Untried Heart

  Untried Heart

  Nicky Charles

  &

  Jan Gordon

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Nicky Charles and Jan Gordon on Smashwords

  Untried Heart

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicky Charles and Jan Gordon

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the authors, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the authors and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adult readers.

  Canadian grammar was used in this book; hence you might notice some punctuation and spelling variations.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Jan Gordon and Nicky Charles

  Line edits by Moody Edits

  Cover by Jazer Designs

  ISBN: 9781370349760

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Connect with Us

  Other Books

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  We’d like to thank our wonderful Beta readers…

  Carmen

  Kalia

  Leila

  Lorna

  Norma

  Suzi

  Your input was invaluable!

  This book is written in memory of

  Deborah Davidson

  She is our very own angel with teal coloured wings.

  Deborah will be forever remembered for her love of animals,

  her kind and generous spirit,

  and for the courage with which she battled ovarian cancer.

  Fly free, dear friend.

  Prologue

  England, December 1923...

  “We’ll be leaving in half an hour, Eugenie. Will you be ready?”

  “Yes, of course.” Eugenie nodded at the raven-haired girl who popped her head into the office. “I’ll meet you near the side entrance, Annabelle.”

  Annabelle waved and breezed away down the hallway while Eugenie returned her attention to the tiny window of the spartan office in which she worked.

  She shivered. The small fire in the grate barely made any impression on the arctic temperature in the room. God only knew how condensation could form on the glass. The newspaper had said it was the coldest December in decades so probably it was warmer inside than she thought it was. She rubbed her fingers over the pane to clear it in order to see outside. A wide smile brightened her face at the sight that greeted her.

  The smile was unusual, not that she was by nature a somber individual, but her workplace seldom inspired anything close to a cheery expression. Surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelves that housed the dusty tomes her father used for research and seated by a desk covered in bits of paper bearing his almost indecipherable scrawl, the atmosphere was decidedly dull and dry, more likely to induce a frown than signs of happiness. But today…today was different.

  To start with, it was snowing—again. Big fluffy flakes of the purest white drifted down, gathering in the corners on the window ledge, clinging to the bare branches of the trees and covering the courtyard in a sparkling white blanket. No doubt many were complaining about the roads becoming slippery, although snow was better than ice, but she didn’t care. In her mind, the wonder of this weather meant there would be a white Christmas and that was something to be celebrated. If she were a daring sort, she’d slip outside and dance in the snow, perhaps attempt making a snow angel or even a snowman. Of course, she wasn’t the daring sort and she had a large stack of work to complete before her father returned from his lecturing tour in two days.

  That tour was another reason for her smile. Her parents weren’t home and she’d had the house to herself for an entire week, if one didn’t include the hired help. She’d been able to lounge on the sofa and read a novel after dinner rather than an academic paper, and had drunk hot chocolate before bed without being warned of the inadvisability of such an action. At twenty-five years of age, she was a spinster, living at home with her parents and still following their dictates just as she had when she was six years old. The simple freedoms of the past few days were a heady experience compared to her usual life.

  And tonight…well, tonight was going to be truly amazing. A few of the other girls working in the university offices had invited her to go to dinner and then on to a small art show. She didn’t often socialize with the other women who worked at the university beyond brief comments about the weather. Usually she travelled to and from work with her father, his stern expression enough to scare off any potential friends…or suitors. But in his absence, she’d struck up a conversation with a few of the girls and they’d eagerly invited her to join them for lunch the other day and now for an evening of adventure.

  The clock on the mantel chimed and she gave a start. It was almost time to leave and she hadn’t done the work she’d planned on completing, but tonight she dared not stay late. Instead, she gathered her papers into a neat pile and made the fire safe before putting on her coat and leaving the room, making sure she latched the door carefully behind her. Feeling lighter than she had in what seemed like ages, she hurried down the corridor.

  Several hours later she was laughing with her new friends as they, wrapped in thick woollen scarves and hats, made their way to a small shop front that served as both an art gallery and a studio. It was owned by Jonathan, Annabelle’s brother. He was an artist and apparently, quite bohemian.

  “He told me to bring as many of my friends as possible,” Annabelle explained as she pushed open the door. “He’s just starting out and hopes to find a wealthy patron.”

  They entered the building, snowflakes swirling into the room with them and giggled as they pushed the door shut, blocking out the brisk winter breeze. A man came hurrying over, his blond hair over-long and his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, the opening filled with a colourful and flamboyant cravat.

  “Annie!” He grabbed Annabelle by the waist and twirled her about.

