Hearts Communion

by Marianne Evans

  Monica accepted with a blush that almost perfectly matched the hue of the flower. “Thanks, JB.”

  Just like that, he found himself the willing target of her large, luminous eyes. A wisp of golden hair slid over the hollow in her shoulder. Jeremy watched its trail, mesmerized. Following an hour of dance instruction, her skin glowed, radiant with health.

  “You were quite the topic of conversation out in the hallway.” He itched to reach up and twirl that silky curl of hair around his finger. “The moms out there are about ready to start a fan club.”

  Monica laughed. “Stop it!”

  “I’m serious. Rumor has it they’re headed out to get t-shirts printed up.” Her second round of laughter played like music, tickling his senses. “They love you.”

  “They’re just a really nice group. They seem to appreciate what I do with the girls.”

  “The moms aren’t the only ones who are captivated.” That caused Monica to look away shyly, which left Jeremy all the more eager to heighten her awareness. “I watched you just now. You’re as graceful in body as you are in spirit.”

  As hoped, the flush ripened, and she turned away, kneeling. She placed the rose and candy gently next to her tote. Still, Monica was Monica, and when she stood, she quickly recovered her playful élan. “And how sweet are you—coming all the way out here just to tell me that, and deliver a treat? What’s the occasion?”

  “I have a proposal to make.” He’d created the opening he wanted. “How do you stand on the topic of church?”

  Monica gave him an inquiring look. “I like church just fine. Why?”

  A pony-tailed young lady with big brown eyes and peaches-and-cream skin interrupted them. The little girl dashed up and hugged Monica’s legs. “Bye, Miss Monica. See you tomorrow at school. Thank you for helping me practice today.”

  He watched Monica quite literally dissolve under the youngster’s loving regard. She ran her fingertips against the straight, silky strands of the girl’s chestnut colored hair and she hugged the child right back. “It’s my absolute pleasure, Jessica. I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made! See you tomorrow.”

  Wearing a great smile, Jessica ran off. Following a brief look into Monica’s eyes, Jeremy tracked the girl’s progress to the outside hallway where her mother waited. The mom gave Monica a wave along with a tired, but happy smile. “That wouldn’t happen to be the pair you were talking about at dinner the other night?

  Monica kept an eye on the pair and nodded. “Yeah, sorry for being so scant on the details when we talked, but I always try to be careful when it comes to confidentiality issues.”

  Jeremy took her hand and swung it loosely. “Relationships mean intimacy. Intimacy means revelation—and the situation was bothering you. I won’t compromise that show of trust, Monica. It’s part of growing together.”

  She stretched up on tip-toe and kissed Jeremy’s cheek; her eyes came alive with tender affection. “I appreciate that, because it’s hard to keep lines from blurring when you…ah…”

  Jeremy chuckled at her stutter. “Develop into a couple?”

  She blushed and moistened her lips. But then, she nodded. “To answer your question a bit more directly, that’s Jessica and Caroline Dempsey, and I think they’re going to be OK. I really do.”

  “Good. She looks like a precious little girl.”

  “She is, but I’m sorry for the interruption.”

  “Not a problem at all.”

  Monica’s focus centered in, and she tilted her head. “You were asking me about church.”

  “Yes. I was wondering—do you think you could join me for services at Woodland this Sunday?”

  Her eyes went a bit wide. She tilted her head and leaned back a bit “I, ah…JB, really…I appreciate you including me. That’s so thoughtful, I enjoy church and everything. I’m a little worried, though, and…and it’s your family, and I’m just not sure…Would it be right? Would I fit in, and…”

  He pressed a fingertip against her lips to still her speed talking, warmed by the fact that he now recognized the nervous habit. He waited a moment for her to be still. “One step at a time, Jellybean,” he murmured. “One brick at a time.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Her eyes went soft, and plaintive. “But I’m embarrassed.”

  “About what?”

  “About facing your family again. They probably don’t even like me much, and I can’t honestly say I blame them.”

