by Gail Sattler
“Mostly, we talked about you.”
Her heart started pounding, and she couldn’t control it. She wanted to move. She couldn’t. “Me?”
His thumb brushed under her chin. Butterflies fluttered in Molly’s stomach. She reminded herself to breathe. Ken’s voice came out in a deep whisper. “You know what I want to do, don’t you?”
He tilted her chin up. The butterflies engaged in battle. She tried to keep her eyes open. She really did. But they drifted closed of their own accord as their lips touched. And she was lost.
Ken kissed Molly, and in so doing, the last remaining reservations of why he shouldn’t be doing this were gone. He kissed her gently at first and then with all the love in his heart. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and envelop her completely as he kissed her, but the best he could do was run the fingers of his right hand through her soft, silky hair. With his left arm fixed in a forty-five degree angle, he could only touch his fingertips to the side of her waist.
When she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, he thought his heart would burst. He was kissing the woman he loved, and she was kissing him back.
It took great restraint to stop. Instead of releasing her completely, he held her until he could let go without feeling like a piece of him was missing.
“I think we should go into the living room,” Molly said at the same time as she picked up both mugs, now filled with lukewarm tea.
Ken picked up the plate of cookies and followed her. He set the plate on the coffee table and sat on the left side of the futon. While Molly placed the cups on the table and picked up the remote for the television, Ken patted the seat beside him. “Please sit beside me.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t comment. When she actually did sit beside him, his breath released in a rush, and it was only then he realized he’d been holding it. Without hesitation, he slipped his arm around her until she leaned into him, and he held her in a loose embrace.
The program droned on. It was supposed to be a sitcom, but Ken wasn’t paying attention. Molly was warm and comfortable as she leaned against him, settled in for the duration of the show, which he hoped was an hour long. It was very rare for her to be silent for so long, and he hoped it was because she was enjoying the closeness as much as he was.
After about ten minutes, as he knew would happen, Molly was the first to break the silence. She turned and forced direct eye contact while his arm remained around her shoulders. “I thought you just wanted to be friends.”
“I do. There’s more than one type of friend, you know.”
No answer came, and Ken smiled to himself at her lack of response as she settled back in. He could almost hear the gears whirring around in her head. The type of friend he wanted Molly to be was the happily ever after kind. The kind a man wanted as his best friend and helpmate during the day and his lover at night. That one in a million woman, chosen for him by God, to be together for the rest of their lives, the mother of his children. He wanted to marry Molly. But just as he had promised, before he asked for her hand in marriage, he fully intended to court her properly.
By the close of the program, she still hadn’t said anything, so Ken thought it was a good time to make a graceful exit. Despite how he wanted to kiss her, he left her at the door with a chaste kiss on the cheek. Now all he had to do was figure out what to do next.
Ken heard her before he saw her. Or rather, he heard a strange hush and a few people calling out her name in greeting as she walked into the office. He knew she was very sensitive to potential gossip concerning his attentions toward her in the office, so Ken tried his best to concentrate on his work and not look up until Molly slid into her chair at the desk beside him.
“Good morning, Molly. And how—” He lifted his head and blinked a few times, but the sight before him didn’t change. “What have you done to your hair!?”
A different Molly faced him. The red was gone. Instead of the vivid and lively color he’d come to know and love, it was some kind of lifeless, dull, dark brown. The bounce was also gone. It lay flat and tame and sluggish and in an orderly style. It didn’t suit her at all.
He stood and walked the two steps to her desk so he could speak without the entire office listening in. He did his best to ignore those around who were pretending they weren’t watching or straining to hear their every word.
“It’s a henna.” She shook her head to show it off, and it still didn’t bounce. “Do you like it?”
He hated it.
She ran the fingers of both hands through it, and it fell heavily when she let it go. He started to lift his free hand to also run his fingers through it to examine the loss, almost needing to feel it as proof that she’d really done it. At the last second, he clenched his fingers and dropped his hand to his side, remembering they were in plain view of anyone who cared to look. And they were looking.
It finally hit him. Molly was right. He had to be very careful about what he said and did around her. His obvious shock and the way he’d approached her without thinking just proved to the entire office staff that she meant more to him than simply a mere employee. If anyone else had done something so drastic with their hair, it might have garnered a raised eyebrow, but nothing more.
When he first met Molly he’d been amazed by the striking color of her hair. The more he saw her, the more it continually fascinated him how she could never get it under control. It enchanted him, just as the woman beneath the wild hair.
“Is it permanent?”
“No, after a few washings it comes out. I think. But it’s supposed to be really good for your hair. I’m not sure about the color. What do you think?”
He didn’t know very much about women, but there were certain things he knew a man had to be careful about when expressing his opinions. He suspected this was one of them. “I think, uh, that it might be a little,” he struggled to find the right word, “dark.”
