The Story Of Us

by Teri Wilson

  He also knew that more than a few businesses had either closed or were struggling, which was precisely why the town council wanted to overhaul the area. So when he took off from Rick’s house Tuesday morning to explore the area on foot before the meeting, he knew exactly what to expect.

  Still, seeing the old stomping grounds in person was a far different experience than reading about them on paper. He’d forgotten about the hanging flower baskets that dotted the streets with splashes of color every few feet. He’d also forgotten that the corner telephone poles had all been painted with bold abstract designs by the middle school art club. Little details, like the feeling of cobblestones beneath his feet and the sight of the line of brightly colored cruiser bikes in the bicycle stand on the corner of Main and 3rd Street—things that were impossible to see on a map or a grid—made him feel as if he’d stepped back in time to a season in his life when things were simpler. Slower. Maybe even happier.

  In Waterford, strangers made eye contact and said hello. They smiled and made room for him on the sidewalk instead of staring down at their phones while they brushed past him. It had been a long while since he’d experienced that kind of small-town charm.

  He passed a few vacant storefronts, and his throat grew thick. As much as he loved the nostalgia of Waterford, the business district was clearly past its prime. He knew this. It was the very reason he was there. But at the same time, it felt like an arrow to his heart.

  Buck up. This is a business trip, not a stroll down memory lane.

  He took a deep breath, refocused, and reminded himself what was at stake. His entire future depended on what happened over the course of the next few days, starting with the town council meeting this afternoon. He had to keep his head in the game.

  A couple dressed in hiking boots and matching raincoats strolled past him, then paused to staple a poster to the telephone pole. It looked like a few of the other posters he’d seen around town already—advertisements for an upcoming Valentine-themed event called the Fire and Ice Festival. Sawyer had never heard of it before, so it must’ve been something new.

  He shrugged one shoulder and moved on, reminding himself to regard the quaint community through a more neutral architect’s eye. There was much room for improvement. As charming as it was, the area just wasn’t self-sustaining anymore. Adding a mixed-use development could blend residential, commercial and cultural spaces into one area and create a pedestrian-friendly environment that would thrive. Waterford might lose some of its old-world charm in the process, but in the end, change would save the district.

  But as he kept walking, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, Sawyer’s gaze landed on the shop at the street corner and he slowed to a halt. Three small café tables that looked like something straight out of an old-fashioned ice cream parlor sat on the sidewalk outside the store. Planter boxes overflowing with red and pink geraniums were perched on the windows. But the pièce de résistance was the faux cherry blossom tree sitting in a red pot beside the shop’s door with delicate pink flowers climbing up the building’s brick exterior and surrounding the entrance with artfully arranged cascading blooms.

  The overall effect was breathtaking. Unapologetically romantic—and even prettier than it had looked in the photographs he’d studied for his designs. Sawyer had never seen anything quite like it, even though the shop itself was a place he’d visited many, many times.

  True Love Books & Cafe. The swinging sign that spelled out the shop’s name in swirling cursive letters was the same one that had hung beside the door back when Sawyer used to walk Jamie Vaughn to work after school. Seeing it again after all this time made him smile.

  He lingered on the threshold, tempted to take a look inside. A few minutes couldn’t hurt. For old times’ sake.

  A bell tinkled overhead as he pushed the door open, announcing his arrival. But the sound might as well have indicated he was stepping back in time, because even though the bookshop had clearly been updated in the years he’d been away, simply breathing the air in the old building made him feel steeped in memory. He took a deep inhale, savoring the comforting scent of ink on paper with a touch of something else—warm vanilla, maybe—a unique fragrance he’d forever associate with young love.

  With Jamie.

  Even now, all these years later, he couldn’t walk into a library or a used bookstore without thinking about the feeling of her hand in his or the graceful tilt of her head when she bent over a book, her blond hair falling over her shoulder in a smooth, glossy curtain.

