“Back to bed,” he set the cup on the table and tugged her to her feet, walking slowly to the bedroom. “It’s Sunday…I think we’ll get the rest of your things out of your side today and I’ll let Chloe know about the door.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jack breathed a long sigh of relief when he crept from the bed just before six. She was sleeping soundly, curled against the pillows, long hair fanning down her slender back. The fog was back and had neatly held in the heat from the previous day. He flipped the ceiling fan on low and got dressed to run, making certain that both locks were set when he left the apartment.
He stepped into the apartment forty-five minutes later, breathing deep and knowing what he wanted to check on the computer when he met the wide brown eyes. She was dressed in her jeans and tank top, ponytail curled high on her head. But it was the look in her eyes and the cup she was holding between both hands.
Emily pushed herself up slowly, her gaze sweeping over him. One palm rose and drew a line around the triangle shaped sweat print down his front.
“That was pretty good chocolate last night…I don’t remember you drinking any, though,” Emily remarked casually, watching the expression on his face, the honestly in his eyes, even when he winced. “Trying to decide the next course of action?”
“I won’t lie to you, Emily,” he said simply, his defensive stance inside evaporating when she stepped closer and kissed him lightly.
“Thank you,” she said simply, turning and going into the kitchen. “French toast this morning…you promised…”
“I…will shower fast,” he said, his head shaking all the way to the shower.
Jack was buttoning his shirt as he entered the kitchen, looking at the collection Emily had brought to the counter, along with a piece of paper. He lifted the iron griddle from inside the oven and set it on the stove.
Emily watched him break an egg with one hand into the bowl. “Show off,” she took the other two eggs and cracked them lightly together, frowning slightly as she scooped the shell from inside the bowl with one fingernail.
“I prefer non-crunchy French toast,” he said with a chuckle. “A dab of vanilla..”
“Is that a technical measurement?” Emily lifted the very large bottle and frowned. “This isn’t American…”
“Nope…the good stuff…from Mexico,” Jack took the bottle and poured a little into the eggs, adding some milk and reaching for the whisk.
“Hmm…” Emily tidied up while he was cooking, setting two plates out and searching for the syrup and digging a small bottle of jam from inside the fridge. “We need a kitchen with light…lots of windows and skylights…”
Jack looked at her when she suddenly gasped loudly. “Emily?”
Pales lashes were wide, one palm up and on her mouth. “I’ve escaped through a skylight, Jack!” She whispered hoarsely, giggling softly. “I can see it…I can see me…I think I was twelve…oh my god…”
“So escaping the hospital is just a long trend in a misspent youth,” Jack forked a slice of crispy buttered French toast onto the plate.
“I guess so…” She opened the cherry jam and smeared some on the slice of cinnamon bread, folded it and sliced off a bite, her gaze on the plate but vision far from the apartment.
“So we need lots of windows and skylights…you’re not eating,” Jack said after a few quiet minutes of cooking, setting the empty bowl in the sink and running hot water into it. Emily moved to add soap and clean it, blinking and looking up at him.
“Right…and at least one more bathroom,” she said absently.
“So you think it’s time to house hunt?” Jack asked casually, almost laughing at the instant alert Emily he faced. He lifted her fork and put it to her lips. “Taste.”
Her mouth opened and she chewed, scowling at him. “House hunting? Jack…”
“Someplace with room to build some raised beds…and a large space for a chicken coop,” he went on as if talking to himself.
“Don’t you think,” Emily swallowed the toast and reached for another bite, watching him dribbled syrup over his plate. “When kids rush into…into relationships…”
“We aren’t kids…we’re mature enough to have learned lessons and grown from them,” he pointed out carefully between bites.
“Speak for yourself, Jack…I don’t remember what I’ve learned and not learned,” Emily was pacing the floor, ignoring the plate.
“Emily…you trust your instincts,” he grabbed at her hand and pulled her to the counter. “Eat breakfast so we can get your stuff moved this morning.
