Bridge to Fruition

by Laurie Larsen

  “He’s not real warm and fuzzy,” she’d warned Dax several times this evening as they loaded a couple pre-formed pizza crusts with cheese, sauce, pepperoni and vegetables. “He’s a great guy, but I guess you just have to get to know him.”

  “That’s what tonight’s for,” he assured her. She was still nervous, despite his casual “I can handle anything you throw at me” grin.

  Of course, her dad knew Dax had arrived today. He knew Dax was staying a few days to help out with her photos. And although they hadn’t gone into an in-depth discussion about her and Dax’s relationship, she’d dropped enough hints for her dad to realize that this guy may be a special one.

  And don’t you dare do anything to mess that up. Or embarrass me. She didn’t say that outright, but she hoped that her mental telepathy was working well enough so that when she said, “We want to make him feel welcome, don’t we, Daddy?” that he knew she really meant, “Don’t chase him away. Please.”

  So, at seven o’clock, the door from the garage opened, and her dad walked into the kitchen, looking tired from a long day that had started probably thirteen hours before. He gave Jasmine a quick smile, then looked up at Dax. “Oh, hey.”

  “Hi. How was your day?”

  Dad chuckled and took his time answering while he walked across the kitchen to rest his gym bag on one of the barstools facing the tall counter. “One knee replacement, a torn labrum repair, and a thumb tendon repair. That was all before noon. Rounds at the hospital before office appointments, then finish up with a workout at the gym.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a fruit juice. “All in a day’s work, I guess.”

  “Wow,” Dax said, admiration on his face. “Think how many people you helped today. Think how many lives you touched, between the patients, their families and their friends. Amazing.”

  Her dad looked over at him, and studied the younger man. Jasmine knew why. He was looking for signs of insincerity or sarcasm. But he wasn’t going to find it here. He may not know Dax real well yet, but Dax was one of, no, the most sincere person she’d ever met. He truly admired her dad. He wouldn’t have said all that if he hadn’t. Dad must’ve come to the same conclusion. He took a gulp of his fruit juice, wiped his mouth and said, “Well, thank you, Dax. I guess you’re right. It’s easy to forget when you do it day after day.”

  Jasmine felt a wash of shame come over her. It was so easy to take her dad for granted. To take his life’s work for granted. He’d been a surgeon for as long as she’d known him. Sure, she knew he worked hard. She knew he healed people. But she’d never given it much thought. It was just what he did. She’d never considered the toll it took on him — physical and emotional. She’d never even asked him about his profession. When was the last time she’d asked him how his day was, and what challenges he’d faced? She couldn’t remember when, that’s when. And yet Dax asked the minute Dad had walked in.

  And wait, who was the one of them who was supposed to know about families?

  Dax opened the oven door and slid the pizzas in. “Hope you don’t mind me making myself at home in your kitchen. But sounds like you could use a good, home-cooked meal, as soon as possible. Jasmine and I fixed up these pizzas. They’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Dad smiled at him, then her. He hadn’t expected them to cook for him. Jasmine hoped upon hope that he hadn’t grabbed something on the way home.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you. I’ll run up, take a quick shower and change, and be back, ready to eat.”

  As he walked by Jasmine, he leaned to give her a peck on the cheek. She laid a palm on his face, an affectionate gesture she couldn’t remember ever using with her dad. He breezed by her with a smile and left the room. She looked over at Dax. He was setting the timer so the pizzas wouldn’t burn. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, Lord, thank You for leading Dax into my life. Into our lives. Let me be more like him. Let me find the good in people, and let me think less about myself.

  She finished her thought and opened her eyes. He was focused on her, and smiled. She felt her cheeks heat, and knew she was probably blushing. Might as well come clean, she thought. “I was saying a prayer of thanks for you.”

  Now it was his turn to blush. “Really? Because of my pizza-making skills?”

