by Mary Manners
Josie poured boiling water into an oversized stoneware mug, dousing a bag of peppermint tea. Letting the ground leaves steep, she settled at the kitchen table and reached for the leather bound book of poetry given to her by her father on her thirteenth birthday. Mason had always admired The Road Less Traveled, but her favorite was Nothing Gold Can Stay.
She wished she could remain in the gold, but the struggles of daily life had a way of tarnishing things, turning them bland and ordinary.
She removed the teabag from the water and stirred in a spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream before taking a sip, testing the flavor. With a satisfied sigh, she wrapped her hand around the mug and eased back in the chair.
“I know the plans I have for you.” Jeremiah 29:11 whispered as she stroked the fingers of her right hand along the book’s battered cover. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Could a future with Mason be different, better…more gold than she ever imagined?
5
“You’d better brew a double pot of that amazing coffee.” Mason scratched his head as he surveyed the mess of boxes along the floor of the stockroom. They created a bigger storm than the snow that continued to drop from the sky in fat, sloppy plops outside. “This may take a while.”
“I told you so.” Josie used a box cutter to release the contents of another carton. She was dressed in jeans tucked into cute polka dotted rubber snow boots and a perky yellow cable knit sweater that showed off her dusky skin and cobalt-blue eyes. “And the coffee’s already perked.”
“Great. Perfect.” Mason tamped down his pulse and focused on the issue at hand—overstock. It seemed like a never-ending stream. “Where are you gonna put all this stuff?”
“Nice question.” Josie straightened to face him and poked a finger into his chest. “I was sort of hoping you could help me with that. That’s why you came here, right?”
Mason bit back a quick retort. Maybe her project was the instigator for his return, but she was the reason he remained. He kept his mouth clamped tight for a long moment, and then shrugged. “Yeah, right.”
“Then toss me some ideas, and fast. Where’s the sketch you scribbled last night?”
It was hard to focus on construction when she teased every nerve ending. “This project is more than I bargained for. It’s going to take some time, especially considering the current state of the weather.” Mason shuffled back a step as her perfume drifted to tickle his nose. Struggling for composure, he pulled the sketch from his jeans pocket and waved it in the air like the white flag of surrender. “I may have to charge you overtime.”
“Oh?” One eyebrow lifted into a neat little arch as her glossed lips pursed. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, sparkling beneath the overhead lights. She snatched the paper from his hand. “I thought you were an expert.”
“I am. But this…” He swept the room with a dramatic gesture of his arm as his pulse quickened at her playfulness. This was the Josie he remembered—carefree and sassy when the mood struck. If he didn’t step away from her, and fast, he was liable to—
“Tell me what you need.”
Josie reached for a pen and a small pad of paper, and then wiggled in close beside him so her shoulder brushed his chest, setting off a grand-finale of fireworks.
“I’m taking notes.”
Mason closed his eyes and inhaled, counting to three while he waited for his heart to settle back into his chest. It refused to budge. He may very well suffer a heart attack right there in Posts and Pages.
“Are you OK?” Josie’s voice and the stroke of her fingers along his forearm were a flamethrower that ignited a firestorm of emotion. Mason groaned and opened his eyes as the room tilted.
“No. This is crazy.” He spun Josie to face him, closing the slight gap between them as he drew her even closer. “I’m going crazy. So, while you’re taking notes, make note of this: Money—overtime—can’t fill what I need here on this earth, Josie. Only you can do that.”
“Mason…” The pad slipped from her hand, fluttering to the floor as the pen followed with a sharp thwack before it rolled beneath a pallet of magazines.
He felt her shoulders tense, though the soft tone of her voice urged him on. She most likely felt the same flurry of conflicted emotions as he did.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“No, I don’t.” He dipped his head as her breath, warm and delicate, caressed his neck. “But I’d like to explore the situation…I’d like to find out.”
Her shoulders slacked and the slight tilt of her chin was all the reassurance he needed. Mason eased in, dipped and aimed to claim what was his—what had always been his.
Until he felt her lips go rigid while her palms slammed into his chest.
“Don’t, Mason. Please.” The words were muffled as she pulled back. Her baby blues, huge and round, drank him in. “This will ruin everything.”
“What?”
Were those tears?
He released her as if his hands were on fire, slapping his palms to the thighs of his jeans. “Ruin everything. How? And why are you crying?”
“It’s much too early in the morning to deal with this.” She waved him off. “And I didn’t get any sleep last night. Maybe that’s why I’m misting.”
“Misting?” The words were a low growl. “I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.” She crossed her arms and turned her back to him, swiping at her eyes as she sniffled. “And now I’m bawling like a baby. This is great, just great.”
“Maybe I should go.” Mason grabbed his jacket from the coffee counter. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“Too late for that.” She pressed a fist to her lips, stifling a sudden, mewling sound. “Way too late.”
Her words were icepicks that stabbed gaping holes in his heart.
“Well, then…I guess that settles things.” He shrugged into his jacket as he crossed the room. “I’ll let you get your work done and maybe later…” He shook his head. “No, scratch that.”
“Mason, please.”