She lifted the folded French toast and bit down. Her head tilted slightly. “This isn’t about chickens or a garden…”
Jack put his fork down, turning in the stool and pulling her between his knees. “This is about you and me. About being better together than apart, even when we’re working on different things. This is about a home and building permanence…to be honest, I never knew I wanted those things until we started seeing each other…talking about what we’d put into a place of our own,” he watched her process his words. “I don’t care about your yesterday, Emily. I trust my instincts and I’m pretty certain you weren’t anything corrupt or illegal…”
Emily put her hands on the edges of his shirt, staring into his eyes. “How come you aren’t already settled down with half a dozen kids and a dog?”
Jack laughed, shrugging. “Never found the right partner? Hell…I’m thirty-six, Emily…pretty set in my bachelor ways by now…it’d take a pretty tough lady to be willing to take on that task.”
“Hmm…thirty-six…wow…that’s pretty old,” she whispered teasingly against his mouth. “I’m not sure you can keep up with me…”
“I’m more than willing to give it my all,” he answered before losing himself to the taste of buttery French toast and cherry jam. “We got tasks, lady…no distractions,” he said when the kiss threatened to evolve. He set her back and carried their plates to the sink. “Grab your keys and let’s go…”
“There isn’t much here, Jack,” Emily looked around. “The sewing machine and those chairs…the kitchen stuff…I have a few things in the closet…” She looked up when he carried a large fifteen inch square locked box out of the bathroom. Emily met his eyes with a crooked grimace. “That might take a little explaining.”
“What’s in it?” Jack asked cautiously, adding it to the things near the front door.
“According to Chloe…three days before the accident, I cleaned out all my accounts and liquidated everything to cash,” Emily said slowly, watching his face. His mouth opened and closed twice. “I don’t know why. But she printed out the withdrawal forms so I could deposit it again without grief…I just haven’t gotten around to it…”
“How much are we…” Jack closed one eye and held out his palm, accepting the keys she dropped into it. He lowered himself to his heels and turned the lock, lifting the lid and then dropping it, his eyes closed. “You’ve been keeping this here all this time?”
“Yeah…well…no one knew…” Her palm swept up when he opened his mouth again. “No lectures. It’ll ruin an otherwise lovely morning,” she informed him, disappearing into the bedroom to gather the rest of her clothing.
“First thing tomorrow morning,” Jack growled out loudly, following her and noticing her wince. “Emily?”
She lifted the hem of her top, turning her side to him. “Could you?”
Jack sighed and carefully peeling the plastic sheet from her side. “Ian said no bandage today or tonight. Let the air dry it.”
“Thank you…got it, bank…first thing in the morning…” She quickly had everything belonging to her out of the room and the bathroom. “You’re really truly serious about this whole living together house thing, aren’t you?”
“Hmm…really truly,” Jack repeated, stacking and lifting an armful, disappearing down the stairs.
Emily went down the inside stairs to the shop, opened the back door and turned her music on, sitting an
d stitching as she sang along and thought.
Jack stood in the doorway, listening. He saw a tear ease down her cheek, the passion she threw into her voice incredible, the inflection and tones she adjusted and matched the original artists’ voice. Given the lyrics of the song, he was fairly certain the tear was for the emotion. She stopped, tossing the headphones to the desk and leaning back in the chair.
“Emily?”
“Just thinking,” she answered, standing up and striding to join him, keys up as he backed out of the shop and she locked things down.
“Should I ask about what?”
“Stuff we’ve talked about…the couple thing adhering to what society believes…that kind of stuff,” she slipped her hand in his, walking with him to his side of the building. “What are we gonna do next? Can we go to the beach? We could pick up subs and go the park…” she asked hopefully.
