The Emi Lost & Found Series

by Lori L. Otto

  I pull a bottle from the shelf and show it to him. “I was asking her to find out where we can get more of this one. I had it at a restaurant a few weeks ago, but can’t find it anywhere in the city.” He takes the bottle and looks at the label while I study his face. He didn’t hear. I shake my head at Anna and smile.

  “Of course, I’ll find out,” she stammers. “I think I kept all the receipts. I’ll check them out later this week.”

  “Did you find one you want to try, Em?” he asks, his eyes softer now, probably a few beers helping to ease the tension a bit.

  “Yeah, this one,” I pull another off the shelf.

  “Did you find one, hon?” he asks Anna.

  “I’ve already got something started upstairs,” she lies.

  “Let’s go back up,” he says. “They’re playing poker for real cash now. Should be good.”

  “Jack’s in?” Anna asks.

  “Yep,” Chris smiles.

  “Is that bad?” I ask, having never played with Jack before.

  “It’s good for everyone else,” he says. “Jack doesn’t have a good poker face. He’s just too honest.”

  “Oh, crap,” I say, following my brother and sister-in-law up the stairs. “I’ve got to see this.”

  “How much did you lose?” I ask him on the drive back to his house a few hours later.

  “I’m not talking about it, Emi,” he laughs. “Just a little pocket change.”

  “There were hundreds on that table,” I argue. “I could have bought quite a few new pairs of shoes with that money.”

  “I’ll buy you all the shoes you want,” he concedes, “as long as you don’t bring this up ever again.”

  “Well, then, my lips are sealed,” I motion to him, zipping them shut. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” I whisper through my tight lips, calculating in my mind the total cost of the four pairs of shoes I fell in love with, just this week.

  “You know, Emi?” he asks rhetorically. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He smiles smugly. “Hey, by the way,” he changes the subject. “My friend Rick called earlier and asked us to come out to his restaurant for a drink and dessert before midnight. I told him we would... is that okay?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Just a couple blocks away. We can walk.”

  “I guess,” I force a smile, shrugging. “But midnight, it’s just us, right?”

  “We’ll be home well before then,” he promises. I can’t help but worry, though. The thought of being out there, our lives in the hands of others, at the mercy of strangers...

  “Okay...”

  When we get to his house, I unpack my duffel bag, laying out the two outfits I had stuffed inside, debating on what to wear tonight. I take a deep breath, resigned to go along with Jack’s plan despite the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What’s this restaurant like?” I ask.

  “Casual. It’s more like a bar with really good food.”

  “Okay... do you have an iron?” I look around his bedroom, having decided on the wool skirt and button down shirt that is very wrinkled after a day folded up in the bag.

  “Yes, in the basement... in the pink room.”

  “You mean the girl’s room. Lame place for an iron,” I roll my eyes at him in jest, lightening the mood. “Bring ‘em up right.”

  “Hey,” he laughs. “I iron my own clothes. I can just see the television better from that room.”

  “Whatever,” I laugh, bringing the blouse to the basement with me. Taking his suggestion, I figure out his remotes and somehow manage to turn the huge TV on. I look through his vast DVD collection and pick out a romantic comedy that I like. I sit on the couch while the iron heats up, watching the first few minutes of the movie.

  The steam on the iron reminds me that I came down here for an actual task. My eyes glued to the TV, I mindlessly iron my favorite shirt, coming dangerously close to burning it or my hand a few times, distracted. I hang it on the door knob and head to one of the reclining chairs to watch some more of the movie.

  “What are you doing?” he asks. I smile, happy that he joined me.

  “Watching a movie,” I say coyly, a part of me hoping he will settle in next to me and stay beside me all night. “This is a good part, come sit down.” He mockingly sighs and takes the seat next to me, reclining it at the same angle mine is positioned.

  I curl up in the crook of his arm, my leg draped over his hips. His hand strokes it lightly as we watch the movie together.