“I did it last night. I might have used a little too much or left it on too long or something. I’m not sure I did it right, and I don’t think I got it all out. It was really late.”
He wondered why in the world she would have stayed up late to play with her hair, which was perfectly fine the way it was. Not that it was late when he left, but when he arrived home at his uncle’s house he’d gone straight to bed. He had fallen asleep right away and dreamed of little children with bright red hair.
“There was nothing wrong with your hair.”
She ran her fingers through it again. “It never behaves and when it gets damp it gets so wild and frizzy. Don’t you ever want to change your hair just for the sake of something different?”
He patted the top of his head. He’d worn it in the same style for years. It looked fine and was easy to care for with regular trips to the salon. “No.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I think I might regret this, but at least I can say I tried it. I’ll probably wash it out as soon as I get home from work tonight.”
Ken decided that tonight he would leave her alone. He understood the standard brush-off joke when a woman didn’t want to date someone, she would use the excuse that she had to wash her hair. In this instance, it was legitimate, and in this case, he would encourage it.
“I have plans for Friday night, but don’t forget that you promised to take me sightseeing on Saturday.”
“Of course. I haven’t forgotten.”
Rather than give the office more to speculate on, Ken returned his attention to the project on his desk.
He could hardly wait for Saturday.
As soon as Ken pulled up, Molly ran to the car and hopped in. During their excursion to the zoo and aquarium at Stanley Park, they somehow ended up holding hands. At the time she didn’t attach too much significance to it since every tank was surrounded by a close crowd and they didn’t want to get separated. However, after the way he’d kissed her, claiming some kind of friendship she never dreamed would involve kissing, she wanted to make sure that this time there woul
d be no opportunity for more of the same.
Today she was going to take him to the marketplace. Unlike the aquarium, today they would be in bright daylight where everything was busy and offered no privacy.
“I’m going to introduce you to the SkyTrain today. We’re going to leave your car at the Park-N-Ride. Go that way.” She pointed in the right direction.
“Your hair looks nice.”
It didn’t look any different than normal. She ran her fingers through it, then fluffed it up. “Thanks. I had to wash it a number of times over the past few days, but I got most of the henna out. It’s almost back to my natural shade. I guess I’ll never do that again. Maybe I’ll get it cut instead.”
“No!”
Ken’s sudden exclamation made Molly jump. She turned to him, and not only did his cheeks turn red, his ears flushed too. She couldn’t remember knowing a man who blushed before, yet again she’d caught Ken doing it. She found the trait rather endearing.
His voice lowered and he cleared his throat. “Of course, it’s your decision, but I like your hair the way it is.” He turned into the parking lot and found a space.
They walked to the station, bought their tickets out of the machine, and climbed the stairs to the platform to wait for the next SkyTrain.
“I’ve never been on a monorail before. This should be interesting.”
“Thousands of people take it every day. It’s part of the regular transit system, no different than a bus, except it’s above the ground. Plus there’s no traffic.”
The next train approached the station, slowed, and when it came to a stop, the doors whooshed open. Molly led Ken into the nearest car.
“Isn’t anyone going to check our tickets?”
“No. It’s an honor system. They have random checks. Someone might come check and see if we have our tickets somewhere along the ride.”
They sat down. Electronic chimes sounded to signal the doors closing, and the train started moving.
“How fast does this thing go?”
“I’m not sure. I think up to forty miles an hour. It actually goes pretty fast. I must admit I was nervous at first with a fully automated system.”
“Fully automated?”
“Yes. There’s no driver.”
Ken’s face paled, and Molly wondered if he would bolt, except the car was already in motion. “What do you mean, no driver?”
Molly rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s run by a computer, but they do have people at the main control center. It’s always monitored.”
“You’re serious. There really isn’t a driver?” He glanced forward. They were in the center car, and they couldn’t see the first car, but Molly knew all the cars were identical, because none required staffing.
She smiled, imagining his reaction to her next statement. “Don’t worry. If anything happens, the system simply shuts down.”
He looked out the window to the ground, about twelve feet below as they whizzed along. “Then what? Does everyone have to jump?”
“No, everyone just waits until it moves again. There’s a radio in every car in case of emergency, see?” She pointed to the unit, clearly marked to be used only in time of emergencies. “Problems don’t happen as often as they used to.”
“Why doesn’t that instill me with confidence?”
Molly couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Relax, I’m teasing you. The technology works really well. Stops between stations are extremely rare. Enjoy the ride.”
He mumbled something under his breath about his perfectly reliable car sitting idle in the parking lot, but Molly couldn’t fully understand what he was saying. She decided not to comment further and leaned back in the seat.