  “Don’t fear that road; walk down it instead. My family is about care, and love. They get protective, and intrusive, yes, but they’re also very quick to forgive, and ask forgiveness in return. They care. They don’t understand all your battles yet, but they know what happened this weekend isn’t about them, or how you feel about them. I promise you that.”

  “How do you know, JB? How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I already talked it over with my mom.”

  Monica’s mouth opened and closed.

  He chuckled. “We don’t let things fester or go unquestioned, and unresolved. The Edwards clan moves forward. And, my mom is as tough as they come, but she knows, without question now, how important you are to me. That’s what’s called a deal breaker.”

  Jeremy looked down and took hold of her hand, oddly touched by the sight of their fingertips entwined. His flesh, slightly darker, seemed such a striking contrast to her fair, creamy skin. “We’re scrappy and affectionate and we take no prisoners. Kinda like a certain exquisite lady I’m quite fond of who teaches little girls about grace and beautiful movement, and teaches kids about the rules of school, and life. Know what I mean?”

  He could see her reaction in the shallow fall of her breathing, the wide, questing expression on her face as the words he spoke hit home. The pink leotard she wore was snug, but discreet, with a slight, scooped neckline. Her ensemble included a short matching skirt of rippling silk that floated around her legs with each move she made, each breath of air.

  “You were wrong, JB, when you said you aren’t any good with words. You keep showing me how gifted you are in that regard.” She nibbled her lower lip. He longed to reach out and stroke the corner of her mouth until she relaxed.

  “Thanks, Jellybean.”

  “I made the call yesterday. To Pastor Ken. I’m seeing him next week, on Tuesday, after work. I want you to know that. I did it because you’re important to me, too.”

  Hope performed a vigorous dance through his blood stream. She was hesitant—he recognized that clearly—but she looked up at him in eagerness for approval. Jeremy was so happy she had made that difficult first step, and he wanted to help make that forward motion as easy on her as possible. “Then it seems to me like timing is everything. If you can come with me on Sunday, you’ll get to see what Woodland’s all about. Maybe spending some time at church, seeing Ken and the family again, will help you feel a lot better about things, and more comfortable when you meet with him.”

  “I’m sure it will.” She fidgeted with the ends of the satin tie of her skirt, which was fashioned into a bow at her waist. “I’d like to go with you.”

  The moment was broken by the arrival of her second class of dance students, this group slightly older than the last. The girls filtered into the room, full of noisy greetings and laughter. Jeremy stepped away, but kept hold of her hand for as long as he could. He released her at last. “Bye, Jellybean.”

  She watched after him for a moment. “Call me later?”

  Jeremy thought about that for a second or two. “I’ll do you one better. Can I tempt you with dessert after class?”

  “Cold Stone ice cream?” she requested expectantly.

  Jeremy just grinned, and arched a brow. “I’ll take that as a yes. Class is done at eight?”

  “Yep. I’ll meet you there.”

  Jeremy left the room and closed the door quietly as Monica began class.

  ****

  “I’m impressed.” Jeremy stared at Monica with wide eyes.

  Monica sat back comfortab
ly in the curved back, metal chair of the small table they shared inside the ice cream shop. She smiled victoriously because her paper cup, formerly overflowing with an order of chocolate peanut butter, was now empty. “Two scoops goes down so well after a ballet session.”

  “Let me follow you home. Make sure you get in OK.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “JB, I’m a capable, intelligent woman who’s gone home alone thousands of times. I’ll be fine.”

  “But it’s dark, and it’s cold. Call me old-fashioned. I want to see you home.” More to the point, he wanted a pitch-black night to surround them, full of the promise of snow; and he wanted kisses—dewy, warm, soul-saturating, provocative goodnight kisses.

  Monica picked up the cup and spooned out the very last remnants of her gourmet ice cream treat. She licked the utensil clean, her gaze narrow when she looked up at him once more. “Are you sure you’re not a closet chauvinist?”

  “Positive. Now, indulge me.”

  “It’s out of your way.”

