She popped off into the house. He rested his eyes on Leslie. “You must be happy.”
“Oh yes, you better believe it. Always happy to see my girl. She's on winter break from school, and decided to spend it here at the beach. Better than coming home to the snow of Pittsburgh.”
Jeremy nodded, then accepted a beer from Jasmine when she came bopping back onto the porch. He admired his new stepmother and was happy beyond words that she and his dad had found their happy ending. Leslie had sold her home in Pittsburgh to settle with Hank, and Jasmine was in college in New York somewhere, studying fashion merchandising. She completed an internship with some famous designers in Paris last summer, which, along with Leslie's pending divorce, convinced Leslie to hit the road with no destination in mind. It was a lesson in faith, following God's will in her life. What started out to be an unhappy summer with no purpose, turned out to be one of the best summers in her life, helping others and following God's path. Of course, meeting his dad and marrying him was the icing on the cake.
“So, brother,” Jasmine began once she'd sank back into her rocker, “I hear you're building furniture and doing very well.”
The girl was at least a decade younger than him, and their age difference showed. She was happy, carefree and unbroken. He, of course, had had a different life experience. But Jasmine was thrilled that she now had step-siblings, not to mention a step-niece in Stella. As an only child, she must've thought she'd hit the jackpot.
“I'm working hard. I don't think I'd say I'm doing very well. But I'm loving it, and building the business. Trying to make it work.”
They chatted about his furniture pieces, her semester she just finished, and her final one coming up. She'd graduate in May. Hank and Leslie slipped out to finish dinner preparations. Twenty minutes later, all was ready and they moved to the long table in the house, relishing Leslie's chicken pesto and pasta, salad and Italian bread. Jasmine regaled them with stories of Paris, including the French boys she'd met and hung out with.
“You couldn't really call them dates. I was on a swamped work schedule and my designers owned me. I would work off and on all day, usually for eighty hours a week. Not only was I too exhausted to date, I never had the time. So I would chat with the male models while I was fitting them or whatever, and then we'd slip out for a baguette or a cup of coffee every now and then.”
“Can you speak French?” Jeremy asked.
“Un petit peu, mais pas beaucoup.” She giggled. “Enough to get by. And often, they spoke English so I lucked out.” She took a final bite and pushed her plate away. “One time I was running across a street, doing an errand for Pierre, one of the designers, which I was endlessly doing. I, of course, was dressed to the hilt. One of the job requirements for a fashion assistant. Anyway, it was an old cobblestone street. My stiletto got wedged in a crease, and since I was running, my shoe stayed, my body kept going. I ended up taking a fabulous spill into the curb, spraining my ankle and putting a nasty bruise on my hip. The bolt of fabric I was carrying fell and got muddied in the street. It was awful.”
Leslie chimed in. “She was distraught. She called me while she lay there, unable to move. I wasn't sure what I could've done for her from the eastern US, but it was sweet of her to call. Then, I heard a male voice: Puis-je vous aider, ne manquez?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, Can I help you, miss? Jasmine quickly said, 'Bye, Mom,' and broke the connection. I was worried sick. And when I tried to call her back, she didn't answer.”
“He was cute!” Jasmine giggled. “He picked me up and carried me to a bench on the sidewalk, deposited me there and then went back and got my fabric bolt. He sat down with me, took my shoe off and massaged my ankle.” She did an exaggerated sigh. “How romantic. Raimond,” she finished dreamily.
“What happened next?” Jeremy asked.
She broke out of her concentration and looked at him. “Nothing. After all that, he had to go. Had a meeting or whatever. Never saw him again.” She put on a smirk. “My missed chance at love. He was just a gentleman, I guess. A random act of kindness. I took my other shoe off and hobbled back to work.”
“So an internship with Paris designers wasn't all glitz and glamour, huh?”
“Not in the least! But an experience I am very grateful for, and so glad I did.”
