by C. M. Boers
“Have I told you lately how glad I am you decided to give this a go?”
“Nope, you haven’t.” I grinned, knowing he couldn’t see it anyway.
“No? Well then, you should know I haven’t had this much fun in my life for so long. I needed you more than you’ll probably ever know.”
My heart melted at his words. Not only had he gone through the trouble of pulling together this incredibly romantic sunrise together, but his words hit me right in the heart.
“I love you,” he whispered against the back of my head. His words sent a shiver down my back, and a warmth spread through me.
I turned to look at him, surprised at his words, but knowing I felt the same. I knew it more than I knew anything else.
“I love you too.”
His lips were on mine, and my breath hitched. He loved me. This man who pursued me in the beginning before even knowing me. Who was successful beyond his years, yet still brought me coffee every morning, just because. How did I get so lucky?
His hand pressed into my back, pulling me closer. He pulled back slowly, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’ve made my day, do you know that, Melanie?”
“No, but you’ve certainly made mine.”
Thanksgiving approached faster than I ever could have imagined. It was something I’d been dreading. My mom and dad had both texted and called to check in, to see if I would be coming, both making it obvious they wanted me there. Now it was staring me in the face, and I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to go.
My stress level about the decision was higher than I’d like while I sorted the files in front of me. I sighed as I placed the stack back in the file cabinet.
“What’s up?” Cindy came up behind me.
“Huh?”
“You sighed. What’s wrong?”
“Oh. I’ve just been thinking about Thanksgiving.”
“I take it you aren’t excited.”
“Not really. I’ve been trying to decide if I should go home for Thanksgiving or not.”
“Go,” Jack said as he came out of his office. “I’ve been telling her. She’s thinking too much.”
I stuck my tongue out at Jack before turning back to Cindy. “My parents are a little much sometimes.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“I guess so.” She wasn’t wrong, but she had no idea. Nobody did, though it wasn’t their fault I’d never told them about my accident. “I think I’d rather just stay home. The thought of fighting the crowds at the airport . . .” I shuddered.
“I don’t blame you there.” Cindy nodded. “I refuse to travel by plane during big holidays.”
“See?” I pointed to Cindy but made big eyes at Jack.
“You’re giving her ammunition.”
Cindy shrugged. “Sorry.”
Jack went back to his office with a new stack of work, and Cindy turned back to me. “If you decide to stay, you can come to my house if you want. We always have tons of people and way more food than we can eat.”
“Thanks.”
In the end, I decided to stay home. I know my parents were disappointed, but the truth was, I felt more at home here. I didn’t really know them well enough to miss them. Jack had multiple Thanksgiving dinners to go to, but I declined when he’d invited me along. I was actually looking forward to being alone.
“Are you sure?” he asked at breakfast, Thanksgiving morning.
“Yes.”
“But you’ll be all alone,” Jack argued.
“And I’ll be just fine. I’ll probably binge-watch chick flicks and eat junk food. Honestly, it sounds really relaxing.”
“I guess so.”
The look on his face told me he wasn’t sold on the idea, but he’d accepted it. He brought me back to my place and started to get out.
“No, you don’t have to walk me in. You’ve got a lunch to get to, I’ll be fine.”
“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t walk you in?”
“You just want a goodbye kiss,” I teased.
“Well, being a gentleman does have its perks.”
“A gentleman, huh? And still expecting a kiss.” I rubbed my chin and narrowed my eyes.
* * *
Thanksgiving came and went in a flourish of calories, not by any means from traditional fare either. December set in, and Christmas was rapidly approaching. Grace was calling more frequently than usual, and when she did, like now, she talked endlessly about moving near me early into the new year, after Christmas and once her family got more comfortable with the idea of her walking. And I knew she wouldn’t admit it, but the real factor was her getting stronger and able to handle walking, unassisted, for longer periods of time. Regardless, the very idea of it had me excited.
“I’ve been looking into the community college that’s only ten minutes from where you live, and it has the vet program I want to do,” she said.
“You’ve decided, then? To go to vet school, I mean?” I asked.
“Yeah, I may be walking again, but I’m certainly never going to be able to ride again.”
“Next best thing.”
“Exactly. I’m starting to get excited about it. I never thought I would, but I am.”
“That’s really great, Grace.”
“I know.”
“Have you looked at any more apartments?”
“Not much. But you know, there’s a lot of good real estate, much better than what you were looking at when you moved.”
“Hey! I love my house.”
“Oh, it’s cute and all, but I’m so not willing to do all the work you did.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Though, thinking about her trying to do the work herself made me glad she was finding other options. Physically, I doubted she was up for it just yet.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“How are the parents handling your decision to move?”
“They’re finally on board. And willing to pay for my rent while I’m in school.”
“Wow, that’s a big turnaround!”
“Told ya they would. It just takes them time.” There was some noise in the background. “Hey, I got to go.”