  She laughed. “No. You’re very … special. I hope you know that.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Special? I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

  She crossed the room and went up on her tiptoes, laid a kiss on his lips. “Believe me, it’s a very good thing.” She pulled away. “Thanks for being here.”

  His smile was enough to make her heart trip. This guy had a killer smile. Combined with the face, hair, eyes — man! But it was his heart that completed the package.

  Dad returned, the scent of Irish Spring accompanying him, his hair still damp at his neck. Jasmine realized he was calm and comfortable in the company of her and Dax. It was Dax who’d done that. They sliced the pizzas, formed a smorgasbord, and filled their plates, then ate on the couch in front of the TV tuned to a baseball game.

  Later, after she’d walked Dax upstairs, made sure he had everything he needed, and said good night, she went to her own room and closed the door. She quickly went through her nighttime routine and settled into bed. They were getting an early start for the photo shoot in the morning and she wanted to be rested. She heard her dad’s footsteps pause outside her door, then a faint tapping before he opened it and stepped inside. The light from the hallway illuminated her room enough for him to casually take in the scene.

  “You all settled?” he said with a hint of distraction. His head turned, looking into every corner of her room.

  “Daddy, what are you looking for?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re looking for Dax, aren’t you? He’s not in here.”

  He knew he’d been nabbed. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

  “You like him, Dad?”

  “Sure.”

  “Seriously, when was the last time I ever brought a date home and we spent an entire evening with you?”

  He pretended to think. “Never.”

  “But it was fun.”

  “Quite pleasant.”

  “He’s an unusual guy. I could learn a lot from him.”

  Tim shrugged and backed out of the room. He blew her a kiss. She fell asleep with a smile.

  * * *

  The next day, she packed the clothes into the car, hanging on hangers inside garment bags. She’d made the alterations and steam-pressed the garments to within an inch of their lives. They needed to look their absolute best for the photos, so she forbade Dax from putting any of them on, just to go sit in her car and cause creasing. So he’d have to change into the clothes at the photo site.

  Which was outside. She couldn’t think of a great indoor venue where she could photo him without distractions, but Pittsburgh offered a ton of outdoor options. Maybe he could slip into a public bathroom to change.

  He came down to the kitchen. She loved a guy who was prompt. Fresh from the shower, he not only smelled awesome, but he looked even better. His complexion was flawless, his eyes warm and happy, and his hair — he could charge to give advice to hairdressers who wanted to offer his look to their clients. It always looked perfect and effortless.

  “Are you ready? You look great.”

  “I’m ready. Mind if I grab something to eat first, though?” He brushed a casual two fingers over her hand and she almost lost her ability to breathe.

  “Of course. In fact, I went out early and got these.” She pulled out a box with half a dozen donuts. “I didn’t know what kind you liked, or even if you liked donuts at all, so I got a variety. Oh, and these too.” She lifted two cups of strong coffee from the donut shop.

  Perusing her selections, she internally kicked herself. Donuts? On the morning of a photo shoot? Maybe, as slim as he was, he actually watched his weight. Or, hello! He worked
in the healthcare field — maybe he didn’t approve of fatty foods. She rushed on before he could respond, “You know what? I changed my mind.” She picked up the box of donuts and began to put them away, saying, “How about some eggs? I could make you something healthy ….”

  He took a step closer and scooped the box out of her hands. “Don’t you dare commandeer the donuts.”

  “You like them?” she asked cautiously.

  “Of course I do! Who doesn’t like donuts?” He surveyed the choices and pulled out a chocolate-frosted one, taking a big bite. Then his eyes drifted shut and he moaned with pleasure. “So good. Which one do you want?”

  She grabbed a jelly-filled and handed him his coffee, secretly pleased. She was a donut girl from way back.

