“Jeremy. Hi.”
“Hi, Monica.” He indicated his delivery. “Where can I put this for you?”
She gestured in the direction of her office. “Right over here. Come on back.”
He followed her.
“Are you in a hurry? Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”
An excuse to stay for a bit? You bet. “I’m in no rush. Coffee’d be nice.”
“Least I can do since you returned the car seat so fast.”
“Trust me—the speed of return is fear-induced.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“Frankly, I couldn’t stand the idea of someone getting stuck like I almost did. You really came to the rescue yesterday. I appreciate it.”
“No thanks necessary. It’s my pleasure.”
Monica took the seat from his custody and settled it on the floor of the storage closet. That accomplished, she moved to a coffeemaker on the credenza behind her desk, but not before giving him a look that pushed heat and adrenaline through his heart. Once again, her sense of innate grace piqued his interest, and admiration. The moment between them lingered a bit. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black is good. Thanks.”
Jeremy settled on a small, brown leather couch positioned beneath the window. The window was closed in deference to a chilly autumn morning, but sunlight dappled the space of her office. As Monica poured two cups of coffee, he paid attention. Third finger, left hand, no ring. A vibration of satisfaction skimmed against his insides.
After passing him a rich-smelling mug, she sat down behind her desk. “So Jeffrey is still under the weather, I hear.”
“Yeah. The fever broke last night, but Collin’s not taking any chances. He took the day off to be home with him since Dav’s still out of town.”
While they talked, a myriad of items captured his attention, filling in bits and pieces about the woman before him. First came the framed photograph on her desk of Monica, surrounded by a group of people he assumed were her family. Next, there was a small, crystal bowl full of colorful jellybeans that rested on the corner of her desk. Nearby, her steaming mug declared: Teaching: It ain’t for sissies. Jeremy nearly laughed aloud.
In juxtaposition, and curiously enough, a porcelain rendering of a ballerina, en pointe, claimed center stage of her credenza, just to the right of the coffee machine. The art piece drew his steady focus. It was intricate and compelling in its detail. On the wall behind the piece hung a framed print of a ballet scene, identified at the bottom as The Dance Class by Edgar Degas.
Hmm. So, family was important enough for memorializing, and dance was a reoccurring theme. Interesting. Monica tracked the direction of his gaze, turning in her chair to join his study of the classic painting.
“I got that at the Detroit Institute of Arts a few years back, when they had an exhibition of his work.”
“I gather you’re a fan of art and ballet?”
“You might say.”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in speculation at her evasive reply and the deflective posture she presented. Deflection didn’t sit well with him when this pervasive longing to get to know her better reached in so far, and so deep. So he kept the thread moving. “The ballet part’s not surprising to me.”
“Oh? Why would that be?”
“Because I’ve been sitting here, watching you, and noticing the way you move.” Her attention pinged to him, and froze. “You’re effortless.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” Her fingertips, now resting against the handle of her mug, trembled just a tad. She looked down, her eyes veiled; the gesture struck him as charmingly shy.
“That’s very kind of me to mean.” He sipped from his mug to give her time to recover from being startled. And provoked. Color heightened her cheeks. Jeremy sipped deep, his lips curving against the edge of his mug.
Monica straightened, regrouping. “You know, at this point, I think turnabout is only fair play.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you’ve figured out a few things about me. It’s my turn to find out a few things about you.”
Jeremy knew his answering look was wolfish—and teasing—but he couldn’t help it. Inexplicably, he longed to nudge at her a bit. Push. “What would you like to know, Monica?”
She leaned back in her chair, her brows lifted in challenge. She was undeterred, and back to center. All Jeremy could think is: Wow. This is fun.
“You have the ability to be pretty flexible with the work schedule. What do you do, Jeremy Edwards?”
He relented, setting his mug aside for the moment. “First off, my friends call me JB. I own and run a construction company.”
“Really. Wow.”
“It’s not any more of a ‘wow’ than what you’ve created right here.” But, he did appreciate her sincerity. “I’m entering the slow season—which allows me a bit of freedom. In the spring and summer, I never would have been able to pull off what I did yesterday. Anything else?”
“Yep. What does the ‘B’ in JB stand for?”
“Blaise. My middle name.”
No mask fell into place; no guard shaded her eyes. Intrigue and interest sparked to life. “That’s a really great middle name.”
“You think so?”
She nodded readily.
“I always hated it. Too stuffy.”
“Not in the least, though I think JB fits you better.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s catchy. More fun.”
There is so much potential here, so much more I’d love to explore. But Jeremy wasn’t inclined to move forward too quickly, and risk halting their forward progress, despite rampant chemistry. Besides, sadly, it was time to get to work. He stood, and Monica followed suit. “I’ve got a jobsite calling, so I’d better hit the road.” He took note of her silence, the discreet way she studied him. She followed him to the exit. Before leaving, Jeremy faced her, itching to reach out, to touch her. “But, if you don’t mind, I’ll be seeing you again soon, Monica.”
All she did was smile; the launch of it was slow and tempting. That alone gave Jeremy plenty of motivation to follow through.
****
As if he needed motivation.