As the monorail continued on its path through the city, Molly filled him in about the districts and municipalities they passed through, the points of interest, and then a bit of history as the train went underground at the downtown core of Vancouver. In due time, they arrived at the end of the line where all passengers exited. Most walked to the SeaBus terminal.
Molly didn’t take the SkyTrain or the SeaBus often, but had done it enough to know the routine. Having been born and raised in the Vancouver area, she could tell by watching which people were boarding the SeaBus for the first time, observing their first shaky steps as they walked from the solid land onto the floating portion of Vancouver’s public transit system as it bobbed slightly in the water. Ken was no different.
Once aboard, she led Ken to the front seats against the window. Molly bit her bottom lip as Ken tried not to look too enthralled with the uniqueness of the next part of their journey. She suspected that if he were younger, his face would have been pressed to the glass, just as the young boys beside them. They passed Stanley Park and the floating fueling stations for boats on the river, past a massive ocean container vessel, then pulled into the docking station in North Vancouver. Most of the crowd traveled from the SeaBus to the market.
“Here we are. The Lonsdale Quay.”
He tilted his head back to take in the sprawling three-story complex. “It’s huge.”
The first section she led him to was the food court, where she stopped to buy her favorite snack. “Try this. It’s great.” She held the morsel up to his face.
He craned his neck backward. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure what’s in it. Mostly seafood mushed up and wrapped in some kind of Oriental-type white stuff.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”
Molly popped it into her mouth and savored it, bite by bite. “Coward.”
“Yes, but I’m a live coward.”
She licked her fingers, then pinched her thumb and index finger together and gave them a loud smacking kiss as she moved her hand away from her mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Molly snorted and led him to the next concession.
“You’re not buying something else strange to eat, are you?”
“Yup.”
After that, Molly led him around the market, which varied from artisans displaying and constructing their wares, curio and souvenir shops, produce, and entrepreneurs selling everything imaginable.
She was about to lead him outside so they could sit on the bench beside the Burrard Inlet and rest their feet for a few minutes before they went to the next level when his hand closed around hers and pulled gently.
“Wait. I want to go in here.”
“But that’s a toy store.”
“I know. Something caught my eye.”
As far as Molly could remember, Ken was an only child and didn’t have any cousins, so she knew he didn’t have any nieces or nephews back home. She didn’t know who he might want to buy a toy for, but since they’d looked at nearly everything at the marketplace, she allowed him to lead her into the toy store.
He went straight for a rack of stuffed toys, where he dropped her hand and picked out a small fuzzy bear.
He held it up and smiled. “Perfect.”
Without another word, he proceeded to pay for it, and they left the store.
Molly led him outside to the bench, flopped down, stretched out her feet while wiggling her toes inside her sneakers, arched her back, then turned to Ken. While she was curious about the bear, she did manage to hold herself back from asking, because it was probably none of her business.
He fumbled with the bag enough to grasp the bottom with the fingers that were sticking out of the cast, reached inside with his free hand, and pulled out the bear. “This is for you.” He laid it in her hands, and then to her surprise, he raised his hand and ran his fingers through the bottom strands of her hair. “It’s the same color as your beautiful hair. Without the henna.”
Molly stared at the cute little bear. In its own little way, it seemed to be smiling at her, almost laughing, if a toy could do such a thing. She tried not to think about the odd color of her hair except when she was buying clothes, and at that time, she usually consid
ered it a curse. When she met new people, the first thing they generally commented on was her flaming, wild hair. To see the same color on a toy was indeed a shock to her system. It looked better on the bear than it did on her.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
She lifted her head, but instead of what she expected, his fingers drifted to her chin and he leaned his face close to hers. “You’re welcome,” he whispered against her lips, then brushed the lightest of kisses to her mouth.
Against her better judgment, she was disappointed when he didn’t kiss her again. Instead of sitting back in the chair immediately, he only moved a few inches away, smiled, and maintained eye contact, making her hope he was going to kiss her again despite the public setting. When a noise sounded behind them, Ken leaned back fully on the bench but sustained eye contact. Most important, his contented little smile highlighted the adorable crinkles at the corners of those eyes she was beginning to know and love.
Despite the unusual location, Molly considered what he’d done quite romantic. Acting outside his conservative nature, he surprised her and she was delighted, even though she shouldn’t have been.
“Let’s get back inside. We made it about halfway through, we still have lots to see.”
He never lost his smile. This time, when Molly stood, Ken reached out for her hand, as if she needed help up, then didn’t let go. After the little flutter her heart made when he kissed her, she didn’t want to protest, so they continued on to investigate the shops hand in hand.
As they passed a boutique displaying a few souvenir T-shirts in the window, Molly stopped. “Wait. This is what every tourist to Vancouver has to have. I’ll bet you don’t have anything that says ‘Vancouver’ on it, do you?”
“But I’m not a tourist. I live here now.”
“That’s beside the point.”