  He blinked. Hard. It was strange the way memory worked, wasn’t it? It could catch you off guard at the oddest moments. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was an orange tabby cat lying on the sales counter, flicking its tail and gazing impassively at Sawyer.

  A bookshop cat? Cute.

  He took a tentative step toward the animal. It blinked lazily at him, so he offered his hand and was rewarded with a loud purr as the kitty rubbed its cheek against his knuckles.

  The cat was definitely new, as were the whitewashed furnishings and bouquets of flowers that decorated nearly every surface. Painted mason jars filled with peonies and hollyhocks were tucked among the shelved books, and the old pink piano stood in the corner, piled high with hardbacks and a vase of white roses. True Love had always been a sort of monument to romance, hence its name. But since the last time Sawyer had spent any time there, someone had lovingly transformed the shop from its charming beginnings to a breathtaking ode to love and literature. The architect in him was nearly as impressed as his inner hidden romantic.

  He was ambling deeper into the shop, running his fingertips over a row of books down a narrow aisle, when a voice suddenly pulled him out of his memories and back to the present.

  “Look out!”

  Out of pure instinct, he reached up and caught a falling book before it hit him in the head. But it must have still knocked something loose inside him because when he glanced up, he was transfixed by the sight of a woman perched atop a rolling ladder staring down at him, wide-eyed.

  Not just any woman, but her—Jamie Vaughn, his high school sweetheart.

  “Good catch,” she said with an unmistakable hint of wonder in her tone.

  Sawyer would know that voice anywhere. He wasn’t dreaming, was he? It was really Jamie.

  Kerpow.

  A wistful smile tipped her lips. “Sawyer.”

  He’d never experienced such a loss for words before, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. And since he’d unexpectedly found himself staring into the eyes of the girl who loved books more than anyone else he’d ever met, those words happened to be borrowed from William Shakespeare.

  “‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?’”

  “What?” She blinked, and he was suddenly acutely aware that Jamie wasn’t a high school girl anymore. Her face was more angular now, giving more definition to those high, delicate cheekbones and porcelain complexion. Her adorably awkward teenaged frame had been replaced with willowy grace. Sawyer’s favorite bookworm had grown into a beautiful woman while he’d been away.

  His heart thumped hard in his chest. “It’s Romeo and Juliet. You, uh, look like you’re up on a balcony.”

  She didn’t move. She just kept standing up there in her prim black cardigan and polka dot pencil skirt, staring down at him as if he’d arrived via time machine. It sort of felt like he had.

  “There was no balcony,” she said.

  Sawyer tightened his grip on the book in his hands. Why was he sweating all of a sudden? “What?”

  “In the story. She’s just standing at a window. Everybody gets it wrong.”

  Sawyer knew better than to argue. Still, this unexpected little reunion wasn’t progressing at all the way he’d always imagined it would. Not that he’d been planning, or even hoping, to see her while he was back in Waterford. The last he’d
heard, she was thinking about moving to Texas. But he’d be a liar if he said bumping into her hadn’t crossed his mind over the years. He’d just never considered he might botch Shakespeare when it finally happened.

  He swallowed. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry. Um. I’m just…” She deposited her armload of books onto the top shelf and climbed down the ladder so they stood face-to-face. “Completely thrown.”

  Had her eyes always been such a startling shade of blue?

  “Yeah, so was I. I suppose I shouldn’t be. This was always your favorite place.” He couldn’t believe she still worked there, though. How was it possible that everything in Waterford had changed and yet somehow, stayed exactly the same?

  “Let’s start again.” She smoothed down her dotted skirt, and Sawyer couldn’t help but smile because polka dots had always been her trademark. “Hi, Sawyer!”

  “Hey, Jamie.” He was beginning to feel like a kid again, walking his girl to work after school. “You dropped this.”

  He offered her the book that had nearly fallen on his head.

  She took it, and her grin wobbled just a little. If he’d blinked, he would have missed it entirely.