“Please what?” He turned back as he reached the doorway. “Please…finish your sentence, Josie. I’m dying to hear the rest.”
“I’m beyond confused.” Josie turned away to pace the floor. “In fact, my brain feels like a plate of tangled spaghetti. Why did you come back here?”
“Because you asked me to, and I’m glad you did. Maybe somewhere, deep inside, I thought enough time had passed…that we could let go of the past and move forward. I hoped…” He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry, Josie. Everything just got so mixed up back then…after high school. That’s not an excuse; it’s just the reality of those last weeks before I chose to leave here. I chose to leave. It was my fault and I take full responsibility. I was young…foolish and exploding with ego. We were both young and naïve. And, at the time, I thought I was doing what was best. I just wanted a future that I could be proud of, and maybe one you could be proud of, too. I never meant to hurt you. If I could, I’d take it all back. I just hope one day you can forgive me.”
“That’s not fair.” Her voice rang thick as tears slipped down her cheeks. “You can’t just walk in here and say things…act like nothing has changed.”
“I’m not acting like nothing has changed. Can’t you see that? I’ve changed, everything’s changed…except for the way I feel about you. That’s the same as it’s always been, Josie—full and deep.”
“You never bothered to tell me.” She paused and swiped her eyes again, refusing to meet his gaze. “Not back then, at least. It might have made everything different.”
“Well, I’m telling you now.” He yanked the zipper of his coat as he turned away from her once more. “But I suppose it’s too late. I’ll regret that the rest of my life.”
****
Josie had herself a good cry and two full cups of strong, sugary espresso before the cobwebs began to clear from her head. Then she attacked t
he platoon of book cartons and pallets of magazines as if her life depended on it. There was the coffee bar to tend to, as well, as she displayed new flavors on the menu, along with a limited selection of home-baked pastries. She could have used help. But Josie didn’t have the heart to ask the college student she employed part-time to come out in such a storm.
Now, she wasn’t sure if the wild, erratic pound of her pulse was from a caffeine overload or from the tsunami of emotions Mason had just poured over her. She was drowning, and she needed a life preserver—fast.
The nerve of Mason, saying things—doing things—that were sure to make her fall for him again. Once she slipped over the edge, then what? More sleepless nights and countless wishes for something that could never be?
No siree…she wouldn’t travel that road again. Been there, done that, had no desire to retrace those treacherous footsteps. Too risky. Too…
He came back when you needed him most—no questions asked. He just came.
The voice whispered, and Josie shooed it away with a reckless wave of the box cutter.
I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
With a sob, Josie slumped onto a closed carton and resorted to tears once more. Her cheeks burned and beads of perspiration laced the nape of her neck. How could she feel so hot when it was freezing outside? She kicked off her boots and let the chilled tile help cool her through her stocking feet as she fanned herself with a magazine. Mason was probably gone for good, most likely back on the road to Atlanta. It would serve her right to have lost his friendship—and his love—once again.
He’d taken the blame for events of the past, but Josie knew in her heart that they weren’t completely his fault. Not hardly. She shouldered much of the responsibility, as well. He was man enough to beg her forgiveness, and now it was her turn to beg his, as well. She only hoped it wasn’t too late. Maybe she should go after him.
The bell over the front door chimed and Josie leapt to answer it, hoping Mason had returned after all. She swiped tears from her cheeks as she rushed into the front room, her fuzzy-pink stockings sliding across the floor.
“Hello, Josephine.” Stewart Simms stomped the snow from heavy black boots and turned to face her. His smile was more of a snarl. “Are you alone?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. Too stunned to speak, she merely gaped at him for a full thirty seconds while a sad country tune drifted from the radio on the counter. She gulped and gathered the words to answer. “I am, but not for long.” Her voice faltered, though she did her best to sound convincing. “Mason stepped out for a moment, but he’ll be back soon.”
“That so?” He cracked a trademark, menacing smile. “That’s odd. I just passed him along Main Street, heading toward the Interstate. Awful day to be traveling, but he appeared to be in a hurry. Everything OK with you two?”
“That’s hardly any concern of yours.” Josie’s heart sank as fear clogged her throat. She took a giant step back as Simms crossed the room, shrugging from his coat along the way. “But, if you must know, he needed some building supplies.”
“Odd day to think about building, seeing as the sky keeps dumping snow.” Simms tossed his coat over a carton. “Didn’t expect to find you here on such a day, either.”
“There’s always work to do.” The small of Josie’s back bumped the counter, and there was nowhere else to go. She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed to her full height, which was pathetic next to Simms’s rangy stature. “I just received this week’s shipment. I should get back to it.”
“S’pose so.” He edged closer, nodding toward the coffee counter. “Care to share a cup of that mighty-fine java, first?”
“The pot’s empty, and I hadn’t planned on making any more.”
“Doesn’t look empty to me.” Simms sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “It doesn’t smell empty, either. Pour me a cup, darling, and I’ll take one of those cream cheese pastries, too.”
