Uncharted

by Nikki Thornton

  “You were intimidating.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. I was so far from intimidating.” She paused. “I probably would have said yes.”

  “Ahh! Damned hindsight!”

  They both laughed.

  “Well, if I weren’t married, I’d take my chance now.”

  “It seems like everyone got married. Anyone I know?’

  “No. I met her in college. She couldn’t come tonight though. We couldn’t find a babysitter.”

  “Oh that’s great!”

  He gave her a confused look.

  “No, not that you couldn’t find a babysitter. That you have kids!” She laughed as his expression softened. “How many?”

  “Three. All boys. Apparently they’ve scared away all the babysitters in our neighborhood.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His phone rang. “It’s the wife. Excuse me a moment.” He walked out of the noisy room to answer the call.

  As she stood there scanning the crowd and waiting for his return, she heard someone behind her call her name.

  “Kennedy? Is that you?”

  She spun around to see who it was.

  “Wow! Look at you! How’ve you been?”

  “Good.” She didn’t recognize him. “You?”

  “Decent. Decent.” He noticed her blank look. “It’s Shawn!”

  She was shocked. “Shawn? Shawn Ferona?”

  “Yeah! Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Really?” She said it out of skepticism, not excitement.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Maybe because you never spoke a word to me in high school.”

  “Eh, I was young and too stupid to realize…” He gestured to her body.

  She was appalled and about to turn him down when she saw the bartender still watching her.

  “Sure, a drink would be nice.” She followed him to the bar.

  Shawn approached the same bartender who had been watching Kennedy all night. “A couple of beers for me and the lady?”

  “Maybe the lady wants to choose her own drink?” the bartender replied.

  Before Kennedy could respond, Shawn said, “I’m sure beer is fine, right Ken?”

  Kennedy was slightly distracted by the fact that he called her Ken. “Actually, I’d prefer a whiskey sour.” She looked sheepishly at the bartender. “Please.”

  The bartender smiled, obviously pleased with himself as he mixed her drink and handed Shawn his beer.

  Kennedy took a long sip after she received her drink. Shawn was watching her.

  “So, what do you do?”

  “I’m a travel journalist.”

  “That’s awesome! Have you gone anywhere cool like Jamaica or Amsterdam?”

  “Um, no. It’s strictly a U.S. kind of thing. But my editor and I are discussing a possible Euro series.”

  She was going to elaborate about how the trip was only discussed as a result of reader demand and inquires, but she saw that he wasn’t really paying attention.

  Instead she tried to shift the conversation to him. “What do—”

  He was suddenly shouting, “Hey! Jake!” and motioned for his friend to join them.

  When Jake approached, Shawn boasted, “Look who I ran into!”

  “Is that President Kennedy?”

  Kennedy glanced at the bartender with an awkward, slightly embarrassed grin. He was watching the exchange with interest.

  “Ha ha, Jake,” Kennedy said dryly. “I see you haven’t changed much.”

  “See you have.” He looked her up and down.

  “Charming.”

  “Can I buy your next drink?”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  Shawn interjected, “Yeah Jake, back off. I saw her first.” He nudged Jake in a way that reminded Kennedy of a teenager nudging his buddy when he made a sex joke.

  “Oh. Wow. No. Neither one of you are getting anywhere near me.”

  Shawn looked bewildered. “But I bought you a drink!”

  “And I thank you for that, but it won’t get you in my pants.”

  “What a waste. Who knew you were such a tramp.”

  Kennedy glanced at the bartender again. He was no longer wearing his ever constant grin.

  “Who knew you were such a loser? Oh, wait, I did. Apparently you haven’t changed much since high school either,” she said.

  Shawn’s jaw dropped.

  “Why are you still sitting here? Are you stupid too? That was your cue to leave.”

  Both Shawn and Jake were speechless.

  Kennedy maintained her glare and they finally left.

  “Bit harsh.”

  She turned to the bartender’s voice. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Of course,” he smiled at her. “Why’d you even let him buy you a drink?”

  “What business is it of yours?” She was glad he seemed jealous.

  “Call me curious.”

  “The truth?”

  “Always.”

  Kennedy hesitated and thought better of telling the whole truth. “Drinks here are expensive.”

  He chuckled. “Right.”