“Let me get my wallet and keys…but that sounds like a great Sunday to me,” Jack left her leaning against the SUV, her face tipped up to the sun. She was dangling a set of keys when he returned, the tarp off the sports car and neatly folded on the hood. “You sure?”
“Yep…we’re not hauling anything big…and it’s nice…it’s ours and there’s no reason not to use it,” she said firmly, sinking into the passenger seat and buckling herself in while he put the tarp in the SUV.
“Ours, huh?” Jack didn’t fight the crooked grin on his face, turning the key and putting his seat belt on.
“Well…this whole couple thing…”
“Taking up a lot of compute cycles?” He laughed and caught the palm that swung out at him.
“It is, actually…it’s a big step…and important step…but it also feels like a right step,” she concluded quietly, decisively. “It puts a really nice feeling in your belly…it’s hard to explain…”
“I think you’re doing a great job at it,” Jack told her, guiding them to the highway and heading south.
“I’m thinking there are a lot of perks to this couple thing,” Emily ignored the laughter. “Like dealing with jewelry and money…”
“I can’t deposit it, Emily…we’d have so many IRS agents down on us…”
“Oh, I know that…but I have the paperwork…so we can just put in your account and you can deal with it,” she said with a nod. “I think it’s brilliant. Chloe said they’ll look at me like I’m really odd, but I don’t care about that…”
Jack decided spending the day laughing with Emily was an incredible way to spend time.
“As long as we’re discussing couple stuff…” Jack parked the car and chirped the alarms once she was out and coming around to his side. “I was talking to Ian about your stitches…” He grabbed her palm and led her toward the beach. “Your face could freeze like that and it’ll be damn hard to explain to people…”
Emily only wrinkled her nose a little more at him.
“Anyway…we’re thinking maybe hold off removing the stitches another day or two.”
“It itches,” she said with a growl. “And pretty soon, I’m going to take a little pair of snips to them myself…talk that one over with Ian.”
“The only thing saving you from me tossing you into the ocean right now…”
“Is those stitches?” Emily pulled her palm free, jogging lightly backwards and winking at him. “Then I might as well cause all kind of havoc, huh?”
Jack came in from his run a little before seven the next morning, rounding the corner in the bedroom to see Emily trying to contort with a pair of tiny scissors in her fingers. She heard him enter and looked up, moving her hand quickly out of his range.
“Where’d you find those?” He asked, taking a cautious step forward.
“Found them in this drawer…look like perfect stitch removing scissors to me,” she backed up another step, scowling. “Remember last night in the throes of passion? You said…just look through stuff, Emily…we’re a couple…we have no secrets…and I’ve already rifled your underwear drawer…so I was looking and found them…”
“I don’t quite recall those words….give me the scissors, Emily,” he held out his palm.
“Take them out.”
“I…alright…let’s do a test…” he watched her consider this.
“A test? I can’t do it myself…it was making me cross eyed,” she grumbled, handing him the small hooked scissors.
“A test…lay down on the bed and let me clip one…it’s like when you’re sewing,” he explained. “How easily the needle goes through depends on the fabric and depth…”
“Yeah...okay…I’m following…” Emily hitched the strap of her bra onto her shoulder.
“If it comes out easily…then it’s healed enough. If it…” Jack winced at the one he was trying to ease free. “Sticks…”
Emily let her head fall to the mattress. “Then it’s not ready yet,” she finished his statement for him. “Okay…there really are a lot of them…”
“Over a hundred,” he agreed, laying the scissors down on the nightstand. “I’m going to shower. Bank at nine AM…”
“Why are you dragging your feet?” Jack held the large lock box in one hand and her palm in the other as they entered the bank.
“Questions…always questions I don’t have answers for,” she mumbled.
“Got your wallet?” He asked, not having a reply to the other comment.
“Yes,” Emily pulled her best customer smile into place as they went to one of the desks.
“We need to speak with your manager, please,” Jack asked politely, groaning silently at the picture they must present. Him in his best beach boy attire and her in jeans and tank top.
