The Stone House

By Virginia L. Neely

A Canadian romance

The past can strengthen us or weaken us.

Selene Caldwell is a city girl whose impoverished past is crippling her.She risks repeating it when she ditches her job to take a chance on chasing her dream of an art career. She can't afford to be side-tracked. Especially not by a love affair.

John McPherson breeds horses on a century farm and draws strength from his family's legacy. When that legacy is threatened, he will do anything to preserve it. Anything but take a second chance on love.

Distrustful of each other, they find they can help each other realize their dreams.

But can they trust each other with what matters most- their hearts? Their futures?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Virginia L. Neely
• Release date: Jun 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781999039035

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Chapter 1

For the third time that day and the thousandth that week, Selene Caldwell tried to block out Angela’s strident voice. For the third time that day and the thousandth time that week, she failed. Her cubicle was too close to Gloria’s. As office manager, Angela had her own office and should have called Gloria in and shut the door before chewing her out, but that wasn’t Angela’s way.

Thank heavens Selene reported directly to Ryan, rather than Angela. Ryan was a junior partner in the law firm of Stoddart, Stoddart and Cummings, and as a partner he rated his own secretary, but she still had to work in the open office with the rest of the secretaries, clerks and other lower forms of life, separated only by flimsy partitions. Low as they were, they were still too high for Angela to see over from her desk, so she spent most of her time wandering from cubicle to cubicle, finding things to criticize.

Angela’s voice rose in pitch and volume. Selene’s fingers hammered the wrong keys and she bit back a curse.

I suppose you think you’re someone special, just like Selene Caldwell. Well you’re not, and neither is she. And if your work doesn’t improve, you’re going to be looking for another job.

Gloria’s voice broke as she mumbled a reply, followed by a loud sniff and the sound of a nose blowing.

A wave of heat washed over Selene. It took all her self-control not to jump up and retaliate. But she wouldn’t give Angela any more ammunition to take to Mr. Stoddart in the guise of reporting. Selene had done that before she learned better. Stoddart had gone to Ryan to complain, and Ryan had stood up for her, putting Angela firmly in the enemy camp.

God, Selene hated this job. The only thing that made it tolerable was Ryan’s friendship. A trained monkey could do what Selene did every day, and her soul was withering like a rose in the desert. She couldn’t wait to escape at the end of the day, to her painting. It was all that kept insanity at bay.

Her hand drifted toward her bottom drawer, locked against prying eyes. No. She had to stick it out a little longer. She had dreams and plans but she hadn’t saved enough to make her escape.

Angela’s voice reached a new crescendo. Selene gritted her teeth and erased the nonsense she had just typed. How could she work efficiently in this poisonous environment? This was not where she belonged.

Prudence warred with emotion. Emotion won. Selene unlocked the drawer. Grasping the envelope inside, she headed for Ryan’s office, giving Gloria a sympathetic smile as she passed.

She rapped on Ryan’s door. At his invitation she entered and closed the door. She snapped the envelope onto his desk.

What’s this? A frown replaced Ryan’s.

My resignation. It’s time for me to move on.

Angela?

No. At least, Angela wasn’t the only reason.

What, then?

You wouldn’t understand. No one did.

Try me.

Selene drew in a deep breath. I need to paint, Ryan. Not a few hours here and there, but steadily. Every day. It’s what I’ve dreamed of since I was little.

Do you think you can support yourself with art? It takes a long time to become a success.

I have to try. I’ve saved up enough to get by for a few months. A very few months, and only if she skimped on everything.

I must be paying you too much.

His lop-sided grin told her he was joking, but there was something else in his tone. Frustration? Before Selene came along, he’d had trouble finding someone he could rely on. A lump rose in her throat at abandoning him.

Ryan tapped his lips with his pen, gazing at her with narrowed eyes for a few minutes.

I don’t want to lose you, Selene. Would a raise make you stay?

She shook her head. It wouldn’t be fair to accept, and then repeat this scene in another few months.

All right, then. You go off and try your art thing. I’ll put this resignation letter away. When it doesn’t work out for you, come back. In the meantime we’ll say you’re taking a leave of absence for health reasons. I’ll get by with a temp until you get this out of your system.

He made it sound like art was a disease. If so, she’d been suffering from it all her life with no cure in sight.

She smiled at him. Thanks, Ryan. You’ve been a great boss.

And I still am. He ushered her to the door and opened it. Just don’t take too long.

Selene had no intention of returning. She would take this chance and fly, or crash. After collecting her few belongings from her cubicle, she turned her back on the dragon. With every step toward the door her heart grew lighter, like the blossoms drifting from the tree outside the window.