They lingered over coffee and when Jeremy was starting to think about heading home, Jasmine said, “How about a walk on the beach? I'm only here for a few days so I want to soak in as much ocean-time as I can.”
They all agreed. Even though they could get ocean-time whenever they wanted, they were generally up for a walk on the beach. They deposited their shoes on the porch and headed down the back steps. Jasmine set an ambitious pace, and the older folks soon lagged behind with a comfortable stroll. Jeremy kept up with Jasmine.
“Are you trying to raise your heart rate?”
Jasmine smiled. “Two days sitting in the car, combined with that fattening meal? I gotta burn off some calories so I can put on my bikini tomorrow!”
Jeremy raised his eyebrows at her. “I doubt you'll be donning a bikini tomorrow, sweetheart. I think temps will be in the low fifties.”
“Better than where I came from! And the sun will be out, right? All I'm after is a suntan, bro. I want to go back to school with a healthy glow.”
Jeremy smiled, enjoying her spontaneity. The girl was a trip; that was for sure. Was he ever that unstructured, even at her age? She was a product of her upbringing — the pampered only child of a professional couple of parents, probably received whatever she wanted. Oh, not that she was spoiled, not exactly. But he could tell she never wanted for anything. Probably never had to experience the struggle to make ends meet, as his family had in the earlier days. However, she did have to endure the breakup of her parents' marriage, which he was sure was painful for her, something he'd never talked to her about. He wasn't the type to get into deep personal conversations with anyone. His motto was to keep it safe, keep it easy.
They walked quickly, putting distance between them and their parents. Jasmine had worked up a little sweat and accelerated breathing, pumping her arms when she looked over at him and said, “So, I hear you have a girlfriend.”
He'd been in the midst of taking a deep breath, and her words caused him to choke. He coughed while he walked, bending a little at the waist. She pounded him on the back.
“Wow, that's your reaction to the word, girlfriend?”
“No,” he choked. “You just surprised me, that's all.” They continued power-walking and he recovered. She picked up the conversation where she left it.
“So? What's her name?”
Jeremy paused. “I wouldn't necessarily call her a girlfriend…”
“Oh, come on. Mom and Hank caught you taking her out to dinner. That sounds like girlfriend material to me.” She laughed. “Spill, big brother. This is what siblings do, evidently. They tell each other their deep, dark secrets.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Where'd you hear that? I have two sisters and I never tell them anything.”
“Well, now you got three, and this one wants to know.”
Jeremy couldn't help smiling. “That does not, however, mean that I want to tell you.”
“Think of it this way: I'm offering you a listening ear and a female's perspective. I'll be gone shortly so whatever you tell me will be kept private. But I can give you my opinion.”
They walked another quarter mile and for some unknown reason, he decided to take her up on her offer. “Her name is Emma. Emma Jean Slotky. We have an odd sort of history, a past that could make it impossible for us to work out, but we seem to get along pretty well despite it.”
“You're gonna have to give me some details on that one, bro. Sounds intriguing.”
Well, he was in now. He'd have to come clean. Besides, he really could use the female perspective on his current relationship issues, and Jasmine was in a unique position to give it to him. The fact that she lived far away appeale
d to him. He could tell her his story, get her advice, then never have to be accountable for following it or not, because she wouldn't be around. In addition, she wasn't as vested as Marianne, who just wanted him to be happy, so her perspective was a little jaded. As much as it violated his normal code of staying quiet, Jasmine could truly do him an important service here, if he was honest with her.
“Okay, here's the deal. When I … had my problems, back when I was working with Dad …”
“Yeah,” Jasmine said, to his relief. He wouldn't have to rehash all that mess now.
“Emma's father worked for us. But unfortunately, he was a casualty of the business when we went bankrupt. We had to lay him off.”
“Okay.”
“He took it really hard. In fact, he never recovered. He's never worked since.”
Jasmine turned to him, her confusion showing in her lowered eyebrows. “Why?”
