Finding Julian (7 page)

Chapter Nine

The sunlight
stung my bare arms
the moment I stepped out of the building.
Going down the steps and out onto the sidewalk, I felt drained of energy, so I
decided to cross the street to Dunkin Donuts and get myself a strawberry
coolatta. With every sip I felt refreshed and invigorated.

I sat down by one of the side windows,
looking out at the boat dock, and skimmed through the folder Aunt Bev gave me.
I barely made it through one of the feedback sheets provided by a reader of the
entertainment magazine, when someone came over to the table.

“Hey,” the raspy voice said.

I looked up into two beautiful shades of
blue that beamed with nervousness.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, seeming
embarrassed. “I thought you were someone else.”

I snorted, “Really?” I’d heard that line
plenty of times in the city.

Smiling sarcastically, I leaned my head
to the side and said, “So now you’re going to think up a way to get me to have
lunch with you, because you feel really bad about the mistake?”

He creased his forehead and a smirk
appeared. “Um…no, you really look like my friend from a far.

“Oh.” I bit my bottom lip, feeling silly
for making the assumption.

“It’s okay. It’s my bad, anyway.” He
turned and started to leave.

Slightly, I eased out of the seat and
considered calling after him to apologize, but decided against it.

Settling back down, I started to go
through the folder again. I must have read over fifty feedbacks and
collectively they all said the same thing: the lack of modernism. Compiling the
papers together, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and saw that
it was Aunt Bev calling. Not Mom, thankfully.

“Julian, where are you?” her voice
sounded tired.

“At Dunkin Donuts. Be there in a sec,” I
said.

I stuck the papers properly inside the
folder like they were before. Then I hurried across the street to Vanderson
Publishing. Aunt Bev was chatting with Seven when I entered her office.

  
She took the folder from me when I got close. “Julian, Seven’s going to show
you where we print the magazines then drive you home. I’ll see you at the
guesthouse later.” She patted my arm and nudged me on my way.

“Okay,” I obliged. “See you.” I felt
guilty, knowing I probably wouldn’t see her again after today.

I followed behind Seven, as he led me
out the back exit and across the parking lot to the dark brick building beside
Vanderson Publishing’s headquarters.

Once we entered through the side door,
he paused at the top of a flight of stairs and peered back at me. My heart
thumped.

“You didn’t tell her you’re leaving?” he
asked.

It took a minute for me to swallow the
tightness in my throat and retrieve my voice. “No. It’s better to leave her a
note and call her when I get to Providence, because if I tell her now she’s
going to try and stop me.”

Without uttering another word, Seven
continued down the stairs and through a green door, nudging me into a huge open
space with three sets of printing presses and a few supervising employees
making sure everything was working smoothly.

I stared about in awe. I’d never been in
such a productive environment before and it fascinated me.

“This is where it all started,” Seven
chimed. “When Vanderson Publishing took off, your father bought the building
next door and terminated his contract with Monroe Printing.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Monroe
Printing?” I asked.

Seven nodded. “Yep, my dad’s company. He
wasn’t very happy about that.”

“I bet he wasn’t.” The words escaped my
lips before I’d given any more thought to them. “Oh,” I straightened, biting my
lip. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. My dad has other
clients with deep pockets. He got over it.”

Did he? Mr. Monroe didn’t strike me as
the type to get over anything. I was still anticipating the arrival of the
so-called lawyer he said he was hiring for Marlene.

I eyed Seven as he moved past me and
observed the machines. He continued to elaborate on how everything worked as I
nodded and shook the hands of each employee Seven introduced me to. At first,
it gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, hearing him say unabashedly that I was
Cole Vanderson’s daughter. After a while, the fuzzy turned uncomfortable by
their stiffed-face reactions, which consisted of mostly ‘I see’ and ‘oh’.

On our way out of the building, the side
door swung open and Seven and I paused at the top of the stairs, waiting for
the person to pass by. I looked up at the employee’s face and recognized him as
the guy from Dunkin Donuts.

He nodded at Seven then stopped in his
tracks when his sea blue eyes met mine.

“You?” he said with a mixture of surprise
and weird delight.

Seven blinked back and forth between us.
“You two know each other?”

I brushed my hair behind my ears,
feeling queasy as I remembered the short-lived encounter. “Not really.”

“I’d mistaken her for someone else,” the
guy explained.