  Eugenie watched in wonder and envy at the warmth in the man’s gaze. She had no siblings, no one who rushed across a room to greet her, no one who would grab her by the waist and twirl her around. At best, her father gave her a nod while her mother delivered a very cool kiss to the air near her cheek.

  “Jonathan, put me down!” Annabelle—Annie—was laughing.

  “You brought the usual crowd, I see.” Jonathan let Annie go and turned to smile at the others who greeted him with familiarity, obviously having met him before. His eyes skimmed over the group and then paused on Eugenie. “But here’s someone new.”

  The others parted as Jonathan stepped forward, hand extended. Annie paused in the middle of removing her coat and glanced at Jonathan. Eugenie, suddenly very conscious of her dowdy clothes, felt even more shy and awkward t
han she normally did around men. The other girls had all changed into gorgeous cocktail dresses before leaving work, their short hemlines acceptable now in this new age of jazz and freedom, whereas just a few short years ago their appearance would have been considered terribly shocking. Unfortunately, due to her parents’ strict rules, all she had to wear was a serviceable tweed skirt and a smart silk blouse, her only adornment a single string of pearls.

  “Yes, this is Eugenie Winslow. Eugenie, this is my rascal of a brother, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan took her hand and Eugenie gave a shy smile, feeling her cheeks heat up under his steady gaze.

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Eugenie.”

  “Come along, everyone. Coats off.” Annabelle began to organize the group. Jonathan released Eugenie’s hand and led them into the room, offering introductions to those gathered. Eugenie followed, flexing her fingers that still tingled from Jonathan’s touch.

  It was a diverse crowd; old, young, a few obviously well-off individuals but most were middle-class and the rest students from the university. Animated conversations took place as people debated the worth of Jonathan’s paintings that hung around the room while others argued politics or the merits of a play they’d recently seen.

  Eugenie hung back, not sure how to act in such a crowd. It was a far cry from the staid gatherings her parents held that were more geared to impressing others and climbing the social ladder of academia. Those evenings were tediously boring and she often found herself cornered by elderly colleagues of her father, listening to them tout their latest work on dead languages. While they were quite likely enjoying themselves, she often wanted to scream and run from the room. However, being the well-trained and dutiful daughter that she was, she nodded and smiled while the spark of life in her was quashed more and more with each passing year.

  Someone was playing some jazz or maybe it was blues – she never could understand the difference – on an old upright piano in the corner. Impulsively, she began to tap her foot in time to the beat, smiling faintly as she watched a few of the others start to dance. What must it be like to feel such a sense of freedom?

  “Eugenie, right?”

  A voice beside her caused her to jump.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It was Jonathan.

  “You didn’t startle me. Well, you did, but it’s all right.” She stumbled over her response.

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “You have an amazing profile. Have you ever been painted?”

  “Painted? Er…no.”

  “Would you like to be? I’d love to try to capture your smile.” Even as he spoke, Jonathan was taking her arm and leading her towards the rear of the room.

  “I don’t… I mean, I’m not sure…” Her mind was in a muddle, the warmth of his touch on her arm, his closeness; it was all quite new to her.

  “Nothing improper, of course,” Jonathan assured as he drew back a curtain revealing a small studio. “Just sit here. The others can watch.”

  “But…”

  He pulled out a chair and urged her to sit, ignoring her protests. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

  She sat and watched as he pulled an easel away from the wall and placed a canvas on it.

  “Anyone want to watch a genius at work?” He called out to those gathered while he squirted paint on a palette and picked out a brush.

  A few wandered over, good naturedly ribbing him with comments of “Where’s the genius?” and “What? You’re actually going to work?”

  Annabelle appeared, cigarette holder in one hand and a cocktail in the other, and grinned. “Oh, this will be so exciting. Just think, Eugenie, your portrait might end up in a major gallery someday for everyone to see!”

  The very idea made her stomach do a flip-flop. If her parents ever knew she’d sat for a painting in a place such as this… She moved to rise but Jonathan was there, moving her head, turning her shoulders.

  “Your hair...” He frowned.

  “What?” She reached up wondering if the wind had caught it but he brushed her hands away.

  “It’s too severe. Let me soften it a bit.” Jonathan began to fuss with her hair, removing pins and loosening tendrils so they fell about her face. “There. That’s much better.” He leaned close to her ear. “I really dislike the short bobs the women are wearing now. Long tresses give a sense of mystery and sensual romance that appeal to my artist’s soul. But don’t tell Annie.”

  “I won’t.” She could feel her face warming as his breath caressed her ear and her heart beat faster.

  “Hold this pose, please.”

