by Amelia Star
“Can you be apart from each other that long,” Leslie looks up at us and asks. Then she actually winks at us. With her black hair in two braids sticking out on either side of her head, she looks like a complete mischief-maker.
“You kids never cease to surprise me,” I say.
“And that’s why we love you,” Sarah says.
I smile as the kids fight for who gets to ride in the tram with Sarah.
“Hey, doesn’t anyone want to ride with me?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” Sarah whispers in my ear. “We can come back another time – just the two of us, and take a ride in the tram alone.”
“Promise?” I ask.
She smiles, and it’s all I need to believe. We’re together for good.
EPILOGUE – SARAH
“And breathe, two, three, four,” the instructor repeats. She walks slowly about the studio full of ladies here for the 4:00 meditation class.
Leaning back slightly with one hand on my large belly, I hold up my other hand. Signaling the instructor that I will see her later, I step out into the clear sky of afternoon from the Clayton office.
After four years, I have three yoga and meditation studios around the St. Louis area. I’ve taken on plenty of staff to help out. There are the classes we still offer in afterschool programs at various community centers.
I try to spend time teaching at all of the studios at some point each week. But I don’t want to compromise having quality time with Sean and the children – those at Rosewood, and our own children also.
By the time I arrive at our home, Sean is already here with the kids, playing in the pool. I hear their voices outside and picture my husband with his dark perfect body moving through the water, muscles rippling as he splashes about.
I decide to head into the bedroom and change before following the sound of their voices into the backyard.
With inflatables on his forearms, Leo is just big enough to play in the wading end of the swimming pool, while Sean watches over the fun.
My mother has our one-year old Cynthia beside her in the stroller.
Leo tosses a spongy ball to his father.
“Your turn!” Leo waits excitedly for his father to return the throw.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Leo makes a racket loud enough that his grandmother has to remind him that his sister is sleeping.
“Who wants pizza for dinner?” I ask.
It’s Friday night, and Leo looks forward to this every week. His cheers go up, and my mom pushes the stroller towards the sliding glass doors into the kitchen.
“I know who wants pepperoni and cheese.” My mother smiles her grandmotherly smile, and her grandson runs after her into the house.
“Wrap yourselves in a towel first,” Sean commands, and Leo remembers the routine he’s supposed to follow before sloshing a trail of water across the kitchen floor.
“Well, Mr. Brighten,” It looks like we’re all alone,” I say once everyone’s inside. There’s a high hedge around our property, set on acreage at a distance from other homes. I step to the edge of the deeper end of the pool and sit down, feet dangling in the water, then open my robe.
Sean steps through the wading pool then swims in smooth, sure strokes and comes up for breath like a wild beast, swirling his head to splash the water from his body. Water droplets hit my bare skin, causing my nipples to tighten. When Sean sees me, he lets out a small gasp of delight. “My love,” he sighs, his eyes taking on that drunken-with-pleasure look that overcomes him when he sees my body. Especially my pregnant body – how tender and passionate he becomes when we have time together.
Water is dripping off his eyelashes, reminding me of that afternoon so many years ago in the parking lot outside the club in East St. Louis. I lift the end of my bathrobe tie and reach out to dab his eyes dry. “Here, let me just – ”
Sean takes my hand and in one motion swiftly yet ever so gently, manages to disrobe me and slide me into the water close beside him. “My love,” he says, cradling my body close to him protectively. “We made it through that storm, my love. Remember the stormy beginning of our love?”
He kisses me, and I remember – I remember everything – the storms and the floods and the misunderstandings. But mostly I remember all the happiness we’ve had together since that stormy beginning. “Kiss me again,” I say. “And never stop.”
Sean’s dark eyes gaze deep into my soul. And he rains down kisses on me forever.