TRUST NANCY TO GET married in a place only the inhabitants had heard of. Eden Valley sounded enchanting — but only if you were reading about it, not trying to find it. Selene frowned at her watch. The wedding would start in another hour. She had no idea where Eden Valley was — or where she was. Her GPS had quit half an hour ago.

She consulted the minimalist map Nancy had included with the wedding invitation. Follow County Road 5 for 10 kms, then left on SR 25. What on earth did SR mean? It seemed like she had driven a thousand kilometers on County Road 5, without finding anything called SR. On a hunch, she had turned onto another road a few minutes ago. Bad decision.

She should have taken Nancy up on her offer to come up earlier in the week, as Julie had. At least Nancy would have known where she was going. But Selene had to finish that commissioned painting. It meant she could stretch her limited funds out another month.

Selene flicked her fingernail at her cell phone. Not even a glimmer of signal. The surrounding hills, with their tall trees, must be creating a dead zone. Well, this couldn’t be the right road. She would have to turn around when she could. Judging by the position of the sun, barely visible through the trees, she didn’t have much daylight left. God knows she didn’t want to be out in the middle of nowhere when it got dark. There could be wolves and bears in these woods! And the darn road was too narrow to turn around. She started the car and drove on.

Turning into a driveway just around the next bend, she gasped. In front of her was the most perfect scene she could imagine. Set back from the road amid sheltering maples, an old stone house beckoned her. The evening sun kissed the stone with golden light, and a long verandah offered intimate shadowed nooks with white wicker chairs. A porch swing invited her to relax. A long sloping lawn was dotted with islands of flowers, and the fragrance of peonies drifted to her on the breeze when she opened the window to get a better look.

She had to paint this. Thanking her guardian angel she had brought her camera to snap pictures of the wedding, she reached into the back seat to get it. She got out, heedless of what the gravel drive was doing to her new high heels. As she focused the camera, she heard someone ask, Can I help you?

Selene whirled around. A young woman emerged from the woodlot beside the drive.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I got lost, and then I saw this house and it was so lovely... She was babbling. She shut up.

I’ve always thought it was the loveliest place in the world, the woman said, smiling. My great-grandfather built it for his bride, and I’ve always imagined he built his love for her right in.

I’d really love to paint it, said Selene. That’s why I wanted the picture.

You’re an artist? I thought artists painted from the real thing, not from photos.

Yes, I am, and we do if we can, but that perfect image is fleeting. The light changes and we have to capture the scene for reference. Besides, I don’t have my paints with me, and there’s no time before sunset. And I’m supposed to be at a wedding in... She glanced at her watch. Oh my gosh, in forty-five minutes!

And you’re lost! The woman laughed. Where is this wedding?

Eden Valley. Please, God, let it be close.

That’s not far from here.

Selene held out the little map. Is this right? And where are we?

The woman tapped a spot near the crossroads Selene was looking for. We’re here. Sideroad 20. If you’d continued another three kilometers, you’d have found Sideroad 25. And yes, Eden Valley is just a short distance off County Road 5.

Oh, so that’s what SR is, thought Selene. She was such an idiot. She was so busy berating herself she almost missed the woman’s next words.

If you’d like to come back and paint sometime, you’re welcome.

You wouldn’t mind?

Not at all. I’m glad someone else finds it as beautiful as I do. My name is Abigail McPherson — Abby. As I said, my great-grandfather, Josiah McPherson, built this house. He was one of the earliest homesteaders here. Why don’t you come tomorrow? The weather’s supposed to be fine.

Tomorrow? That wouldn’t work. I can’t. I’ve made plans with friends, and my paints are in Toronto. That’s where I live.

Too bad. Here, let me give you my phone number. Call me before you come, to make sure someone’s here and the local vigilantes don’t report you for trespassing.

She laughed, and Selene laughed with her. She had a mental image of a bunch of hillbillies riding her out of town on a rail. Though if they were as friendly as Abby, they’d probably serve her tea first.

What about next week? Selene dug a business card out of her purse and handed it to Abby, as proof Selene was serious.

Abby smiled. Perfect.

The mention of tea reminded her again of the wedding. She would be late if she didn’t hustle. Thanking Abby for her kindness, she backed the car out of the driveway, heading back to the county road.

Abby fit the house perfectly. Kind of old-fashioned, but solid and warm. She wanted to learn more of the house’s history.

WHEN SHE GOT BACK TO County Road 5, she turned left and sure enough, the next road proclaimed itself to be Sideroad 25. Before long she was pulling into the parking lot of the little church that stood at the main crossroads of the village of Eden Valley.

Main crossroads was an exaggeration. The entire village was two or three streets in each direction, as far as she could tell. She had only a few moments to admire the sunset’s cherry glow on the white boards of the church before her best friend, Julie, appeared in the doorway.