  When we emerge from the basement after the movie is over, I’m surprised to see how quickly the afternoon has turned into evening. Jack starts to get ready as I fix him a drink downstairs. Admittedly, I have other things in mind, though, and start putting my plan into action. I doubt it will take much to sway him. I set the drink down on a coaster on his dresser and help him loosen his tie for a little more casual look.

  “You look gorgeous,” I say to him, unbuttoning his top button.

  “Thanks... and for the drink, too. Are you trying to get me drunk, Emi?” he asks.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I smile as I walk toward the bathroom to change my clothes.

  “I don’t believe you, but thank you, anyway.”

  I get dressed and touch up my make-up, smiling at my reflection before heading into the bedroom. Knee-high boots, check. Thigh-high hose, check. Flirty wool skirt pulled up a little higher than it’s intended, check. Crisp, black, button down shirt, strategically fastened, check. Hair looking oh-so-troublesome in pig-tails, check. Red lipstick, check. Perfume, check.

  He laughs when I emerge.

  “Amazing,” he says, a look of confusion on his face, “but I think your buttons are a little askew.”

  “Are they?” I ask innocently. “I can’t tell... can you fix them?”

  “My pleasure,” he says, using my hair to pull me closer into his body. He kisses my neck gently as he unbuttons my shirt to correct my purposeful error.

  I inhale sharply as I feel his icy thumbs venture just beneath my dark lace bra. “Is that cold?” he asks, removing his thumbs and placing his hands lightly on top of the bra.

  “Just a little,” I lie. “I’ll be warm in no time.”

  “This is nice,” he comments, tracing the outline of the undergarment.

  “Is it?” I ask. “I was just hoping it matches...”

  “Matches... what?” he asks, his hand traveling to the hem of my skirt. I slap it playfully.

  “Jack, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  “Oh, you are not playing fair again,” he says. “I see how this is going to be.” He slowly buttons up my shirt correctly as he kisses my lips. I unbutton the top one to show a little more cleavage. He pulls the shirt aside just a tad to kiss the top of my breast, then looks at me with a warning glance and re-buttons it seconds later. “That one’s mine,” he whispers.

  I go back into the bathroom and touch up my make-up once more, stalling. It’s already past eleven. “So you’re set on going out?” I ask Jack, slightly disappointed.

  “One drink,” he says, checking his watch, amused by my impatience. “I told Rick we would stop by. We just need to make an appearance. He wants to meet you.”

  “Alright, then... let’s go.” He leads me downstairs and out the front door, and as I proceed down the steps, he locks the door behind us. When he catches up with me, he takes my hand and stops my forward motion.

  “Forgot something,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. I playfully push him away.

  “Okay, if you can’t follow through with this, you can’t do this until we get back. I can’t take your teasing me any longer.”

  “I’m teasing you?” he asks, disbelieving.

  “What are you implying?” I ask, completely innocent.

  “Withholding kisses from me, huh? Is that how we’re going to do this?”

  “We could go back inside... right now...” my thoughts ling
er, my hopes and intentions obvious, as I attempt to pull him back toward the house. He stops and looks at me, smiling.

  “You’re adorable,” he says. “Completely adorable.” He sighs. “Please, kiss me, Em.” I can’t deny him any longer– I want to kiss him just as badly. After his lips have left my muscles weak, he picks me up and carries me back toward the house. “You win.”

  A triumphant “Yea!” escapes my mouth, followed by a relieved sigh. He continues to laugh as we kiss more, all the way up the stairs and into the foyer, continuing on into his bedroom.

  I look up at him, curious, breathless... ready... All of a sudden, his phone rings. He checks to see who is calling, and then looks at me, hopeful, apologizing.

  “It’s my father,” he says. “I’m sure it will just be a second.”

  I nod and smile, taking a seat on his bed, listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “Well, are you at the computer right now?” Jack asks. “Well go turn it on. I’ll log in and see if I can take a look... okay, Dad, hold on.” He covers the mic on the phone and apologizes quietly to me. “Computer crisis,” he laughs. “It’s always the end of the world with him if something doesn’t work like it should. I’ll be back in a few minutes... make yourself at home. Do you want a drink?”

