All Who Dream (Letting Go)

by Deese, Nicole

  “I can expense it, then? I think she’ll need quite a few items-”

  “Pippy, yes, expense it—fine. I have more important things on my mind than a wardrobe crisis at the moment. What is it with all this nervous chatter of yours tonight?” His voice shifted into a growl as he looked down at her. “She’s just a mom.”

  Until that moment, I hadn’t known how that word could be used as an insult. I also hadn’t realized how utterly inferior and inadequate a phrase could make me feel. It wasn’t that he’d called me a mom; it was the word he said right before it: just.

  A second later, Walt pulled up to the curb in the town car. Then Pippy saw me—standing like a frozen idiot on the walkway, her green binder in my hands.

  “Oh—uh—Miss Flores...I didn’t know you were standing there,” she said, motioning to the man beside her. “This is Mr. Jackson Ross.”

  The man turned around, and my stomach bottomed out. He was young—much younger than I’d imagined the Mr. Ross that Dee spoke about so highly. But his youth was not what caused my breath to hitch. This guy looked like he’d been plucked right off a Hollywood movie set. He was the perfect type-cast for a rogue-assassin plotting to save mankind from the deadly grasp of evil!

  Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but seriously, Jackson Ross was the polar-opposite of average. The deep espresso of his hair served to highlight the ocean-blue of his eyes, locking me in place where I stood. My heart skipped a beat…and then another.

  His good looks were far superior to his charm, however, as his stoically handsome face remained unchanged, no apology offered in regards to his offensive comment only a second prior. Instead, he stared unabashed, his gaze washing over me. Both horribly awkward, yet undeniably magnetic, the moment had paralyzed me. I wanted to say something—anything—but my mind was blank.

  Humiliation burned my cheeks as I remembered my mom wardrobe—the one I was currently wearing.

  The intensity of his blue-gray eyes softened slightly as he cracked a tight smile. “Ms. Flores.” He gave a curt nod of his head. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Though his words were similar to what Pippy had said to me at the airport, his tone lacked warmth. I pawed at the pendant around my neck and searched for the words to reply to such a comment. Or was it a compliment? I honestly didn’t know.

  Pippy looked at me. “Yes, I said the same when I met her earlier this evening.” She moved aside to let Walt open the back passenger door. “You’ll be late for your appointment, sir.”

  Mr. Ross took three steps to the car, his almond-shaped eyes drinking me in—me, who stood stalk still like some sort of freak-show mime. A hint of something new crossed his rugged features, his right brow arching ever so slightly as he held my gaze a moment more. With a curt nod from Jackson, Walt closed his door, leaving me spellbound at the silence exchange.

  Was it curiosity that had transfixed him? I didn’t know.

  But as stunning as Jackson Ross was to behold, what lurked beneath the surface he portrayed was something as dark as it was mysterious.

  The hair on my arms stood at attention as I watched his car pull away.

  “Hmm...that was strange.” Pippy’s eyes followed the town car as it pulled into the flow of traffic.

  I did a double-take at the young woman. Strange? Really? That’s what she’s going with?

  Pippy shrugged. “The good news is...you and I are going shopping on Saturday morning! I can’t wait! I’ll write it on the new schedule.” She beamed.

  Another schedule? Lord have mercy.

  Chapter Three

  The Storm

  I am fragile

  The wind has no discretion

  It doesn’t care that I fall

  It doesn’t care that I cry

  It just keeps on blowing

  I am weak

  The gust has endless power

  It doesn’t care that I break

  It doesn’t care that I hurt

  It just keeps on blowing

  I am frail

  The storm has infinite rage

  It doesn’t care that I fear

  It doesn’t care that I cower

  It just keeps on blowing

  I am alone

  **********

  I stepped over the porcelain ledge of the tub and wrapped the white, fluffy bath towel around my body. Cody was still asleep, and I was certain he’d been up playing on his new gadget long after I called lights out. As the mirror defogged, I pulled my long, blonde hair over my shoulder and combed through it with my fingers. A glint of gold caught my eye in the mirror—my necklace, the one I’d worn for close to ten years.