  She spun around in the bar stool to watch the crowd again. She saw Adriana and Ben dancing alongside some other couples.

  “So, it looked like not many people remember you.”

  “No, they remember me. Most of them just don’t care to talk to me.”

  “They got a problem with the president?” He chuckled again.

  “Right, that. I suppose I should explain that.”

  “What’s there to explain? Your name is Kennedy and they’re not very original.”

  “It’s worse than that. Yeah, they’re not very original, and yeah my name is Kennedy, but what you don’t know is my last name.”

  The bartenders’ ears perked and he raised his eyebrows waiting for her to continue.

  “Johnson. Kennedy Johnson.”

  He laughed.

  “My parents were cruel.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “You’re being nice.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is pretty bad.”

  She yawned.

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Ew. No. But I could go for some water. My mouth is so dry.”

  He set a tall glass of water in front of her.

  She yawned again before drinking.

  “I’m getting off in a few minutes. If you want, I can walk you to the elevator.”

  She smiled. “That would be nice.”

  He rushed through his closing duties hoping she wouldn’t fall asleep at the bar.

  When he came to her from the other side of the bar, it took her a bit by surprise.

  “Ready?”

  She stood. “Yup.”

  A slow song started up. He grabbed her hand. “First we have to dance.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Completely,” he said as he pulled her into him.

  She was too tired to put up a fight or throw a fit about it, so she danced. It actually felt kind of nice to be held like that.

  The song seemed to last forever. It was fine by her and perfect in his opinion. She didn’t even notice the number of people staring at them, Julie included.

  As the song ended, he led her off the dance floor and walked her to the elevator. When the doors opened, she thanked him for walking her there.

  “I think I better actually walk you up to your room.”

  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

  “I just want to make sure you get to your room okay.” He sounded honestly concerned as he entered the elevator with her.

  The ride to the twelfth floor was silent. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator.

  She led the way to her door and pulled the key card out of her little purse. Before unlocking the door, she turned around to thank him and say goodnight.

  As soon as she turned his face was mere inches from hers. He held himself up with his hand against her
door.

  His face inched closer.

  Her heart pounded.

  She whispered, barely audible, “Emmerick, I don—”

  He put his finger to her lips and said, “Shh” and moved closer.

  She kissed him first.

  Emmerick put a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. He took the keycard out of her hands as they found their way to his hair and face.

  He unlocked the door and they all but fell inside.

  * * *

  When Emmerick woke up in the morning, he was alone again. He sat up and frantically looked around the room for some sign of her. There was nothing to indicate that she had stuck around this time.

  He cursed himself for not learning from his mistake years earlier, a mistake he had regretted every day since.

  Her bag was gone. She had fled him for the second time. He desperately searched for a note. She still hadn’t provided her phone number.

  Just as he had in Santa Cruz all those years ago, he took the time to shower away the pain of her departure. He was slow to dress, hoping she would miraculously return. He did a quick survey of the room hoping there would be some clue about how to find her.

  He hadn’t even thought to ask which paper she worked for, though he doubted she would have told him. He couldn’t even be sure it was a local paper. She was there for her high school reunion and staying in a hotel. The only thing that insured was that she had lived nearby when she was younger.

  That was another possibility—checking the school records. She had told him before it was a small school, and now with her graduating year, the search would be easier. But maybe that wasn’t the best idea. She had left him for a reason. Both times.

  He suddenly found himself walking out of the hotel into the spring air. It had just warmed up enough for him to ride his bike again. Every spring since his trip, he had thought of her when he took it out for the season.

  A car honked at him. He hadn’t even realized he was in the parking lot. It was routine for him to go to his car—bike in this case—after work, though it had never been so many hours after he punched out.

  He glanced up at the car with an apologetic look then hurried out of the way. He turned his head toward his bike; it was time to start paying attention to where he was going. His heart stopped. He stood, frozen in place. She was there, waiting on his bike.

  As he stood there staring, she looked up at him. A smile crossed her face, undoubtedly a response to the surprised expression he wore. Her smile turned to a laugh as she motioned for him to come to her.

  “I thought you’d never wake up.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “I came out for some fresh air.”

  He was still in slight shock.

  “You made me breakfast once, now let me make it for you.” She put his helmet on for him.

  “I thought you left.”

  “What? Me? No. I don’t do that.” She smiled a little. “Now let’s get going.”