He secured wood molding along the ceiling line of Nather’s living room, worked with installation crews who laid new flooring in the kitchen—a cream-colored, shiny ceramic—and he helped measure and cut floorboard trim. All the while his mind drifted. Thoughts of Monica filled him, a breeze of sorts—unseen, but powerful. He fielded calls and arranged details to line up a contract crew to repair the driveway, and she even invaded that simple task. She worked on him like an angel’s call.
Late in the afternoon, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID display. Collin. “How’s the Chief?” Jeremy greeted without preamble.
“On the mend, big time. In fact, and I say this with all the love I have for my son, I need a break, bro. One hour—two max. Basketball. Tonight. You in?”
“Seriously? I’d love to, but who’s going to take care of—”
“Lemme head you off at the pass, Bro. Our beloved sister, Caroline, is sitting with Jeffrey.” Collin snorted. “Trust me. She made it abundantly clear I owe her big time for a simple, yet mandatory, two hour window of sanity. Sisters. You know I love ’em.”
JB kept from laughing, but it was a difficult proposition. Collin’s tone was desperate. He seemed pretty frazzled by assuming the role of Mr. Mom, but that didn’t keep Jeremy from wanting to needle his brother. “You’re being a snark. About our sibling, no less.”
“My snark, as you so aptly put it, is justified. Caroline’s at the control switch, and she’s lovin’ it. I took Jeffrey out to get a hamburger. I figured a lunch together would be fun, since he felt great and had so much energy to spare. Big mistake. I swear, by the end of the meal we had the wait staff cringing and twitching with nerves because he was so rambunctious.”
That only caused Jeremy to grin. “You’re embellishing. To get yo
ur way. It’s working, too.”
“Four on four, JB,” he growled. “The school gym’s available tonight, and everyone else can make it. So, last chance and final answer before I move up the family ladder and ask Marty or Phil. You interested in a basketball sweat-fest?”
Jeremy's introspective, muddled mood perked up fast. He could use the time with Collin to perform additional reconnaissance on Monica. Jarred by the thought, Jeremy’s brows pulled together, and his grip on the phone tightened. This was ridiculous. He was rapidly becoming obsessed. “Yeah, sure. I’m in. When?”
“Seven?”
“See you at the gym.”
****
The shoe-squeaks, basketball dribbling and game-chatter that took place in the middle of the Saint Clair High School gym vied for Jeremy’s wavering focus. Distractions moved against him continuously in the form of soft, fluid images. And those images created a reoccurring theme—the face of a lovely, blonde-haired lady with luminous eyes.
In fact, he didn’t even pay attention to—
The basketball smacked him right in the stomach, his fumbling catch completely out of character. Generally, he cleaned up the floorboards with these guys. Collin, his teammate who lobbed the pass, now called time out.
“Hey, bro,” he said on approach, “here’s some advice: How about putting some D in defense instead of distraction?”
During the pause, they went to their duffle bags and pulled out water bottles. Collin sat on the bleachers, and Jeremy followed suit.
Collin leaned on his knees and turned to his brother. “What’s up with you tonight?”
Jeremy ignored the question. “What’s the intel on Monica Kittelski?”
Collin looked at him with drawn brows, and he shrugged. In tandem, they downed some water before Collin answered. “She’s great at her job. Beyond that I don’t know a whole lot. Why?”
Jeremy grinned.
Collin groaned. “No. No, no and no. Really?”
Jeremy tossed back another deep swig of water. He grinned again.
Collin openly stared.
“I enjoyed the rescue operation, and not just because it took care of the Chief, and not just because it left you owing me. By the way, boy are you ever racking up the family debts, pal.”
“Like I’m afraid of that development. And?”
“And she’s cute. She’s sassy. I like her. Plus, she’s got that whole Reese Witherspoon thing going on, which is enough to make any man—”
“Aw, JB! Back it up a second. You’re talking like that about my son’s daycare provider for heaven’s sake. You get that, right?” But then the mano-a-mano teasing ended. Collin paused, seeming to test out the flavor of this conversation.
Jeremy waited. And waited.
“I can only add this.” Collin rested his elbows on his knees and faced Jeremy directly. “She’s pretty much married to Sunny Horizons. It’s her baby in a way. Her world.”
“I can relate.”
“Yeah. You can. You created and built Edwards Construction from the ground up. You sweat the details, and the quality you provide, just like she does.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Nope. Not a thing. Unless it’s the only thing.” Collin ended there, pointedly. “For her, it might be.”
Jeremy studied his brother, pondering that statement. “Can I take Jeffrey to daycare tomorrow?”
“Oh, man.” Collin shook his head; a huge grin spread across his face. “You’ve got it bad, JB.”
“Hey, maybe I’m just magnanimous. Maybe I just want to help out my brother while his wife’s out of town. I’m awesome like that.”
Collin snorted. “Yeah? Keep sellin’ that line. You might get a taker.”
“I’m serious about taking him in.”
Collin paused. “Sure. If you want to.” Another pause ticked past. “But Daveny comes back tomorrow night. What’ll ya’ do then, with no more Uncle-JB-to-the-rescue cards to play?”
