by Amy Baker
“No, Delilah. I was out at lunch. Giancarlo was filling in for me,” he explained while his hat rocked back and forth on his head from my violent shaking.
“Damn it.” I released his jacket but still fisted the note and slapped it against my thigh. Then for some strange reason my fight or flight instinct kicked in just as panic consumed me. Since I couldn’t justify beating the crap out of Davis for no apparent reason, (though with all the adrenalin coursing through my veins there was a good chance I could take him) the flight impulse took over. I had to flee. “I have to go,” I breathed. “Thank you, Davis.”
“B…but,” he held up his hand as if there was something else he needed to tell me. I didn’t give him the chance. I ran for the interior set of doors. His voice deflated instead. “Oh. Ok. H, h, have a great night, Delilah,” he called to me as he buzzed me through.
A great night? I was lucky if I didn’t have a heart attack.
I threw myself against the wall of the elevator as it slowly made the ascent to my floor and felt my skin flush. I un-crumpled the note and looked at it again convincing myself that I must have missed something. I turned it over again hoping that there was a signature or something that would tell me that it was definitely Hugh Rowen, the long lost love of my life that left this cryptic note. I slapped it against my thigh again punishing both it and myself when there were still no identifying markers. It had to be him. No one, no one who wanted to continue breathing without medical assistance would dare call me Junior. I was like one of those assassins in a Hollywood movie and Junior was my trigger word. But how the hell did he know where I lived and what possessed him to stop by?
I ruined his life.
Me.
Delilah Jean Welling.
Yes, I was a kid.
Yes, in the long run I probably did him a favor. But there was no two ways about it. I changed the course of his life that fateful day and I had no business doing it.
I fumbled with my keys trying to enter my apartment. Twelve years. Twelve years had gone by since I had last spoken to Hugh Rowen. The day I ruined his wedding I ran home with my tail between my legs and buried myself under a very feminine, down comforter in my bedroom. I stayed there for days never emerging except for a few mini chocolate chip muffins, water and bathroom breaks, of course. My mother finally had to call Julia to come over and organize an extraction. It took Julia hours to convince me that my life wasn’t over. I emerged slowly repeating her mantra. ‘My life is not over, my life is not over.’
But she was wrong.
It was.
Not because anyone in town held my unabashed announcement against me. Honestly, there were plenty of folks who were happy to see Darcy go down in flames and finally get what she had coming for quite a while. But because I couldn’t forgive myself for the relationship that I had decimated. And no. Not the relationship between Darcy and Hugh. Sooner or later the secret Darcy was keeping would have unraveled their relationship on its own. Secrets like that never stayed hidden. But there was another relationship my unsolicited outburst had affected. Mama and Aunt Dody’s.
Aunt Dody never spoke to my mother again. She blamed Mama for telling me about Darcy’s ‘situation’ even though she had sworn her to secrecy. Of course that wasn’t the case. I had figured out all the sorted details by myself but Aunt Dody was angry and wouldn’t listen to anyone who tried to explain. It probably didn’t help that Aunt Dody learned of the real baby-daddy on her daughter’s wedding day. Thanks to me. So even though I had ruined someone’s wedding, I was more upset about the damage I had done to the relationship that my mother had cultivated for almost her entire life. Mama tried to make me feel better. She told me that if Dody would think something so awful of her then she wasn’t a real friend anyway. But the fact that she had to come to that realization at all had to be devastating and that was all on me.
The Wellings weathered all of the village repartee that followed the non-wedding. But to say that it was uncomfortable would be an understatement. There was an awful lot of finger pointing in the produce section of our local supermarket and going to church had me in a sweat every Sunday. I would see Hugh in town from time to time but always at a distance. The thought of facing him was so terrifying that I would turn and skitter off long before he saw me. It didn’t take long for Darcy to go back to Ryan. A few months later they announced they would be married. Their daughter was born, Dolly, and they were planning a small wedding ceremony in the Caribbean somewhere.
Once my brother and I graduated from high school my mom and dad moved to Florida. They always wanted to live on the Gulf and there wasn’t much left for them in the small country town in Southern Virginia. After I graduated from college I immediately found a job in New York City. I kept in touch with my BFF, Julia. She kept me abreast of all of the important morsels of information from my hometown. She would tell me stories about old friends and classmates. But more importantly, she would keep me up to date on Hugh’s dating status, which was really the only tidbit of information I was waiting for her to share. Oddly, he was rarely seen with the same woman twice unless you were counting his little niece, Dolly. According to Julia, they reportedly had developed quite a bond and she was the only female he doted on. Julia said after his experience with Darcy, he probably had trust issues. I had to admit, Julia did have her thumb on the pulse of all of the goings-on in town.
Eventually Julia was able to turn the combination of her thick skin and talent of spinning a story into a full fledge career. After she graduated from the local university she started writing a gossip column. So much for following her own advice of never being the messenger. Her public announcements were the source of many grapevines and delivered to the masses twice a week in the Community Section of the local newspaper.