  “Thank you.” She stared for a beat at the illustrated cover of the book’s blue dust jacket.

  It was only then that Sawyer noticed which flying novel he’d managed to narrowly avoid—Persuasion by Jane Austen. Oh, the irony.

  Chapter Four

  Jamie hugged the Austen novel to her chest while she made small talk with Sawyer. She had no idea what she was saying—at one point, she could have sworn she heard herself talking about Eliot’s most recent hairball, but she couldn’t be sure. Her thoughts were a complete blur. She’d been reeling since she’d first caught sight of him—Sawyer O’Dell, in Waterford, after so much time.

  And she’d nearly conked him in the head…with Persuasion! Of all the books in the world, why did it have to be that one?

  It was Jamie’s favorite Austen novel. Sure, she loved Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice as much as the next bibliophile—so much that she absolutely refused to choose which movie Mr. Darcy was the best. As far as Jamie was concerned, the more Darcys, the better.

  But there was just something about Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth from Persuasion that made her weak in the knees—perhaps because they went against the usual formula. They met and fell in love when they were young. Shortly after they got engaged, though, they broke up and Wentworth left to rise through the ranks in the Navy. When he returned seven years later, Wentworth and Anne were near-strangers. But, of course, they fell in love all over again, even amid a variety of humorous encounters and missed opportunities. Wentworth finally confessed his feelings to Anne in a beautiful letter where he told her, “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late…”

  Those were undoubtedly the most romantic words Jamie had ever read. But having them pressed against her heart while trying to make polite conversation with Sawyer when she hadn’t set eyes on him in fifteen years was more than she could take. Honestly, it was full-on, one-hundred-percent agony.

  What was he doing here? His mom had moved away years ago, and he certainly wasn’t in town to see Jamie. She hadn’t heard from him at all since their breakup back when they were eighteen. Not a single word. He’d been her first love, but more importantly, her very first heartbreak. Sometimes she even wondered if the reason she hadn’t been able to fully commit to a relationship with Matt was because deep down, she knew she’d never fully gotten over Sawyer.

  But that was ridiculous. She’d moved on long ago. Still, she couldn’t keep standing there, talking to Sawyer as if the past decade and a half hadn’t happened. Not when he looked so handsome in a navy peacoat that suddenly seemed far too Wentworth-esque. And certainly not here, in a place that had so many shared memories for them.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” she blurted, interrupting Sawyer mid-sentence.

  Not that he’d been saying anything important. Neither of them had managed to get past benign pleasantries such as talk about the weather.

  “A walk?” He cocked his head. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

  Good. She needed air, and she definitely needed to get as far away from Jane Austen as possible.

  She shoved the copy of Persuasion onto the nearest bookshelf and led him around the corner, past the blooming flower wall and out the French doors onto the smooth pavement of the courtyard. Thank goodness no one was busy getting engaged out there at the moment.

  Sawyer glanced around at the twinkle lights woven through the latticework fencing and the elegant topiaries arranged in large potted plants. “I don’t remember this courtyard.”

  Exactly. That was the entire point of ushering him outside. It was neutral territory—mostly, anyway. The cafe tables and sitting area hadn’t existed back when Sawyer had been quarterback of the Waterford High football team.

  He looked like he could still score a winning touchdown, though. The peacoat couldn’t hide his broad, muscular shoulders. There were new crinkles around his eyes and the slightest touch of gray at his temples, but those little details just made him seem more manly. More grown up.

  She averted her gaze to look at something that didn’t make her heart feel like it was about to beat right out of her chest. “Oh, but you remember the tree, right? The tree was always here. In fact, they actually built the bookstore around it so they wouldn’t have to take it down.”

  Sawyer tilted his head back to see the very top of the old Oregon ash. Its pale gray branches looked almost white against the clear blue sky. A muscle flexed in the corner of his chiseled jaw, and Jamie almost tripped over a fern.

