Her Secret Husband. Andrea Laurence

against the door frame. “It’s not about punishing you. And no, it’s not about what happened in Europe, either. There are just things in our past that I don’t like thinking about. It’s easier to forget when I don’t see or talk to you.”

      “Things in our past? Wait…” he said. “Are you blaming me for what happened with Tommy Wilder?”

      “No!” she spoke emphatically, raising her palm up to halt him. “You are my savior. The one who protected me when no one else could.”

      “But you think of that horrible night when you look at me?” Heath was almost nauseated at the thought.

      “No,” she insisted again, but less forcefully. “If that were true, I never could’ve fallen for you. It’s just easier for me to focus on the future instead of dwelling in the past. Our relationship is in my past.”

      “Not according to the public records office. It is very much current and relevant. Ignoring things won’t change them. It just makes it worse.”

      Julianne chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Believe me, I know. I just don’t know what else to do about it.”

      “We get divorced. We can’t just stay married forever.”

      “It’s worked okay so far.”

      Now it was Heath’s turn to laugh. “Says the woman that just broke up with her boyfriend when he proposed.”

      “I didn’t…” she began to argue, and then stopped. “This conversation has strayed from what I’d intended when I knocked. Thank you, again,” she repeated. “And good night.”

      Heath watched her slip through the doorway. “Good night,” he replied just as the door shut. Once he was certain she was settled in her room, he cast off the rest of his clothes and crawled into bed in his boxer shorts. The bed was soft and inviting, the sheets smelling like the lavender soap Molly used for linens and towels. The bed very nearly forced him to relax, luring him to the edge of sleep faster than he ever thought possible.

      Things hadn’t worked out between him and Julianne, but he wasn’t stupid. He had long ago set aside any idea that their farce of a marriage might become something real. They’d never even consummated it. He’d thought she would come around eventually. It was her first time, perhaps she was just nervous. But then she left for her art program in Chicago without even saying goodbye. He chased after her, driving all night to figure out what was going on. He’d imagined a romantic moment, but instead, she’d told him their marriage was a mistake, he needed to forget it ever happened and practically shut her dorm room door in his face.

      He’d been devastated. Then the devastation morphed into anger. Then indifference. After that, he’d decided that if she wanted a divorce so badly, she could be the one to file. So he’d waited.

      Eleven years.

      As she’d mentioned, it hadn’t been a problem. At least, logistically. He hadn’t met a single woman that made him want to walk down the aisle again, but it was the principle of the thing. She didn’t want him, and yet she was resistant to let him go. Julianne always seemed to have an excuse. They were broke. They moved around too much after school to establish residency. They were busy starting their businesses. Her appointment with her divorce attorney was rescheduled, and then rescheduled again.

      After a while, he began to wonder if she would rather stay married and keep it a secret than file for divorce and risk people finding out she’d married him. Her big mistake.

      He’d known her since they were nine years old and he still didn’t understand what went on in that beautiful blond head of hers.

      Julianne sat in a rocking chair on the back porch clutching a big mug of steaming coffee. She had barely slept last night and she desperately needed the infusion of caffeine to make it through today. She’d lain in bed most of the night thinking about Heath and how he was so close by. Her mind had wandered to their first trip together and how wonderful it had been. Even as young as they were, he’d known just how to touch her. With the backdrop of Europe, so romantic and inspiring, behind them, she thought she might be able to overcome the fear. She’d been wrong.

      The familiar ache of need had curled in her belly, but she’d smothered her face in the pillows until it faded. It didn’t matter how much she’d loved him back then. How much she wanted him. It didn’t stop the fear from nearly strangling her with irrational panic. If she couldn’t give herself to Heath, the one who protected her, the one she was closer to than anyone else… When it came down to it, she had been too messed up back then to be with anyone.

      Heath was right, though. They needed to move on. She’d dragged her feet. Hoping the words would come easier after all this time, she made excuses. If the years had taught her anything, it was that the truth could be more painful than a lie. She lied for everyone’s sake, including her own. To have a real, honest relationship with Heath, she would have to tell him the truth about their wedding night. And she just couldn’t do it.

      That meant that all there was left to do now was clean up the tattered remains of their relationship.

      And there would be time for that soon. Other more pressing issues had to be addressed first, like arranging her move and seeing her father through his heart surgery, but even those could wait until after she’d had her coffee and settled into her day. It was early. The sun had just come up. Heath was still asleep and there was no sign of life from the bunkhouse. For now, it was just her, the cool air and the pine forest that spread out in front of her.

      At one time in her life, those trees had been her sanctuary. Whenever something was troubling her, she could walk through row after row, losing herself in them. And then Tommy Wilder came to the farm. She never imagined someone could hurt her so badly and not kill her. The physical scars healed, but the emotional ones lingered. The trees had turned their backs on her that day, and she’d refused to go out there any longer. The boys had gladly picked up her share of chores in the field and she took on more responsibility in Molly’s Christmas store. Her mother thought that it was Julianne’s budding artistic spirit that drove her out of the trees and into the shop.

      That was so far from the truth. It was actually the other way around. Her refuge in the shop had fueled an artistic creativity in her she didn’t know she had. She started helping Molly decorate and make wreaths, but soon she was painting the windows and molding Nativity scenes out of clay. She was keeping so many painful, confusing things inside; it was easy to give her mind over to the intricacies of her art. It was only her good fortune that she was talented at what she did and was able to turn her therapy into a career.

      The rumble of car tires across the gravel caught her attention. A moment later, Molly’s Buick rounded the house and parked beside her Camaro.

      Julianne got up and walked to the stairs to meet her. “Morning, Mama. Is Daddy doing okay?”

      Molly nodded. “He’s fine. Feeling well enough to shoo me home for a while. His surgery is tomorrow morning, so he wants me to take a break now, while I can.”

      That sounded like Daddy. He hated to be fussed over, just like she did. “I’ve made some coffee.”

      “Thank goodness,” Molly said, slowly climbing up the stairs. “That sludge at the hospital hardly qualified.”

      They went inside and Julianne poured her a large mug with a splash of cream and one spoon of sugar. She joined her mother at the kitchen table, where she and Heath had had their uncomfortable conversation the night before. Looking at the weary, worn-out woman across from her, Julianne knew she just couldn’t let her parents find out she’d eloped with Heath right out of high school.

      It wasn’t because of whom had she married, or even how. If Julianne hadn’t been such a mess and things worked out, Molly wouldn’t have been happy about them eloping, but she would have come around. The problem was explaining what went wrong between them and why she wasn’t