Bridge to Fruition

by Laurie Larsen

  Take a breath. She couldn’t forget her manners. When he arrived, he may need a drink, a meal, a chance to stretch his legs. Then, the photo shoot. Her fingers were itching to get started.

  The doorbell rang and her heart jumped. Her legs pumped down the stairs and she reached the front door breathless. She pulled it open.

  It was, indeed, Dax. He’d thrown on a simple long-sleeved white shirt and it looked like it was born to grace his form. Long, worn jeans covered those legs that were going to convince fashion professionals that her own pants designs belonged on their payroll. She was happy to see he hadn’t cut his hair. That long brown hair that flowed carelessly past his shirt collar, making her hands ache to reach out and run her fingers through it.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile and she realized she’d left him standing for several long beats while she simply stared, taking in the beauty of him.

  “Hi,” she laughed, reached for his hand and pulled him inside the condo. He laughed too, and what came next seemed natural. Unavoidable. She pushed up onto her tiptoes, craned her neck and kissed him. Their lips joined and she closed her eyes. Soft, moist lips on hers, her nostrils breathing in the scent of him, leather and wind. She barely knew him, but her lips knew his, and they felt like they belonged right there, together.

  She pulled away. Conversation, yes, that’s what was needed here. Because if she didn’t engage her lips in speaking, they’d just want to keep busy attacking his with more kisses. “How was your trip? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired? Do you need anything?”

  His eyebrows dipped at her. My gosh, she sounded so nervous. Because that’s what this man did to her. She hadn’t known a guy in a long, long time who so excited her that she was nervous and breathless around him. “Take two. Sorry. Come in, Dax. Have a seat. Would you like anything?”

  He followed her into the living room and chuckled. “Great to see you.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “Yeah, you too.”

  They sat and he told her about his new job. He was working to build his clientele, and hoped that when his previous clients found out where he’d landed, they would bring their business to him. She told him about her designs and the outfits she’d sewn for him to wear.

  “I want to see them.”

  She nodded. “Go get your stuff and we’ll take it up to your room and I’ll give you the tour.”

  He left and returned a moment later with a small duffle bag. They went up the stairs and into the spare bedroom. Jasmine made a circle in the middle of the room, arms out. “While you’re here, this is your home base.” She pointed out, “Bed, dresser, closet. Bathroom,” she opened the door, “is a shared one between your room and mine. My room’s on the other side.” She closed the door and smiled. “But seriously, make yourself comfortable. Feel at home. I’m so glad you’re here, helping me with this project.” She smiled and bit her tongue on the rest of the sentence that she knew she shouldn’t say aloud: and spending more time together will help me figure out how the heck I feel about you, and what could possibly come next in this, um, would you call it a relationship?

  No. Definitely shouldn’t tell him that.

  “Wow. This is nicer than my room at home.”

  “Well, it’s a new condo, and no one’s ever stayed in this room before.”

  Dax was standing in the doorway of the closet, and reached out to finger the new suit. “Is this …? Did you make this?” He looked over at her, his features squished into amazement.

  Her heart raced a little faster. “Well, yes, but remember it’s not final quality. It’s just supposed to look good on film. I mean, you wouldn’t be able to wear it to work all day — it’s not that durable. But you should be able to put it on and model it for the camera. I made it based on the measurements you gave me, but we’ll tailor it to your body, make sure everything fits just right.” She was rambling. Great.

  He was staring at her, his eyes directly on hers, full of admiration. When she finally shut her mouth, he turned to her and took her arms with his hands. “You’re amazing. You’re so talented. You actually made this? A full men’s suit? In the last week?”

  She shrugged. “Well, yeah. I’m a designer and seamstress. It’s what I do. Well, it’s what I want to do.”

  “This is the kind of job you’re applying for?”

  She smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Well, all we have to do is make those guys in New York see what I see. Your talent, your innovation. You’ll blow them all away. They’ll be fighting over you.” He pulled her into his arms and she nestled her head into his chest, breathing in that now familiar scent. She was becoming so comfortable here, in his arms, sharing her dreams and her ambitions with him. How had this happened so fast? He was now a part of her life. Exactly what part of her life, she didn’t know. But maybe while he was here, they could figure it out together.

  She pulled back and looked up at his beautiful face, his warm cocoa-colored eyes. “I’m so glad you’re impressed. Together, we’ll make some videos and still photos that we both believe in.”

  He nodded. “Here’s an idea. Have you ever thought of asking God to lead you in your job search?”

  “No. What do you mean?”

  He cleared his throat, still holding loosely onto her hands. “Well, we know that all things are better if God is involved, right? So it makes sense to pray about your job search. To hand it over to Him to guide you to the right places, the right people. I mean, you could get a job on your own, and then have it be the absolute wrong fit. Ungodly people, negative energy. But if you turn your search over to God, and tune in to Him and His direction in your life, then you know that you’re going to end up where He wants you to go.”