Thank goodness you made it! Julie exclaimed. I was beginning to think you got lost.

I did! Selene laughed.

Well, you’re here now. Julie pulled her into the church.

Bride or groom? asked a young usher, sweating in his black suit.

Bride, they said in unison. They looked at each other and laughed.

He guided them to a pew, and they settled down to chat while they waited for the bride to appear.

Selene took a deep breath full of the scent of old varnished wood, mingled with the aroma of the flowers on the altar and in front of the dais. The setting sun cast rosy fingers through the stained glass windows and stained the wooden pews and ivory walls with a warm patina. What a perfect setting for a wedding! She turned her attention back to Julie.

So what happened? Julie asked. How did you get lost?

Well, apparently up here they use special codes for their roads. In Toronto we give them names; here they give them numbers with funny letters. She explained that she had not known what SR meant on the little map, and the directions were none too clear, plus which her GPS and phone couldn’t get a signal. Luckily, one of the locals gave me better directions and here I am. She told Julie about her meeting with Abby.

Julie laughed. It’s a good thing I came up with Nancy. You know how bad my sense of direction is.

They stopped chatting as the groom and best man came in and arrayed themselves in front of the altar. The groom was tall and good-looking. He ran a finger under his collar as he glanced around the church, then toward the door where the bride would appear. When the organist began to play Here Comes the Bride, his face lit up with a smile as broad as the Atlantic. Nancy glowed as she made her way down the aisle on her father’s arm, her eyes glued to the groom.

What would it would feel like, to know you were about to marry, for better or worse, someone you loved with all your heart? Selene wasn’t likely to find out. As the couple pledged their vows, her eyes felt damp. Enough with the self-pity. She glanced out the corner of her eye, to see if anyone noticed, but everyone else had misty eyes too. Tears and smiles accompanied the bride and groom as they left the church.

Selene and Julie waited their turn to kiss and congratulate the happy couple, then got in Selene’s car and followed the crowd to the hotel in a nearby town where the reception was to be. As they would spend the night there too, they carried their bags to the room they would be sharing. Julie picked up their earlier conversation.

So will you be going back to paint that house?

I’d like to. Selene laughed. If I can find it again.

Why don’t you mark it on the map Nancy gave you? I wonder if Nancy and Bill know those people. Let’s ask them.

Their chance came later at the reception. Nancy was eager to spend a few moments chatting with her friends before starting her new life as a country hick. She and Bill had purchased a home nearby, so her city friends would have to make a trek to see them.

Selene told Nancy and Bill about the friendly woman she had met, Abby McPherson. Having grown up in the area, Bill knew her well.

The McPhersons are what you might call the local nobility. Their ancestors were among the earliest settlers in the area, and rumour has it they are filthy rich.

Selene blinked. Well Abby sure didn’t come across like a spoiled rich girl. I liked her.

You haven’t met her brother. Bill laughed.

Nancy twiddled her fingers at them as she and Bill moved on to the next table. Selene and Julie looked at each other.

Ooh, a rich boy! I got dibs! Julie’s eyes sparkled as she teased.

Julie’s chances were better than Selene’s. Julie was gorgeous, with long blond hair and a perfect figure. Guys fell all over her all the time, while Selene... well, even her own father hadn’t liked her enough to stick around. She pulled her mind off that train of thought to discuss their plans to visit some local antique shops the next day.

Chapter 2

Afew days later, Selene settled into her studio to paint the stone house. She plugged her camera into her computer and downloaded the photo she had taken. Her heart sank. Even as a reference shot, the photo was unusable. It was too dark, and a diagonal streak of light slashed through the frame. She experimented with Photoshop, trying to get an image like the one in her mind but she couldn’t pick out the details of the house which had so charmed her.

Selene gritted her teeth. She was determined to capture on canvas the view that had captured her heart. There was no help for it but to return to Eden Valley. But this time she would take her paints as well as her camera, and at least make a colour sketch. Soon she had gathered her acrylic paints and a few primed canvas boards.

She went into the kitchen to pack a lunch and a thermos of coffee. It would be a long day, and she hadn’t noticed any restaurants near Eden Valley. Sandy wove in and out between her legs as she moved through the kitchen, and she stopped to pick him up for a cuddle.

Sorry I have to leave you again, baby, she said, laying her cheek against his silky head. He patted her face with his paw, forgiving her or more likely telling her to hurry back. She put out extra food and water for him, in case she were away longer than expected. Then she grabbed her lunch, a large bottle of water and her painting supplies, and headed out to the car.

On the way to Eden Valley she planned the colours for the painting. Pale ochre would be the main color for the house, but there were lovely umber shadows and hints of rose and blue here and there. She would decide the garden colours when she got there.