  They got into Jasmine’s car and drove to Emerald View Park. Her compact car had a little trouble getting up the side of Mt. Washington, chugging its loud resistance to the plan. Jasmine explained, “Pittsburgh is a city that values its greenery. We have six parks within the city limits, and that doesn’t even count the rivers. Emerald sits at the very top of Mt. Washington. It’s a little hard to get to, with as little an engine as this car has, but it’s so worth it. There’s a spot I love going to, called Overlook Point. It has a statue of George Washington and his Indian guide. There’s a little brick platform and wall, and it overlooks the entire skyline of the city.”

  Dax was nodding his head, then turned and looked at her. “George Washington had an Indian guide?”

  “Yeah, who knew? Pretty amazing. We had to learn his guide’s name in school, and what part of history he played, but I can’t remember it now. Anyway, it’ll be a great spot to do the photo shoot. There will be all kinds of backdrops depending on where you stand.”

  They finally made it and Jasmine parked the car. Dax grabbed the garment bags from the back and they walked to Overlook Point. The city looked beautiful, clean and sparkling, as if it knew it had an important role today, and was anxious to please.

  “Nice choice,” Dax murmured, looking out over the high rises in the distance, some black, some silver, a solitary red, and several earth-tone browns.

  “Thanks. Now, I’m calling the outfits one, two and three, one being the most casual and three the most dressy — the suit, obviously. I’m going to start with one, then move up the dressy scale. So, could you go find a place you’re comfortable to change, and get suited up in one?”

  Dax pulled his attention away from her and glanced around. Not a single building occupied Overlook Point. Not only that, no other tourists were there either. Not a person in sight. Dax looked back at her and shrugged. “I’m game if you are.” In a single, graceful swipe, he pulled his tee shirt over his head. He dropped it carelessly onto the ground beside him. Next, he unbuttoned his cargo shorts and let them drop. Before she knew it, he stood before her in nothing but his boxer briefs.

  Jasmine gulped and felt her eyes go wide. No, no, no. She was a professional. Or, she wanted to be soon. Models got dressed and undressed in the weirdest places all the time. It was just part of the gig. They didn’t think twice about it. Even though said models sported strong, sturdy legs and amazingly tight abs. Stop staring, and … stop staring!

  She shrugged, forced her best attempt at nonchalance and giggled. “Sure, why not?” She turned her back and dragged herself to study the light and her camera and make decisions about where to shoot him. All the while, she took deep breaths to slow her racing heart. Fortunately, when she turned back to him, he was fully clothed.

  Then it was down to business. She placed him where she wanted him, then gave him instructions, “Left foot up on the brick wall. Left hand on your leg. Look away for a profile. Now look at me, right into the lens. Smile. Now serious.”

  She was amazed how natural he looked in her viewfinder, as if he’d modeled before. But he’d told her he hadn’t. Reviewing the digital shots, she realized he had a lock of hair hanging down in front of his eyes. She stepped over to him and brushed it away, her fingers trailing his forehead, then his cheek. He smiled at the contact and they met gazes. Before she could give thought to her impulse, she kissed him. A long, intentional joining of their lips that put a dash of color in his cheeks, and she was sure, hers too. She pulled away with a smile and went back to work.

  “Time for two. I think I’ve got all I need with one.”

  He joined her at the spot where they’d stacked the other garment bags. She handed him his next change of clothes. He took it from her, then looked at her, eyebrows up. “I embarrassed you before, didn’t I?”

  “No!” she insisted, although, of course he had. “Not at all.”

  “I can go looking around for a private place if you want.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Don’t be silly. I’ll just turn my back. No problem.”

  Behind her, she heard him taking one outfit off and putting the next on. “Ready.”

  And he was. He looked great in two, and they launched into their routine, their dance that they were quickly perfecting. Before she knew it, she had enough of two and moved to three.

  Dax looked shiny and perfect in the suit, and she couldn’t help telling him so. He seemed pleased. “I’ve never owned one.”

  “Really? You should. With your body, you were made to wear a suit.”

  “A suit is an expense I can’t afford right now, and honestly, I have nowhere to wear it. I wear scrubs to work. I wear jeans and shorts and tee shirts. My idea of dressing up is having buttons on my shirt.”

