"Did you get along?"
"Not when we were young, but as we got older we did, actually, a minor miracle considering our personalities resided at completely opposite ends of the spectrum. But we both liked music, her playing, me listening, and sweet potato fries," Nick smiled. "And sometimes, late at night we'd sneak downstairs and raid the fridge or the liqueur cabinet or both and just hang out and talk for hours and then we'd spend the whole next day sleeping. There's pictures of us over by the TV," Nick offered, as he began cutting up an onion.
Several photos sat on the shelves near the TV; amidst them was a family photo that Jen picked up. They were a beautiful family, all nicely dressed, even Nick — except for his shoes, they looked to be the same pair of chucks he always wore. And she couldn't help but smile at the shock of blue hair nestled within his dark locks. "You look so young," Jennifer mused.
"That was Thanksgiving, the year they died."
Jennifer replaced the picture, and returned to the kitchen. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said. "You must miss them."
"I do." He said. "It's not as hard as it used to be, but I'll always miss them." His face looked troubled as he scooped the onion chunks into a saucepan. "Thank you for understanding," he said. "I wish you didn't."
"But it's not really the same. I mean, your family was taken from you. Mine too in a way, I guess, but they're still alive. Still out there someplace, living their lives. I don't even want to think about the pain of knowing they were... not going to go on."
"I'm glad you have that," Nick said.
The familiar silence returned as Nick chopped vegetables until she started asking about dinner. Spaghetti. The sauce was a recipe he'd learned from Brett. It started with ground beef, sautéed with onions then fresh mushrooms, zucchini, and yellow squash. All of which were cut into large — not bite sized — pieces and sautéed. Then a can of diced tomatoes and a jar of spaghetti sauce were added to the mix. Then he added a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon and a bit of brown sugar and left it to simmer, stirring occasionally while the noodles cooked.
Jennifer was a little nervous about the cinnamon. Nick reassured her that according to Brett, cinnamon was the secret ingredient that made regular spaghetti great spaghetti. She gave it a taste. It was delicious. Quite easily the best spaghetti sauce she had ever tasted.
"Brett's talent is food." Nick smiled.
"Yeah it is."
"So what's your talent, Jen?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "I don't think I have one really. Maybe that's why I wait tables."
"Don't do that," Nick reprimanded. "What you do is no less than what anyone else does. It's an important job that requires more skill than you give yourself credit for."
"People tell me what they want to eat and then I bring it too them," she countered.
"No," Nick shook his head. "I've seen your job. It requires people skills, listening, communicating, building rapport, quick memorization of lots of details, problem solving, diplomacy, balance, strength, patience, more patience, a sense of humor. And you do it all with a smile. I couldn't do what you do," he said. "Maybe service is your talent. You should run for office. I could be your campaign manager," he added.
She laughed at his grand plan. Of course there was the questionable identity issue. She wondered if Jennifer Hollis had been registered to vote in Colorado. They talked about politics, briefly, neither of them had much interest in the subject, and it quickly turned into the politics of work. Nick scolded the cats for getting on the table and Jen told him about her numerous rescued animal adventures.
"Did you grow up here — in this house I mean?" she asked as Nick scooped lemon sorbet into dessert dishes.
"Yeah. My parents bought the place just before Lindsay was born."
"So how much of this place is you, and how much of it is your parents?"
Nick contemplated for a moment, "When I look around, I see remnants of Lindsay and my parents, I see it in things like the piano, my dad's desk, dessert dishes. I always want to be able to have those remnants, those memories." He handed her the small bowl of sorbet, and a spoon. "But about three years ago I decided it was time to make it my own. I completely redid the place. Remodeled, got new furniture," Nick recollected. "What's that look?" he asked.
"I've just never seen this side of you," she explained. "I guess it's just not what I had expected from a guy in Chucks."
"A guy in Chucks," he repeated. "Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Not bad. Good I guess. I don't know. It's just different."