“Posts and Pages is closed due to the storm—and all this stock—and I’m not your darling, Stewart.” Josie inched sideways, toward the coffee counter. Wildly, she scanned the boulevard, hoping for Mason’s return. But the street was deserted. If Simms kept insisting, she’d give him the coffee he asked for—just not in the way he was expecting. “I’m not anyone’s darling. So you’d best put your coat back on and leave.”
He ignored the latter comment as he closed in on her. “That’ll be a shame for Donovan…if he returns, that is. Guys like him, you can never tell.”
He reached out to stroke her shoulder, sending chills through her bones. She suddenly wished she was wearing her boots—running was always an option. But the slick socks would make a quick getaway virtually impossible.
“Anyway, in his absence, it would be prudent to discuss the expansion project you’ve been ruminating over. I told you before I can help you—”
“And I’ve told you, more than once, that I can do without your help.” Josie shivered and delved a hand into her jeans pocket. Grimacing, she realized she’d left her cell phone in the stock room. “You should leave now, Stewart.”
“You think so?” He was so close she felt his breath on her face. He smelled of garlic laced with cheese.
“I do.” It was hard to force the words through her chattering teeth.
“We’ll see about that.” Simms’s grey eyes glimmered menacingly as one hand clamped around her arm, his fingers digging painfully into her tender flesh. “I’m sure, given the time, that I can change your mind.”
6
Mason spun the SUV around, skidding on the slick road and almost taking out a willow tree as he spun back toward Posts and Pages. Stewart Simms had just crossed his path in a salt-spattered Escalade, heading toward Magnolia. Something wasn’t stirring the Kool-Aid, because there was only one reason Simms would drive that way on a day such as this, when all the shops along Magnolia were closed due to the storm.
Josie.
The snow-drifted street was clear of people and cars, except for the one parked at the curb of Posts and Pages. Mason knew that Josie had walked from her house to the shop that morning. So the crooked presence of the Escalade confirmed Mason’s worst fears.
Josie was in danger.
His pulse rocketed as the SUV fishtailed to a stop outside the shop. He leapt from the driver’s seat and sprinted toward the door. Through the glass, he saw Josie backed up to the coffee counter. The expression of utter fear in her wide, rounded blue eyes as Stewart Simms closed in on her caused Mason’s fingers to clench into tight fists.
When Simms’s hand clamped down on Josie’s upper arm, Mason jumped a snow bank as he gave a warning shout. “Back off, Simms!” It was enough to distract the thug. In a single, fluid motion, Josie lunged, grabbed the coffee carafe, and unleashed the scalding brew on Simms. He stumbled back and spun away from her, crying out as the coffee rained down over his neck and shoulders.
Mason raced through the door and tackled Simms to the ground. Boxes tumbled, scattering books across the floor. The carafe slipped from Josie’s hand as Simms flailed, kicking her squarely in the forearm. Glass exploded like shrapnel as it slammed into the tile.
“Josie, get out of here.” Mason waved her off with one hand as he secured Simms in a headlock with his other. “Go to the stock room.”
“I have to call the police.”
“You do that, but head to the stock room first.” He tightened his grip as Simms squirmed, begging for release. “You’re not wearing your boots and the glass will shred your feet if you step on it.”
She scooted back, her eyes wide and wild. “Don’t do anything foolish, Mason. Please.”
“Just get out of here.” Mason grunted as he and Simms wrestled into a magazine rack. It toppled, missing Mason’s head by a hair’s-breadth. “And stay out. Simms and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart while we wait on the law.”
****
“Roll up your sleeve. Let me see
your arm.” Mason held a small zippered bag full of ice in one hand as he crossed toward Josie. She shook her head, ignoring the dull throb along her forearm. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt too much. Not as much as looking at the mess in here.” Cartons were toppled and the pastry trays lay in a smashed heap. She just hoped he didn’t notice her foot was injured, as well. Blood stained her pale pink sock.
“Simms clipped you good—hard enough to knock the carafe from your grip.” Mason wasn’t taking no for an answer. “And, that sock will have to go, too. You’re bleeding.”
So, he had noticed. “Mason, please.”
He set down the ice pack as he knelt at her feet and began to push back the sleeve of her sweater, exposing an apple-sized purplish bruise. His tone softened to melted butter. “Oh, Josie…”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” But her heart was at risk of exploding as Mason’s fingers gently stroked the length of her arm. Finally, thankfully, he eased back and pressed the ice to her scorched skin. The cold masked the throbbing. “That feels good, though.”
“I should have rung Simms’s neck while I had the chance yesterday. We would have avoided this whole ugly situation.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m kind of short on bail money this month.” Josie attempted a smile, but it fell flat. “Besides, the police will take care of him now. Even his cousin, good old John Larder, can’t save him from the law now.”
“I’m going to photograph these bruises anyway, just in case.” Mason slipped his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Are there any others?”
“He grabbed my arm.”
Mason’s oath was muffled through clenched teeth. “Did you mention that in the police report?”
“I did.” But against Mason’s insistence and that of the officer who’d arrived at Posts and Pages to take the incident report, she’d refused an ambulance. She wasn’t that hurt, at least not physically. Emotionally, well…