The young woman smiled and gestured to an empty desk. “Of course, sir, if you’ll have a seat? I’ll be right back.”
Jack tugged Emily to the chair and pulled his wallet out. Debit card and identification in his hand when the older woman came forward.
“Debra Walling…”
“Jack Garrett and my wife, Emily,” he shook hands and took a seat in front of the desk. “We need to make a deposit…and if possible, get my wife added to my accounts.”
Emily pulled out her identification and laid it on the table, her keys in her hand. She opened the lock box a little and pulled out a manila folder.
Debra Walling took a seat by the keyboard, her hands moving over it. Her shoulders straightened a little more and her body language betrayed her.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Garrett? Is this deposit to your business accounts…”
“This is personal, Ms. Walling,” Jack set the box on her desk. “This takes a little explanation…”
Emily slid the folder toward her. “The explanation is here. I had my stuff in a different bank. I removed it. It’s now in that box. We want to deposit it into Jack’s account.” She drew in a long slow breath. “I know there was probably lots of other ways for me to do this, but…well, it’s done…so…”
“It’s alright, Mrs. Garrett,” Debra smiled and read quickly through the papers. “These tell me all I need to know. I’ll have a copy made for our records and we’ll just start the process. I think we should take this to my office. I’ll bring in a clerk and we’ll get this taken care of in no time. If you’ll follow me?”
“I really appreciate your understanding. I honestly don’t know…well…no matter,” Emily clung to Jack’s palm.
“If you’ll just give me some information and sign this, Mrs. Garrett…” Debra laid a short form on the desk. “I can get you added to these accounts quite simply…while Marcus does some counting.”
Emily heard the attempt to swallow a gasp when Jack set the box on the desk and opened it. She closed her eyes and sunk into the chair, a pen lifted and lines filled out. She scrawled the signature on the line, pausing when Jack leaned next to her ear, whispering. She pulled the paper back and added another name at the end of her signature and slid the paper across the desk.
Chapter Fourteen
“They think I’m insane,”
Emily said when they left the bank an hour later.
“When you drop that much cash into their bank, they don’t care if you’re insane,” Jack commented as they walked hand in hand along the street to the shop.
“Oh, thanks, that makes me feel much better,” Emily couldn’t stop the laughter when he just grinned.
“You…” he stopped outside the shop, his hand beneath her chin. “Are adorable…I am going to work. Try and stay out of trouble…”
“Where’s the fun in that,” she murmured and went inside, straightening things and smiling at the customer Grace was helping.
Ten minutes later Grace turned to her. “Okay…I got the hair color…you ready?”
“Oh crap…that’s this morning…I’ve been so…yeah, okay…let me change this top,” Emily went behind the screen and pulled on an old tee shirt.
“Stitches still in?” Grace winced in sympathy.
“Let’s leave them in a few days longer,” Emily used a deep voice to imitate Jack. “You’re not done baking yet, Emily.”
Grace could only giggle, pulling gloves on and going with her to the sink, the main area still in view. “Well…”
“Don’t you start,” Emily warned, one finger raised. “Oh…” She bent over the sink. “Think we should tell Jack?” It took only a pause before both of them said the same thing.
“Where’s the fun in that?” And burst out laughing.
“It hasn’t even been a week, Emily,” Grace told her when she was finished, the wide comb drawn smoothly through the new very dark brown hair, pulling it snugly into a bundle at the nape of her neck. “Okay…make-up…”
Emily looked into the mirror, blinking the thick, dark lashes. The scarlet lipstick the last to be applied.
“Wow…” Grace stood back, her head shaking. “You definitely do not look like you. Get changed…oh, and here’s the shoes,” she lifted a pair of three inch open toed heels to her. “I really like this new round foot shoe that’s popular. It’s so much more comfortable than that pointed toe crap.”
WindSwept Narrows: #3 Emily Temple Page 12