  “By two whole miles. How will I ever find a way to justify the fossil fuel emissions?”

  Monica burst out laughing. “Oh man—and this game is over. You win.”

  “Besides, think of the convenience. I’ll be able to help you carry in all that equipment from class. Now. Are you done, or are you going to go after that last little dribble of chocolate right there on the side of the cup—”

  “Shut up,” she admonished through giggles, diverting her gaze as she went after that last little dribble of chocolate right there on the side of the cup.

  They left the shop hand in hand, strolling slowly to their parked cars. After following Monica home, he walked her to the door, carrying the stereo and duffle bag.

  “I’ve decided. You’re not a closet chauvinist. Rather, you’re openly chivalrous,” Monica set aside her ballet class supplies.

  The beckoning warmth of her eyes, the curve of her lips, were his undoing.

  Jeremy moved slowly, but with purpose. He took hold of her hands as he pressed forward, pinning them next to her head when he landed her back against the wall of the porch. The rough feel of brick against his hands, the chill, the scent of burning wood and snow to come, combined into a heady sensation and atmosphere.

  He dipped his head and her warmth, her scent, swirled through him. Jeremy’s resistance snapped. He claimed her mouth with delicious desire, devouring her every answering response. Against his chest, he could have sworn he felt the thundering of her heart—or perhaps it was his own. The connection worked magic, ignited fire, provoked his senses. He bent to its power, then fell headlong before he even knew what hit.

  This was possession, soul-deep and irrevocable. The realization glided through him. He gave a throaty sound, releasing her hands so his fingertips could take a dive through her now loosened hair. Monica sank heavily against the wall, and he flattened his hands against cold, gritty brick. The effort somehow tethered him to reality. Just barely.

  She sighed as she took hold of his arms and continued to kiss him senseless. His body formed a cover against hers, like a perfect, well-honed shield. With a last sound of wrangled desire, JB stepped back. His breathing was shallow. “Take out your keys.” He almost growled the words, needing to put some distance between them before his senses overtook his rationale.

  “Huh?” Her eyes were glazed and heavy.

  He traced her jaw with a fingertip. “Take out your keys. I want to make sure you get in before I leave.” He looked her straight in the eye, knowing his battles were visible. Still, he maintained restraint. “I need to leave.”

  Only then did he realize Monica’s purse now resided on the ground at her feet. It had slid off her shoulder, unnoticed. Before she could move, JB bent smoothly and retrieved it for her, handing it over—though he kept a safe measure of physical distance between them.

  “Ah—thanks.” Her voice, of smoothest whiskey, stirred a warm throb of life, a shivering echo of their touch, their kiss.

  “Inside,” he directed once more, his own voice husky, and abrupt. The only thing that kept him from stepping over a moral boundary was his inbred belief system, and the pure sense of reverence he felt toward her.

  “Inside,” she murmured in agreement, fumbling for her keys. It took two tries, but the key found home in her doorknob. Inside, Toby went nuts. She swung the door wide, clicking on a nearby light switch. The dog bounded forward, jumping, grunting, wagging his tail. Light, sound and Monica’s exuberant pet helped dissipate a few more of Jeremy’s mental fog curls. He made quick work of greeting his new four-legged friend, and set the remainder of Monica’s gear inside the entryway.

  When he walked down the porch steps, Monica looked back at him and said softly, “See ya.’”

  He turned, intending to give a wave. Tempting. So tempting. Instead, Jeremy buried his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket to keep himself in check.

  “You knock me out, Jellybean,” he murmured. “You absolutely knock me out. See ya.’”

  Hearts Communion

  12

  Sunday morning, Jeremy walked through the doors of Woodland Church hand in hand with Monica. He edged them toward the etched glass doors to the sanctuary, which were presently flung open to welcome one and all to ten o’clock services. Jeremy was stopped repeatedly by people he knew, but he didn’t mind. It gave him the chance to mix and mingle with Monica at his side, and introduce her to his place of worship.

