Watching the Water Read online

  She nodded at his assessment. Her mother had given the dress to her last week as a birthday present.

  He leaned close and took a strand of her hair. Twirling it about his finger, he went on. “But your soul is sweet and unspoiled.” He let the hair drop but didn’t put any distance between them. “When I mentioned your beauty, you were uncomfortable with the compliment. That says a lot about the good in you.”

  “I’m uncomfortable now,” she said, fanning her face. “Tell me about my bad side before I die of embarrassment.”

  “I doubt there is one,” he said. “Maybe just a part of you that isn’t happy with your life.”

  Her hands stopped fanning, hovering in midair. “Why do you say that?” Her tone held a touch of defense.

  His eyes went to her watch. “Don’t know if you realize it, but you’ve glanced at that watch a half dozen times since coming up here.”

  “I have?” She winced, dropping her hands to her lap. The watch was like a whip, a reminder that time, it seemed, was her master. Always, always, she was expected somewhere by someone. Now she was checking the time without realizing it.

  “Are you supposed to be somewhere else?” he asked. “I get the feeling that you are, but I’m hoping you’re here,” he smiled, glanced away, then came back to her eyes, “because you’d rather be here than where you’re supposed to be.”

  She lowered her head and said quietly, “Well, you certainly know how to read, Mr. Man-of-Mystery. Read people, I mean.”

  “Who’s expecting you?”

  “My parents.” She looked up and half smiled. “Add dutiful daughter to my traits.”

  “Dutiful daughter with a rebellious streak.”

  Now she laughed. “Nobody has ever called me rebellious. You’ve misread me there.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said evenly, exploring her face. “Would your parents expect to find you here with a strange man who won’t even give you the courtesy of his name?”

  She relented with a shrug. “If my mother knew, she’d be calling for the smelling salts.”

  “But here you are.” He gestured about the rooftop. “With me.”

  He had revealed something in her, and it left her contemplative and speechless. Who was she, really? She came from a world where sons followed their fathers into the family source of wealth, and where daughters became replicas of their mothers and busied themselves with overseeing household staff, finding the best schools and camps for their children, and immersing themselves in all things covered by the newspaper’s society editor. Of course, there were exceptions, and children sometimes struck off in unexpected directions—black sheep, Julianna’s mother called them—and surely they were heartbreaking disappointments to the parents who had invested the best of everything into them. How could she, the only child her parents had, be anything less than they expected? It was no secret that her father resented that he’d been denied a son. All the more reason for her to be as perfect as humanly possible. She would marry well, then make a poised and polished transition into the same roles her mother had so efficiently played over the years. It was her destiny, was it not?

  She had believed and accepted that once. But recent events had changed that. She was coming too close to the subject again, and she pushed the thought away into a corner of her mind where she would keep it until she was ready to face the reality of it.

  In silence, she watched as her mystery man picked up her handbag and unfastened her watch, causing her heart to somersault as his fingertips brushed the tender skin under her wrist. “This watch might say otherwise,” he said as he dropped it into the bag, “but the night really is young.”

  Without the watch cuffing her wrist, Julianna lost track of time as they talked. The wine was long gone before they even realized that their glasses were empty. She was drunk—not from the wine, but from the man and the conversation that was as flavorful and full bodied as the rich spirit itself. He wanted her opinion on everything, it seemed, from Faye Wray’s performance in King Kong to President Roosevelt’s New Deal. They talked of current events—of Lindbergh’s kidnapped baby, of Mussolini and foreign wars, of Benny Goodman’s swing music and the deaths of Bonnie and Clyde, ambushed just days ago by the Texas Rangers. He asked her about all her favorites—music, car, radio show, and color—until she finally exclaimed, “I’m only talking about myself! Tell me about you. What do you like?”

  “I like a certain song,” he answered as he stood and removed a black leather wallet from his inside jacket pocket. “Will you dance with me if the orchestra plays it?”

  She nodded and watched as he took some bills from the wallet, then moved to slip it back inside his jacket. When he stepped away from the table, he didn’t see that the wallet missed the pocket and fell to the floor, landing wide open at Julianna’s feet.

  How easy it would be to find out his name, she thought, eyeing the wallet as though it were a diary she ached to read but knew she had no right to.

  No names, he had said.

  She picked up the wallet, intending to honor his one request, until she saw the edges of several receipts peeking out from one of the wallet’s compartments.

  He had said that no names made things easier. Easier for whom? Julianna now wondered. For him, perhaps, but not for her. Suddenly, she had to know his name, had to unmask the identity of the man who was giving her the most wonderful night of her life.

  Heart banging, she pulled out the receipts and quickly thumbed through them, noting the same name written on each one.

  Jace McAllister.

  She glanced up and saw with a start that he—this Jace McAllister—was making his way back. Her fingers fumbled, like someone just learning piano, but she managed to return the receipts, then drop the wallet back to the floor.

  “The next dance is ours,” he said when he got back to the table. Towering above her, he extended his hand and helped her rise.

  “Your wallet,” she said, nodding toward the floor.