  
Oddly, Seven relaxed his shoulders, appearing satisfied by our responses. “Oh,”
he said. “Well, Julian, this is Gavin. He’s working in the printery for the
summer. He’s also a longtime friend of Mackenzie’s.”

As Gavin raised his hand to shake mine,
Seven went on to introduce me to him. “Gavin, this is Julia, Cole’s daughter.”

Not again.

Gavin’s expression turned confused. His
eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “No wonder…I didn’t know Mrs. Vanderson had
two daughters.”

“Oh, she’s—”

“We have to get going,” I interrupted
before Seven could clarify. I was tired of the same awkward reaction from
complete strangers.

“Nice meeting you, Gavin,” I said dryly,
stepping between the two and out of the building.

Seven came out shortly.

He unlocked the car and I plopped down
onto the passenger seat, feeling a bit frustrated with him.

The moment he got inside he asked, “What
was that about?”

“Please don’t do that anymore.”

The happy feeling I had earlier was
gone. It wasn’t okay anymore for Seven or Aunt Bev to tell people who I really
was.

“Do what?” he asked, oblivious to my
discomfort.

“Introduce me as Cole Vanderson’s
daughter,” my words came out sturdy. “Just say I’m a friend, nothing else.”

A distressed look showed up on his face,
and his now sad eyes spun away from mine. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I just
thought you’d feel accepted.”

Relaxing my tone, I said, “Thank you,
but you don’t have to do that.”

Seven turned the keys in the ignition
and the engine roared to life. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the
main road, heading for Narragansett.

I didn’t mean to create an intense
atmosphere. I was simply trying to let him know how uncomfortable it made me
feel. Now, we were driving in dead silence. It bothered me. I didn’t want to
leave on such a note.

Looking over at him, I exhaled before
saying, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get it. I’d feel funny
about it too if I was in your shoes.”

We didn’t say anything again for a few
minutes, until I started to remember the reading of the will and what my father
said about him.

“Seven, if you don’t mind me asking,” I
held myself back to reconsider if what I wanted to ask was even appropriate.

He glanced in my direction for a beat,
lifting an eyebrow, encouraging me to continue, “Mind if you ask me what?” He
looked back at the road as we approached the Pell Bridge.

I decided to just go for it, “What did
you promise my father?”

Seven didn’t answer. He kept his eyes
straight ahead. The window was halfway down so I could hear cars whooshing by,
filling the quietness around us.

Thinking this must’ve been his way of
ignoring something that made him uneasy, I gave up on receiving an answer and
stared down at Narragansett Bay below. Its serene, blue waters filled with sail
boats and kayakers.

We were almost off the bridge when Seven
muttered, “He…”

I looked around fast, anticipation
filling me up inside. There was something different about his posture now.
Seven appeared nervous, fingers squeezing the wheel as he tensed in the seat.

“What?” I pressed, discerning his
apprehension.

He flashed me a wary smile. “He asked me
to look out for you.”

Chapter Ten

Seven and I didn’t say much
for the rest of the drive back to Narragansett. We remained quiet all the way
to the house. I wasn’t sure how to react, being told that my father asked him
to look after me. It was as if there was something, or someone, I needed
protection from.

He parked in the driveway. I got out,
trying to form words in my head to say to him.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” I
muttered, as he closed the driver’s door.

Seven stuck his hands inside his pockets
and shrugged his shoulders. “No problem, I was on my way home anyway.”

  
“Oh,” I whispered.

He started for the main house and I
walked behind, making my way past him as he turned towards the front
door. 

“Hey,” he called out to stop me.
“Marlene’s not home. Come inside so I can show them to you.”

It took a second for me to realize what
he was referring to: My father’s paintings. “Oh. What about Mackenzie? I don’t
feel like dealing with her right now.”

Opening the front door, he nudged me
over. “She’s not home during the days.”

I swallowed hard, then walked over and
entered behind him. Stopping in the entrance, I hugged myself. There was a
chilling feeling about being in this house.

It didn’t help when Seven positioned his
hand gently at the small of my back and urged me forward. I glanced behind at
him, utterly shaken up by the enervating sensation flowing through my body as
his hand remained in place.

Seven looked at me with what at first
seemed like reciprocation of what I was feeling, but then his brows arched in
confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I snapped out of it and relaxed my tensed
body. “Nothing. Um…where are they?”

“His art room is down that way.” He
removed his hand from my back and walked ahead. “This way.”