Blossoming Love
A Sweet and Steamy Short Story Romance
Rosewood Romances Book 2
by Amelia Star
ONE – MARK
“Just try it. My herbal tea with rose petals will open your heart to all the possibilities that are out there. You’ve been single long enough, Son. You’ve got to open your heart.” My mother’s thin, dark hands push the cup of herbal tea toward me.
I look into her deep brown eyes and shake my head. “You can’t be serious, Mom. Not another herbal tea.” I stand and pick up my keys off her lace-covered table. “How many times have I told you that I don’t go for that nonsense.”
“Mark Franklin Forester.” My mother crosses her arms and leans back in her high-backed chair.
When she takes that tone with me, I know there’s no arguing. I don’t want to have to deal with the drama anyway. It’s just not worth it. “Okay. If it will make you happy, I’ll drink the tea.”
I pick up the dainty cup and finish off the tea in a few gulps. “There. Are you happy now?” I smile and step back, getting ready to head out.
“That’s what I like to see. You just need to open your heart to the possibilities, and flash that smile at the ladies. Against your chocolate brown skin, mmm, mmm, mmm. They won’t be able to resist. Then you’ll be able to bring me those grandchildren I’ve been waiting so long for.”
“Okay, Mom. That’s going to do it for today. The herbs you asked for are on your patio. If you want me to help you plant them in your garden, I’ll come by after the nursery closes. We’ve got a shipment of saplings coming in today. I’ll need to get them unloaded and transplant some of the tomatoes.” I put my jacket on. It’s still rather brisk outside this early in the morning in late April.
“Oh, you’ve got time before the nursery opens. Sit down here while I fix you some breakfast now.” My mother picks up my empty cup and saucer, carrying it to the kitchen.
“No, really. I need to go for a walk. You know, on the trail across the river.” I’m almost to the door.
“Of course.” Shaking her head, she springs up quicker and with more alacrity than most sixty-eight-year-old ladies would be capable of. “Off to the silence you crave when you need to get away from it all.”
She smiles that pearly white smile I inherited, and I notice how her hair is so very gray and fine. My hair is already getting some of those grays that show up so easily in my thick, black curls. For a moment, just a twinge of guilt that I haven’t been able to give my mom what she so longs for hits me.
But fate is fate. If I’m destined to meet the right woman, she will appear when the time is right. And no herbal tea concoction is going to be what makes that happen.
After the usual hugs and reassurances that I’ll be back to help her plant the basil and oregano, I make my escape.
The drive from St. Louis, Missouri, to the Jefferson Barracks Bridge is uneventful. I notice how full the Mississippi River still is after its annual spring flooding. Taking a series of winding roads, I make it to the levee. From there, I find the path I have been walking for years. This is where I come when I need some peace.
There’s hardly ever anyone else on this trail. It’s just me and the occasional startling beauty of a redbud in flower among the sweetgum and ash trees. It’s great to be away from the drama of my meddling mother. I know her intentions are good, but this is where I’ve always longed to be – among the peaceful beauty of nature.
Then, out of nowhere comes a puppy – a golden retriever, frolicking and trailing a le
ash behind her. The puppy approaches me happily, and I pet her. “Where’s your owner?” I ask, grabbing the leash and stopping her from running any farther.
“Hey, calm down!” I laugh, and she leaps up, hoping to be petted more.
Checking the tags, I see the puppy’s name is Daffodil. The phone number and city of her owner are also on the tags.
I’m about to take out my cell phone and make a call when I hear someone running down the path.
From around the bend, out from behind the delicate deep pink flowers of a redbud, appears a woman. Not just any woman. A beautiful woman, wearing form-fitting jeans and a yellow t-shirt. She has brown skin almost as dark as mine. Her hair is a luxuriant mass of fine coils around her face. Everything about her is luscious and enticing.
“Daffodil!” the woman exclaims in obvious exasperation. The puppy runs back to her owner. Ruffling the puppy’s ears, gasping with relief, she exclaims, “Where do you get all your energy?”