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Talk soon.” And she was gone.
Was that a man’s voice in the background? I shook my head. Probably her dad.
I settled back into the couch and un-paused the movie I’d been watching when she called. Thoughts of her moving captivated my mind more. Then I remembered; I still had boxes from moving in my garage. Maybe that’s what I should be doing instead of watching a movie, when I couldn’t focus on it anyway. I flipped it off and headed to the garage.
Winter air seeped its way into my insulated garage, and I shivered against the cold. I spotted the boxes, realizing they were the only things keeping me from parking in the garage, and cursed myself for not getting to them sooner. After lugging them inside, I made myself a steaming mug of hot chocolate to warm my hands before I dug in.
I settled the boxes in front of me on the couch, starting with the lighter of them. I pulled out my puffy winter jacket and tossed it and the rest of the clothes I’d forgotten about in the wash, thankful for a few warmer things to add to my wardrobe.
When I moved on, I remembered the photo albums I’d thrown in. For a while, I lost myself in the pictures. Though, still nothing stood out to me.
As I grabbed the last one, I realized it wasn’t a photo album at all; it was a sketchbook. Drawings of dresses, and what looked like dance costumes, filled the pages. They were really pretty. I couldn’t imagine having drawn them, yet my initials were signed at the bottom of every single one.
How did I not know about this?
Neither Jeremy nor my parents had ever mentioned it. Did they even know?
I texted Jeremy. I can draw? Why didn’t you tell me?
Thumbing through them all again, I took my time, envying each and every intricate detail that must have taken me ages to perfect.
I ju
mped when my phone vibrated in my lap. I don’t know. I thought you knew.
I shook my head. I don’t remember anything.
His response came fast now, the little dots showing me right away he was typing. I’m sorry. I should have told you.
I shook my head. Not your job. Why was I drawing dance clothes? Do I dance too?
I tried to imagine wearing one of them, but I didn’t have a graceful bone in my body. Did they even let you be a dancer if you tripped on air often?
For Emily. His words caught me by surprise.
I’d designed costumes for Emily? It didn’t feel real, yet the proof was right there in front of me. Though now, looking over it all, I had the overwhelming desire to put the pencil to paper again, just to see if I still could.
It was midnight before I looked up from the page, the box of things to my left forgotten. I stared down at the little blue dress I’d drawn. I imagined it would fall to just above the knee, flowy at the bottom, yet cinched at the waist. The rounded neckline gave way to sleeves that hugged the arms down to just above the elbow. The last touch, my favorite, was a simple white sash, tied at the waist, with a rhinestone broach at the hip. It wasn’t as elegant as the ones before; however, it was perfect for what I’d wear now on a date with Jack.
I smiled to myself and grabbed my keys. Thank goodness for twenty-four hour superstores.
I loaded my cart with fabric and thread and headed to the sewing machines, determined to make this happen, even if I had no idea what I was doing.
Back at home, I pulled my new machine out of the box and set it on the new card table I bought just for this. There were so many knobs and things, I didn’t even know where to start. I sat there for a while, the instruction book in my hand, looking back and forth between the two, when a thought struck me.
The book.
I raced upstairs and grabbed the single book left discarded in my bookshelf. A Guide to Sewing. The first time I saw it, I thought it was kind of funny it was the only thing left in a house that was in such disarray. Now I wondered if this book had been meant for me all along, like it was waiting for me, trying to tell me something. Something nothing else could, waiting for just the right moment. Now.
Using a combination of the book and machine’s instructions, I cut and pinned, until I thought it was exactly the dress I’d drawn, and hopefully the right size—I’d used my own clothes as a guide.
Sewing was a lot easier than the rest. It was like my hands knew what to do before even I did. My eyes began to droop in the last few sections, and I was sure a few of the stitches showed that in their crooked way.
I held the finished product up to my body, in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom as the sun rose, pouring sunlight into the room. Nothing gave me such satisfaction than this feeling right now, that I completed something just for me, by myself, and it was a success.
I laid it out gently on my dresser, sprawled out on my bed, and was asleep before I could even cover up.
For hours, I dreamt of lace and pins, waking with the same excitement I’d fallen asleep with, except now it had started to take shape. I wanted to design clothes. Different ideas popped into my head, and I couldn’t wait to draw them out on paper.
This was my calling. I didn’t need my memory to know that, and suddenly the business degree made sense. I had the design capability school couldn’t give me, but the know-how to run a business—that was the tricky part. Why I’d never decided to ask my parents or Jeremy why I wanted to go to business school eluded me, but in a sense, I was glad I hadn’t. This would never have been such a success to me if I knew someone else had opinions about it. Not when I was so unsure of anything before the accident.
I couldn’t wait to tell Jack.
As if he knew I was thinking of him, my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey babe, what are you doing?”
“Uh, I just woke up.”
