UpSpark: A New Adult Inspirational Romance (The Five Elements Book 1)

by Nicole Wells

  I'm surprised, shocked. I hope my other presumptions aren't tested.

  “Damn, I don't have her address on me”. I pull out my phone. “What was it again?”

  “Oh, sure…” she spouts off an address about 20 minutes from here. I've already put the request in Uber.

  "But maybe now isn't the best time…" She looks uneasy, like someone keeping a secret. I try not to let my unease grow.

  "Now is always the best time." This time I do growl.

  25 minutes later and I'm in front of another door. A girl with a shock of red and white hair answers the plain dented metal door. I'm surprised once again.

  "Hello?" She says like she's annoyed.

  "Hi, I’m Jacob. I’m looking for Enya. Her mom said she’d be here?”

  "Oh, you're Jacob," she states flatly.

  I can't hide my smile. “She talks about me?”

  “Not really.” My smile falls.

  “I think she's only mentioned you once.”

  I’m flabbergasted.

  “I was rooting for Joshua.” she continues.

  “Who?” What?!

  “Nevermind. It's not important.” Her eyes are scanning me, evaluating me.

  “It sounds important to me!” I practically shout.

  “No, it's actually not, you're the one she loves.”

  Aaand Pause.

  “That's what she said?”

  Completely. Flabbergasted.

  “Well, I believe her exact words were ‘I can't love Jacob.’ I'm Fee, by the way. Well, technically Sophia, but please don’t call me that. I can also go by Soph.”

  Still flabbergasted.

  “And I get it. Joshua's cute and all, but you’re ripped.”

  “Jacob?!” A shriek sounds from the concrete stairwell behind me, echoing briefly.

  I turn and there she is, somehow more beautiful than all the times I imagined her. It's like my frequent remembering had created a patina to dull her shine. Here, before me, she is luminous. I dare to call her mine, this goddess.

  She stares back like she can't believe her eyes. I keep smiling goofily at her.

  Movement in the corner of my eye doesn't garner my attention away from Enya until it brushes past me.

  "I'll... just ... be back later." Sophia says, now sporting a bookbag and a purse. She gives Enya a broad wink and a thumbs up, which I think she misses.

  Enya looks shell-shocked, eyes wide and frozen in place. I want to go to her, wrap her in my arms, and be her sheltering bay. She is so strong and courageous, always meeting things head-on, I want her to know she can be soft with me. I will protect her, help her, in any and every way I can. I will always be here for her. We have always been meant for each other.

  But now is not the time. She's a deer in headlights now and she'll run away again if I make the first move. What would I do with a skittish creature? Make myself smaller. I crouch down in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” She’s looking at me weird.

  "I don't know," I say uneasily.

  She pauses, contemplating that.

  I slowly stand back up.

  “What are you doing here?” She says in a tremulous voice.

  "Waiting for you," I say confidently, calmly.

  And that says it all.

  chapter 32

  HE'S HERE. It's sinking in now, that this is real. Not some illusion created by my thoughts.

  "You're here." I put a hand against the wall to steady myself. He looks different, which I'm just now noting, as the shock wears off and it sinks in that this is real and he's really here. I can't believe how much older one can look in a year and a half. His features seem more refined and there's this air about him of independence and confidence. Worldliness. I recognize the talisman around his neck and notice his hair is a little longer, hanging around his shoulders. His skin is a little darker, too, like he's been spending time outdoors. And his body is sleek and toned, with wiry muscles his Henley cannot hide.

  He's here! Mirth fills my mind and I smile. He seems to take that as an invitation and comes closer, looking at me so intensely. I'm lost in the magnitude of his gaze and, Oh my God, is he going to kiss me?

  Weight lifts from my hands, and I look down. He's taken the mocha from me. I'd forgotten I had it. This is probably a good thing. I look back up at him. This is definitely a good thing.

