Mosaic (Dragonfly #4) Read online

  Mosaic

  By Leigh Talbert Moore

  Copyright

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  Thank you for supporting this author and her work!

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Mosaic

  Copyright © Leigh Talbert Moore, 2014

  www.leightmoore.com

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Photography and cover design by Christi Allen Curtis

  www.christiallencurtis.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.

  To all my amazing reader-friends who’ve been with me from the beginning

  and to those who’ve joined me through the Dragonfly series.

  White flannel trousers and walks on the beach.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Present Day

  Chapter 2: Anna’s Private Blog

  College Life Begins

  First Change of Plans

  The One Thing

  London Calling

  Fat Harry’s Fiasco

  Desert Regrouping

  Savannah Surprise

  Post-Thanksgiving Kyser-Apocalypse

  Dead Week

  Spring Semester

  Unexpected Encounter

  Mardi Gras Madness

  March Lions

  The Reason

  April Storms

  Lucy’s Wedding

  Post-Wedding Promise

  Labyrinth

  Opportunity of a Lifetime

  Coming Undone

  Slip Away

  Go to London

  Goodbye, New Orleans

  BBC Newswoman

  Rewriting History

  Complete Backfire

  Moment of Weakness

  Chapter 3: Present Day

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Fun Freebies

  Other Books in the Series

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Him

  The man’s feet sank in the soft, white sand of the beach he’d known since childhood. Walking this overcast morning, watching the storm building in the distance, he remembered a time when he’d eagerly anticipated days like this, running to grab a surfboard, hoping for waves high enough to ride.

  He’d been in love with life back then, embracing experiences and going for whatever he wanted without caring about the consequences. He’d been pretty lucky, too, with happiness and getting what he wanted, but a lot had changed in the last twenty years.

  Days like this were now spent in an office, usually poring over plans. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d picked up a board.

  The invitation had arrived months ago, but he’d put off thinking about it until now, the weekend of the event. Had it really been twenty years?

  The past swirled through his memory as he watched the gray waters, the salty gusts pushing his dark hair back. He was still tall and slim, and most people mistook him for younger than he was. But he’d noticed the small lines around his eyes.

  Business. That was the only thing that mattered to him now.

  All the colors and distractions of youth were behind him. Marriage, kids, those things had somehow escaped him, and going into this weekend of reunion, he suddenly felt like he had nothing to show for himself.

  Which was ridiculous.

  He had money and power. Those counted for something—especially around here. He was the son of the most famous real estate developer on the coast, and as it turned out, he’d inherited his father’s keen business sense. He’d been successful at moving into development, and he liked it—unlike his older brother, the golden boy, who now practiced medicine in Nashville.

  He could also have any woman he wanted, and occasionally he did. But he also had a past.

  The past. For a second he unclenched the vice grip he had on those memories and allowed himself to see her green eyes the last time they’d spoken. Hazel eyes. She’d always corrected him.

  They were filled with tears.

  He’d said… so many things. He’d been so angry. So hurt and betrayed. But that didn’t excuse the choice he’d made. The words he’d said knowing they’d drive her away for good. He hadn’t seen her face again since that night on the beach. She’d told him he wouldn’t. This was the weekend he might.

  Lost in these thoughts, he walked back up the shoreline toward his office when he slammed into a small body that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Wanker!” The girl hissed, her wild black curls flying around her head in the breeze.

  “I’m sorry,” he started to laugh at her petulance mixed with a light British accent when he realized pages were swirling around them and scurried to help her collect them.

  “Bloody hell,” she continued fussing. “They’re ruined!”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, still grinning. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “You should watch where you’re going.” She exhaled as they returned to each other, messy stacks of papers in hand.

  He stifled his mirth. What a funny kid.

  “What is all this?” he asked, looking at the pages filled with words and small sketches.

  She answered with a flourish. “My memoirs, of course!”

  “Memoirs? How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.” Momentarily deflated, she quickly recovered. “But Mum says I come from a long line of artists. So I’m writing and illustrating my life now before I don’t have time for such nonsense.”

  “Some people would call it keeping a diary.” He studied the pages—a small seagull sketch, a pod of pelicans soaring low over breakers—the kid had talent, he had to confess.

  “And some people are not as creative as I am.”

  “I can believe it.” He handed the papers over, catching her clear blue eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Juliet. But you can call me Jules. Everyone does.”

  He almost noted they shared teenage nicknames, but a strange hesitance stopped him. “That’s a very fancy name, Jules. Parents big Shakespeare fans?”