  Jasmine stared at him, mouth dropped. This guy was amazing. To look at him — tall, slim, exotic, gorgeous face — you would expect him to be self-centered and aloof. You would expect him to have had an easy life, everything handed to him. But he was anything but. His reality was entirely different. He claimed to be a “fledgling Christian,” just learning the faith, but when he came out with stuff like that, it almost put her to shame. She’d followed Jesus her entire life. Why hadn’t she thought of asking God to guide and bless her job search?

  “I love that idea. In fact, want to say a quick prayer together?”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. She began, “Dear Father, thank You for bringing Dax here to help me with my job search. Please guide me as I look for my first career stop. Lead me to the right people and the right place where You want me to be. Let’s do this together, God. Amen.”

  She looked at him and smiled and he was beaming as well. “That’s a good start. I’d repeat it along the way too.”

  “Okay.” They dropped hands and she showed him the three outfits he’d be modeling for her. Then they started the fittings. She had a little bit of tailoring to do to make them fit him properly. She marked the alterations and set the clothes aside.

  “How about some lunch? You must be starving.”

  He shrugged and then an undeniable rumbling sound came from his stomach. They laughed. “I was about to say I was fine, but my stomach has its own plans.”

  “Let’s take my car, and I’ll take you to a lunch place downtown Pittsburgh with great sandwiches and salads, then I can give you a little walking tour of the city.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They headed off. His legs were so long she knew he was scrunched in her little compact car. “Feel free to move the seat back if you’re, you know, uncomfortable.” He shook his head and waved off her concern, but she smiled a few minutes later when he started searching with his hand for the adjustment knob.

  She pulled up in front of a favorite deli restaurant, Eat Unique, then drove past it and down a block to the right until she found a parking spot on the street. They left the car and walked back. They stood at the counter, gazing at the huge lit menu on the wall, then ordered and found a table.

  “So tell me a little more about Pedro. And do you have
any other boys you’re mentoring?”

  Dax had launched into a story about his young mentee when a waitress brought their selections: Jasmine the white turkey chili and greens salad, and Dax the pesto chicken sandwich. Both lunches hit the spot, and when they pushed their plates away, they sat back and talked some more.

  “I want to hear more about your sewing skills. Did they teach you that in college?”

  “I’ve been sewing since I was a little girl. It was an activity I was drawn to, and my mom signed me up for lessons at the local Singer Sewing Machine store. Every Saturday I’d bound out of bed and my mom would take me to the store, and I’d have a three-hour group lesson. They had a classroom in the back with different models of sewing machines, so we got to try them all out. You got to pick your own pattern and make clothes at your own pace. It was heavenly.”

  He laughed and didn’t say anything.

  “I know. I was a total nerd. But this was something I loved! I don’t know why.”

  “What were the other girls in your class like?”

  “Twice as old as me. I was like nine, ten, and they were all in high school. I was there because I loved it, and they were there because they had Home Ec in school and needed remedial help. So after using the store-bought patterns a few projects in a row, I tried my hand at designing my own patterns. I designed a dress to fit myself, and made it, and I was hooked. I not only wore that poor thing every chance I got, but I told my parents I wanted my own sewing machine so I could sew more than once a week.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “They let me pick out a sewing machine for Christmas.”

  He smiled at her and looked into her eyes. “They sound like awesome parents.”

  “They were. I had a great childhood.” Then she frowned and rolled her eyes. Way to rub his nose in it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to …”

  “What? You don’t have to apologize for having great parents. Do you think I’d want you to have no parents and spend your childhood in the foster system, just because that’s what I had?”

  She thought about that, concentrating on his words. “No, I guess not. But it seems, I don’t know, braggy to talk about my parents to you, how they took me to lessons to develop my interests, they bought me an expensive gift for Christmas. Especially when you had no one to do that stuff.”

  He reached over the table and placed his hands on hers. “I’m happy for you. I love to hear about happy childhoods, you know? It seems like those TV shows I used to watch. Happy Days and Wonder Years. Did some kids grow up that way? Yes, sometimes they did. Life wasn’t like that for me, but guess what? I grew up anyway, and now I’m an adult, and I’m doing my best to form my own life. And I learned a lot about what I wanted my life to be like, from what I didn’t have as a child.”

  “You’re making your dreams come true,” she whispered, taken by him and his message.

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far. But I know how much I benefitted from adults who helped me. Who were kind to me when they didn’t have to be. When they changed their plans because I needed a little help. I paid attention to those things when I was a kid, and I’ve never forgotten those acts of kindness. So now, I’m an adult. It’s my turn to pay that forward. So, I help others as often as I can. God was watching out for me as a kid in the system. I didn’t realize that then, I didn’t even know who He was. But I know it now. He used kind people, Christian people, to be His servants on earth. It made a difference to kids like me. And now, I do that as much as I can.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  He pulled his hands into his lap. “No, I’m not. You’re amazing. You have all this talent and spark and beauty.”

  She stared at him, then she leaned forward across the table and he met her halfway. They joined lips, just a happy, friendly brush. “I’m glad we met.”

  “Me too.”

  They settled the bill and walked outside. They strolled to the cross street where the car was parked, but instead of turning right, Jasmine looked left. “Hey! I just thought of something. Let’s go this way.”