But I’m wondering who has more energy – this cute little dancing puppy, or the woman who’s playing feistily with her.
“I think someone’s looking for you,” I say. I want to add – it’s not the puppy I’m talking about. It’s me, and I’ve been looking for you all my life.
Not wanting to come on too strong, I let the woman assume I’m talking about Daffodil.
“Thank you so much for catching her,” she answers then holds out her hand.
At first, I think she wants to shake my hand, but then I realize she is waiting for me to hand Daffodil’s leash to her. “Oh, yeah. Your puppy. I guess you want her back.”
We laugh a little. But when our hands brush as I pass the leash to her, a rush of electricity startles me unlike anything I have experienced before.
She is the one for me, and I need to find a way to make her mine forever.
“My name is Mark,” I start. And I’m chuckling to myself, thinking my mom would have a heyday if she knew what I was feeling now – my heart seems to have opened completely. But it’s not because of any tea. It’s entirely due to this beautiful and fascinating woman.
TWO – SERENA
“I’m Serena,” I say to this sexy new acquaintance standing in front of me in the middle of the woods. “Really, I appreciate your catching Daffodil. Who knows how far she would have kept running if you’d not been here.”
“I’m glad I was able to help,” Mark says. Tall and broad in the shoulders, he has the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen. I can tell he doesn’t flash that smile at just anyone. Something tells me this guy is normally pretty reserved. Maybe it’s the fact he was walking along this path in the woods alone.
“Do you come walking out here often?” I ask.
“Yes, I do, at least once a week.” My mom doesn’t like it when I walk alone in the woods with Daffodil. But I’m sure not going to limit my life because of my mom’s fears. I’m just so glad I found Daffodil as soon as I moved here. She’s been such a comforting little darling to have, especially since I couldn’t have children with my ex-husband. He blamed me for everything that went wrong with our marriage. Life with Daffodil is so much better.
“With a barking puppy, and some pepper spray on the keychain in the pocket of my jeans, I feel safe enough,” I add, just to let Mark know I’m ready for anything.
As usual then, Daffodil leaps at me, practically knocking me over. I kneel to pet her and try to calm her down, but it’s impossible.
“You have so much energy, don’t you!” I look back up at Mark and smirk. “Apologies for the baby-talk. But I’ve only had her for about two weeks now. She’s still my little girl.”
Mark kneels down with me to join in playing with the rambunctious pup.
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you out here before.”
As he kneels so close to me, and we take turns jostling Daffodil, I can’t help but notice his strong hands and the callouses on them. It looks like he does some sort of manual labor.
“Well, actually, I didn’t really take walks so much until I got this little one.” I hold Daffodil’s furry little face in my hands and look in her eyes. I laugh and ruffle her ears when she licks my nose. “Oh, no, stop!”
“She’s one lively puppy.” Mark looks into my eyes, and Daffodil calms down for a moment. She whimpers a little and climbs up onto his knee.
“It appears as if someone likes you,” I say, all the while thinking I wouldn’t mind getting as close to this man as my puppy is.
A gust of spring air rustles the branches, sending a shiver through me. I stand up, and hug myself against the chill. “That breeze is really something.”
“You’re cold,” Mark states as he takes off his jacket.
“Well, I wasn’t quite ready to leave my house when this little trouble-maker went running out the open sliding glass door into the woods.”
“Here, put this on,” he insists.
I smile up at him and say, “You don’t have to do that.” But really, I’m grateful as he holds the jacket open for me to slip my arms into.
“Is that better?” He moves around in front of me to help me with the zipper, which I’m struggling with. “Here, let me get that. It always catches.” He looks at me sweetly, questioningly, for just a moment. We’re both holding our breath, waiting.
Then, with one strong twist, he gets the zipper to work right. He steps away, and I’m irresistibly tempted to pull him back in close. But Daffodil pulls her leash taut–she’s ready to dart off again.