I finally managed to open the door to my apartment and as soon as I hit the light switch my phone started ringing. I was so jittery that I actually threw myself up against my front door as if the phone was going to jump me. Then I realized I should probably see who was calling. I threw my keys on my little ice cream table and picked up the portable out of its cradle to check the caller ID. Julia Harper. I pressed talk on the handset.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Holy Beheebees, Dee. You will never guess what I just heard,” she stated.
“Hugh Rowen is in New York and he is going to stop by to see me?” I asked pulling the bizarre news out of not-so-thin air.
“Uh oh,” she responded.
“Yeah. Uh oh,” I answered.
There was a brief pause before her outburst. “So? Don’t keep me waiting,” she said with irritation as if this whole scenario was somehow impacting her world directly.
“You tell me! I just got an obscure note from my doorman,” I answered with a hint of hostility. “Who’s the big wig that runs the gossip column down there? You or me?” I added.
“Now, now, now Delilah,” her defenses sprung into action. “I just heard this from Tiffy Johanson. Obviously he was keeping this visit on the down-low or I would have heard sooner,” she explained.
Tiffy who had shortened her name from Tiffany worked at the gift shop in town. “How did Tiffany Johanson find out that Hugh was coming to see me in New York?” I questioned.
“She’s marrying Griff,” she answered as if that explained things clearly. I remained silent because I failed to see how her marrying Griff gave her intimate knowledge of Hugh’s travel plans. When I didn’t answer she continued. “Griff Douglas is a travel agent.”
I sighed heavily. “Still not following, Jules,” I complained.
“He is the travel agent that handles all of the travel plans for Hugh’s company,” she added petulantly.
Ah. Now it made sense. “Well someone ought to tell Griff that he needs to report back to the town crier a little more quickly next time,” I scolded.
“He doesn’t report to me!” Clearly Julia was getting offended that I didn’t know how news traveled on the grape vine. “I dig for my information!
You think it’s easy unearthing all of this shit on people?” Obviously someone was a little touchy about the trials and tribulations of her work.
“I was talking about Tiff.” Then I started laughing out loud inexplicably.
Clearly confused with my newfound discovery of humor on the subject, Julia asked me what was so funny.
“Tiff is marrying Griff,” I answered laughing through my rhyme.
“Seriously? Can we focus please?” Julia had other things on her mind.
I wrapped up my hysteria and forged on. “I don’t know anything else. I just got the note and stepped into my apartment when you called.”
I heard Julia sigh really loudly. Clearly she was frustrated that I didn’t have any juicy details to offer her.
“Well look at the bright side,” I continued. “At least now I know for sure that it was Hugh.”
“What do you mean?” she asked with confusion outlining her tone. “You just said you got a note from him.”
“He didn’t sign the note,” I responded in turn. “I thought maybe it was Darcy coming for her slice of revenge.”
“I don’t get it. How could you know for sure that it is the one and only Hugh Rowen who left you the message if he didn’t sign the note?”
“Because the opening line of the message that was left with my doorman said ‘Hello, Junior,’” I explained.
“Oh, Dear Lord. He hasn’t forgotten,” she breathed.
Was she crazy? “Of course he didn’t forget!” I reprimanded. “You don’t forget the person who announced that your brother is your fiancés baby daddy in the middle of your wedding ceremony!” I continued my rant. “I mean holy shit, Julia. What are you thinkin’?” For some reason the hint of southern accent that I had abandoned years ago infiltrated my speech.
“Don’t you sass me, Delilah!” Julia didn’t like when I got testy. It was okay for her to get testy. Actually she was always testy. She said that was just the way she talked. Either way she was never fond of being on the receiving end of anyone else’s testiness.
I blew out a long breath through pursed lips directed at my ceiling hoping to calm myself down. Clearly I was losing what little control I had left. My eyes honed in on the newfound crack that I had never noticed before emanating from the corner just outside of the molding and traveling to the center almost to the light fixture. It was probably from the new tenant upstairs who jumped rope like an elephant. If he didn’t come through the ceiling soon it would be a miracle. I inhaled deeply unhappy with the crack that with my luck would eventually come out of my security deposit and the lack of information that Julia was able to provide.
It didn’t take long for the melancholy thoughts in my head to infiltrate my mood. Then I began to reprimand myself for how quickly I allowed my self-loathing to take flight. Then I began the familiar process of accepting the yet-undetermined-but-likely-ill-fated outcome. The process came full circle when I became annoyed with myself at how quickly I was allowing myself to deteriorate.
So typical of me.
Every molecule of air left my lungs on a huge sigh. “What am I going to do, Jules? I mean…I made a complete ass out of myself the last time I saw him. Let’s not forget that I made an ass out of him too. What can I possibly say to him now?” Julia could hear the sheer hopelessness in my voice.
“Delilah, do you hear yourself? You are a sad sack! If Hugh Rowen didn’t want to see you all he had to do was not come to your apartment. Not that I’ve ever received my hand engraved.”
It must be said that I had invited her to come visit me when I first moved north and she said emphatically that she hated big cities. But obviously it bothered her that I hadn’t asked her since because she mentioned every time I spoke to her. So, Julia being Julia, she had to make sure she slipped that in yet again.
