by Sarah Cole
“Thank you; I will. Bye, Maggie.” I say, ending the call.
I don’t really know what I just agreed to, but I suppose it’s worth a shot. Maggie’s a decent judge of character from what I can tell, so I might as well trust her. I climb out of bed, trying to get my head on straight. Everyone I talked to told me that the nightmares and flashbacks would get better, but I only wish I knew when I could expect it. I hate to admit that I’m scared to close my eyes, because I never know what’s going to happen when I do.
4
CLARA:
I pull my baseball cap firmly over my face as far as it will go and push the grocery cart faster towards my waiting car. That was one of the most terrifying yet exhilarating experiences of my life. Grocery shopping and getting a tire fixed. Who would have thought? For the first time since I can remember, running some simple errands didn’t warrant a body guard and a Xanax. It wasn’t until I was checking out, surrounded by tabloids, that the nerves began to set in. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my face is plastered on the cover of nearly every single one. There’s everything from a big question mark over a very unflattering picture, to speculations that I eloped with Landon, to me being pregnant with my sister’s boyfriend’s child. Seriously though… where do they get this stuff? I was checking out, trying to avoid my own face and humiliation, but the cashier just studied me a little too closely… I figured I was undetectable enough without my usual heavy makeup or overly bleached blonde hair (don’t ask – apparently, blondes get better ratings), but I’m sure if good old Rita looked long enough, she’d figure it out since I’m willing to bet she gets to stare at my picture for fifty percent of her day. Thus, my hasty escape.
I turn onto my street, and see a silver car in my driveway, and I’m nervous until I see Maggie hop off my porch and wave when I pull into my driveway.
“Hi Clara! I hope it’s ok that I just stopped by. You mentioned where you lived, but I didn’t have a phone number to get ahold of you.” She says, as I open my car door.
“Oh, that’s ok. What’s up?” I close my door and walk to where she’s standing.
“So, remember when you mentioned needing to find something you could put on your resume?” she asks excitedly.
“Yes?” I question slowly, drawing out the word.
“Well, Lucas and I have this friend from high school, and he’s going to need a full-time sitter here in a month or so. He’s going to be a single father, so he’s going to need someone pretty flexible since he owns his own business and volunteers for the fire department with Lucas. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” she claps her hands, practically bouncing up and down with hopeful eyes.
“Wow. Yeah, thank you!” I say. That was so kind of her to think of me when she really doesn’t know me from the man in the moon.
“Oh, pshhh.” She waves me off, “I think you guys will hit it off!”
“This is a job… why are you trying to sell me on it, like it’s a blind date?” I eye her skeptically and she just shrugs with a smirk. I can’t help when I feel a smile pull up the corners of my own lips. Her bubbly personality is infectious, reminding me a lot of Emily.
“All I’m saying is you never know. He’s good looking guy, you’re a good looking girl… bada-bing-bada-boom.” She laughs.
“Oh my.” I laugh with her, covering my face in embarrassment.
“Here’s the office number he asked me to give you. His Aunt Irene runs the offices, so if he’s unavailable she can set up an appointment.” She hands me a slip of paper with neatly printed handwriting.
“Thank you, Maggie. I really do appreciate this.” I say, hugging her and she squeezes me back tightly.
“You’ll repay me by babysitting my holy terrors so I can spend some quality time with my big squeeze.” She winks before skipping off to her car, and I smile shaking my head. This town and these people… I think I’m going to like it here.
I unload my groceries, and call the number Maggie gave me. Irene answered the phone, and upon hearing my name and why I was calling, she began talking excitedly. We set up an appointment for an interview, and I can’t contain my excitement. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…on my own.
FLYNN:
I stare at the heap of white wood on the floor. I build homes for a living, so why the fuck can’t I put a crib together? If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this thing was from Ikea. I turn up my music, blasting From the Dark by Fading to Light, being able to relate to the lyrics about being lost inside your own mind, and try to focus on getting this done. I’m securing some screws when something touches my shoulder.
I automatically reach behind me grabbing the wrist of my attacker and twisting until I have him pinned to the ground. Only I realize it isn’t an attacker, it’s my Aunt Irene.
“Flynn!” she lets out a shocked cry, and I release her immediately cursing myself and my kneejerk reactions.
I pull her up off the floor, clutching her to my chest, my breaths coming rapidly. “I’m so sorry. You scared me. Are you alright?” I ask, holding her at arm’s length. I reach to switch off the music, the silence nearly deafening with the awkwardness that’s hanging in the air.
“I’m fine. But honey, the better question is, are you ok?” she looks concerned for me, even after I just threw her on the floor.
“Yeah, sorry. Just wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“I rang the bell, but you had your music turned up. You’ll ruin your hearing that way, boy.” She points to the stereo accusingly.
“Sorry to break it to ya, but bombs and mortars already beat the stereo to that.” I joke, but she doesn’t think it’s very funny. Tough crowd.
The doorbell rings, and Aunt Irene gives me an encouraging nod and a weak smile.
“Go get that, honey. I’ll go wait for you in the office.” She says, patting my shoulder and leaving the room. She agreed to come and act as a judge of character and to help me remember to ask any questions I might forget.