  He grabbed it and then led her toward the dance floor. When they reached it, the orchestra began playing “I Only Have Eyes for You.”

  As Jace McAllister took Julianna in his arms, she felt her inexperience emerge in all its glory. She felt insecure as a schoolgirl. A stolen kiss on the cheek and a goodnight peck at the front door had not prepared her for this, for the real touch of a man holding her in his arms. She didn’t know what to say or what to do.

  Fortunately, he did.

  He drew her to him, as close as possible, and cradled her safely, his hands caressing her back, then his fingers playfully entwining themselves in her hair. He guided her toward the privacy of shadows, taking her on a slow and swaying journey that she knew would lead to a kiss. Fear of disappointing him made her want to break and run, but she knew she was going to travel on to the destination. There was no place else in the world she wanted to be, and nothing more she wanted than the kiss that was coming. She conquered her fear by surrendering to the desire, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back, as though extending an invitation for him to lean down and bring their lips together for the first time.

  She gasped as every nerve in her body glowed to life at his touch, like a thousand torches suddenly illuminating the night, so intense that she went rigid in his arms, paralyzed by the sheer power of their first kiss.

  He pulled back and smiled down at her. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me do this.”

  He brought his lips back to hers and drew her into a kiss that was slow at first but grew in ardor. As she surrendered her self-doubt, a longing rose around her like steam after a summer rain. She marveled that his touch could fill her with such life.

  Only the need for air parted them. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they stood quiet in the ebony shadows. His chin rested on the crown of her head as she lay against his chest.

  Finally, he broke the silence, sadness hovering about his words. “I have to leave you.”

  “Now?” she asked, unable to hide her disappointment
. “After a kiss like that?”

  A smile played on his lips. “That kiss is why I’m going.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him, perplexed. “I’m not sure what to say to that,” she said, laughing nervously.

  He smoothed her hair and explained. “If I stay any longer, I’ll kiss you again. And if I kiss you again, I’ll want to know your name.”

  With that, he gently broke their embrace and hurried away, leaving her speechless in the shadows. Music and laughter surrounded her, but it sounded muffled and distant, as though it belonged to a groggy dream.

  She shook her head to clear the haze. Wondering if she looked as shaken as she felt, she went back to the table to get her purse.

  A waiter approached her tentatively, as though uncertain of her demeanor. “Miss? Uh, the gentleman you were dancing with—he asked that I see you to your car.”

  Her hands shook and she dropped her purse. As the waiter dove to retrieve it, she said, “Thank you, but I’ve got valet parking.”

  “I’ll escort you to valet,” he said, handing her the purse.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” she said, wishing to be alone with her confusion.

  “But, the gentleman said—”

  Julianna didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. She thought only of the man named Jace McAllister, who insisted on remaining a stranger but kissed her like anything but and then left her stranded in the shadows of a dance floor.

  “He was no gentleman,” she said, the words sounding strangely appealing. She brushed past the waiter, tears stinging her eyes, and hurried to the elevator that took her to the lobby.

  Waiting for the valet attendant to bring her car, Julianna wondered about the time and glanced at her wrist, its nakedness reminding her that Jace had put her watch inside her purse. Oh, what did the time matter? She was well beyond what her parents’ deemed proper. She’d pour out apologies and say she had lost track of time talking to friends.

  She wasn’t even thinking about her parents anyway, but only about Jace and how much time had passed since he’d walked out of her life. It hadn’t been long—less than ten minutes—but long enough for her to realize that she was a fool. She should have gone after him, kissed him, told him her name . . .

  Maybe then it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to pull away from her arms. Maybe then she could have told him why she had ventured to the rooftop in the first place. Maybe then he would know that she had loved him since their eyes first met in the dining room. Maybe . . . but now it was too late for any of that.

  Julianna sat behind the wheel of her car, tears running in a river down her face. For Julianna Sheffield, the night had been more than the unexpected. It had been the unbelievable and the absolutely unheard of.

  Passing the darkened movie theater, she thought of her sorority sisters and their lavender dresses for a friend’s wedding.

  The friend was Julianna.

  Two weeks after meeting Jace McAllister, Julianna attended the first of several parties honoring her upcoming nuptials.

  She descended the turned staircase leading to the first floor of her family’s Victorian mansion, Dreamland, thinking how appropriate it was that she was going to a garden party. The rose print on her pale-yellow gown was too big for her taste, making her feel like first prize in a flower show. Her mother, though, had loved the Georgette-style gown, deeming it delightful for a formal afternoon affair. When it came to proper clothes and such, Julianna knew it was best to choose her battles carefully when her mother was the general.

  This was especially true if they were hosting or attending an event that would be splashed all over the society section of the newspaper. Mother cared about appearances, Mother feared being the subject of country club gossip, Mother believed everyone read the society section, and Mother actually had good fashion sense—most of the time. Some days, like today, she missed the mark, but Julianna knew Mother’s strongest ammunition for winning battles was the perfect pout and sensitive sigh. She genuinely got her feelings hurt when Julianna disagreed with her clothing choices. It was simply easier to just wear it and get it over with.