  She cleared her throat. “But yeah, this courtyard was completely overgrown. I talked Mr. Ogilvy into letting me clean it up a few years ago. And we’re hoping to expand. Or I should say were hoping to expand.”

  Was she rambling? It felt like she was rambling.

  “You were? But not anymore?” Sawyer arched a brow.

  “Ah, it’s a long story.” Jamie kept walking, making a wide loop around the courtyard. “These developers are buying all of the land in the business district. And, I mean, you know they’re just going to destroy everything.”

  Sawyer stumbled a little. “Destroy?”

  She was getting ahead of herself. The town council meeting was still scheduled for later in the afternoon, and Jamie definitely intended to make her thoughts on the subject heard. She refused to believe all hope was lost already. “Well, it’s not decided yet. But they’re having a meeting later to see if they’re going to move forward with the project. You know what business developers do, though. They just tear everything down and put up something hideous.”

  Sawyer slowed to a stop and frowned. “It might not be hideous.”

  Did it even matter what they built if it meant the end of True Love? “Well, I’m sure they will not leave my little bookstore unscathed.”

  “Your…” He glanced at the store and back at her. “Wait, you…you bought the bookstore?”

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Had she not made that clear already? “I bought it a few years ago, just like I always said I would.”

  Did he not remember, or did he simply think that everyone moved away from their hometown and never looked back?

  “I had no idea,” he said, blinking rapidly before letting out a strangled-sounding laugh.

  “Well, how would you? You’ve been gone for fifteen years.” There. She’d said it. “Unless Rick tells you everything.”

  “Not that thing,” he said under his breath.

  She was a little stumped as to why he seemed so surprised. He’d just seen her on top of a ladder shelving new books. Did he really think she was still working part-time in the afternoons for Mr. Ogilvy?

  “Well, enough about me.” She pasted on a smile. “How are you? What ar
e you doing back here?”

  She was dying to know. Rick hadn’t breathed a word about Sawyer coming back. And Sawyer’s crisp blue dress shirt and the messenger bag that was currently slung over his shoulder kind of made it seem like this was more than simply a vacation—not that it seemed likely he’d come to visit on a whim after all this time.

  “I…um…” His face went blank for a second, and then the chime of a cell phone had him reaching for his pocket. “Oh, excuse me. Hold on…”

  Jamie nodded, wondering who would be calling him. Then she wondered why she cared as two bothersome words echoed in her consciousness: romantic hiatus.

  Sawyer’s brow furrowed as he glanced at the screen of his ringing iPhone. “Oh. Um, sorry. I have to…”

  “Oh.” Jamie nodded again while Sawyer held the phone to his ear. She couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Hey, Dana. Can you hold on just a second?” Sawyer glanced up from his phone with an apologetic smile. “I have to take this.”

  Whoever Dana might be, she was clearly important to him. And that was perfectly fine. Jamie didn’t even know Sawyer anymore.

  Seeing him again had been nice, though. Not quite as agonizing as she’d originally feared.

  “Of course,” she said, shooing him off. “Yeah, go. It was great to see you again.”

  “Good to see you too. Bye.” He was already walking away, practically sprinting toward the courtyard exit. “Hey, Dana. Yeah…”

  He waved at her one last time before he disappeared.

  “Bye,” she said, and her heart gave a little squeeze.

  Then she took a deep inhale, squared her shoulders and marched back inside her bookstore. This was nothing more than history repeating itself. Jamie had grown accustomed to saying goodbye to Sawyer O’Dell a long, long time ago.

  Jamie put on a brave front when she went back to shelving books, but it would have been nice to have had some time to regroup after her high school sweetheart resurfaced out of the blue, quoting Shakespeare and acting like he’d just walked out of the pages of a Jane Austen novel. A break was definitely in order. Fifteen hours or so would have been nice—one for each year that had passed since Sawyer O’Dell had broken up with her the summer after their high school graduation.