  They moved through the entrance and down the main aisle to join his family. Jeremy was about to slide into the pew, next to his mother, but Monica restrained him by taking hold of his arm. She moved smoothly ahead, claiming that spot instead. Following a deliberate glance into Jeremy’s eyes, Monica sat.

  “Good morning, Elise,” she said. “How are you?” She leaned forward to make eye contact with his father as well. “Hi, Ben. It’s good to see you again.”

  Genuine and welcoming, Monica possessed top-notch intuition. Jeremy warmed on the inside, proud of her. Monica seemed eager that any residual discomfort from last weekend vanished, and her efforts didn’t go unnoticed. His mother didn’t bubble over, like usual, or offer one of her automatic hugs, but she smiled and handed Monica a hymnal and a brief discussion ensued regarding the rundown of the day’s readings and order of service.

  It was a positive start, and Jeremy telegraphed that recognition into physicality, placing his arm along the back of the pew, keeping a connected, protective touch on Monica’s shoulder.

  Afterwards, they hung back to spend some time talking with family members and friends. Ken was deluged with departing parishioners, so one-on-one time with the pastor seemed out of the question for the time being—especially when one church member, an elderly lady who was speaking with Ken intently, ended up being led to his office after services. Looked like Ken’s help was required elsewhere today.

  Jeremy didn’t mind much, however. Monica had made an entrée into his life at Woodland with genuine comfort. Hope bloomed.

  After church, it was time to bond with his brothers. He dropped Monica at her place, made a mad dash home to change clothes. He’d soon be on his way to Ford Field for a Detroit Lion’s football game.

  Monica’s introduction to Woodland was a success, however a new realization dawned. What got lost in translation of late was his own reaction to falling so hard, and so fast, for a woman who would never be able to carry a child. His child. Their child.

  Was it crazy to think so far ahead? The practical side of his nature said yes, but his heart screamed no—loud and clear.

  Definitely a topic for discussion with his most trusted confidantes—his brothers.

  A short time later, he and his brothers were on the road, headed into downtown Detroit. And it didn’t take long for those trusted confidantes to gang up on him. In fact, the tag team event began almost immediately.

  “So, bro,” Marty began, “you hearing the call of the ball and chain? You get
ting ready to take that fateful plunge?”

  From the rear seat, Jeremy looked at his watch. “Wow, Marty. That only took three minutes. Coll, you had even money on five minutes. I had greater faith in his lack of restraint and pegged that question coming in at seven minutes after pick-up.”

  Riding shotgun, Collin turned to look over his shoulder. His grin went devilish. “Sorry, JB, but I’m with Marty on this one. Next thing you know, you’ll be strolling the aisles of some high-end department store with one of those radar guns, electro-registering for flatware and china patterns. It’s a sad day, really. The end of a legend.”

  Jeremy openly gaped at Collin, the one he had expected to be his champion. “Way to perform a stand up, Coll. Let’s hope the Lions defensive line shows more skill than you.”

  “Touchy, touchy,” Marty quipped. “Might as well give in, JB. Monica’s great. Steph said she’s real nice. She enjoyed spending time with her.”

  That was good to hear. “Thanks. Mom’s a bit of a tougher nut to crack on that count, though. I think she came away a little disappointed. And concerned. Her expectations were different than what Monica showed last weekend. Especially with the kids.”

  By intent, the sentence dangled, creating a means by which to seek their counsel on the issue of children, and family. Marty was shrewd, and perceptive, too. He picked up on the undercurrent with ease. “I kinda noticed that. In the backyard, during that soccer scrimmage.”

  Collin nodded. “St. Antoine Street garage is coming up.”

  Their conversation on hold now, Marty pulled up to the gate of the parking structure and swiped a ticket from the dispenser. From there, walking into Ford Field was akin to facing a blitzkrieg of sound, sensation and excitement. The crowd hummed, speakers blared music with a pounding beat that synched with digital ads and crowd-sparking prompts that formed a never-ending circle of lights and color across the mid-section of the stadium.