  “Where to?” He was curious as to how she planned on cooking for him.

  “My place. It’s just a few miles away.”

  His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he mounted his bike. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  She gave him a sheepish look, “Sorry.”

  “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

  “I can’t promise anything. Now make a left out of here.”

  She continued to give him directions until they arrived at her apartment. He parked his bike in front of her unit.

  She got off the bike and started walking to the front door. He didn’t follow. “You coming, Emmerick?”

  He was looking down the street, “Actually I’ll be back in a few.” His plan was formulating in his head. “I need to go buy some clothes to change into. These stink like bar,” he explained while fanning his shirt.

  Kennedy laughed. “I could just throw them in the wash.”

  Emmerick had to think fast. “No, I should just buy new clothes. I don’t want to be walking around your house naked.”

  Kennedy sighed. “I wouldn’t mind.” She smiled. “But if you insist.”

  “I do.” His bike roared back to life and he disappeared down the street.

  Kennedy took the opportunity to tidy up and brush her teeth. Not knowing how long he would be gone, she didn’t start breakfast.

  Instead, she started baking. The only breakfast appropriate thing she had to bake was blueberry muffins. They’ll have to do.

  Emmerick knocked on her door as the oven timer was going off. She put the pan of muffins on the stove and hurried to answer the door.

  He was holding a shopping bag and a cup of coffee. “Nice mitts.”

  She had forgotten to take off her penguin oven mitts. “I baked!”

  “Mmm. Smells good, but you said you were going to cook, not bake.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to start it while you were gone and have it get cold by the time you got back.” She pulled him inside. “Besides, now you can have a muffin while I cook.”

  “Good thinking. Where can I change?” He looked around the room taking in all the color.

  “What, you’re modest now?”

  “I just don’t want to go getting all naked before breakfast, that’s all. I thought we covered this.” He smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

  Kennedy shook her head and rolled her eyes before showing him to her bedroom. She left him to change and started cooking breakfast.

  The apartment was small enough that they could carry on a conversation while he changed and she cooked, however loud it was.

  “So, how’d you end up bartending in Michigan?”

  “I was just helping out for the increased crowd. I’m usually in the back cooking. I went and got a culinary degree last year, started working for a four-star hotel back home, and had to transfer here when they opened this one.” Distracted by trying to look toward her while he took his belt out of his old pants, he tripped over his shoes and fell onto her bed. It was the softest bed he had ever encountered.

  He zipped his pants and headed back toward the kitchen. “Mom wasn’t too happy with the move. And anyway, it’s actually pretty lucky. Had I not volunteered my bartending expertise, I probably never would have seen you there.”

  “Bartending expertise? I thought you said you used to be a mechanic?”

  “Yeah, but I did a little bartending while I was in school, for beer money.” His voice trailed off at the end as he watched Kennedy concentrate on what she was doing. Only she would have difficulties making pancakes.

  “Hmm?” She looked up to find him staring at her. She smiled as though she had been caught doing something shady. “What?”

  “Need some help?” A giant smile crossed his face as he tried not to laugh.

  “No, I’m cooking for you. You shouldn’t be helping me.” She was very determined.

  “Looks like you have more pancakes on your face than in the bowl.”

  “Oh, do I?” She raised an eyebrow and slightly tilted her head.

  “You do.”

  Before he knew what was happening, she flicked some of the powdered pancake mix into his face.

  “There, now we’re both covered.” She looked triumphant.

  They continued to talk as Kennedy mixed blueberries into the pancakes. She started some bacon before pouring the pancake batter into the pan.

  Every time the bacon popped and “bit” her, as she called it, she jerked back.

  “You sure you don’t want help?” He picked up a muffin and started eating it.

  “I got it! Relax! Go sit on the couch.”

  “Fine. Sheesh.” He headed towards the living room. “By the way, your home is very…colorful.”

  “Yeah. You have yourself to thank for that.” She flipped the pancakes and the bacon.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I did it when I got back from the road trip.”

  “Oh, you mean when you deserted me?” He teased.

>   “Am I ever going to live that down?”

  “Maybe. Why don’t you explain why you left? Then maybe I’ll let it go.”

  She flipped the bacon again and jerked away as it popped. “I don’t really know. The best thing I can come up with is that I think I was scared.”