She had almost arrived before she remembered Abby had asked her to call if she were coming. After pulling off to the shoulder, she took her cell phone from her purse, only to find there was no signal, again. She sighed. She would have to trust she would get a better reception than her phone was getting.

It was late morning when she arrived at her destination. She knocked on the door. A few minutes later a man opened it. Was he Abby’s husband or the brother Bill had mentioned?

Is Abby here? she asked.

Just a moment. He left her standing by the open door and disappeared into the house.

A minute later Abby appeared. She was frowning, as if trying to place Selene, but then she smiled warmly.

I don’t want to intrude, said Selene, but I thought I should let you know I’m here so you didn’t think I was trespassing. I’m hoping to paint your house today, if you don’t mind.

Of course! Feel free to walk around to get the view you want. And if you need to freshen up...

Thank you, you’re very kind, but I don’t want to impose.

Abby laughed. It’s hardly an imposition. She pointed. That’s the powder room. Use it whenever you wish.

Selene laughed too. Thank you. I wouldn’t mind, at that. She could hardly duck into the shrubbery to relieve herself.

The powder room was gorgeous. Abby had achieved a meld of modern and old-fashioned that any designer would envy. An ivory wainscoting set off the diminutive pink roses in the wallpaper. The fixture handles were ivory too, and a vase of huge pink peonies scented the room. As she dried her hands on the fluffy pink towel, Selene wondered if the rest of the house was as charming as this. She filled her empty yogurt containers with water, and as she headed toward the front door, she snuck a look down the hall. To her disappointment, all the doors were closed.

After placing her water containers on the floor of her car, Selene walked up and down the driveway, looking for the perfect composition. She finally settled on an angle that caught sun glaring on the side of the house and the cool, inviting porch. It didn’t take long to unload her folding artist’s chair, field easel, painting supplies, and containers of water. Within five minutes she had set up with her favourite colours in her Sta-wet palette and begun to block in the house with swift strokes of the brush.

Absorbed in her painting, she didn’t notice the passage of time until her stomach started growling. She ate her sandwich while walking around to find the perfect view. Walking backwards, making a viewfinder with her thumbs and middle fingers, she found the view that had first enraptured her.

But it wasn’t right.

The sun’s position gave the light an entirely different quality. While still attractive, it didn’t have that gut pull she wanted. After coming all this way, she would not give up. She could block it in and do another sketch in the evening to get what she wanted... if she were still welcome so many hours later.

The trees were casting long shadows over the lawn when Selene slid her last sketch into the mini drying rack in the trunk of her car. She looked up to see Abby approaching.

I was curious how you were getting on, said Abby, glancing at the drying rack which now held several canvas boards.

I’ve done a few sketches, but I really want to get one in the evening, when the house looks like it did the other day.

Well in that case, you’d better come in and have supper with us.

Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly.

Ignoring Selene’s protest, Abby linked arms with her, steering her toward the house. It was like being herded by a force of nature, but a very nice force of nature.

When they entered the house, Abby pointed at one of the doors. That’s the dining room. Join us after you freshen up.

After washing her hands and finger-combing her hair, Selene found Abby sitting at the table with the man who had opened the door earlier. He rose at her entrance and came around the table to pull out a chair for her. Abby introduced him as her brother, John. Oh, not Abby’s husband! Why did Bill think he was so unlike Abby?

John was tall, with hair a darker brown than Abby’s and the same brown eyes. Despite being dressed casually, he looked elegant, and his manners were impeccable. Selene liked what she saw, but was sophisticated enough to know looks and manners don’t tell the whole story. Her face went hot as she realized she had been staring at him, and she looked around the room.

The room had the blend of old-fashioned and modern that Selene was beginning to associate with Abby. Carved cherry-wood panels topped with a chair rail ran along most of the room’s perimeter. One wall had French doors. Through them Selene could glimpse a patio. Another had a pass-through to the kitchen, flanked by shelves that matched the wainscoting. On the shelves were a variety of glass vases, both modern and antique, that lent a splash of colour against the dark wood. The table was solid wood with heavy carved legs, and the matching chairs had cushioned red velvet seats and backs. An antique pitcher and basin stood on an old sideboard, alongside an elegant sculpted silver vase filled with more peonies- a mix of red and white this time.

As Selene’s glance took in the room, she caught an amused smile on Abby’s face.

This is a lovely room, Selene said.

We’ve tried to keep the whole house true to the original, said Abby. When my great-grandfather built it, it was opulent by the standards of the time. And the quality was so high no one needed to change anything since, except to put in plumbing and so on.

She stopped and signalled to a woman who had appeared at the door. "Manuella will serve the soup now. I hope you like cream of mushroom, because believe me, it