  Her smile lingered, then she took in the beauty of her Dax in a dressy suit.

  Her Dax.

  When had she started thinking of him in that way?

  She proceeded with many of the same poses and backgrounds that she’d liked before, this time with three. When she finally decided she was done, she had nearly three hundred photos, and that was after immediately deleting ones that were blurry or uncentered. Three hundred good ones — how would she ever decide which ones to print for her portfolio?

  “We’re done,” she announced and he whooped. He’d been a great sport. He hadn’t complained at all after … how long? She pulled out her cell and looked. “Oh, my gosh, Dax, you should have told me. We’ve been at this for five hours! You must be exhausted. You poor thing!”

  “No, it was fun.”

  “I’ve barely given you breaks! Your feet must hurt from standing all day.”

  He shook his head. “I stand all day at work, remember? I’m fine. I was happy to help.”

  She grabbed both his arms as she faced him. “I owe you a huge thank you. How about dinner out tonight, just the two of us? My treat.”

  His agreement came without hesitation.

  * * *

  Dax stared into the bathroom mirror in Jasmine’s dad’s house. He wanted to look good for her, for their dinner date. He rubbed a hand over his chin, then through his hair. He shrugged. Yeah, he looked okay.

  He turned away, then back again. Staring closer into the mirror, he wondered if he could take a step back and view himself as Jasmine saw him. Forget the fact that his face was familiar to him. What did she see when she looked at him? What did she see in him? Had she looked beyond the surface?

  His whole life, he’d never had trouble attracting women. He supposed he was a good-enough-looking guy, always had been. His looks were never the problem. It was his sense of self-worth that he’d always needed to work on.

  Years of therapy provided by the state taught him that just because his parents had given him up, had passed him around, then finally given up on him and offered him up for adoption, didn’t mean he wasn’t worthy of being loved, or having a family care for him. And, as the years of foster care stretched on without a family wanting to adopt him, same message: he was worthy of love, it just wasn’t happening. Then, his eighteenth birthday arrived and he was no longer eligible for adoption. He was an adult. On his own. Independent, and he needed to make his own way in the world.

  He’d experienced some
good foster parents over the years. Some good counselors. Some coaches and adults who reached out and made a difference for him. He considered those his parental figures – just in dribs and drabs. But he’d reached out and grabbed those jewels of wisdom and internalized them. When most kids – either with or without parents – didn’t pay attention, or even rolled their eyes when adults gave advice, Dax listened. He considered. It was probably the best he was going to get and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

  He’d become a responsible adult, that was his goal. He’d never succumbed to problems with drugs, alcohol, breaking the law, like so many kids without parents did. He controlled that himself. He was a good person, fundamentally.

  But still, that voice in the back of his head always made an appearance whenever he started a new relationship: why do you think she likes you? What makes you think she’ll stick around? What will happen when she figures out you’re unlovable?

  So, he generally held back, played it cool, didn’t get too invested. It seemed to be the personality women expected, to go along with his looks. As a result, he’d never fallen in love, not really. He’d had crushes. He’d felt attractions to certain women. But falling in love required a person to open up and talk, and not only get to know the other person, but to allow them to get to know you. To become vulnerable to pain in case you lay your heart out there, and the woman stomps on it, not interested in returning that love. And that’s where he had absolutely no experience at all. No track record to call on. No love in his life.

  Then came Jasmine, who was suddenly changing all that. Something about Jasmine made him want to talk to her, to reveal his secrets, to expose his past, his present realities, and his dreams for the future. He wanted to spend hours talking to her – finding out those funny stories from her childhood, what she was like during college, her plans for building her future. She came from a loving family, despite the fact that her parents recently divorced. She’d felt love and support as a child – took it for granted, surely. And she had known Christ her entire life. How different would he be, would his life be, if he’d been introduced to Jesus as a child? Would his childhood have changed at all? He wasn’t sure but he had to assume it would.