“Evidently, he's blamed me for the last ten years for his inability to find another job. But Emma recently found out that when he was on unemployment, he began drinking heavily and became an alcoholic.”
“Oh, how awful.”
“Emma wants us, her and I, to convince him to go to AA.”
“Wow. Like an intervention?”
“I guess. But I don't think that's my place. I mean, the last person he would want to see is me. In fact, Emma recently confronted her parents about his unwillingness to get a job and her parents both told her they didn’t want her seeing me.”
Jasmine frowned. “You've become their Big Bad Wolf. All their problems, they pinpoint back to you.”
He let out a huff of breath. “Yeah.” They walked on. “So, as much as I like Emma and our times together, I just don't think I'm the one for her. Too much baggage. And I don't want to be the one to cause a family feud between her and her parents. If dating me makes her parents so unhappy, then maybe I should just back out of the picture.”
“Take the easy way out, you mean?”
He looked at her. “No, that's not …”
“What does Emma want?”
“She wants to convince her dad to face his alcoholism, and she wants him to get his life under control. Start working again, get up off the couch. And she wants me to help her.”
“So she doesn't want you out of her life.”
“No, but I don't want to be trouble for her.”
Jasmine turned and gave him a dubious expression. “You sound like you're trying to be noble.”
“No.”
“Do you like this girl? Like, really like her?”
“Well, yeah, of course. She's beautiful and fun and talented. Of course I like her. But, let's face it, I have zero experience with relationships. I don't want to screw it up and I don't want to hurt her.”
Jasmine quieted, as if knowing that his words had come at a price. He never dug that deep, and shared it verbally.
“If you think Emma could be the girl for you long-term, then you can't expect it to come easily. Love is hard, one of the hardest things in your life. But lifelong love is the reward. Can you imagine? Coming home every day to a person who is there for you, committed to building a life with you and sticking by you through thick and thin? That's what you're after. That's what everyone's after. If you have even an inkling that Emma could be that person, then I think you owe it to yourself to see it through. If you bail out now at the first sign of difficulty, wouldn't you look back and regret it?”
They stopped walking. He turned and gazed at his stepsister with new eyes. “How'd you get so smart?” he asked with wonderment.
She shrugged. “I'm a girl.”
They turned and headed back slowly. Most of their steps were in silence. Then Jeremy said, “Thanks, sis. You've given me a lot to think about.”
“Good. Bill's in the mail. But let me just leave you with this thought, and I firmly believe it. You deserve happiness, Jeremy. But it's not going to fall into your lap. You have to fight for it.”
He was used to that concept. He'd had to fight for so many things over the last ten years. The question he had to answer was, how many fights could he take on at the same time without driving himself crazy?
Chapter Nine
A few nights later, Jeremy stood on his backyard tarp, finishing up the final layer of stain on a king-size headboard, the first of a five-piece bedroom set. When the customer contacted him, he'd specifically mentioned Emma's article in Seminal Magazine as the prompt for his call. He owed her a thank you, but it had been nearly a week now since their Sunday morning breakfast and he hadn't been in touch.
Minutes later, he realized he wouldn't have to make the call. Emma herself rounded from the side and stepped into his backyard. His heart jumped at the sight of her, and he couldn't help wondering if this was God, thumping him in the head to get his attention.
He laid his brush to rest beside the can and went to greet her. He took her hands and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “You look beautiful. Good to see you.”
She gave him a sideways look. “Well, that's better than the greeting I feared I'd get.”
He squeezed her hands, ducked his head.
“You haven't called me all week, Jeremy.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I got tied up…” Then he stopped, started again. Above all else, she deserved honesty and he would avoid lying at all costs. “I had to do some thinking.”
“And did you come to a decision? About helping me with my dad?”
“No. No, I haven't. But I do know one thing. I've sure missed you this week. And I'm really happy to see you.”