It was easy to talk to Nick, and to be with him, here in the yellow house with the over grown ivy. They had been talking for hours. Through dinner, dishes, and cleaning up the kitchen, which Nick had tried to insist that she leave, and let him take care of in the morning, but "Why ruin breakfast with a messy kitchen?" she had countered.
Nick settled himself onto one of the couches in the family room. Jennifer joined him, curling up on the opposite end of the couch. She had initially planned to sit next to him, but when her mind pulled herself onto his lap and began kissing him, she decided the other end of the couch was the only safe place to be if she was going to keep her wits about her. The kitties joined them after a while; Peaches curled up in between them, while Roger stretched out along the back of the couch.
"Excuse me," Nick yawned. "I'm a little jet lagged."
Jennifer looked at the time. It was 1:30. "This was part of your plan wasn't it?" she eyed him. "Keep me talking until it's late enough that there was nothing to do but stay?"
"Maybe, but your mind was made up long before now," he said. "Or are you going to try and deny that too?"
She scoffed. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
"Maybe." He smiled at her. "Or maybe I'm just trying to get you to stop denying things."
"What is it exactly you think I'm denying?"
"Who you are," he said simply.
"That's not denial," Jennifer countered. "It's ignorance. I don't even know how to begin to find out who I really am."
"I'd like to help you find out, if you'll let me."
Quite suddenly she had the distinct impression that they were talking about different things. He was hinting toward her being a Star Soul. She was thinking about the past she couldn't remember. It didn't matter; her answer was the same. "What if I don't want to know?"
"Why wouldn't you want to know?"
"I like my life the way it is right now. I don't want to lose that."
"You don't have to."
"Promise?"
"Knowledge isn't an exchange process," he said. "It's an addition. The more you know, the more you know."
"Knowledge is power?" she heard the voice of Jenny Taylor arguing with Quincy.
"Exactly," Nick smiled.
"Okay, Mister Grace," she stood. "I will take you up on your offer — offers," she corrected. "Where's my room?"
"Right this way," he said with formality, as he stood.
He reached past her and snatched up the Purple Monster just as she was reaching for it. She eyed him. "We should probably discuss the terms of this arrangement. I don't want this to get complicated."
"I get it," he said.
"I'm renting a room from you," she said. "How much?"
"Jen," he sighed, "I don't need money."
"Everybody needs money."
"Kay," he corrected, "I don't need your money."
"You expect me to be some kind of freeloader?" She put her hand on her hip. "Forget it."
"Okay," he looked thoughtful. "Look after Peaches and Roger for me when I'm away and we'll call it even."
"I'm being serious, Nick."
"So am I. Would it make you feel better if we split everything 50-50?" he said, starting up the stairs.
"Yes," she said, starting after him. "I probably can't afford 50-50 for a place like this, but I can pay you something. I was paying Jamie $400 a month and then we split the utilities three ways."
Nick cro
ssed the landing into the first bedroom. She followed him in. He set her suitcase down at the end of the bed, and then returned to the landing. "This was Lindsay's room," he said from the doorway. "It sort of became the guest room when she went to college, and I haven't really done anything with it. Please, feel free to make it your own. Whatever you want to do. The bathroom is just through there," he pointed. "My old room — now the exercise room — is on the other side. There's a treadmill," he added. "I know you like to run."
"I've sworn off treadmills," she replied. "What do you mean you know I like to run?"
Nick laughed. "Are you kidding? You run past here every morning."
"Oh," she said, embarrassed. "Well, I didn't think anyone was watching me. That's just creepy."
"It's not like I was watching you," he added a sinister tone. "I just saw you. A lot."
That hardly seemed fair.
"We haven't reached an agreement about the rent yet," she reminded him
Nick sighed, and then shrugged. "I don't know. If four hundred a month works for you, let's go with that."
"Plus utilities," Jennifer added.
"All I have is utilities, Jen."
"Really?"
"Pretty much."
"Pretty much?"