“But from what I’ve heard New York City is prêt-ty large. My understanding is that you would never know that he was there.” Julia was a good friend and more importantly she was the sanity to my insanity. She was right. There was no way that I would know that Hugh Rowen was visiting if he hadn’t stopped by and left me a note. “Am I wrong?” she asked knowing she wasn’t.
“No. You’re right,” I answered still afflicted with weighty disappointment.
“Delilah. What the hell is wrong with you?” She questioned. “Hugh Rowen went to New York City, searched you out and left you a note to tell you that he went out of his way to see you. You should be jumping for joy. It’s not like you ever got over the man,” she added passionately.
“Must you rub it in?” I sighed.
“Well someone has to. Wake up,” she admonished.
Once again, she was right. I should be the happiest Virginian in New York. But I’d never forgiven myself for what happened the day of Hugh’s non-wedding. So I was unable to understand how he could have possibly moved on and done so without detesting every bone in my body. Then it occurred to me. Maybe he was visiting with retribution in mind. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it.
Chapter 4
I woke up exhausted. If I slept a total of three hours it was a lot. I kept tossing and turning all night thinking about Hugh. Julia was right. I never did get over the man. He was my end all be all. Every guy I met, and I had met a few nice ones, I unfairly compared to Hugh. Guys I met in college were habitually classified as strictly friend material. A few men I met while living in New York had the honor of graduating to dating status but no one, not one, compared in my mind to the incredible Hugh Rowen. So they never even scratched the surface to my heart.
The last guy, Carson, had a reputation at work for being a womanizer. One could say that he’d been around the PR floor a couple of times. I knew this about him but he was also really hot. So I made an exception and even put in a modicum of effort. Clearly those efforts were not exercised with enough fervor because Carson was still able to detect the ‘I don’t give a shit’ vibe that unintentionally emanated from me. My capricious attitude in his mind was worthy of retaliation, which I found out with his announcement in front of half of the staff in the coffee lounge. “Do you even care that I just fucked your partner in the utility closet?”
What bothered me more was that I found out that my partner was a back stabbing snake. I didn’t tell Carson that, though. So I responded with a shoulder shrug, a heavy sigh, a headshake and a facial expression that outlined my lack of affectedness. He could have fucked a thousand women on his coffee break and I would have jumped right on those thank you notes outlining my appreciation for saving me the trouble. It would have been one less obligation in our meaningless relationship as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t trying to be cruel but there was no way I could explain to him that he didn’t and could never measure up to the amazing Hugh Rowen. Which circled my thoughts back to my current dilemma. Why would the most perfect man in the world ever search out a loose-lipped-wedding-annihilator like Delilah Welling twelve years after I ruined his life? I threw back the covers on my bed and dragged my ass to the shower. Brutal.
Feeling already drained, I lingered in the shower longer than usual trying to revive my exhausted body. I dressed for work in the first thing that I could reach in my closet and stopped at my ice cream table to write myself a note to call the online store where I had ordered my dress. My partner and I had a corporate function to attend Friday for our biggest client. This only left me one day to locate my rush order so I had something to wear. I wasn’t too concerned about it fitting. I had worn that designer before and I knew I filled out a size four perfectly. That was of course if I could get it in my possession. Mom had been right all those years ago. I finally grew breasts once I was there. Of course getting there seemed to take forever. But it was almost like they grew overnight because one morning I woke up and I had full B’s. I even had the stretch marks to go with them. I never did grow hips. But Julia told me hips were overrated. I didn’t necessarily agree with her. I always thought hips gave a woman sex appeal. But she said that she had them so she should know. A
ll things considered, I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. At least I grew something.
I tapped the ‘down’ button to call the elevator. Yes, it was already lit. And, yes, I knew it wouldn’t deliver the elevator any faster. But I did it anyway. The doors parted a few moments later where I found two residents inside. One I didn’t know at all. The other was Mrs. Norris who I had house/kitty sat for a few weeks prior.
“Good morning, Mrs. Norris.” I smiled at her and nodded to the other woman who I didn’t know.
“Oh, good morning, Delilah.” She said rather enthusiastically given the early hour. “Nice to see you again.” She clasped her hands together under her chin. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” her knees bent slightly with her announcement.
“Oh?” I questioned. “Everything okay with Winnie?” My eyebrows went up hoping the fat cat I sat for was okay.
“Oh, yes, Dear. Winchester is just fine,” she assured. “I found some treats I didn’t recognize in my cupboard. I asked Gina, my housekeeper, but she said she didn’t buy them. Winchester just loves them and I am running out.” Mrs. Norris was clearly in knots over the vanishing treats for her beloved Winchester.
“Oh, it was me,” I confessed with a little raise of my hand. “I got them at a pet shop near my office. I can pick some up for you if you’d like?” It really wasn’t any trouble. Winchester was a sweet cat and it gave me an excuse to go see the teacup puppies in the window. So cute.
“Oh, no thank you, Delilah. But if you don’t mind I would like the address. I have been looking for a new collar for little Winnie. I thought maybe I would take a ride and browse around.”
I don’t know what Mrs. Norris saw when she looked at Winchester but he was far from little. As a matter of fact he was larger than most of the dogs in the building.