  She shook her dark curls, and shoved one behind her ear. “Don’t think so. I mean, Mum likes to read and all, but I’m named for my dad.”

  “Your dad?” His brow creased. “You live around here?”

  “We flew in from London for a school reunion. Mum, Aunt Gabi, and I are all staying at my grandparents’ home in Fairview.”

  London? Gabi? He paused and studied the girl a moment. “Your dad didn’t come?”

  “Well, my real dad isn’t in the picture, if you know what I’m saying.” She slanted a familiar blue eye at him. “Brandon stayed across the pond.”

  “Who’s Brandon?” He felt a sting of something. It couldn’t be jealousy. He didn’t even know who this girl was. For certain…

  “My step-dad. Mum finally agreed to marry him a few years ago, but it never took.” She exhaled, looking out at the water. “They divorced last year. Poor Brandon. They think I did
n’t hear them arguing, but it was hard to ignore.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually.” Jules shrugged and started walking. Unable to help himself, he followed her. Was it possible this girl was…

  Her next words derailed that train of thought. “She’s still in love with my dad. She tries to deny it, but Brandon and I know the truth.”

  Shock and energy surged through him. Was he furious? Was he glad? One thing was certain—he needed to hear this. “How do you know?”

  “Oh, it’s the little things mostly.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, she has this painting he did of her in her closet, and once I caught her looking at it.”

  His brow creased. It wasn’t enough. “That doesn’t prove much.”

  “Oh, no?” Jules flashed him a glance. “She was holding out her hand and tracing the brush strokes just so… I know she was thinking of him.”

  They continued walking against the wind. “Sounds like you read a lot. Romance fan?”

  “Well, naturally! But that’s not why I’m saying it.” She gestured to him as if making her big reveal. “There’s also the ring.”

  He turned his face to the waves so she couldn’t see his expression change. “What ring?” He could barely ask the question.

  “Well, Dad was brilliant.” A smile was in her voice. “He made her this gorgeous dragonfly ring when they were in high school, and she still has it.”

  His eyes pressed closed. “Does she wear it?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you—”

  “I busted her trying it on one night, and there were tears in her eyes.”

  He stopped walking and sat down in the sand. The soft white grains were cold and damp from the night before, and the sun hadn’t come out to warm and dry it. His slacks would be ruined, but he crossed his arms on top of his bent knees and forced the air in and out of his lungs.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Jules asked, dropping beside him.

  “Yeah.” He struggled to smile. “I like this weather.”

  “Me, too.” She smiled and looked out at the horizon. “Like something’s coming, brewing. I hope we move back.”

  “Is that a possibility?” Did he want it to be?

  The girl shrugged. “Mum’s always saying she misses it here. I can certainly see why.”

  They were quiet a moment then he gestured to the growing waves. “When I was your age, I’d be out there surfing.”

  Jules turned to him. “You live here?”

  “Just up the road.”

  She glanced at his slacks, dress shirt, and tie. “Very formal for a walk to the beach.”

  “My office is right there. I was on my way to work.”

  Her brow creased over her blue eyes. His chest tightened at the sight of them, at the knowledge of what it all meant.

  “You work in that big condo?”

  “In Phoenician I. Penthouse suites.”

  “What are you? The resort manager or something?”

  He exhaled with a laugh. “Something like that.”

  “Did you go to Fairview?”

  Pushing against the sand, he rose to his feet. “Yep. I’m supposed to be at that reunion, too.”

  “Hang on.” The girl fished a phone out of her pocket. “It’s Mum. ‘Where are you?’” she read aloud. “She’s just waking up, I’m sure.”

  The memory of how she looked just waking up warmed him, and he glanced at the phone that held her words. A picture was there, but it disappeared before he got a good look.

  “I’m at the beach talking to some old tosspot.” Jules read her response aloud.

  “Thanks.” His eyes narrowed, but he smiled. Her cockiness reminded him of someone from his past, someone he used to be.

  “It’s okay,” she laughed. “I’m just messing with her. Watch this.”

  They were quiet a split second before her phone buzzed again. Jules burst into familiar-sounding peals of laughter. “Come home now—five exclamation points,” she read.

  She giggled again, speaking as she typed. “But he asked me to run away with him!”

  “You’re not being very nice to your mother,” he scolded gently.

  “She’s used to me.” The girl poked her chin at him. “She likes to say I act just like my dad.”

  Frustrated, he pushed his hand into the side of his hair, and Jules caught her breath.

