A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (acx book reading txt) 📕

her life around it. Even more important than the sweetness they’d found together.

No, he refused to be bitter about it, and decided he would think no more about it.

“I painted a tree,” Atticus said.

“I see. An apple tree?”

The boy nodded.

Jane said he just wanted acknowledgement and support. Something inside Julius still said that too much attention would spoil him, but he supposed he understood the idea that knowing one was loved made one stronger because it was something one didn’t have to guess about. The pain from the loss of her parents still guided Jane, and it was true that events from his own past had influenced him greatly. That was how deeply it sat. With all Jane had achieved, she still craved her parents.

Imagining her being so small and completely on her own in the world was something that make him very uncomfortable. His own childhood had been much more secure, even with its tribulations. There had been the loss of his mother, which he remembered, but he’d recovered from it. Over time, she’d faded away, but then he’d had two siblings and a father, and endless bickering between all of them.

“I suppose you had better show me then,” Julius said. Seeing the product of his ventures hadn’t been something Julius had invited before. Clearly, Atticus wished to because he disappeared like a shot.

Jane was alone and she chose a life that way. But then she had friends and people she depended on. There was a community she was a part of. Perhaps that was enough. The community that Atticus would be thrown into one day would be quite brutal. Julius’ intention had always been to make him hard enough to thrive within it.

The boy’s steps echoed along the main hall as he ran. Julius didn’t quite understand the eagerness, but perhaps he had been the same at that age and didn’t remember it. Again the boy was shy as he entered with the piece of paper that showed a tree in vivid green with large red apples on it. A child’s painting if there ever was one.

“A handsome tree,” Julius said and the boy smiled, proud of his work. “Myself, I have been reading investment reports. The aim would be to make them bear fruit like trees.”

“Is Miss Brightly coming back?”

That hadn’t been a question Julius had expected to hear. “No.”

“Oh,” the boy said, looking disheartened.

Clearly his interest in drawing had been sparked by her. “Do you like the painting she did?”

“It looks like you.”

Well, it was a portrait. Or perhaps he was amazed she could paint something so accurate. That would be a wonder compared to a child’s crude drawings. “She has practiced a great deal. She is a professional at it.”

“What does professional mean?”

“It means she is one of the best painters there is, and one has to pay her to make a painting.”

“Do you get paid to make investments?”

“In a manner. An invest in exciting things in far off places.”

“Like where?”

“India. Malaya.”

“There’s tigers there.”

“Yes, there are.”

“Have you ever seen a tiger?” Atticus asked.

“Yes.” Not that he could readily recall the circumstances. “I believe they have one at the zoological society. Perhaps we should go sometime.”

Atticus had barely spent any time in London since his mother had left. He wouldn’t remember.

“I’ll paint a tiger,” Atticus stated and reached out his hand for the return of his painting. Julius handed it over and the boy disappeared, off upstairs to augment the painting with an animal he’d never seen in person. There were so many things he hadn’t seen in his short life.

The silence pressed again. Jane had become such a prominent part of his life, he felt her absence now. But all was as it should be. This was just something to get used to. Still, he wondered where she was, what she was doing. Was she painting more fog? Did she have another commission she would start on? They hadn’t talked about these things, and something in him felt uneasy with being cut off.

How could two people be so close one moment and then completely apart the next? There was technically nothing left now. It wasn’t as if he would see her in London, or there was some notion that they were friends. They’d been lovers, for a short time, and now they were nothing. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

Saying that, she did have a relationship with Eliza, so there was a connection there. That was comforting. Why it was, he didn’t readily know, but he felt he could reach her if he needed to. Not that he would.

Chapter 27

A MONTH HAD GONE by since Julius’ portrait had been finished and Jane had left. A month where the weather had turned warmer. It was now decidedly spring, with lambs in the fields and the lushness of summer coming.

Impending summer also made for a rushed time with the parliamentary committees he sat on, as they wanted their business concluded before summer came, and everyone retreated to their country estates. So unfortunately, this had necessitated another trip to London, but he had taken Atticus with him this time, even as traveling with a six-year-old was trying.

Saying that, there was truth to what Jane had said in that children only really learn their parents’ values and manners if they spend time with them. It wasn’t something Julius had considered before, but it made sense. How could he mold his son into a Hennington if he didn’t actually mold the boy?

They’d arrived last night, and this morning, Julius was making his way to Octavia’s townhouse. From what he knew, she was still in town, but likely she would leave soon. The city would become intolerable with a little more heat. Frankly, it was increasingly intolerable at all times, in