  They walked several blocks. Jasmine pulled out her phone and went to the Notes section where she’d typed in an address a week ago. They were close. Very close. She would start the photo shoot tomorrow, and she still had alterations and pressing to do when they got home, so they might as well have some fun today.

  “Are you up for a walk?”

  “Sure, I’ve been sitting all day.”

  They went to Fifth Avenue, and they turned and set a pretty fast pace. It felt good to stretch their legs. Jasmine pointed out places of interest. About twenty minutes later, they were on the corner of Fifth and Penn. “Okay, this is it,” she said uncertainly. Of course, there were four corners on the corner of Fifth and Penn. Which was the right one?

  Dax was looking around for a milestone. “This is what?”

  Jasmine scanned the corner. Phone booths weren’t nearly as prevalent now as they were close to fifty years ago. Did phone booths even exist anymore in the age when everyone had a personal cell phone? Then she squealed. “Over here!” She grabbed Dax’s hand and, seeing the Walk indicator, dashed across the street. They waited for the light to change, then they crossed the block again, and there, on the corner, was a phone booth.

  She was quite sure it wasn’t the same exact booth that her mother had been left in. The newspaper article had described it, and it was a full booth, one a person would walk into, close the door behind them and be totally isolated from the street. This one was more modern. It had a plastic shell but only encircled the caller from the waist up, and there was no door. A shelf and a phone, and a plastic overhang to cover your head.

  This street corner was part of her family history.

  “What’s going on?” Dax asked and Jasmine pulled herself back from her thoughts. Her heart raced with her discovery.

  “This phone booth,” she said and ran a hand over it, “has meaning in my family.”

  He looked confused.

  “I was looking for a camera in my dad’s spare room closet. And I ran into a folder full of old documents — newspaper articles and few other papers. I got curious and read them all, and I uncovered a family secret I’d never been told before.”

  He watched her carefully, and at her words, his eyebrows went up. “About this phone booth?”

  She laughed. “I know it sounds crazy, but yes! Listen. My mom was born, and then two days later, she was abandoned in this phone booth. Or, well, a phone booth on this street corner. I assume the original booth was eventually replaced by this one. Someone, I’m assuming her mother, delivered her in a basket to the phone booth on this corner. She was discovered by a man named Paul Mason, and he took her to the hospital. She was examined, fed, hydrated, and kept a few days but she was fine. The hospital put her up for adoption, and just days later, she was adopted by my grandparents, Ken and Adele Somers.”

  He nodded. “Babies are almost always adopted.” He looked up at her. “I mean, easier than older kids.”

  “So, they signed the papers, took her home and raised her. They told her about her story, but she never cared about pursuing it. I mean, I never heard this story at all until I stumbled onto those old clippings. But for a few weeks, my mom, as a baby, was all over the Pittsburgh news! The Phone Booth Baby.”

  He laughed. “Great story. Great ending, it sounds like.”

  “But that’s just it. We don’t know the ending.”

  “Sure we do. Your mom got adopted by her forever parents and lived happily ever after.”

  “But what about the rest of it? Who left her in that phone booth? Why did they do it? Was it her mother? What happened to her parents? What was their story?”

  Dax shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “Does it matter? Of course it does! I might have grandparents out there I never knew I had.”

  “But you do have grandparents, right? Your mom’s parents? And, for that matter, your dad’s?”

  “Wel
l, yes, but I could have more. I don’t know. I’m just curious. I feel like this is a mystery I want to solve. Need to solve. And we have so many resources at our disposal now that they never had back in the late sixties. We have the internet, social media. Hey,” she took a step into the phone booth, “maybe I can put a poster up here in the phone booth. Maybe someone remembers the incident, knows something. Just think about the poor young mom who gave her up. Maybe she comes here to remember her. If I had a poster up here with contact information, maybe we could connect.”

  Dax let out a breath. “Jasmine, you said your mother doesn’t care, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So,” he stopped and shrugged, “why do you?”

  “It’s tugged my interest. I don’t have a better reason than that. I just want to see if I can figure anything out.”

  “Your mom found her real parents, and they did a great job raising her, I assume. They are loving parents and now grandparents. Why dig up a past that everyone wants to keep buried? Do you think you might hurt their feelings with this?”

  Jasmine considered. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  Dax reached out and patted the plastic shell of the phone booth. “My advice? Leave it alone.”

  Jasmine looked back at the booth. She was busy right now with the job search. She’d think about this more later.

  Chapter Nine

  That evening, around seven, her dad came home from work. Jasmine was accustomed to him arriving home late, sometimes exhausted and drawn. Orthopedic surgeons didn’t always pull nine-to-five hours. Plus, he was careful about inserting exercise into his schedule, so sometimes he was arriving home after a sweaty workout. She and Dax had assembled homemade pizzas and planned to put them in the oven to bake when Dad arrived home. It was important to Dax to get to know him a little better, so it was important to Jasmine too.

  What Jasmine wasn’t accustomed to was the dynamic of her father around a guy she was interested in. She’d been away at college for the last four years, and back in high school, Mom was always around to make her boyfriends feel welcome and loved. But of course, things had changed.