  "Enya?" He's looking at me questioningly, like he's trying to gauge if I'm okay. I can't imagine what he thinks after all this time and hearing nothing from me. I eye my door wearily. I don't want to be trapped in there with him. We're both too much explosive energy. I need to move.

  "Let's go." I spin on my heel, decision made, needing to put all my energy into action. "I'm driving."

  I regret the decision as soon as I pull away. Even though it's only a five-minute drive to Columbia Lake and its picturesque trails, it's five long minutes of us trapped together in my suddenly tiny car. Five minutes breathing in his woodsy scent. Five minutes analyzing his every move, wondering why he's not talking while also not wanting him to say anything just yet, all the while driving. Five minutes of torture.

  I park at Trader Joe's where we can hop onto the walking path around the lake right away. Luckily, it doesn't look like many people are out and about. I almost grab his hand to guide him where I want to go. Then I realize, he might not be mine to guide any more.

  I fidget instead, my hands twisting in on themselves. Once on the path, I take off. He's got long legs, so I know he'll appreciate the brisk pace.

  “This is the lake in Columbia,” I say in a needless introduction.

  “Um, I live in Columbia now.” The banal comments just keep coming.

  "Did you know Columbia is a planned community? Edward Norton's grandfather built it." Oh my God, what is wrong with my mouth? Walk faster, make it stop.

  “All the streets here are from lines of poetry. Columba means dove, but some also think it's a term of endearment. The root word ‘lewb’ means to love. So, they named Columbia as a peaceful, loving place.” The inane spew just gains momentum along with my rapid tread. He did not travel almost 3,000 miles to hear that. Say something else!

  “I love you.”

  I stop, and he bumps into me. Omigod, I said that out loud. Maybe he didn't hear me. He's smiling like he heard me. But that's good, ri—

  “I love you too, Columbine.”

  He kisses me and I kiss him. I really kiss him, taking in his love, alternating tenderness, and passion. The sweetness of it all. At this moment everything is okay. We’re back to normal. I hum in pleasure. We can talk about everything, I can explain everything. It's all good.

  My arms pull him closer and he growls in approval, pressing me against his toned body.

  Wait, who's Columbine?

  I shove him away and he's laughing, looking at me like he knows what I'm thinking, not fully letting go. He looks positively gleeful as he explains, "In Native American tradition, we give someone a new name as they age when something significant happens."

  I sink back into him, reveling in his warmth, his scent, his strength. His arms cocoon me and his chin gently rests on my head. I feel him take a deep breath and sigh contentedly.

  “Columbine because you live in Columbia now. And columbine is a beautiful, complex flower that represents courage in Native American tradition.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Its scientific name, Aquilegia, means eagle. A strong, brave, majestic bird who flies the highest and serves as messenger to the Creator. I can’t think of a better name for you”

  I look up at him, tears in my eyes. My boy is such a poet.

  "What? I know things." He cradles my face and looks like he’ll kiss me again. I tilt my head up and purse my lips, until my damn mind kicks in.

  “Wait, but I’ve had the same nickname the whole time you’ve known me. Since I was a little girl. Like, for ten years?” My lips are pursed in confusion now.

  “From where I stand, you didn’t do anything signific
ant until you let yourself love me back.” His eyes glint in laughter, and he kisses me then, not waiting for an answer.

  Catcalls and whistles recall me to our location, as a bicycle speeds by. Jacob deftly sweeps me to the edge of the path, his body still cradling mine, his eyes angry on the bicyclist for the interruption.

  “Jacob, I’m so sorry.” I regain his attention, placing my hands on his chest. He looks down at me, confused.

  “I … I need to explain it all to you. Everything I put you through. But you need to know first, I never stopped loving you.”

  He takes my hand and kisses it. "Let's go back to the car. I saw some picnic tables there. We can sit down, chat, and dig into your Starbucks."

  “Oh!” I look around, like I expect my forgotten purchases to materialize. He chuckles, caressing my hands like he can’t stop touching me. “I left it in the car when you bolted out of it.”