“What? It’s one o’clock.”
“Yeah, I was kind of up all night.”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.” I grinned to myself.
“Okay . . .”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m headed home from the office.”
“I thought you were working late?”
“I changed my mind. All the numbers are blurring together, too many late nights this week.” He sighed. “Anyway, I was wondering if you want to come over for dinner?”
“Oooh, I get you and dinner cooked for me?”
His breathy chuckle echoed in the phone. “I guess so.”
“What time?”
“Five?”
“See you then.”
Dropping my phone to the bed, I sat there for a moment, smiling to myself like an idiot. No matter how many times we were together, or how often, I still got jitters in my stomach at the thought of seeing him. And it didn’t hurt that I had such exciting news to share with him.
A few hours later, I pulled up in front of his house, dressed in the flowy blue dress, my blonde hair curled into waves.
“Jack,” I called into his house. “I’m here.”
I slipped out of my jacket in the doorway and hung it on the hook. The warmth of his house settled into my bones, and I shivered. A dress in this cold may not have been the best idea.
Music drifted to me, and I smiled at the romantic melody. Making my way to the kitchen, where I heard movement, I sniffed the air. Mmm. It smelled so good.
I stopped before I fully came into the kitchen and peeked around the corner. Jack was bent over the stove, tasting the pasta sauce. He added a little more of some seasoning I couldn’t see before he nodded to himself.
I giggled, and he whipped around.
“Hey! When did you get here?”
“Just now.”
“Come here.” He hooked his finger in my direction and puckered his lips. He looked like a duck.
“No.” I smirked.
“No?”
I shook my head, snickering. Dropping my purse where I stood and kicking off my heels, I took off running through the house. I don’t know what came over me, but I wanted to have some fun teasing him. Maybe it was the cozy atmosphere or excitement of my news, but I was in a playful mood.
His loud footsteps echoed off the walls as he chased after me. I’d almost made a full circle around the main parts of the house when I came to the living room. I threw myself on the couch and hid. Not well enough, because as soon as he came bursting into the room, he stopped and listened. All was silent aside from my heavy breathing I muffled into the couch. All at once, he launched himself on top of me and attacked me with tickles.
“Eeee!” I squealed and flipped over beneath him. “I give! I give!” I puckered up just as he had before, certain I looked the same, like a duck.
A victorious smirk spread across his face as he bent and kissed me. Then he swatted the side of my butt that hung off the couch and headed to the kitchen.
“Hopefully, you didn’t make me burn dinner,” he teased.
I followed him and found the dining room table set for two with candles in the center. I sat down and watched him finish up.
“What’s the special occasion?” I asked.
“It’s been three months since you said you’d give this a chance. It’s been the best three months of my life. That is worth celebrating.”
Guilt hit me with a force that could have knocked me over. I didn’t know that. How had I not realized? I couldn’t even recall what day that had been on. That was the type of thing girls remembered and celebrated more often than guys. What a terrible girlfriend I was. Had I always been so callous?
My news suddenly didn’t seem so important.
He came over with steaming plates of pasta and dimmed the light.
“This is so sweet.” I took a bite. “And oh my God, so good.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. That dress is stunning, by the way; it really brings out your blue eyes.”
&
nbsp; I glanced down at the dress and blushed. “Thanks, I’m glad you like it. In fact, that’s my surprise.”
“Your dress?” His brows knit together.
“I made it.”
“What? Stand up.” The humor and disbelief in his voice made me giddy.
I stood, and he took my hand, spinning me around in front of him, taking in every angle of it. The love in his eyes was clear.
“It’s amazing. I never would have guessed it wasn’t name brand.”
“Thanks.” I sat back down.
“What in the world made you decide to make a dress?”
I thought of the sketchbook and how I didn’t remember it and the fact that he didn’t know anything about my memory, and my story suddenly got very difficult.
“Uh, well, I used to draw all the time, and I found one of my sketchbooks last night. So, I thought I’d see if I still had it. I couldn’t wait to try to sew it once I saw what I’d created, and here it is.”
“I didn’t even know you knew how to sew.”
“Me either. It’s sort of crazy, but when I moved into my house, there was one book left by the previous owner on the bookshelf—A Guide to Sewing. I don’t know, maybe it was a sign that I should be doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Designing clothes. Nothing ever has made me feel as accomplished as I did when I finished this.” I looked down at the fabric. “And I did it all by myself.”
“Of course you did. I think you’d be great at designing clothes.”
“Really? It’s not silly?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve been this hopeful for something, ya know?”
“Then I guess this will have to double as a celebration for your new adventure!” He stood up and leaned over inside a cabinet, pulling out a small present wrapped in all-black wrapping with a red bow.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Open it.” He set it on the table in front of me.
I looked from the gift to Jack and back, worry creeping into my thoughts. “I didn’t get you anything.”
