Marcy smiled, her lips stretching from one side of her tiny face to the other. “Sorry, dude, no magic can fix that. You’ll have to find another way of dealing with it.”
Jem left first, hugging my sister with his long arms and kissing her noisily on the cheeks. He had to content himself with a friendly wave from me though. I was not anywhere near being able to sustain any physical contact. Marcy left next, making sure to remind me of her green potion if I was really serious about keeping Jem away. “Which I seriously doubt,” she added with a grin. Annoying little imp.
By the time I got home I was mentally exhausted. There were such contradictory emotions raging through me that my energy was at a record low. I literally crawled into bed, neglecting to change into my pj’s, and closed my eyes, wishing I would wake up to find out this had all been a terrible dream. I’m not sure what I hoped was a dream: Jem’s return, or his five-year absence.
***
I had been staring at the bottle of Marcy’s potion for a while now. Should I put it on? Should I dump it in the toilet? Did I really believe that Pippi had actual magical powers?
Who was I kidding? No, I didn’t believe it for a moment, but that annoying weirdo in me could not totally dismiss the idea. Just in case. I replaced the unopened bottle on my sink and, with a last glance at the mirror, I left the bathroom. I was meeting with Dave before heading to my yoga class. It had been a long, frustrating day at work, stuck in meetings all day, discussing data instead of teaching the children who had been entrusted to me. Sometimes I wondered why I had to get a degree in education if all I was doing was sitting around a table “analyzing” numbers.
I grabbed my gym bag and my jacket and left. By now, Dave was already at the coffee shop ordering our warm drinks. I was not crazy about drinking before an exercise class, but both our jobs prevented us from seeing each other a lot. We had to take the few moments we had available to us. My brain kept telling me this was yet another reason I should give Dave a key and ask him to move in. I wasn’t listening to my brain.
The pungent smell of coffee and cinnamon hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold of the small café. I inhaled deeply, as if I could get energy and strength from the scent alone. Dave was keeping guard over our steaming mugs all the way across the store. He waved, and I waved back, making my way around the obstacle course of tables and chairs. “Hi, Dave. Sorry I’m late.”
Dave stood up, kissed me lightly on the lips, grabbed the jacket from my hands, and pulled out the chair for me. Grateful for the gesture, I brushed my fingers across his cheek before sitting down.
“I was running late myself,” he lied. Ever the gentleman, he was only trying to make me feel less guilty about always being late to our dates. “How was school?”
“Don’t ask.” I really didn’t want to talk about it. Bitterness was still very much alive in my stomach, and I didn’t want to sour his day by sharing it with him. “Let’s talk about your day instead.” Dave was a gardener and landscaper. A few years ago, after his last foray to Afghanistan with the U.S. Marine Corps, he had moved into town and opened his own business. What had started as a one-man operation now employed three full-time workers and a legion of part-timers.
“Awesome.” When was the last time he had ever complained about a day at work? I couldn’t recall a single instance. His work was also his passion, and it seemed that nothing could mar his enthusiasm and positive outlook on life. I was a little envious at times. My job, even though I was passionate about it, offered me ample occasion to be bitter and negative. “We got a new contract for this spring. This lady wants to totally redo her urban yard. She has a huge budget and is open to some really exciting possibilities. It’s going to be amazing!”
He had taken hold of my hand across the small table and was caressing it with his thumb. A little shiver of pleasure went up my arm. Why did I have to be so conflicted about my feelings when this extraordinary, sweet man was so into me? Stupid heart. “I’m glad you had a good day. Do you want to come to yoga with me today?” He sometimes did, especially after a physically demanding day at work.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I have to meet with the stamped concrete people in about half an hour to go over something. Next time?”
We said our good-byes and headed in opposite directions. The studio was close by and I didn’t have to drive, so I left my Mini Cooper parked in the coffee shop parking lot and walked the short distance to the yoga studio.
