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“Only two of the infamous Barnes sisters here to greet me?” James asked, teasing us in his delightful English accent. “Have I fallen out of favor with the others?” He kissed Fiona’s hand and then turned to do the same to mine.
I breathed him in. He smelled of soap and another scent that I could think of only as James. Different than anyone else. A scent I wished I could keep on my pillow and have with me every night as I fell asleep. Although perhaps that would have kept me from sleep. His scent wakened desires a proper young lady should not have. Nonetheless, they were there, calling to me, begging James to touch me with his long, graceful fingers.
Deep blue eyes studied each of us in turn. He had a way about him that reminded me of a clergyman, curious yet compassionate. I’d noticed that I wasn’t the only one who wanted to tell James every detail of my life, both for redemption and counsel. All of my sisters reacted to him in a similar fashion. Mama, who shared many qualities with James, had once said she thought he’d missed his calling as either a teacher or a pastor. Perhaps this was the secret to his editing genius? It took a combination of the two when partnering with a writer. Were these the qualities from which a writer’s finest work evolved?
“You know the answer to that, dearest James.” Fiona held her cheek up for him to kiss. “You could never fall out with our family. You belong to us, you know.”
“How I love to hear it.” James looked from one of us to the other. “I can’t say either of you look anything short of exquisite. In fact, you’ve both grown lovelier since my last visit.”
“That’s what we do.” Fiona tossed her dark curls and gave him one of her heart-melting smiles. There wasn’t a time or circumstance that my sister’s glow and compassionate heart couldn’t make everything better. Or almost everything. She could not distract me from my undying devotion to James West or the fact that he looked at me with the eyes of an older brother. How would I live without his love? At some point, I would have to let go of my fantasy world. There would be a time when he disembarked from a train with a wife on his arm. That would be the day that part of me died.
“Come, the car’s parked in the shade.” Fiona hooked her arm through his. “Wait until you see the new road. Roosevelt’s sent his WPA workers here, you know. And they’re making the road to Louisville as smooth as a baby’s cheek.”
James grimaced. “It wouldn’t take much to improve that road. The last time we were on it, I thought the contents of my brain would be scrambled like one of Lizzie’s egg dishes by the time we were through.”
“That was Cym’s driving more than the road,” Fiona said. “A preamble to the rest of that decadent, eventful evening, if I recall correctly.”
They laughed. A private joke between them. One that excluded me because I was too young. Perhaps, even, too fragile. In their eyes, anyway. I’d been sickly as a child and had almost died. Until clever Theo figured out that it was anything with wheat that was making me so ill. After I quit eating the delicious-smelling stuff, my health restored. I was as robust as Delphia these days. Not robust, really. That would imply a curve or two. Instead, like my mother, I was straight as a board. Delphia was a few inches shorter than I and shaped like an hourglass. Her skin was pink and pretty, like a peach, whereas I was more like a pristine white rose.
My hair was almost white and indistinguishable from my milky skin. Sometimes I thought I looked like a ghost. Often I felt like one, roaming around the world unseen. I tried to convince myself that being uninteresting and quiet made me a better writer. While the rest of the Barnes family were making others laugh or capturing their attention with stories of their antics, I was in the corner observing. The wallflower.
Still, I had hope that perhaps this summer James would notice me. He might see the spark that lived inside me, ready to be pulled out by the right man.
We arrived at the car, parked under an aspen tree. The dust of the parking lot covered my shoes. I’d have to shine them tonight before bed, I thought, absently. James tossed his suitcase into the back.
“Is that really all you’ve brought with you?” Fiona asked.
“Your mother told me to pack lightly,” James said. “She’s arranged for Mr. Olofsson to make me two new suits this summer. I’ll have to send them home through the postal service.”
“Don’t even think about that,” Fiona said. “You have two full months here with nothing to do but relax.”
A shadow passed over James’s face. His cheekbones seemed more prominent than last summer. His face had thinned. Was he worried about something?
“What is it?’ Fiona asked, stopping and looking over the top of the car at him. “What was that look?”
He sighed and held open the passenger-side door for me. “My path’s a little uncertain at the moment.”
“What? What happened?” Fiona asked.
“My publisher sold out to a bigger publisher. It’s rather complicated. We can speak of it later.”
“Should we be concerned?” Fiona asked, her sweet face scrunched slightly with worry.
He flapped his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not at all. Nothing to worry over. I’m here now, and that’s all I care about.”
“You can stay with Mama and Papa as long as you’d like,” Fiona said. “If you decided not to go back.”
He gave her a strange look, as if she’d come from behind and scared him, but didn’t say anything further.
“Tell me, Miss Addie, what have you been doing to keep yourself occupied and out of trouble?” James held out his hand to help me into the back seat of my sister’s car. His accent, crisp consonants and vowels, were like fully open daisies, bright and wide and a salve to my soul.
I allowed myself a quick peek into his eyes. They were the prettiest of blues, almost turquoise in the light of the afternoon. “I’ve been reading and writing. Spending time down at the creek, swimming and picnicking and helping Mama with volunteer duties at the church.” I cringed at the singsong tone of my voice. I sounded rehearsed. It was true to some extent. I’d thought over the details of this summer many times—what I would say, how I would hold myself so that he might have an inkling of what we could become together.
“The creek. How I’ve missed it,” James said. “On hot days in the city, I think of the cool, clear water and almost salivate, as if it were a great meal and I a starving man.”
“It’s not changed,” I said, leaning forward from the back seat as they settled in the front. “Nor has anything else.”
“Thankfully.” James adjusted his tie. “You ladies have no idea how much I’ve looked forward to these two months here.”