I feel terrible about what just happened, but I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m hoping that will get better eventually. You’d think after months of being back I’d feel comfortable – at ease, but instead, I still feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin most days.
I peek through the window at the top of the door, and all I can see is the back of a brunette head. Opening the door, she turns to face me with a sharp inhale of breath. I’m pretty sure I just scared her half to death, and I let myself take her in. Stunning. That’s really the only word that comes to mind. She’s more than pretty, or hot- she’s stunning. Sure she’s petite, but her tan, toned legs go on for days hidden underneath a tidy black sleeveless dress. Her shiny dark hair is pulled neatly into a low knot at the nape of her neck and her natural makeup perfectly accentuates her high cheekbones and warm, chocolate colored eyes. Her pretty smile starts to slip, and I can sense her apprehension growing, and she clears her throat. It is enough to shake me from my gawking, and I realize I’m just staring at her like a fucking moron.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. You must be Clara Chambers?” I confirm, holding out my hand, and the more I study her she begins to look familiar.
She nods, slipping her dainty manicured hand in mine, giving us both a shock. Literally. We both jolt away from each other with a start, laughing.
“Yes, sorry. Nice to meet you Mr. Alexander.”
Her voice, like her laugh, is soft and sweet, and her lack of accent confirms she’s definitely not from around here.
“It’s just Flynn.” I smile. “Come on in.” I open the door wider, deliberately not moving my body, just so I can get closer to her. What in the hell is wrong with me?
“Thank you, Flynn.” she replies quietly. The sound of my name on her lips, makes me smile even wider. She nervously edges her way around me, as I catch the scent of her sweet floral smelling perfume.
God damn, if she passes the test, it’s either going to be the best or the very worst d
ecision I’ve ever made, hiring her. Because although, I’d like to pride myself in my stellar self-control, I’m not certain I’ll be able to look and not touch.
5
CLARA:
When Flynn opened the door, he not only startled me as I was gawking at his beautiful home and landscaping, but he literally took my breath away. He’s incredibly handsome, with a tall muscular build, closely buzzed blonde hair, chiseled features and blazing blue eyes. He definitely wasn’t what I was expecting even though Maggie told me he was a good-looking guy. She failed to mention that he was straight from my own personal fantasies. The way he was studying my face unnerved me a bit. I thought for sure he was going to recognize me, but I realized if I am ever going to get to where I want to be in this new life of mine, I’m going to have to grow a backbone. Emboldened by my internal pep talk, I decided to go with the flow.
“Would you like something to drink, Clara?” Flynn asks, my name dripping from his lips like melted cotton candy.
“No, thank you. You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. It was my parents’ before they passed. I just recently had it modernized.” He says, and I see the flicker of pain behind his eyes at the mention of his parents.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” I say. I know how it feels to lose a parent, but I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose one you are actually close with, let alone both.
“Nothing to be sorry for, darlin’.” He drawls, his deep southern accent making me blush. It just sounds sexy the way his words slowly roll off his tongue.
“Just in here.” He steps through the door of an immaculate office, giving me another whiff of his masculine scent, and I can’t get enough. Inside, there’s a lady probably in her early sixties, sitting with perfectly styled hair, khakis and a tidy pastel twin set on. She stands as we enter the room, and turns to greet us with a smile.
I smile politely at her in return, but when our eyes meet, there’s immediate familiarity between us. Her eyes crinkle with recognition, but she’s tight lipped for which I am thankful.
“Clara this is my Aunt, Irene Campbell. I believe you guys spoke on the phone when you called. Irene, this is Clara Chambers.” Flynn says, as I extend my hand for her to shake.
There’s something about her face and her name – I know I know her, but the answer eludes me. We spoke on the phone, but now seeing her face along with the name, something is tugging on my old memories. We smile politely, silently scrutinizing one another. Not with any malice, but rather sheer curiosity.
“Nice to meet you, Irene.”
Her kind smile widens as her eyes sparkle in amusement, “Nice to meet you as well, sweetheart.” The way she speaks, reminds me of something straight from the movie, Steel Magnolias.
“Let’s have a seat and get started.” Flynn gestures towards the gray upholstered chairs that face his desk.
As we sit, he regards me intently, his fingers steeple at his full lips, and I wonder what they’d feel like to kiss. I don’t miss how his t-shirt pulls across his muscled chest and tanned arms. No doubt from working long hours outside in the hot Georgia sun. I look back up to meet his eyes, and the corners of his lips twitch in amusement. I feel the heat rush to my face, knowing he knows full and well that I was checking him out.
“Let me just go over what this job entails, first. Then I’d like to ask a few questions. After that, if you have any questions of your own, we can walk through them.” He says.
“Sounds good, thank you.”
He nods in confirmation before describing the details of the job. He briefly explains his situation and the fact that he will be raising this child alone. He seems unfazed by that fact, like he has come to terms with it. It certainly is unconventional and curiosity fills me, but it is none of my business. He then moves on to the other details. I’d be working full time, Monday through Friday while he’s at work, and occasionally on the weekends when he has to be on call for the fire department or at a construction site. I’d be responsible for caring for an infant and light housework-mainly cleaning up bottles and doing laundry for the baby when needed. All in all it seems pretty straight forward. I’ve never taken care of a baby before, but I love children and have babysat before when I was a teenager. Yes, even people need babysitters in Hollywood, and clearly they aren’t picky as long as it means they can attend a party by the Quentin Scott.