My instructor was at the front desk, smiling like always. “Good evening, honey. You look stressed.”
I chuckled. “Am I ever. You better have an awesome class today because I sorely need it.” I shed the jacket and my Crocs by the door, and unrolled my mat.
I liked the spot right under the big ceiling fan because I was not too fond of heat. Later, the fan would be turned on and I wanted to make sure I would be under it. I sat in lotus position on my mat, waiting for the class to start. I closed my eyes and used those few minutes to meditate a little. I could hear the pitter-patter of people’s bare feet coming into the space and the swoosh of unrolling mats. The loudspeakers echoed the chiming of temple bells, soothing my soul, and I felt all my tense muscles relax.
“Em,” a voice next to me whispered. I opened one eye and glanced at the culprit of such a breach of yoga etiquette. Everybody knew you were not to talk or make any noise during that meditative time. To my utter irritation, my gaze met a very familiar blue one. What in heaven’s name was Jem doing here? “I didn’t know you came to this studio.”
If I’d known he was going to, I would have avoided it altogether today. I felt as if my personal space had been blatantly violated. This was my yoga class, and no one I had trouble with was allowed in it. Was I not clear in the telepathic conversations I had with him?
Thankfully my yoga instructor stepped in at that moment and began the session, preventing me or Jem from saying anything else. It was a far from relaxing class. The simple knowledge that he was within arm’s reach on the nearest mat was too unnerving. My skin tingled as if he were actually touching me, and my heart refused to slow down. During a particularly challenging move, the so-called wild thing, I chanced a quick glance at him and immediately wished I hadn’t. The years had been very kind to him. When he left, he was still a very young man and, even though beautifully built, still had the body of someone with too much energy, but not enough physical activity to develop muscle. The years of boredom—according to him, of course—must have afforded him a lot of time to work out, because taut muscles roped his thin arms and his shoulders. To my total mortification, I was salivating at the sight of his muscles rippling with the effort of supporting himself on one arm. Suddenly I wished the fan were on already, because it had become unbearably hot.
Try as I may, I couldn’t stop my eyes from straying to him every time the yoga poses allowed a peek. The trikonasana allowed me a full view of his narrow and tight backside. When the yoga instructor told us to turn to the person to our right and support ourselves on each other for dancer’s pose, I almost ran out the door. Our palms pressed against each other’s and our faces came so close together, I could feel his warm breath. Even though I was proud of my good balance, I felt wobbly and I knew my legs would not hold me for very long. That’s when Jem adjusted his posture in order to support me better, and my heart gave in just a little more. Traitor.
After our exchange of namastes I hoped I could make a quick getaway, but no such luck. Jem immediately came to my side, that goofy smile of his on his lips and his muscled chest way too visible through the large opening of the tank top. “What a great surprise to meet you here,” he said. You can say that again. “Do you come here regularly?”
My mouth was so dry I couldn’t utter a single word, so I nodded enthusiastically. I started rolling my mat, neglecting to clean it. I could do that once I was in the privacy and shelter of my own place. Taking my cue, he started doing the same. “I found out about this studio from Celia.” I was going to kill my sis
ter. One moment she was telling me I needed to keep away from Jem, the next she was feeding him dangerous intel about my daily routines. “I told her I wished there were a nearby studio and she told me about this one. But she never mentioned you came here.”
That’s because she knew I would have her heart for lunch if she did.
“Celia talked to you?” My voice came out low and shaky. “When did you see her?”
“I saw her at the Hangout last night.” It figured. My sister and her bad habits. The Hangout was a pseudoclub where local bands nobody had ever heard of came to showcase their music. That Celia was at the club on a work night wasn’t surprising, but still annoyed me. “We shared a gigantic sandwich. Man, I missed having her as my eating partner. Nobody gets my taste for food like she does.”
“She should have been at home resting. She worked early today.” I hated that I sounded like a teacher. Being a teacher to my students was fine, but to the man I had loved most of my life? It made me feel old and musty.