Nonplussed, Jeremy lifted a shoulder and tossed his water bottle back into his duffle bag, reclaiming the basketball so they could resume the game. “I’m good at improvising, Coll. Always have been. I think on the fly.”
Collin swiped the ball from his grasp. “Yeah? Then fly this.” He heaved the ball—but this time, Jeremy snatched it out of the air like a pro and hit the court.
Head and heart now firmly engaged in the basketball game, Jeremy came alive. Team Edwards ended the night victorious by a score of twenty-one to fourteen.
Hearts Communion
4
Monica’s evening ended at eight o’clock when little Tracey Michael bounded up to her at the conclusion of the weekly dance class that Monica taught for preschoolers at the Saint Clair Shores Community Center.
“Bye-bye, Miss Monica! See you next week!” Red curls bouncing, the effervescent four-year-old hugged Monica’s legs and Monica chuckled, rubbing Tracey’s back gently. The aspiring ballerina wore a pink one-piece, pink tights, and pink ballet slippers. Monica dressed much the same, except in a shade of pale blue.
“Your timing was awesome today. You were on the mark, honey. Keep up the great work, OK?”
Tracey beamed at the praise, and left Monica feeling like a million bucks.
Tracey skipped to her waiting mom, who waved goodbye to Monica as she linked hands with her daughter, and they left the building. Almost immediately, silence rode in.
Always the silence.
Monica sighed, but bullied her outlook into more positive territory.
After all, the kids might not be hers, but the life she crafted brought her close enough. No mistake, this could never be as fulfilling, never as important and satisfying as having her own children might have been, but this was close enough.
It had to be.
“Stop,” she muttered sharply. Resolved, she pushed through the blackness, the longing, and forced herself forward. By now, this was standard operating procedure. She gathered her stereo and a white canvas carryall. Emblazoned on the front was the word Dance, crafted of carefully stitched, multi-colored sequins. The bag was a gift from a student she had taught years ago named Kim Chavis. Kim would probably be in 7th or 8th grade by now.
Sighing at the thought, Monica walked outside and took in a deep, satisfying breath. Fireplace smoke added zesty spice to the air; stars laced the ink-black sky above. Night wrapped around her, and she felt soothed.
Until she thought of Jeremy.
Monica stashed her dance class supplies in the trunk of her car and climbed in, starting the drive home. What a great guy, she thought. He was spirited, flirtatious, and handsome in that strong, provocative construction-worker way of his. His foundation? Family. That much she knew from her interactions with Daveny. The Edwards’s family was large, and extremely close-knit.
Large.
Monica drove, and tried to ignore the bite of longing one small word could inspire when coupled with a second small word: family.
She pressed her lips together, opting to crank up the radio rather than continue that train of thought. Minutes later, she coasted her car to a stop in the driveway that led to her ranch-style home. She unlocked the trunk, smiling at the happy whoops and barking that came from inside.
“Coming, Toby,” she said on a laugh, her arms full of gear once more. She fumbled a bit to unlock the back door then slipped inside. She barely had time to safely settle the stereo. Toby, her chocolate lab, was all over her, bounding and bouncing, sniffing and making all kinds of low, throaty noises while he circled her and reared up to gain attention.
“OK, OK! Let me get into the house, you goon!”
As if he cared. He head-butted, he licked, and Monica loved every second of his attention. Toby did a decent job of keeping that deafening silence, the sad bitterness, at bay. Dogs were great like that. All they needed, and wanted, was you.
Monica walked through her darkened house, flipping on lights as she went. She loved living here but, particularly at night, shadows crept in from
all around. Emptiness filled the space like a haunting refrain. At that point, Toby’s companionship and unconditional affection touched her heart, and kept her from wallowing.
Toby followed, still nudging and pushing. Monica knew the drill. A dog walk called. Immediately, in fact. So she didn’t bother changing out of her dance ensemble. On dance nights, a neighbor walked Toby at lunchtime, but once she got home, late hour or not, Monica didn’t mind the time spent in his company.
She remained bundled within a heavy, soft wool coat and grabbed Toby’s leash. The instant he heard the jingle, he charged for the back door. Once he was next to her, he sat like a perfect, begging gentleman, ready and waiting.
Monica sneered at him, scratching his head, giving his sides a firm, loving rub. “Yeah. Like I believe this attitude.”
She latched him up, grabbed a plastic bag from her back-door stash and began their walk around the block of homes that made up her quiet, well-tended neighborhood.
The rhythm of walking gave her time to think and reason things through.
She was filled with longings. On a number of levels. Jeremy touched off a domino reaction in her heart and in her mind. Some of the energy generated from those falling chips elicited red flags. Danger warnings.
Strangely enough, despite their brief interactions, she couldn’t form a retreat. She didn’t want to. Getting to know Jeremy would be fun. Crisp air, steady motion and time to think helped her sort that one right out. Yep. There was absolutely no harm to be found in exploring a mutually pleasing relationship.
That is, if Jeremy followed through on that tempting promise from earlier in the day.
****
Boy, did he.
Hearts Communion Page 2