  “I’m fine, I’ll get something,” I whisper, encouraging him to tend to his phone call. I follow him downstairs, veering off into the kitchen as he makes his way into the office and boots up his computer. I find an open bottle of wine and pour a glass, taking it back upstairs with me. Here’s my time to mentally prepare. I know I’m making the right decision. I love him, I do. But as the night wears on and the hour gets closer to midnight, I can’t help but think back to last year, to the engagement party... to the night that Nate died. Is it wrong to want to be with Jack tonight?

  Is Chris right? Should I give this day to Nate, to honor him? Haven’t I done that all year? He’s had practically every day, some more fully than others, but every day I’ve mourned him. Can’t I put it behind me? Can I move forward? Isn’t it time for me to start a new life with someone else? After all, today is just a day, another date on the calendar, and time passes so quickly... and I don’t want to go another day without Jack. I glance up at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Eleven-thirty.

  “Eleven-thirty,” I hear his distant voice in my head. “We should be able to make it back to the room by midnight.”

  Eleven-thirty. We didn’t make it back by midnight. Only one of us made it back at all. He was gone so quickly. It was all over so fast.

  As if in real time, I recount the events. I offer him candy... he suggests I open the other bag... the small giraffe... the red light... his velvety voice, declaring his love... I cry, pulling the string again... I kiss him... green light... acceleration... bright light... screeching tires... the young boy’s frightened face... Nate’s peaceful smile, unaware... my scream... the impact... the smells and the quiet... his moans barely audible above the silence, and how odd it seemed to me at the time...

  Love ya, Em, he had said his final words to me in the car... or was it in his bed amidst the blinding sunlight the following morning? I remember the cruel dream that had me believing everything was fine... the one I lived blissfully with for three days while I fought with the reality, my consciousness.

  The clock shows eleven-thirty-three. His eyes haunt me. I try to blink the image away, close my eyes tightly, the tears still finding their way out. I lie down on the bed facing the window, away from the doorway. A deluge of past conversations rush in and out violently. Pillow talk to fights to just boring, run-of-the-mill discussions. How he loved me. How he thought I should change an illustration. How he liked his latte. How he hated to drive. How he wanted me to be happy.

  How he wanted me to be happy...

  I want that, too. I can have that. Jack is my happiness. I breathe in and out deeply, trying to compose myself, knowing he’ll walk through that door any minute. He’ll know that I’ve been crying. I just want him to hold me, love me, take care of me. I want that now more than ever.

  “They were supposed to do the webcam thing with Kelly’s kids at midnight, and it wasn’t working,” he says as he enters the bedroom, his voice trailing off as he takes in the sight of me. “Emi? Are you okay?”

  I don’t look back, instead waiting for him to come to me. He kneels down in front of me. Desperately, I pull myself up to meet him, attack his lips with mine. He grabs me firmly by the shoulders and holds me back. “Are you okay?” he repeats.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “Jack, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Emi.”

  “I want you.” After I unbutton his shirt, he helps to remove his arms from the sleeves. I take his undershirt off and run my fingers over his chest. I then remove my own shirt and sit in front of him, watching him intensely. He hesitates as I wait for him to unfasten my bra. The concern in his eyes makes mine begin to water again. I know he cares so deeply about me, wants me to be better, be okay, be happy. I will be happy with him. I can be and will be. I will leave this sorrow behind me. Jack can help me put the pieces of my life back together again. I try to stave off my cries, but I succumb to the lump in my throat and quietly weep. I cry with sadness for all I have lost, but am overwhelmed by the feeling that it will all be okay soon.

  “Emi, please don’t cry.”

  “Jack, I need you,” I choke out as the tears flow. “I love you and I need you. Please, I need you.” He takes me in his arms, kisses me deeper and picks me up off the bed, pulling the sheets back and laying me down again, my head resting on the pillows.

