Juba closed the boot of his rental, his luggage packed neatly inside. It was early, not quite dawn and the vista before him was a mystery of the day to come. In the pale light he spied the hill to his left where Antony struggled with the recognition and respect of his current reality. To his left, the house filled with love and caring, the home of Maximus and his small family.

And before him, the flat hillock, uncultivated and near the edge of the prosperous vineyard.

“I purchased this parcel of land three years ago,” Maximus had said the night before. “It was badly scorched by the fire, but I could not bear to see strangers living so near. I believed that with time the soil would replenish itself and indeed it has. But now … I feel no urge to plant here. It is yours my friend, if you will have it.”

Conversation revolved around the reasons for such an offering. Maximus had pointed out that Juba had no one in London. That his business would thrive anywhere, and that he would bring much to a family that already loves and respects him. Juba had balked. The gift was massive. He offered to purchase the land, but Maximus would hear nothing of it. The friends parted that night without a final decision. As his flight was very early and he had a long drive down to the airport in San Francisco, Juba chose to leave quietly … and to place his answer on paper. The note sat in the center of Sophia’s kitchen table … the center of warmth for the Meridius family.

The drive was uneventful and Juba witnessed the slow receding morning mist that blankets the hills of California’s wine country. Such a beautiful place, so steeped in the truth of the earth. So nurturing and fertile. What would be the reasoning for him to build furniture in such a place? A place designed by the gods to bring forth the fruits of the land? A furniture workshop would indeed add sounds and activity this soil and its inhabitants, grape and animal and man, had not heard or seen before. What goodness could he bring with such a venture?

Ah, but what goodness could he gain?

The tortuously long flight from San Francisco to New York then immediately on to London itched and burned at the edges of his nerves. His hands too itched to touch the wood, to make it pliable, bend it with steaming water and seal it with natural glue or perfectly matched pegs. Juba was an artist, listening to the wood, hearing the music within the grain and knowing which melody each piece wished to sing. There was a naturalness to his hands upon the polished joints, riding along the perfect curves, playing circles around strategic knots in the rippling patterns. The tree and the wood, the form and the fancy of every element he touched had become one with his soul. Yes, Maximus was correct. He could easily do this work anywhere in the world. But his home was in London.

His home? And who was there to greet him in the damp, cold darkness of a London night as he unlocked the door to his workshop? The warehouse was empty of life. Several pieces sat unfinished at various workstations and Juba carefully eyed each one. Something was missing, the tone, the resonance … the soul. Something was lacking in every item his men had worked on during his absence. Perhaps it truly was time to change things?

He had thought this often. That only certain men could see what he saw, feel it beneath a rough sliver of wood. And those men, he had not found. And so, he must change things.

Juba had already made much money, enough to fully retire and travel the rest of his days but he knew that his heart would be lost without the wood. Returning to his simple roots would be best. He sat at his desk and reviewed the files on every skilled workman he employed. With a few keystrokes of his computer, he penned sterling letters of reference and forwarded these notes on to his competition.

Three days later, every employee was now working happily somewhere else in London and Juba was again alone in his sawdust sprinkled universe. With diligence and care, he finished the pieces at each station then delivered them to happy customers.

On his fifth day in London he again packed, this time his valuable hand tools and carefully tuned electric tools. He swept and cleaned the massive warehouse himself and finally packed his clothes. When the pounding came at the street door, Juba blinked. Had he forgotten a delivery? Was there a problem with something? He trotted down the steps and through the clean, open space. Swinging open the door, his brow rose high.

“Lili? What is it?” Lili Green was his secretary. She was tiny and plump with dark brown ringlets that crawled all the way down her back. Her blue eyes were pale as a dawn sky, and the peach tint of cheeks never failed to bring a smile to anyone who encountered her. She had been working for Juba since the day he purchased the warehouse; was instrumental in assuring he was within all business and legal parameters, and worked diligently to find him the right personnel, the right sales representation, and the right venues for promotion. In essence, Lili Green was one of two reasons he was a wealthy, successful man.

She stomped into the warehouse and huffed, tears of anger welling in her eyes. Juba was baffled. Had he not arranged suitable employment for Lili? Employment with his biggest competitor? The perfect place? “What is wrong?”

“How could you!”

“How could I what?” He gripped her arm and tugged her to sit on a work bench, his eyes desperately searching her expression for answers as she seemed speechless, except for the three word accusation.

“How … could … you!” she repeated and the tears fell. A river of them; wetting her peachy cheeks and dripping from her chin, blooming dark spots on the fabric over her ample breasts. “How could you do this?”

Juba sighed and dragged a stool to sit before her. He perched and spoke softly. “What is it that I’ve done, Lili?”

“Robert Juba, you have ruined everything!”

His eyes closed and he drew in a deep breath. “Lili, please, address me as Juba. It was my name in Africa and I would like to hear you call me such.”