I followed behind him.

When we got to the end of the passage,
Seven turned the door knob. It was locked. He took his keys out of his pocket
and stuck one inside the keyhole. Opening the door, he stepped aside to let me
enter first.

My breath hitched. There was so much art
on the walls. I lifted a hand and placed it across my constricting chest. “My
dad….He did all
this
?”

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Seven closed the
door and walked up beside me. “That one down there is even better.” He pointed
to the painting at the far side of the room below the bay window.

I admired my father’s work as I slowly
walked over to the painting Seven seemed especially anxious for me to see.
There was a feeling of pity as I past a few still on easels, waiting to be
completed.

Reaching the painting resting below the
window on the floor, a white cloth masked its contents. I wasn’t sure why I
felt a little nervous taking it off. Regardless, I knelt down before the
painting and slowly lifted the cloth to uncover it.

My eyes widened as I gazed at my own
portrait. I gasped and fell backwards on the floor, engrossed in the beautiful
work of art. My father had painted me at sixteen, on the beach, with my long
hair blowing in the wind, the rushing waves and bright sunshine creating a
spectacular backdrop. It looked realistic, as if I’d really been here at the
time he painted it.

“Aunt Bev said he used to paint a lot as
a kid, until his father made him give it up.” Seven walked over and kneeled
down beside me. “She said he only started again after she showed him your
pictures. There are more, Julian. You as a little girl, as a teenager…” he
paused, running his fingers gently along the side of the antique gold frame
with charcoal highlights. “Marlene wasn’t too happy about his little hobby.
She’d gotten rid of most of them after he died.”

He glanced around the room. “These are
the ones I begged her to leave for me.”

“Why?” I breathed.

Seven looked at me. His eyes lingered on
my face. Then as if pulling himself out of a deep hold, he turned away.
“Because,” he exhaled. “I wanted you to see them. They represent something…I
don’t know.” He shook his head and stood, offering me a hand to help me to my
feet. “I thought it’d help you in a way.”

I understood what he was trying to say.
For a moment I saw myself as my father’s muse, motionless as he placed every
effort into creating this one painting. Every intricate detail mattered greatly
to him. It was his way of staying close to me. He obviously felt burdened he’d
ever let me go.

Getting to my feet, I looked down at the
painting once more. “Can I take this with me?”

He picked it up from the floor and
handed it to me. “I’m sure he’d wanted you to.”

When I got back to the guesthouse, I
placed the painting on the loveseat where I could stare at it from the bed. I
thought my mind had been completely made up about going back to New York, but
now I wasn’t so sure. What Mr. Cornwell said to me the day before was still
playing around in my head. I really didn’t want to sell my father’s house and
all he’d worked so hard for.

Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I
released a long breath before calling Mom. She wasn’t going to like what I had
to say.

“Are you on your way?” she asked right
after answering.

“Mom, I’m staying for a while,” I said
timidly.

“I was afraid of that.”

I lounged on the bed and relaxed my back
against the headboard. “It’s only until Mr. Cornwell can help me turn the place
over—”

“Jules,” she interrupted in a soft tone
I wasn’t expecting. “Listen to me, those people, they suck you in and destroy
your heart. Don’t let them do that to you, honey. Please, come home. I’ll drive
down there and get you if I have to.”

 “Is that what he did to you, Mom?”
I had no idea where the courage came from. Her statement astounded me enough to
ask.

My mother never spoke about her untimely
end with my father. She’d simply kept it locked away in her heart, leaving me
to believe whatever. I wondered how she felt when Aunt Bev told her he’d died.
If she was secretly distraught over the news yet pretended to be unmoved.

I slid off the bed and walked out to the
balcony, waiting for her response. When she didn’t answer I pressed on, “He
destroyed your heart?”

There was a long pause on the phone. The
muffled sounds in the background made me think she was pacing around her
apartment.

“Julian,” she finally said, using her
stern voice which told me she wasn’t going there with me. Not today. Not yet.
“Your father made his choice. I’m not going to rehash how that story ended.
Tell this Mr. Cornwell you’re going to sell the estate and I’ll take the day
off work tomorrow to come down and pick you up.”

I pressed my eyes shut and forced back
the burning voice within, fighting to say no. She was a great mother, but she
could also be very controlling. When was she going to acknowledge the fact that
I was twenty-one, no longer a child? Then again, maybe she was right. It was
all too much for me. I couldn’t stay in Narragansett. I didn’t belong here.