"Well, and Mrs. Chen, the cleaning woman. She's here Mondays and Thursdays by the way. And the kid that mows the lawn, he's here on Wednesdays and Saturdays."
"You have a cleaning woman?" she asked incredulously.
Nick laughed. "Well, I'm flattered that you thought it was me that kept this place looking so good, but unfortunately I can't take the credit for it, the truth is I'm kind of a slob. So do we have a deal now?"
She nodded.
"Good. Goodnight, Miss Hollis." He smiled and pulled her door shut.
"Goodnight, Mr. Grace." She sighed as the butterflies flitted happily at the sound of his name. Jen was happy. For the first time in... maybe ever, she felt like everything was going to be okay.
She eyed the Purple Monster at the end of the bed, and considered that there really wasn't that much to put away, but a wave of tired swept over her, winning out to any desire she might have had to unpack.
She stripped down to her panties, clicked off the light, and climbed into bed. She snuggled into the bed with her arms around a pillow and drifted peacefully off to sleep. She dreamt that she was lying next to Nick, under red sheets. She watched him sleep. She woke just before three, to Peaches mewing outside her door. She let her in and went back to bed with Peaches curled up at her feet.
Chapter 19
Far From Ordinary
When she woke for the day it was nearly 8:00 AM. She got ready while she unpacked. As she pulled her small suitcase out of the Purple Monster it caught the bottom edge of her big blue purse upending it and spilling most of its contents onto the floor.
Among them was the card from Xavier. She pulled it out and read its words: 'I would give you the stars.'
She looked at the jagged-edged picture. Was it fair that she hadn't tried to find Xavier or her family? Was it right? 'I'm sorry I couldn't stay,' she read the outside of the envelope. 'Be safe,' it said, 'don't wait for me.' She felt safe with Nick. She hadn't waited. That was all he'd asked. Did she really owe Xavier — or anyone else — anything more than that?
She placed the picture back into the card, the card back into the envelope, and the envelope back into her purse alongside her phony birth certificate, which she tucked into her phony passport. She stuffed all of it into the bottom drawer of the dresser.
All unpacked, she made the bed. Peaches was less than thrilled with the idea of having to move off the bed, but Jen placated her with a few strokes as she relocated her to an overstuffed chair next to the bed.
She could hear Nick talking as she came down the stairs, but couldn't make out what was being said. It wasn't English. It sounded like Italian. She followed the voice to the room off the foyer opposite the living room. The office, if she remembered correctly.
She stopped momentarily at the door but didn't want to interrupt, so she continued to the kitchen. Roger was sitting on the counter helping himself to a piece of toast from the toaster.
"Roger," she scolded. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't meant for you." She took the toast from him and set him on the floor. She was just scooping the last bit of crumbs into the sink when she heard Nick in the foyer.
"Good morning, Sweetheart."
Peaches mewed back at him.
Nick broke into a wide smile as he entered the kitchen. "Now, that is a sight I could get used to seeing." He kissed her. "Roger ate my toast didn't he?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
"Well, that was my fault. That call was a little longer than I thought it was going to be. Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"I did," she nodded. "You speak Italian."
"I do," he started to say something else, but his phone rang before he could finish. He answered, "Nicholas Grace." He ran his hand down the length of her arm, kissed the back of her hand, and then walked out of the kitchen. This phone call wasn't in English either. She had no idea what language it was.
She popped a couple more pieces of bread into the toaster for Nick, and helped herself to a peach and a banana from a bowl on the counter. It was a good thing Roger didn't like fruit, she thought.
Nick returned a few moments later. "Speaking of Italian," he said.
"That wasn't Italian," she said.
"No. That was Greek."
"You speak Greek too?"
"Yes. But let's talk about Italy for a minute."
The toast popped, but Nick didn't seem to notice.
Jen pointed toward the toaster. "You'd better get that before Roger does."
"Thanks." He smiled and retrieved the toast and some strawberry jam from the fridge.