“Clara, can you tell me a little bit about yourself and what you think qualifies you for this position?” he asks.
My nerves kick into overdrive as I rack my brain trying to formulate a decent answer that doesn’t involve the last eight or so years of my professional life. Why I thought this sounded like a good idea is beyond me, but I know that without any references or experience I definitely won’t be able to get a real job in the future- or at least I job that I actually want. So, with that I open my mouth and begin to try and describe who I really am, and why I so desperately need something else in my life beyond what I already have.
***
We finish a lengthy discussion, involving a detailed question and answer process before Irene nods at Flynn with enthusiasm. He stands offering me his hand as I do the same. I feel like everything went well. The nerves eventually wore of and I took everything with ease and honesty. After the first question, it was pretty standard questions about if I was certified with first aid, what my interests were, etcetera.
“Well Miss Clara, I’d be lying if I told you that there’s a long line of candidates knocking at my door for this job. I’d also be lying if I said out of everyone I have talked to, you weren’t the best.” Flynn laughs, and only then do I notice his dimples. Goodness, he’s handsome. I immediately feel my cheeks pink again.
“Well, thank you?” I say, unsure of what he meant by his comment.
He laughs again, causing butterflies to swarm in my tummy with the warm rich sound. “No, No… I didn’t mean anything by that. It was meant to be a compliment.” He massages his forehead roughly before scrubbing his hands over his tanned, clean shaven face, “What I’m trying to get at here is, I’d like to offer you the job if you would still like it.”
“Really?!” I ask, nearly bouncing out of my shoes.
“Really.” He says with a chuckle.
After setting up a time to go over schedules, salary and information we make our way to the front door. I didn’t exactly know how to bring up the fact I don’t need paid without it being awkward. I’m really just looking for the experience, but I’m sure I’ll find something constructive to put that money towards.
“I’ll see you on Wednesday at ten thirty.” Flynn says.
“Alright. Thank you again for this opportunity.” I say.
“No, thank you. I can’t begin to tell you what a relief it is for me to have this ironed out before the baby is born.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Well Flynn, I’m going to head back to the office. Talk to you when you get back, sweetie.” Irene says, patting his shoulder.
“I better get going too. I actually have the last of my furniture being delivered to my new home this afternoon.” I interject.
“Oh great! Where are you at?” Flynn inquires with interest.
I hesitate before I say, “I just bought a home over on Birch Lane.”
His eyebrows raise, “So you’re the one that bought the old Scott place? Thing’s been vacant for years. My Dad bought it a few years back as a project, but then Mom passed and it got put on the back burner. The company finally just overhauled it to put it on the market a couple years ago. That’s a lot of house for one person.”
“Yeah… I just couldn’t pass it up. I had a good feeling about it, and the work your company did is gorgeous. Thank you…” I can’t explain the real reasons why I bought it, but I appreciate the work they put into it more than he’ll ever know.
“It’s what we do best.” He smiles a cocky smile, and I can’t help but to smile back.
“Ok, I better scoot. See you Wednesd
ay.” I hurry out the door and down the steps, my heart pounding. I have a job. A real job… and my boss is hot as hell… Shit Clara… don’t think about that.
“You’ve grown into a beautiful woman, Clara Elizabeth Scott.”
I, as well as my heart, stop at the mention of my full name. I wheel around to find Irene standing behind me with her arms folded primly across her chest and a small smile on her face.
She must sense my urge to hop into my car and floor it, because she quickly uncrosses her arms holding them in front of her like she’s trying to talk me off a ledge. I guess in a way she is.
“Oh honey, relax!” She placates in her refined Southern twang. “I’m not going to say a word… I know your reasons, or at least I assume that I do. You don’t remember me, do you?”
She takes a couple steps so there’s only a foot or so of space between us.
I shake my head, then say, “You look vaguely familiar, but I’m still having a difficult time placing you. I’m sorry.”
She waves her hand dismissively, “Oh pshhh, it’s been years. We’ve all aged a bit since then. I knew your grandmother quite well. Actually, I grew up across the street from your current home and I babysat your father when he was young. He was always such a little shit. Sorry- I overheard you telling Flynn you bought your Grandma’s house. That’s so special-she’d be tickled. She always loved you kids so much.”
I smile at that, and a memory smacks me upside the head like a frying pan, “Oh my goodness! Yes! Fourth of July parties! You used to make the orange Jello salad!” I wave my hands animatedly. It’s a bad habit when I get excited over something.
She laughs a throaty laugh, “That’s right! Still do!”
“Listen, Irene… I know you’re probably thinking the worst of me right now, but I can assure you that I’m absolutely nothing like what you’ve seen on television.” I say.
“Heavens child! Don’t you think I know that? As soon as you began speaking I knew that. Your Grandmother told me all about your Daddy’s lofty ideas… smut. All of it.”