Opening my eyes again, I decided to do
what she said and go home. As I was about to utter my agreement, I glimpsed two
people down on the beach. I cringed, realizing Mr. Monroe and Claire were lying
on the sand, caressing each other.

“What the…”

I ducked quickly and went back inside
the room, crouching behind the curtains so they wouldn’t see me as I continued
to watch the married Mr. Monroe and Aunt Bev’s cook in a very heated embrace.

“Hello, Jules?” Mom’s voice boomed in my
ears. I’d completely forgotten I was on the phone.

“Mom, I’ll call you back later,” I said
in a hushed tone.

Turning the phone off, I stayed glued to
the scene unfolding before my eyes until they both stood and started to walk
down the beach. Couldn’t they have had the decency to go somewhere else to
cheat?
Geez
. Then I remembered Seven was here as well.

“Seven,” I whispered, getting up from
the floor.

I hurried out of the room and down the
passage towards his door. Tapping lightly, I called out, “Hey, you in?”

He didn’t answer. I feared he’d seen his
father with Claire and was probably boiling over with anger. He might need
someone to console him.

Overcome with worry, I turned the knob.
The door wasn’t locked. I opened it halfway and peeked into his room. Slowly
walking inside, I looked around. Seven was nowhere. The room was designed like
mine, only smaller. There wasn’t a balcony.

I went over to the window and checked to
see if Mr. Monroe and Claire were still in sight. “Thank God,” I muttered,
seeing they were gone.

Turning around, I started to leave, when
suddenly, the bathroom door opened and an oblivious Seven stepped out.

He was completely naked.

“Ah!” I screamed, surprising him.

“Shit!” Seven covered himself with his
hands and ran back into the bathroom.

I ran out and hurried to my room, my
cheeks burning with embarrassment. I slammed the door shut and leaned my back
against it. Seven’s naked body clouded my mind.

The entire scene of him coming out of
the bathroom played over and over in my head. To make matters worse, the image
played out in
slow
motion—his dripping wet hair, his delicious washboard
abs, and his clean, shaved….Oh. My. Gosh. I’d seen it all. There was no way I
could stare into his eyes again without thinking of how perfect his body looked
naked.

A light rap outside my door dragged my
head out of the gutter. Nervous, I hoped it wasn’t Seven. The naughty side of
me prayed it was.

I slowly lowered my hand to the knob and
pulled open the door. His gorgeous eyes seared down into mine. Why was I just
now seeing how tall and sexy he was?

“What were you doing in
my
room?”
he seethed.

Uh-oh
. In order to
not come off like a pervert I would have to tell him the truth. But I couldn’t
hurt him with something like that.

Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I said,
“You didn’t answer when I knocked so I thought you weren’t home.”

“And then you decided to snoop around my
room?”

Seven raised his hand and rested it on
the door frame, leaning on one leg. His hair was still wet, but he was dressed
in t-shirt and sweats. That disappointed me.

He cleared his throat, and I quickly
answered, “No,” shaking my head innocently. “I was…” I dropped my eyes to the
floor, searching my head. I wasn’t the best liar. “I saw something down on the
beach and I was wondering if you saw it too.” Not exactly a lie.

He straightened. “I was in the shower. I
didn’t see a thing.” Relaxing his face, he asked softly, “What did you see?”

“It looked like…” my voice was low and
childlike.

Seven wrinkled his forehead while
observing me. What was going through his mind?

“Like what?” he prompted, stifling back
a snort.

It shouldn’t be me telling him about his
father’s affair. So I decided to lie to protect him. “It looked like an animal.
I couldn’t really make it out.”

“Hmm…” he pondered, still standing in my
doorway.

I started to look at his t-shirt and
shorts, because if I stared into his eyes again I would envision something
else—something inappropriate with my half-sister’s cousin.

“Um,” I muttered, seeing he wasn’t
leaving.

Seven started to ease away. “Let’s try
to forget about what just happened, okay?”

I nodded in agreement and he walked off
in the direction of the living room. But then he stopped and I waited to hear
if he had something else to say.

He glanced back at me. “I guess you
changed your mind again.”

“About what?”

“About staying. I mean, you’re still
here.”

Not sure how to respond, I remained
quiet. The corner of his mouth curved up before he turned and continued into
the living room.