“She’s young.” Thank you, Jem, for making me feel even older now. “She needs to sow her wild oats before settling. What does she do for a living?”
“She’s a nurse at the local hospital.” I still found it hard to believe my baby sister had been put in charge of the care of very sick people. Her supervisor was constantly telling me how efficient she was, but my big-sister syndrome never allowed me to fully believe her.
We were now sliding our feet into our shoes and heading toward the front door, rolled mats under our arms, car keys in hand. “Wow, hard to believe.” He held the door for me. “I still remember her in pigtails and chasing you around like a duckling.”
I smiled. It was a genuine memory. Celia, who was almost six years my junior, used to follow Jem and me around the house, entranced by our teenage, and later young adult, business. She was an adult now, but I still thought of her as a little girl. I probably always would. “She was the most annoying child in the world.” I laughed, forgetting to be mad at him for a moment.
“I thought she was cute,” he protested, walking beside me down the sidewalk. “And she always had excellent taste in food.”
“Right, as if greasy burgers and fried pickles are the cream of the crop.” A snort came out of my mouth. Leave it to him to bring back that part of me. I had stopped snorting a long time ago, once it was pointed out to me that such noises were unseemly in a teacher.
We were almost by the coffee shop, and I really wanted to run away from him. Being this close was confusing and uncomfortable. I felt as if I were betraying Dave just from the waves of heat that invaded my whole body at the sight of Jem’s beautiful blue eyes. “I better go,” I said.
“Have a cup of coffee with me before you go. Please.” He had taken hold of my arm and his hand burned my skin through the thin layer of my jacket.
“I have to get something to eat and go to bed early. I have to work tomorrow.” It was only six thirty and I never went to bed before eleven. The wounded puppy look he gave me was all it took for me to give in. “Okay, I’ll have a cup. But I can’t stay long.” I wished I had brought Marcy’s horrible potion with me. At this point I would do anything to keep him at bay.
We slid into the usual booth and ordered. It was warm in there, and the comforting smell of coffee helped me relax a little. “What do you want, Jeremy Peter? Why won’t you leave me alone?”
He winced at the words. Good. I was glad I wasn’t the only one hurting. “I just want us to be friends again, Emily Rose. I know I messed up, but can’t you forgive me? I never stopped thinking of you while I was gone, and I told you already that I regretted my decision as soon as I landed in Paris. Can’t you forgive me? I missed you.”
How could I explain to him that it was not that simple? That every time we were together my heart went crazy, and my body heat threatened to burn me alive? How could I tell him that I didn’t want to betray the wonderful man I was involved with, and that the simple act of looking at him made me have less-than-appropriate thoughts? How could I explain to him that I was still so much in love with him?
“I forgive you, Jem. But I’m not the same. We are not the same.” A deep sadness came over me as I uttered those words. It was true. Both of us had changed. It was too late for us. Too much had happened. “We can’t go back. We just can’t.”
Jem lowered his eyes and then raised them to me again. His blue eyes were shiny and intense. “I don’t want to go back. I want to move on. I feel I’ve been stuck in Park for the past few years, and I want to put my life in Drive again.” He looked almost desperate and, in spite of myself, I itched to comfort him. “I want you back in my life.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I jumped to my feet, startling him and inadvertently sending my mug tumbling across the table. With a quick move, he stopped it and got up to join me. “I have to go, Jem.” It came out like a plea.
Jem held my hands in his and pulled me closer. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, and I shuddered. What were we doing? I had never been too fond of playing with fire. “Let me go, Jem.”
After a moment of hesitation, he relaxed his hold on me and set me free. A little bereft now that his hands weren’t binding me anymore, I turned my back and hightailed out of the café before I could change my mind. My heart, beating faster than the flutter of hummingbird wings, tried to jump out of my mouth as I ran to my car in the parking lot.