  “Hey, cool ink!” She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. “It’s a dragonfly?”

  “Yeah.” He watched as she slid her thumb across the small tattoo between his thumb and first finger. Her instinctive response, exactly like her mother’s, burned in his chest.

  So many times he’d considered having that little reminder removed, but he could never bring himself to do it.

  The buzzing of her phone interrupted them, and it was followed by the girl’s laughter as she read aloud. “911! 911!”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I have to go.” She released his hand and turned, but she paused. “It was fun talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you at the reunion?”

  “Yes, you will,” he nodded, making a decision.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Julian.”

  Their blue eyes met, and a wave of recognition passed between them. Jules’s brow creased, but she didn’t say what she was thinking. Instead she nodded. “Unusual. I like it.”

  He watched her walk away and observed that she moved exactly like his mother.

  * * *

  Her

  Pine needles and lemon furniture polish. The woman’s nose wrinkled. Had her old house always smelled like summer camp? How was it possible she’d never noticed it before?

  Her eyes roamed around the familiar room as she stretched her arms over her head. With Jules in her old bedroom and Gabi in the guest room, her only option was to sleep in her parents’ bed, and even though they’d been RV-ing all over the United States for a year, it still felt awkward—comfortable, but somehow like she was breaking an unwritten rule.

  At the same time, she couldn’t imagine spending the night in her old bed anymore. She imagined lying in it with that window overshadowing everything. It would’ve been impossible to sleep without seeing the ghost of him sitting on the tree limb right outside. Or worse, smiling at her through the glass, waiting to be let in.

  Her throat tightened at the memories of all the nights they’d spent together in that little bed holding each other close. They were just kids, but somehow they’d found something very real and strong together. Like magnets, it was almost impossible to stay apart. Her whole body flushed with heat at the memory of their first night as more than friends. She hadn’t forgotten a single touch. Every kiss, every sigh, the quiet sense of wonder as they discovered how perfectly they fit together was as clear as a bell in her mind’s eye.

  Sitting up fast, she threw the sheets back, ripping the bottom corner loose from where it was tucked. There was no way in hell she’d go back down that road. Julian LaSalle or Kyser or whatever he called himself now, would not spoil this high school reunion like he’d spoiled her high school memories. She couldn’t even think about those years without a gut-twisting ache pulling at her insides.

  Why was she here? Why was she doing this? It was inevitable they’d run into each other. She was doing it for Jules, she reminded herself. Yes, she fully expected to see him, and it was time he knew the truth, even though she shuddered to think what he would say.

  They had a daughter.

  She’d kept it from him in the beginning because it was all too much, turning up pregnant an ocean away after the way they’d parted. As time passed, she’d started to tell him so many times. Every time, she’d only get as far as the first words… We had a daughter… when she’d back down and vow to do it the next year.

  Now, almost seventeen years later, with the school reunion invitation sitting on her desk, she realized it was the only way s
he’d ever do it. And at least in Fairview, she’d have his mother, Gabi, her friends, everyone around to hold her hand.

  Still she shivered at the prospect of seeing him again—of giving him the news. A dark flash streaked through the door, and she was plowed back against the pillows.

  “I made it!” Jules shrieked, holding her in pretend relief. “Just barely escaped being kidnapped into the sex trade. Thank everything that’s holy you called when you did!”

  Pinching the slim, ivory arm around her neck, she struggled to get out of her wild daughter’s vice-grip. “I’m sending you to your Nana’s for the rest of the trip if you don’t behave.”

  Jumping up, her blue eyes twinkling, she bounced on the bed. “Oh, please, yes!!! Didn’t you say she used to dance naked on the beach at night when she was my age?”

  “Good lord, Jules, No. And don’t you dare tell her I said that!”

  Peals of laughter filled the room like water rolling over rocks. “I can’t wait to beg her to kidnap me!”

  The woman’s tight lips curled in a smile as she watched her child. Jules was so much like her dad at that age—confident, in love with life, and able to charm the pants off anybody who crossed her path.

  “She’d probably get a kick out of you wanting to do something like that. Your grandmother was very ‘new age’ at a time when that had pretty much gone out of style.”

  “From what you’ve told me, she never gave a rip what was in style.”

  Lifting her robe off the back of the chair she nodded. “Lexy definitely followed her own drum. But it left her very lonely.” She shook the past away as she tied her belt and studied her daughter lying back on the bed, dark curls spread all around her face. “Who was the old tosspot you met on the beach? I probably know him.”