  It had belonged to my granny. Fingering it, I headed into the bedroom to dress.

  We had never lived near her, but I looked forward to her visits as a child even more than I had looked forward to Christmas. She smelled of cherries and vanilla, and though she was covered in wrinkles, her skin was perpetually soft like a rose petal.

  She was my mother’s grandmother, and she was also the one who had named me—Angela Christine. My name meant messenger of God, or angel. She always spoke of angels. Though my parents were too busy to be bothered with faith, my granny was known for nothing else.

  During her visits, I sat with her after my parents were in bed and listened to her stories for hours on end. I would lay my head on her lap as she stroked my hair. Her touch was a memory of affection I would hold near to my heart long after she passed; affection was scare in our household.

  The necklace was a tiny, gold pendant: angel wings that formed a heart.

  Granny passed unexpectedly two days before my high school graduation. I didn’t receive the necklace, though, for almost six months. The bequest had been missed during the initial division of her estate and belongings.

  I’ll never forget the day Dirk tossed a padded envelope on the counter like it was nothing—like it meant nothing—though the packet had my name handwritten on the front with my granny’s return address in the upper left hand corner. He knew what she had meant to me. I’d been an emotional wreck the day of my graduation—and consequently, during our elopement to Vegas the day after her memorial service.

  The envelope had been stamped, but never mailed. It was to be a graduation gift, one that held unmatched significance. Though the little angel wings were tarnished, the vintage piece was invaluable. Priceless. Irreplaceable.

  My granny had placed the necklace inside a delicately folded piece of stationary. In her beautiful, shaky cursive, she had written:

  My Dearest Angela,

  I was given this necklace on my wedding day by your granddaddy. I wish you could have known him. He was my angel in disguise. I pray this necklace provides you with strength and courage in the same way it has for me.

  “For He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go.”

  Psalms 91:11.

  I’ll love you always,

  Granny

  I had repaired the fragile chain twice, but other than that, I had not taken it off. The necklace was a part of me—Cody had never seen me without it.

  The reflection of my necklace in the mirror brought me comfort in these new surroundings. Dressed in black slacks, heels and a sleeveless, lavender blouse, I applied my makeup with care, using brown eyeliner to accent my hazel eyes. Leaving my blonde hair to fall below my shoulders, I assessed the woman that was my reflection and decided that she was light-years ahead of the just-a-mom from the night prior.

  I’ll prove him wrong.

  **********

  True to her word, Pippy arrived with Walt and the car at nine a.m. on the dot. The signing was to start at ten. Cody begged to sit up front next to Walt’s in the driver’s seat, I agreed, and was relieved to see Pippy alone in the backseat of the town car—or at least that’s what I told myself. As Walt opened the back door for me, Pippy launched into a story, her hands in full animation-mode. I decided right then that Rosie and Pippy should never meet. This world was not big enough to
contain that much energy in a single space.

  “Good morning! I didn’t know how you liked your coffee…so I just took a stab at it. Peter—my brother—says I’m the worst at ordering coffee because I only drink it for the sugar, but I did my best at guessing what you’d like.” Her long, black eyelashes fluttered excitedly as she held out the drink. Evidently, she was waiting for an assessment—or an approval—I wasn’t sure which. I took a slow sip. Peter was correct. It was like drinking hot, liquid sugar with a splash of coffee flavoring.

  I forced a swallow down.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “See…he doesn’t know what he’s talking about—I thought we’d have similar tastes.”

  I grinned.

  “So, let’s see,” she hurried on, “today you have this signing from ten until two—we will break for thirty minutes for lunch. As I’m sure Dee told you, this publicity tour is quite unique—we have never set up a tour that has a single theme and focus like this one does.”