  Waiting at the bottom of the staircase was Julianna’s fiancé, Leyton Drakeworth. Twelve years older than Julianna, he was the portrait of masculine elegance in a dark morning suit, his top hat and white gloves in hand. His short, side-parted hair was wheat blonde, and his eyes the grayish-green of a tornadic sky. He smiled as she approached, then took her left hand when she reached him.

  “Ah, your ring is back from the jewelers, love,” he said. “Just in time for our engagement party.”

  She looked at the ring, three carats of round brilliance. It had been taken to the jewelry shop weeks ago, sent away to repair a broken prong. That was why it hadn’t been on Julianna’s hand the night she met Jace McAllister. Thinking of Jace now, Julianna felt a small lump lodge in her throat, but she managed to speak through it. “The jeweler promised it would be.”

  Leyton took her arm, and they walked down the oak hallway, toward double doors with stained glass panels boasting diamond motifs. They opened to sprawling backgrounds with a white gazebo, its lattice hugged by orange blossoms and purple wisteria. Oak trees shaded the lawn, and a rainbow array of flowers clustered around concrete benches and cherub statues. It was in this garden that two hundred guests awaited.

  “I peeked out earlier, and there’s quite the A-list in attendance,” Leyton said happily. “By the way, your gown is most pretty.” He gave her a quick glance and a smile. “I think solid colors are more slimming, but that dress flatters your hair color.”

  She stared ahead, quietly seething at the backhanded compliment. Leyton was good at that, good at going from sweet to sour in the twinkle of an eye.

  It was just one of the reasons why Julianna had to force a smile when the double doors were flung open and the orchestra filled the summer air with “Stardust” as two hundred guests clapped.

  What a lie I’m telling, she thought minutes later, mingling among the crowd and feeling guiltier with each hug, kiss, and well-wish she accepted. Leyton was by her side, a hand resting protectively against her waist. They looked like love’s perfect picture—young, beautiful, wealthy.

  But Julianna knew there was something terribly wrong with the picture. If anyone could look at her heart and see the truth, they’d know that she would rather walk barefoot through glass than down the aisle to Leyton. He was the something she had refused to think about in Jace McAllister’s presence two weeks ago.

  Yet here she was, going through the motions of celebrating their engagement, waltzing with Leyton on the immaculate grounds and giving the newspaper photographer the expected response when he yelled, “Smile, you two!”

  “Well, love, we’re sure to grace the cover of the society section,” Leyton said. “Your mother will be thrilled, and our wedding will be the social event of summer.”

  Julianna looked over Leyton’s shoulder, taking in the lavish affair. Food that rivaled a cruise ship’s buffet. Crystal and silver to spare. And with Prohibition six months dead, there was enough champagne and liquor flowing to fill a riverbed.

  “It seems a little obnoxious, don’t you think?” she asked. “A lot of people are getting blisters from standing in bread lines, yet here we are—spending more on shrimp than some people earn in a month.”

  There was a time when this would not have bothered her, back when she didn’t understand just how real the suffering of this decade was. Oh, she had seen the newsreels played at the movie theaters and had heard President Roosevelt’s Fireside Chats on the radio. She had seen classmates on her college campus have to drop out of school because their parents could no longer afford tuition. She had heard members of the Dreamland household staff swap stories of friends hit by hard times. There was plenty she had seen and heard, but all from the safe and filtered distance of the protected castle of privilege that had been built around her.

  A journalism class her senior year of college had taken her away from the
castle and into the streets. It was only supposed to be an elective, a writing course to meet the requirements for graduation. But the professor was passionately angry over the plight of those affected by unemployment. He sent his students out to gather information, to cover the stories of those suffering in their own community. That was how Julianna found herself in some of the most downtrodden sections of town, where young children slept in cardboard boxes while older ones rummaged through trash cans as their parents wandered the streets looking for “help wanted” signs. It was how she ended up beyond the city limits, out in the rural countryside where the despair from farm losses cast a gray pallor over the neglected fields, and where the only sound was the lonely whistle of trains passing through a land that once teemed with life.

  “Yes, times have been much harder for some than others,” Leyton agreed, bringing Julianna out of her thoughts and back into their world of excess. “You know, since coming to work for your father, I’ve seen many a widow lose her home to foreclosure, seen many a farmer watch his land be auctioned off.” He shook his head, tsktsking the situation. “It pains the bank when we’re forced to take such drastic measures.”

  Julianna tensed and irritation burned her words. “But you and Father manage to take those measures, sending poor widows and starving farmers to live in tarpaper Hoovervilles—”

  “It’s business, love, just business,” Leyton interrupted. He tilted his head and implored her, “You’re not going to turn sullen on me, are you?”

  “I just hate the way our bank treats customers who have fallen on hard times.”

  “You needn’t concern yourself with bank business.” Leyton wagged a playful finger in her face. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations between your father and me.”

  “Then you shouldn’t discuss business at the dinner table.”