  “I know, Emi. I need you, too.” He lies down beside me, touching me, finally removing my bra and kissing my breasts. I lift his head so his eyes meet mine, pull his body onto me. His strong, warm embrace comforts me, his fingers awaken sensations on every patch of skin they touch.

  I just want to be happy again.

  Feeling broken for the better part of a year, I finally begin to feel whole again.

  On the brink of slumber, I close my eyes, the vision of Jack’s bedroom dissolving into the night. Shrouded in the darkness of his loft, softly lit only by the moon, I see Nate one last time standing in front of the door. My stomach jumps a bit, fearing the loneliness that usually follows this particular dream, but the warmth of strong arms around me lets me know that I am not alone this time.

  As if he senses my fear, Jack pulls me closer to him as he sleeps. His hands clasp mine, and in that moment, the ending of the poem is finally clear.

  One transcendent kiss,

  that later makes lovers take

  soft breaths, holding hands.

  I swear I can hear Nate whisper the words to me from across the room, as if he’s handing them over to me as a gift. He’s smiling at me.

  Longing for something, someone, I nestle deeper into Jack’s embrace, and as the bright light from the hallway floods the loft, I can see Nate clearly now, see his warm eyes and friendly grin. He nods slowly a few times.

  “Thank you,” I say, sorrow stealing my voice. I struggle to smile back at Nate while a tear drops from my eye before he breathes one simple word to me.

  Goodbye.

  He turns slowly, walking into the luminous corridor, the door shutting behind him. My heart aches. It hurts more than it should.

  “Nate,” I plead to him, willing him back, whispering louder than I intend to. Jack stops breathing, and his muscles tense around me. I hear him swallow quietly.

  “What is it, Emi?” he finally asks after a few moments of silence. He lets go of my hand, pulling my hair over my shoulder and out of my face. I close my eyes naturally, and concentrate hard to steady my breathing. He shifts behind me, and I feel him leaning over me, looking at me. “Em?”

  I lie still, hoping he believes I’m asleep... praying he didn’t hear me. One more tear betrays me, falling onto my cheek, and I can’t help but think that it’s really betraying him; that I’m betraying Jack. I can’t hurt him. I do love him.
I do.

  He sighs heavily, and I barely feel his finger wipe the moisture away. He lies back down and holds my hand again.

  A strange emptiness settles over me as I feel Nate’s absence around me. I swallow back more tears that threaten to come, but I fight them with all of my strength. They’re simply not welcome here anymore.

  Goodbye, Nate.

  Unsure I’ll ever be able to completely move forward– beyond the sadness that continues to plague me– I repeat one request in my head over and over again as I try to sleep.

  Let me go.

  ~ * ~

  NEVER LOOK BACK

  JACK

  ~ * ~

  DEDICATION

  to all of the upstanding men

  i’ve had the pleasure of working with

  over the last three years:

  the knox street family room team

  there’s a little of each of you in jack

  CHAPTER 1

  It was a year ago yesterday that everything changed. She was almost gone just as suddenly as she had come back into my life. My memory infallible, I remember it all like it was yesterday.

  In the hallway of the hotel, outside the ballroom, I practiced the toast I was going to deliver to my best friend and his fiancée at their New Year’s Eve engagement party. I had known Chris for eleven years. He was more like a younger brother to me. We met in college when he pledged my fraternity, and we shared the same values and sense of humor, so we bonded quickly.

  When we initially met, his parents were going through a messy divorce. I had little knowledge of the subject, as my parents had stayed married and shared a happy life together. But being the oldest of four children, I was looked up to by everyone in the household. My parents had instilled in me a certain sense of responsibility, and I grew up taking care of others, being there for them as needed. My father was a workaholic, so as I grew into my teen years, I was the man of the household. I would do everything to be loyal and reliable to those I cared about, and who cared about me.