  “You mean like on parenting?” I asked, confused.

  “No, I mean on family: marriage, parenting, single parenting and adoption. Pinkerton Press wants to raise the bar—provide resources for a generation who seems clueless on keeping family a priority. They have handpicked these authors—it’s quite inspiring actually. There are five authors in total. You are the only one who is still unpublished, but your blog has drawn a lot of attention. That’s why we’re pre-selling your book. It should be out around Thanksgiving, as you already know.”

  “Wow, Dee mentioned that there were other authors promoting family, but this sounds phenomenal.”

  Pippy nodded her head. “This tour has been very well advertised; we are expecting it to do well, that’s why we’re taking it into several cities.”

  A wave of anxiety blindsided me. “Am I the only author representing single parenting?” I looked at Cody in the front seat. He was engaged in a riddle-fest with Walt.

  Pippy’s eyes twinkled. “Yes.”

  **********

  When we walked into the three story bookstore my head felt light and airy, like at any moment it would take off without me into the great beyond.

  Four lines of ropes corralled hundreds of chatty women, children, and a few dozen men who all looked bored out of their minds. My mouth gaped at the sight.

  “Look, there she is! Hi Angie—and there’s Cody!”

  “Angie, can I get my picture with you?”

  “We love you, Angie!”

  Cody pulled on my arm as we continued to walk. “Mom, do all these women know you?”

  I shook my head, dumbfounded, waving and smiling as I followed Pippy, who didn’t miss a beat. She stopped at a long table near the center of the first floor. There were three other tables set up around the room—two were already occupied: one by Sue Bolen who wrote Adoption Answers and the second by Tom and Julie Zimmerman who co-wrote, The Reconnected Marriage.

  A picture of my face—one that I recognized from my blog—hung on a banner in front of the table displaying the title of my blog: A Lone Joy. A large pile of various signing materials and pre-book orders were neatly arranged on the tabletop. I swallowed hard.

  “Exciting, isn’t it?” Pippy nudged my arm.

  “Yes…very.” I ignored the ball of cotton that had sucked my throat dry of moisture.

  “So I was thinking Cody can either sit here with you, or there’s a special kid’s corner right over there. I made sure they put this table where you could still see him. Whatever you think best is fine,” Pippy said.

  “Is that okay, Mom?” Cody bounced on his toes. “Can I sit over there?”

  “Sure, honey.” I tousled his hair. Just make sure you let me know if you plan on going anywhere else. This place is very crowded. Also, you are only to read. You will be spending enough time tonight on that iPad, so don’t take it out of your backpack while we are in the store.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  Pippy escorted him to the brightly painted kids’ corner which was just forty feet away or so and looked at her watch. I looked around the room. I’d been dying to ask her about some questions about Mr. Ross, but the words wouldn’t form.

  I stopped my eyes from rolling at the thought of Mr. High-and-Mighty as Pippy announced it was time to begin. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the onslaught before remembering Rosie’s words when she came to say goodbye.

  “Embrace this, Ang. It’s your destiny.”

  Chapter Four

  By the time our lunch break started, my stomach was angry. Pippy had purchased a bag of chips for Cody a while ago, but I’d barely had a sip of water during the last three hours. With every face I saw, every hand I shook, every note I wrote…I felt inspired. I wanted to know them all: their names, their stories, their struggles. I had been in more pictures today probably than in my whole lifetime, but I smiled genuinely in each one. These women had found their way here for reasons I had yet to understand, and I wasn’t about to give them anything less than my all, even if I was starving!

  Cody had checked in with me several times and even added his own notes and signatures on a few of the cards and posters. The moms went crazy over him, which then drove him back to the kids’ corner.

  I scarfed down my turkey sandwich, chasing it with a diet soda, when I turned toward the door. A rush of ice and heat swept down my body.

  Jackson Ross.