  "Oh." I'm not sure how I managed without him, now that he's here. "I love you." He smiles and presses his forehead against mine. "I love you, always, my Columbine."

  We make our way back to the parking lot, this time holding hands and taking our time, both of us just settling into the reality of the moment. We’re here. Together. We love each other.

  At the picnic table, Jacob sits beside me and I’m almost too full of happy jittery cannot-be-contained energy that I can’t eat the brownie. Almost. I let Jacob have all the mocha; I certainly don’t need it. He looks unperturbed by it all, Zen master that he is, sipping slowly and waiting.

  I’m about to dive into finally explaining the death vision, when his face contorts into a ridiculous expression, like someone eating lemons and farting at the same time. I laugh, covering my mouth to keep the chocolate goodness in. It is so easy to be with him, to just lapse back into our familiar comfort.

  “You dork” I lean in and playfully swat at him. He tips me off balance, turning me and pulling me into his back. He talks into my hair. “Whatever you have to say, it’s all okay, so long as you say you’ll never leave me again.”

  “I—”

  Strong masculine hands shush my mouth. How can even hands be so muscular?

  “Enya, I have loved you since I first saw you.” His tone comes out like a confession. I want to turn and look into his eyes, but he holds me still. His breath is warm on my head, tickling my hair.

  "I remember back in Middle School, you were wearing sneakers and jeans and a tee-shirt with a sparkly design. It was eye-catching. We were on the playground during recess. You weren't in my class, so I hadn't noticed you before. You hadn't noticed me, but I saw you playing alone. You were concentrating on something, watching the bugs on the ground, maybe?"

  I silently nod. I didn’t like many of the girls in my class that year. I was desperately missing my friend from the year before. I would often just occupy myself pestering lines of ants, or catching gypsy moth caterpillars.

  “I didn’t have the nerve to interrupt you, but at lunch I looked for you. You weren’t quite alone, but no one was talking to you. I sat next to you. I talked to you.”

  "I remember," I say around his hand, now slack against my mouth.

  “Enya. Columbine …” He says it like a plea, like he’s entreating me.

  This time I do turn around. He looks at me and then looks away.

  “When I first saw you, I just knew. ‘That girl, she’s the one.’”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “I can't force you to love me. Taking away your freedom, your choices, that’s not love.”

  It's then that I realize that's what I've been doing to him.

  “I don’t want you to freak out, but you should know. I love you and I’m not letting you go like that ever again. We have to talk things out. This is a partnership, a relationship. We can always work things out. I don’t think I’d be able to do that again if you need space to work it out by yourself.”

  I reach up and gently bring his face back to mine.

  “I know.”

  He starts to speak and this time I shush him.

  “I’ve started having visions.”

  He nods silently against my hand.

  “I had a vision of you, from high school. I know you’ve loved me, Jacob, and I was stupidly blind to it.”

  He pulls my hand away. “You’re not stupid.”

  I love that he defends me, even to myself.

  “Ignorant, maybe…”

  I harrumph.

  “Sometimes slow, definitely…”

  I whack at him and he catches my hand again. He nips at my fingers.

  "I love you." I declare solemnly. It needs to be said again. He needs to know, to understand I truly get it now, and I reciprocate his love.

  “Please say you’ll never leave me again, Columbine.”

  “I won't, but…”

  He enfolds me into him, squeezing hard. I feel like we are two halves, two hands squeezed together in a prayer that it can all work out.

  “Why did you ever leave? Why did you pull away?” The hurt in his gruff voice cuts me.

  “Jacob, I had a vision, that last night in California.” He stills beside me.

  “We died.”

  chapter 33

  I GIVE HIM ALL the details of my vision. He takes it all in, never questioning anything I say. He’s surprisingly not surprised. I guess he figured it must have been something extreme like this to make me leave.

  He holds me as the wind picks up and it gets cold, like he can keep the wind out, like he can bar fate.

  "Jacob, I know I'm going to die. I honestly am prepared for that, even if it's earlier than I would from Huntington's. But I cannot be compliant in your death. Do you see? It kills me too to be away, but doesn't that make sense? I'm trying to think logically about this, but I admit, the fear is crippling."