  His touch once again befuddled her as he angled her chin and so she stayed where she was, watching him work, enjoying the attention he was paying her, the flattering comments about the colour of her eyes, the shape of her nose… It was a heady experience and while she was sure a worldly man like Jonathan had no real interest in her, it was thrilling nonetheless. And, hadn’t she been wanting to have an adventure, to do something different? Surely, this had to qualify!

  How long she held the pose, she wasn’t sure, but when Jonathan finally declared he had done all he could in one sitting, she was decidedly stiff.

  “Here, let me help you.” Jonathan took her hand as she stood and must have noticed her wincing for he began to massage her shoulders. “Sorry, I kept you longer than I should have but the painting is amazing. Come.”

  He led her to the easel and she gave a soft gasp.

  “That can’t be me!”

  Jonathan laughed. “It’s no where near completed yet, but it most certainly is you. I’ll spend some more time on it over the coming days.”

  She examined the painting carefully. It was her; her nose, her hair, her eyes, but she looked different somehow. Her eyes sparkled, her skin glowed. The mousy brown of her hair showed gold and red highlights.

  “Let us see!” The others pushed their way in, all exclaiming over the painting and congratulating Jonathan on his skill. Someone gave Eugenie a glass of an exotic drink and she sipped it, allowing the warmth to seep into her as she basked in the praise that swirled around her.

  All too soon, Annabelle was saying it was time to go since they all had to work the next day. Coats were donned and goodbyes called out. Jonathan came over and hugged Annabelle. Then, much to her surprise, he hugged Eugenie, too, even giving her a brief peck on the cheek. Eugenie felt her breath catch in her chest and was still in a daze as the others led her out of the building.

  The kiss hadn’t meant anything, she was sure of it, but it had been her first kiss. Surreptitiously, she touched her cheek, still able to feel the soft brush of his lips, the faint rasp of the stubble on his chin.

  That night, she fell asleep dreaming of a certain golden-haired artist.

  The next morning, she made her way to work floating on a bubble of happiness. The snow had stopped during the night but the temperature had plummeted even further. Underfoot, the ground was icy and she planted her feet carefully as she walked to avoid slipping. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the world sparkled in the cold sunshine. Life was wonderful, exciting, amazing…

  “Eugenie, wait!”

  She looked around and saw Annabelle hurrying towards her. The girl skidded to a halt beside her, laughing, her cheeks pink from the cold.

  “I’m glad I caught up with you. Wasn’t last night simply the cat’s meow?”

  “Yes, it was.” Eugenie smiled at the slang as Annabelle linked arms with her. She’d never really had a friend before.

  “I’m so glad you came with us. Next Friday we’re planning on going to the theatre. Will you come?”

  She hesitated to reply. Her parents would be back by then. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.” Annabelle gave a little hop as she avoided an uneven paving stone. “Jonathan came by my house last night on his way home. He was really pleased with the painting and hopes you’ll come back for another sitting so he can finish it.”

  Jonathan had asked abou
t her? Excitement filled her at the idea he might really be interested in her.

  Annabelle continued talking. “He said, if you have time, tomorrow would be perfect. His wife will keep the baby out of the way and—”

  Eugenie felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “His wife?”

  “You didn’t meet her last night. She took my niece over to my parents’ place since she knows how boisterous Jonathan’s art shows can get.”

  Jonathan was married.

  With a child.

  The news had her stunned.

  The gloom of the day suddenly became apparent to her. The icy wind, the coldness of the ground creeping through her boots and making her toes ache.

  “Eugenie, are you all right? You look pale.” Annabelle stared at her in concern.

  “I’m fine. I just…” She shook her head, not knowing what to say. There was a hurt building inside her heart and she wanted to curl up somewhere to nurse the pain. No man had ever paid attention to her before and she’d misread Jonathan’s intentions completely. Had the others realized? Did Annabelle know and was that why she’d mentioned his wife? Mortified, she didn’t dare look at the other girl’s face in case it was filled with pity.

  It was the sound of crying that finally drew her from her introspection. A mother and child were walking just ahead of her, the child pulling to get away and pointing towards the road while the mother hurried along, her shoulders hunched against the bitter wind. Eugenie looked towards where the little boy was pointing and noticed a stuffed bear lying in the gutter. The little one must have dropped it but the mother hadn’t noticed.

  “Wait!” Not thinking, she acted instinctively, calling out and hurrying to pick up the toy. In her haste, her foot slipped on the ice and she gave a cry as she felt herself falling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a lumbering delivery truck approaching and tried to twist out of the way. Her head hit the curb and pain exploded through her body. Annabelle’s scream was the last sound she heard before darkness encased her.