“You never told me that before.”

He shrugged sadly. “I have never felt the need to before. Why do you think I have ruined everything, woman?”

Lili swabbed tears away with a tissue and thought. She hadn’t really prepared what she’d say if she found him there, although she should have. Robert Juba … Juba … was always there at the warehouse. Night and day. It had been very difficult for her the weeks he was gone to America. And, there were so many things to say … but how could she say most of them?

How could she tell him he had her heart? The moment she met him, she found Juba to be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He had proven over the years to be as beautiful inside as he was outside. Of course, he being so private and reclusive, and she being less that the standard skinny, tall blond super-model type, she never expected to gain his attention. And she hadn’t. He had always been nothing but professional. He had listened to her advice and permitted her to guide his business from obscurity to international success. And now? “You are throwing away everything we’ve built, Juba.”

His name on her voice caught in his heart. Her words, stabbed like a dagger. “Am I?”

She looked around, he arm swept wide. “Look! You’ve let us all go. You’ve packed it all up. Do you plan to sell the tools? I know you’ve already put this warehouse on the market. Why are you doing this?”

“Lili, dear woman, perhaps I have simply decided that it is time for me to do this alone.”

Again her pale blue eyes swam with mounting tears and he reached out to brush them away with his thumbs. “But you are always alone,” she gasped quietly.

“So are you, Lili.”

How could he have known that? She was private, too. She kept her miserable life secret from everyone. The happiest part of her day was working with him, talking with him, lunching with him from paper wrappings at his office desk. All her pretense melted and she nodded agreement. He had sussed her and it would serve nothing to deny it.

“And, why is that?”

Looking into his onyx crystal eyes, a lopsided grin pulled her lips.  “Look at me, Juba. I’m no beauty. There are no men begging at my feet, no promise of marriage or children. There is only my work … and although you have made sure I continue to work … it’s … far more than that.”

His was holding her small hand in his. Something that never seemed to ring true when he worked with his skilled men, somehow chimed perfectly within the heat of her palm. Had he been a blind man since he woke? “More?”

“Yes. More. You. You … make me happy. You inspire me. You’re so good to all of us and … and … never mind. I know this makes no sense to you.”

Several uncomfortable moments passed but neither of them moved a muscle. They sat, still as carved marble, her hand in his as his heartbeat slowly, steadily accelerated. Finally he spoke, his words soft but thunderous in the canyons of his heart. “May I address all you’ve said?”

Lili rolled her eyes. Here it comes, the lecture I’ve always feared would fall from his mouth. She braced for the worse.

“My lady, I am looking at you. I have looked upon you for many years now, and there is nothing unworthy about you. You are bright and you are beautiful.”

“Pfffttt!” She ignored the blush heating her neck and cheeks.

Juba chuckled. “And all the more beautiful with the unawareness of it. There is no reason for you to have no husband, no children. No reason for you not to have all the happiness available.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She shuffled on the stool but couldn’t bring herself to pull her hand free. If Juba was to disappear from her life, she would take all the warmth he had to offer. “So … where are you going to go and do your thing … alone?”

“That is not the issue, Lili.” His brow curled. “Who is here in London for you?”

“Huh? Me? No one. I don’t even have a bloody cat. Trust me, I could disappear in the tube and never be seen again and no one would even notice.”

“Will you come with me?”

Lili’s mind screeched to a halt. Did he say what she thought he said? His thumb had begun to run a warm circle in her palm. It was forcing her pulse to rise and her mind to speed out of control. She tried hard to stop it all without snatching her hand from his tender grip. The feeling was nice and frightening and comforting and startling all at once. She liked it, but she had to make sure she was hearing him correctly. “Pardon?”

“Will … you … come with me?”

“Will you need a secretary?”

“I will not.”

“Then what shall I be?”

His smile was wide, white teeth bright against his dark face and Lili felt her heart skip a beat.

“You will be my friend, you will be the beautiful woman at my side. Perhaps … my lover?”

Lili Green didn’t have a single thought in her mind that would propose a rebuttal. She simply smiled and leaned in, her brow settling softly against Juba’s. His face shifted and his lips met hers. Hot. Soft. Amazing. Surprising but somehow expected. She sighed. “Where are we going, Juba?”

His eyes twinkled. There were so many places he could have chosen. He could have made his new home in Africa. He could have moved north to Scotland. He could have taken his skills to Rome. He could have decided upon Vermont. All held promise … especially with Lili at his side.

***

The note sat on Sophia’s kitchen table and all through breakfast, she and Maximus simply looked at it. Little Lucy bubbled and gurgled at Sophia’s breast … and still they said nothing of the envelope. When finally she could take not more Sophia simply snorted.

“If you will not read it … I will.”

There was a playful tug-of war and finally Maximus opened the envelope.

My dear friend,

I will be honored to accept your offer. Expect me on the eighteenth of March.

Juba