m here to see you.”

This is news I wasn’t expecting. “You’re here to see me?”

“Yes, Laurelyn. I know you’re only here for two more weeks and I have something I want to say to you.”

I clutch the cushion of the chair to hold on so my ass doesn’t fall off into the floor. “Okay.”

“I know my son very well, and Jack Henry loves you. I see it in his eyes every time he looks at you.” Is it love she saw or was it the fa?ade? “He wouldn’t have brought you to meet us or into our home if he didn’t. Trust me. That’s not something he does lightly.”

She’s smiling. “So now, I’m going to be a very forward and meddling mother. Do you love my son?”

Wow. I’m taken back by her question, but I know the answer without thinking about it. I should be guarded and not willing to confess it so easily, but I want nothing more than to scream it from the rooftop. “Yes. I love Jack Henry very much.”

She smiles even bigger and pats the cushion next to her. “Come sit next to me.”

I get up from the chair and do as she asks. She faces me and takes my hands. “Believe me, he’s going to be a stubborn jackass when it’s time for you to leave in a couple of weeks. He isn’t going to want to put his heart on the line and ask you to stay, but he will be sick with himself if he lets you go. Because you love him, you have to spend the rest of your time together showing him why he should ask you to stay.”

Whoa. I’m not sure, but I think Margaret McLachlan is advising me to get it on with her son. Does she think I haven’t already been doing that?

How do I make her understand about our agreement without telling her? “We knew we’d only be together for three months, so we agreed from the start that our relationship wouldn’t become serious. I don’t think he’s changed his mind about that.”

She squeezes my hands. “Hon, it doesn’t matter what you agreed to. If you love each other, that changes everything. Trust me. Nothing else matters. And a little nookie to change his mind never hurts, either.”

Yep. That’s exactly what I thought she was suggesting.





42

Jack McLachlan

It’s only one week until Laurelyn leaves. It’s too soon and I want more time with her.

I’m neglecting my work at Avalon because I’m desperate to spend every minute with her. I can’t get enough of her and this morning is no different. That’s why I’ve come back to the house to see her after being gone for only an hour.

I open the bedroom door expecting her to still be asleep, but she’s not, and I hear the shower running. Maybe I’ll slip in and join her.

As I’m thinking it over, I hear a smothered version of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon playing somewhere in the bedroom. I follow the sound until I find a ringing phone inside Laurelyn’s purse. I reach in and take it out to see the caller ID in case it’s an emergency from home. At least that’s why I tell myself I do it.

It’s Blake Phillips. Again.

This time it’s not a missed call notification I see. It’s a photo of Laurelyn with her lips pressed against a man’s cheek. They look like a happy couple. Maybe even in love.

I contemplate what to do—answer or let it go to voicemail—and my curiosity wins out. I slide the bar over and have no idea what to say because I’m in the dark about who this man is. I put Laurelyn’s phone to my ear and listen without saying a word. A moment later, I hear his voice. He’s a Yank—of course. I would expect him to be. “Laurelyn. I know you’re there. I hear you breathing.”