  “Scared is just another way of writing sacred. Thank you for sharing your fears, your vulnerability. Thank you for being truthful with me and letting me know.”

  “You don’t share these fears?”

  “Well, let's table the possibility that you could be wrong and that the future isn’t set for now. Because I believe in you and that you have been graced with visions. I know you and I know you wouldn’t have done all this lightly. I know you wouldn't have gone through everything you’ve gone through—” He smoothes the hair the wind keeps whipping in my face, leaving his hand at my temple. “Yes, I saw the internet videos. So I believe in you, but you are also human, and visions aren’t one hundred percent. So, tabling that, even if this will unfailingly happen, in this moment, do you love me?”

  “Yes!”

  “And right now, right here, do you want to be with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s as simple as that.” He smiles like the sun peeking through the clouds and puts his forehead to mine again. “I love you too, Enya. And I want to be with you.

  “This is just another level of being in the now and having faith. Not judging things as right or wrong. Not you versus me. Not life versus death. Not fear, just being here. Here, with me, living this life by living this moment.”

  I nod in understanding. I do get it. I’ve been a fool. I let fear leash me and lead me around aimlessly, never once trying to buck my yoke. “Jacob” I cry his name, curling into him. “I’m so sorry. For deciding for you, for not sharing with you. For wasting so much time and causing so much heartbreak. How can you forgive me?"

  "Enya. I love you. Loving you means letting you make mistakes and grow. I truly love the whole imperfect and wonderfully human you. I love your beautiful soul, ageless since before your birth. And I love your fallible mind and courageous heart. I wholly love all of you."

  He gently, reverently kisses me. “You’re perfectly imperfect” his whisper echoes in my ear.

  —— ——

  BACK AT MY APARTMENT, I take him straight through the common area, into the sanctity of my bedroom. No one else has been here, not even Fee. This is my sacred space where I
meditate. He looks around as I tow him steadily forward, stopping to lean against my bedside table. He sits on the bed, still taking it all in. I've painted it in South Western oranges, reds, and yellows. The bright warm colors are even more of a celebration today. I watch him spy my collection of rocks on the bookcase, mementos from our trip. His eyes also pick up on the acupuncture books spread around. Then he looks past me to my bedside. The framed picture of us that Flies with Crows took at Grand Teton. The picture I see every night before I go to sleep and first thing in the morning when I wake up.

  He looks up at me then, eyes so full of understanding. Always, understanding.

  I light my meditative candle, the one that leads me to love.

  He pulls me into his lap.

  "Tell me the story of my names," I whisper

  “First you were luck. Fate. Then you overcome the last vestiges of fear holding your heart back, blossoming into your true self. Courage. Love. Faith. Compassion. You’ve flowered into something truly beautiful.”

  He kisses me tenderly. I run my hands over the ridges and valleys of his body. He’s been working out. I hum in pleasure as he strokes the hair away from my face and kisses me again, lingering and sweet. He lifts me closer, flush against him, and his muscles tense and bulge under my hands.

  Noticing my preoccupation, he says, "Rock climbing was the only sufficient distraction from you" and then catches my lips once more. “And I needed a lot of distraction,” he adds before his lips come back to coax mine. My fire is now both a wild flame and a slow steady ember as we rediscover each other. One of his hands cradles my head, the other strokes down my back. I relax into him and his ministrations as I continue my own. I welcome his reciprocal touch.

  Our bodies revel in each other, discovering each other’s secrets and wonder, while our souls delight in dissolving boundaries. We melt into each other, now two greedy fires consuming each other. Souls, anchored in bodies, merge in this human plane. We are manifestations of creation creating love.

  Sometime later my candle sputters, spent, its journey to love accomplished.

  A text from my phone wakes me up. There's a rapid succession of dings. Stumbling over to it, I peak at the screen. 5 unread texts. I swipe it open and read