"You're going to Italy?"
"In a few weeks," he said.
"Business or pleasure?"
"Business. Will you go with me?"
"No. Do you speak other languages?"
"Yes," he answered. "Why not?"
"What other languages do you speak?" she asked, ignoring his question.
Nick shrugged. "Whatever I need to."
"Seriously? That's awesome."
Nick clenched his jaw and let out a distressed breath. "I'm rushing things, aren't I?" he realized. "Sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about," she said.
His phone rang again before he could finish eating his breakfast. Jennifer finished hers and headed to work.
Living with Nick was actually one of the easiest things she'd ever done. It wasn't without its hiccups here and there. Nick wasn't kidding about being a slob. He had a tendency to just leave things wherever he was when he was finished with it, or sometimes when he wasn't finished with it. Books, dishes, sometimes clothes.
Jennifer met Mrs. Chen on Monday, before she went to work. Mrs. Chen explained that Nick's level of mess was directly proportional to his level of stress. And then she told her how happy she was that Nick had found someone who could alleviate his stress so much. Jennifer didn't have the heart to tell Mrs. Chen that she had been cleaning up after Nick.
Jen was home on Wednesday when the kid who mowed the lawn came. She couldn't remember if Nick had mentioned his name; if he had, she'd forgotten it. She decided to take him a soda and introduce herself. There was something familiar about him, like she'd seen him before, maybe at Sammie's, or...
"You look thirsty," she smiled, handing him the soda. "I'm Jen."
"Thanks," he popped the cap and took a drink, "I'm Tracer."
"That's an unusual name."
"I have unusual parents," he replied. He must have got that question a lot. "So, are you the blue car?"
"Blue car?" she asked. "Huh-uh. I don't have a car."
Tracer shrugged.
She had noticed the blue car as well, but hadn't thought much of it other than she hadn't seen it before she'd moved in with Nick. It wasn't always there and she had figured it
belonged to someone in the area. It probably did. Of course it did.
Marcus and Paul came over a few times. Generally Jennifer tried to make herself scarce — at least when Marcus was there. Paul was friendlier at Nick's than he was at Sammie's – especially without Marcus around.
Paul brought pizza over one night and they all watched a movie together. It was about vampires spawned from hell. Quite obviously a horror movie but Nick and Paul watched as though it were a comedy.
Jenny Taylor had never been allowed to see rated-R movies. Jennifer watched the first ten minutes covering her eyes and burying her face against Nick's chest. She truly didn't get the appeal. It was just disturbing and well... horrifying. Eventually she decided to just turn herself around on the couch and enjoy the movie through his reactions while cradled in his arms. It was a much better movie that way. And when gunshots sounded, pulling her thoughts back to a dark alleyway, and her arms gripped tight around Nick, he held her tight and kissed her forehead.
Paul patted her calf reassuringly. "It's okay Cupcake, the vampires don't kill everyone in this movie. I think the blond chick with the machete lives. Oh..." his voice trailed. "I guess not. Oh. No. She's fine... She's turning into a vampire now," he said over the shrieks coming from the TV. "But yeah... she's fine." He patted her leg again.
Early one morning, Jen was in the kitchen making blueberry pancakes with fresh blueberries. Nick was reading at the kitchen table. The book must have been in French because when something caught his attention, he asked, "Sentez-vous cela?"
Fortunately she remembered some French from high school. She was pretty sure he'd said: "Do you feel that?"
She held very still, thinking it might've been a tremor. She didn't feel anything, but as she turned a pancake out onto the plate sitting next to her on the counter she saw what he could only feel.
It was a young boy with light blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. He was standing right next to her. Smiling up at her with wide blue eyes. Her heart leapt, skipping an entire beat. She gasped, jumping backwards from the apparition. And then he was gone. She looked around her, but... he was gone.
She looked to Nick.
"You can see them, can't you?" Nick grinned.
The Aeon Star Page 16