  Even his name was striking. He stood near where Cody sat, leaning against a wall in his dark, rich, designer suit. He stared at his phone and typed furiously, as if his life depended on the message he was sending—maybe it did; what did I know?

  I bit my bottom lip as I watched him. Though I’d never before found facial hair attractive, Jackson knew how to pull it off. His sculpted beard was trimmed and edged into a flawless outline of his firm jaw. Rugged heartthrob meets GQ.

  I didn’t know how long I watched him, but apparently it was long enough for Pippy to take notice.

  Her laugh jolted me back into reality.

  “You ready to go?” she asked.

  “Oh, sure.” I turned my head, trying to pretend I was looking at something else—or better yet, someone else.

  Who am I kidding? I was a horrible actress.

  As I bent to retrieve my bag from under the table, I was suddenly aware of the broad-shouldered man who stood behind me. My pulse quickened.

  “Was the day a success?” Jackson asked.

  Cody skittered past me, holding Pippy’s hand as he chatted away toward the exit door. Though the room was filled with people conversing, my ears were tuned-in to his voice.

  I gulped. “Yes. I’m shocked with how many women showed up.” I smiled. “It was really amazing.”

  The corner of his mouth curled slightly, but before my stomach could react with an acrobatic flip, Jackson turned sharply, and exited the building.

  I followed, feeling more like an unwanted puppy than the up and coming author Pinkerton had painted me to be.

  Stepping out into the sunlight, I watched as Jackson bent and spoke to Cody. I couldn’t quite make out his words, but in response, Cody let out a rapid fire of factoids.

  Sue Bolan, the adoption author, tapped me on my shoulder to ask me about my signings and fans. I pried my eyes from Jackson and Cody, and gave Sue my undivided attention as we discussed the highlights of the bookstore—that is, until her ride pulled up a few minutes later.

  Turning my attention toward Cody once again, I saw it—a sight that nearly caused my knees to liquefy.

  A smile.

  Jackson Ross was smiling at Cody. And it was exquisite.

  Cody giggled as Jackson caught my eye. He sobered immediately.

  “There’s Walt!” Cody said.

  I tore my gaze from the brooding man in front of me just in time to see Walt pull up.

  “Will you be riding back with us to the apartments, Mr. Ross?” Pippy asked him.

  He glanced at me before his eyes landed on Pippy once more. “No.”


  And that’s when the thought hit me—like a brick to the chest.

  Feeling like an idiot, I addressed Mr. Ross, “Oh gosh, you probably need your driver back! Cody and I are perfectly fine to take a taxi—it’s no problem at all. I’m sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused you.”

  Pippy opened her mouth, but Mr. Ross put a hand on her shoulder, not a word escaped before he nodded toward me.

  “Don’t be late to dinner.”

  By the time I comprehended his words he’d already climbed into a yellow cab. Seconds later, he was but a blur in a sea of buttery traffic. It dawned on me then what had just taken place.

  Other than issuing orders, the man had practically stared right through me! One minute he seemed to despise my very presence, while the next he seemed to not even know I was there.

  For all the years that I had begged God to make me invisible, all the years I had prayed to slide under the radar by the one man to whom I had so stupidly bound my life…being ignored was the antithesis of what I wanted now. I wanted to be noticed—by Jackson Ross no less.

  Why do I even care what he thinks?

  I slid into the backseat of the car before I allowed myself to answer.

  **********

  I did not enjoy primping. It was one thing to get ready for a day of book signing, but it was something else altogether to get ready for a night of introductions and first impressions at a formal dinner party. After I slipped into my red dress and heels, I took careful steps to pin my hair up and darken my makeup application by a shade—the way Rosie had shown me. I topped off preparations with red lipstick. Not fire engine red; Audrey Hepburn red.

  “Whoa, Mom! You look really different!” Cody exclaimed as I walked into the living space. He sat on the couch in khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt.

  I was really starting to hate the word different. I scrunched my face at him.