“This one’s ready for breakfast, I think.” I give my new acquaintance a sideways glance and consider. “You seem like a nice enough guy. Have you had breakfast? Can I offer you some coffee and pancakes–something to repay you for saving my puppy from getting lost?”
Mark’s eyes widen, as if he hasn’t eaten for days. “That sounds great.”
“Well, follow me, then,” I start off down the path as Daffodil tugs me along. “Or, rather, follow her!” I shout and take off running to keep up with my energetic girl.
“Wait!” Mark shouts, and runs up behind me. He grabs the leash and pulls back on it. “Whoa, girl, whoa,” he calmly asserts.
Like a well-trained puppy, Daffodil stops and sits in the middle of the path, looking back at us with that eternal smiling expression of a happy dog.
“How did you get her to do that?” I ask a bit incredulously.
“It’s all in the voice,” he answers. The resonating bass tones are indeed enough to command anyone within earshot.
“Well, I need to get myself one of those deep voices, I guess, if I’m ever going to get my girl to do anything for me.”
“You don’t need a deep voice, just a firm tone.” Mark smiles that dazzling smile again, then turns and gives Daffodil a signal that it’s okay to walk again. We stroll casually along the path as if this were something we did together every morning.
“So, what other hidden powers do you have?” I ask. This man in his blue broadcloth shirt and jeans looks strong enough to lift boulders, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were some kind of construction worker.
Mark shakes his head. “I don’t have any hidden powers. Unless you count taking little seeds and turning them into trees as big as that maple.” He points to the tallest tree along the path.
“Sounds like a great thing to be able to do. So you’re some kind of gardener? Or horticulturalist? Is that the word?” I burrow my hands in the pockets of his jacket, feeling so cozy and warm. Or maybe I feel so warm now because this fascinating man is walking beside me.
“I run a gardening center and nursery, over in St. Louis.” Mark looks very happy when he mentions his work, so I can tell he must be living his dream. “How about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a freelance virtual assistant. And I volunteer at a community center in East St. Louis in the afternoons. In the mornings, I usually go check on my mother who has an apartment in an assisted living facility across town from me in Columbia.” I nod in the direction of my house, which is just
beyond the turn in the path. “I’m living in the house I grew up in now. I was working as a secretary at a law firm in Kansas City, but things happened. My mom needed help, so I decided to come back home and help her out. And volunteering at the community center has been a good way for me to get involved with children who are in need.”
Mark nods calmly in response. “Sounds like you keep busy.”
I was expecting the kind of reaction from Mark that my ex-husband gave me when I told him where I was volunteering. And when I told my mother I was going to East St. Louis every weekday afternoon to help with an afterschool program, she said she’d rather I take walks in the woods alone. But Mark in his calm and self-assured way doesn’t seem fazed by the fact I would be going into the dangerous area of town alone.
I look up at him as the path opens onto a clearing and a small parking lot for the hikers who come here occasionally. “Well, that’s my place, across the field there.”
“I didn’t know there was a parking lot on this end of the trail.” Mark looks around, then eyes the barren backyard of my house for a few moments. “You know what, I think I’m going to need to head into work and take a raincheck on breakfast today.”
I must have an awfully disappointed look on my face.
Mark quickly goes on, “What would you think if I came back tomorrow and helped you get a little garden started there in your yard? One thing I can’t bear is the sight of a greenspace that could be burgeoning with vegetables and flowers. It’s the perfect time of year to get in some peas and onions, and of course you’ll want some tomatoes. There’s nothing like home-grown tomatoes.” Mark looks at me hopefully. With the full sun shining on his face now that we’re out of the woods, he looks even stronger and more powerful than he did in the shadows.
Looking across the field, I realize just how barren the yard of my house looks. I wonder why we never thought of at least planting some flowers before. My mom was always so busy, just trying to raise me alone when I was a kid. The idea of having the chance to work with Mark on this project excites me.