“Don’t go.” His voice made me stop abruptly as I fumbled with my key fob. Afraid of facing him, I stood as still as a statue, feeling the heat of his body as he came near, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin in the crook of my neck. In spite of the chill in the air, I was warm all over and my head automatically tilted toward his. “I was a fool, Emily Rose, for not realizing it was you all along.”
His breath tingled on my skin and my heart skipped a beat. What was he saying? “Not all those other girls that I fell—or thought I did—head over heels in love with. It was always you. I was too stupid and too blind to see it.” Was he really saying what I thought he was saying? The one thing I had always wanted to hear? The last thing I wanted him to say right now? “I love you, Emily Rose. Please tell me it’s not too late for us.”
With a gulp, I gathered my wits and forcibly pulled away. “It’s too late, Jem.” I turned around to face him. “I’m in a relationship with an amazing guy. A guy who was there for me when you were not. I forgive you, but I’ve moved on. You need to do the same.”
Shell-shocked and trembling, I opened the car door and hurled myself inside. From the corner of my eye I watched him walk slowly away, shoulders slumped and head tilted forward. Holding on to the steering wheel as if it were a buoy and I was drowning, I allowed the tears I had been holding for years to flow freely down my cheeks. I had done the right thing, sending him away.
Why did it feel so wrong?
CHAPTER FIVE
__________
Love and Potions
Five times I had been asked the same question that day. “Ms. Lambert, what’s that smell?”
Curious young eyes looked at me from every angle. “What smell? I don’t smell anything.” I will go to hell for lying to these young children. There was a smell, and I knew exactly where it was coming from. But damned if I was going to tell my students what it was! “You need to focus more on your work and less on imaginary smells.” I will definitely go to hell.
Children are funny creatures. They may be unable to focus on work for more than a few seconds at a time, but when they hone in on something they deem weird there is no detracting them from it. “Ms. Lambert, there is a weird smell and it’s making my eyes water,” Johnny said, wrinkling his nose to punctuate the statement. His eyes did look a little red.
Oh boy! As I expected, Marcy’s potion did indeed have some unexpected—and unwanted—side effects. It was not a bad smell, per se, but it was pungent and… unusual. After my last encounter with Jem I was desperate to keep him away, so much so I had dabbed the cursed po
tion behind my ears and on my wrists before going to work. Now I smelled like a funky hippie at a seventies rave and was quickly losing control over my own class. I glanced up at the clock and sighed as I realized I still had a few hours to go before I could hide from my students or take a long, cleansing shower—whichever came first.
The smell seemed to fade a little as the day progressed, but once in a while I would still notice a student or a colleague sniffing the air, looking for the source of the strange odor. It made for a very long day. By the time I was able to leave, I headed straight to Polka Dots & Eye of Newt. That little witch had some explaining to do.
The same overwhelming exotic smell hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold and I had to stop and scratch my nose. Marcy, her red-haired head low over the counter, didn’t even twitch as the bells on the door chimed. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Potions to your left, everything else on the right.”
I shook my head in disbelief. She didn’t even look up to see who had walked into her store. What if I were a masked criminal there to rob her? “It’s me, Marcy,” I announced, walking straight to her. Her head popped up and a generous smile stretched across her lips. “I hope I’m not disturbing.” Disturbing what? The flies? The store was empty, but I needed to say something polite.
With a big wave of her hand, Marcy said, “No one here but me and the moths. Come on in.” She walked around the counter to display her usual eclectic and colorful outfit. Puffy clouds—or were they sheep?—spotted an intensely pink sweaterdress over black leggings and pink booties. “Do you want some tea?”
Tea actually sounded heavenly after the day of sniffing and odor-related comments I had just had. “Would love to.”
She waved me to the small seating area, and I sat down on her comfy overstuffed chair. “So what’s up?” I could hear the clinking of china around the corner where her kitchen area hid from view.
Loved You Always Page 5