Emma smiled. “So, two things actually. Good job.” She punched him in the arm and rolled her eyes. “I have something for you.” She walked over to his makeshift workshop and placed a small paper bag on the workbench. She looked up at him.
He opened the bag and pulled out a stack of laminated cards, about twice the size of a business card, with a photo of the ocean, his name and phone number and her sentimental “Thank you” message printed on top. They really were professional and well-done. Swallowing his hesitancy, he smiled at her. “They're really nice, Emma. Thank you.”
Her white smile beamed. “You like them then?”
He nodded. “I guess if I don't toot my own horn, no one else will, right?”
“That's right! It's called marketing. Put one of these in a drawer of every piece you sell. If the piece doesn't have a drawer, tape it underneath somewhere. Make it a treasure the customer finds, maybe weeks after the sale and they'll think fondly of you. Maybe bring you more business.”
The fact that she took this task on herself to help him, meant more than the cards themselves. “How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing.”
“Come on, Emma. I can tell these were professionally done. I don't want you spending money on me.”
“I work at a magazine, remember. I have contacts.”
He studied her for a few seconds but it was clear she wasn't going to back down. “Then, thank you. You don't know how much this means to me.”
“No big deal.” She turned to study the headboard.
Jeremy frowned. In his heart, it was a big deal.
“This is nice,” she said.
“Yeah, almost done. It's a cherry wood finish and it'll be five pieces in all. The headboard, two nightstands, a tall stand-up dresser and squat longer one. By the way, I have you to thank for the business. They mentioned the Seminal article when they hired me.”
“Really?” She seemed genuinely excited. This woman had a good heart. Or maybe just the need to rescue lost souls.
“Yep. So, between the cards and the new gig, I owe you. How about dinner tonight?”
“I'd love to,” she said without hesitation.
He grinned. “Let me just cover this up and go take a shower. I'll be ready in about fifteen.”
* * *
He disappeared into the back of the bungalow and Emma settled into the great room at the front. When the shower turned on, she lai
d her head against the back of the couch and let her mind wander. Her imagination took over and presented her with a vivid image of Jeremy, standing under the warm spray of water, the wetness matting his hair down, his face upturned, washing away all the sweat and grime of the day.
She closed her eyes to encourage the vision even more. The water flowed over his lean, muscular chest. His biceps strained as he lifted his arms to rub soap all over his face, his neck, his torso and then down.
Down.
Emma jumped, jerked her eyes open, her pulse racing now. The water turned off. The man's quick, she had to give him that. Good thing, too, because without too much convincing at all, she could've found herself back in that bathroom, shedding her clothes and joining him under the water.
But what would that gain? A relationship centered around sex could rarely make the switch to lifelong commitment. She'd had a few physical relationships while she was in college. They were exhilarating, fun, and short-lived. She'd matured, and that type of relationship had no place in her life now. Besides, she really didn't want that with Jeremy.
She had no idea where she and Jeremy were headed, in fact, she didn't even know if Jeremy wanted to stick around. But she was committed to one thing: this would be a mature, adult courtship.
* * *
Jeremy went about his business, but he couldn't ignore the increasing presence of decorated trees, wreaths, red and green everything, everywhere he looked. Street lights in town wrapped with garland, wreaths in every store window. And Marianne's Inn. She'd pulled out all the stops in order to coax all her guests into the yuletide spirit. Christmas was right around the corner, which brought Jeremy a source of anxiety: gift giving. He'd gone shopping and bought items for the people in his family: his dad, Leslie, Marianne, Stella. Mostly clothes. He'd even gotten Jasmine a gift card.
But the dilemma of selecting a present for Emma stumped him. They rarely referred to themselves as boyfriend or girlfriend. They'd never verbalized the word, relationship. However, they talked almost daily and saw each other several times a week. Whether they said it or not, isn't that what they were — in a relationship? And so, it seemed that not just a gift, but a gift appropriate for the occasion, was important.
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