A Jar of Dreams

by Cartharn, Clarissa

  “You must miss her,” he said quietly as he covered the base of the plant with soil.

  “I can’t say I don’t. She’s been a major part of my life. But Eric…” She bit her lower lip. “I’m afraid she won’t approve of you living here.”

  “I thought no one told the mighty Anne Mullen how to live her life,” he teased, trying as much to keep light of the situation.

  She grinned. “And no one does. I just don’t like getting into a disagreement with someone I love.”

  He gave a final tap on the soil at the base of the plant and then stood up. “She must mean a lot to you.” He pulled out his garden gloves and washed his hands.

  “She does. She’s been like a mother to me.”

  “And so like her daughter, you will have to endure a couple of fits before you can even manage to win your way.” He held her shoulders gently. “Don’t stress about it too much, okay? We’ll deal with it when she’s here.” He took her hand and led her towards the plant. “Kneel down.”

  She did so, obediently. “What is it?” she asked curiously.

  “Here, gently now or it will fall off.” He placed her fingers on the petals of the flower. “Would you like to guess?”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s a rose,” she whimpered. Her tears drained out of her eyes, staining her cheeks.

  He put an arm around her shoulders and chuckled. “If I had known you were going to weep over a rose, I would never have planted it.”

  “I can’t believe you planted it.”

  “Yeah.” He perked his lips in thought. “I suppose that will add to my crimes in your dad’s and Lucy’s books.”

  She giggled. “I can imagine the state they’ll be in when they see this.”

  “Bad influence?”

  “Very bad influence.” She laughed as she leaned into him.

  “I could pull it out?”

  “No, you won’t!”

  He laughed. “Well, it’s prickle-free, so have you know. So now you can enjoy them whenever you want.”

  “They’re thornless?” she asked with disbelief.

  He lifted her fingers and ran her tips down a stem. “See, you have nothing to worry about,” he whispered.

  She sniffled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed her on her temple. He loved how she could nestle against him whenever she wanted. He wished he could do more than just kiss on her brow. He tucked her hair behind her ear and let out a sigh.

  “You sound tired.” She smiled.

  “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.” He helped her up to her feet.

  “I see.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Is it work? Have you found anything yet?”

  “Work?” He frowned. Work was the last thing on his mind. He had contacts that could hook him up for more hit jobs. But as long as he lived with Anne, he had to stay as far as he possibly could from that world. It was keeping an eye on that treacherous bastard, Cavallo that kept him awake more than half the night. Last he heard from Bobby was that they were heading towards Boston. Cavallo had picked him out in a CCTV camera at the bus terminal. He wasn’t too sure which it was- that Cavallo was much cleverer than he appeared to be or that the man had simply become too familiar with him.

  “Well, yeah, to some extent,” he added slowly. “It’s only a matter of time though, and I’ll get it sorted.”

  “What color is it? The rose?” she asked, trying to bring back the cheer into their conversation again.

  He gave a glance at the rose and then cupped her face, his thumb brushing the edges of her lips. “Red,” he whispered, his heartbeat pulsing rapidly within his chest walls. She tormented him. And if he knew any better, he should start making his exit out of Boston. “It’s red.”

  It was almost eight o’clock and Eric had still yet to return from his morning run.

  “How far does he go?” she muttered as she made herself a cup of coffee. “He left before sunrise. Anyone would think he’s training for a marathon.”

  The door bell rung and she assumed it was Eric. Who else would turn up so early in the morning? Boots tangled between her legs, doing his morning figure 8’s. “Stop it, Boots,” she growled. “I’ll trip over.” She bent down and picked him up when the door bell rang again. “I’m coming,” she grumbled. “I bet he forgot his key.”

  She opened the door and it burst further open, a pair of arms winding around her neck.

  “Hello, honey,” Lucy said, beaming as she entered the house, her eyes darting about to ensure that everything was okay. “You took forever to open the door that I thought I would finally get to use the spare key. You got me worried there for a moment, darling.”

  “Lucy?” Anne asked, her eyes rounded with disbelief. “You’re… you’re early.”

  “I know. Something came up and I had to return home. Besides, I missed you. Actually, I was so worried about you during the entire trip; I couldn’t wait any longer to check up on you.”

  “How… how was the family?” she stammered, her mind racing over on how she would explain Eric’s presence in the house.

  “They’re fine. My mother is a little weak. But considering her age, she is still doing remarkably well. Were you having breakfast?”

  “Uh… no, just having a hot cup.” She licked her lips. She had been waiting for Eric so they could have breakfast together.

  “Do you want me to fix you something?” Lucy asked.

  “No…no.” She coughed. “You know me, Lucy. I prefer doing things on my own.”

  “Oh,” the woman said disappointedly. “Well, I was hoping I could do something. I’ll go check on the laundry then-”

  “I am fine, Lucy,” Anne said hurriedly.

  “You sure?” Lucy raised her brow.

  “For the millionth time, yes. Yes, Lucy, yes.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  “Very well,” the older woman said tensely. “I can tell if I’m not wanted.”

  “It’s not that. Why do you always make our disagreements about you?”

  “It’s not about me. It’s about you.” Lucy sighed. “Honey, I don’t understanding why you won’t let me do anything for you.”

  “Because you treat me like a child and I have to keep trying to prove to you that I am not.” Anne threw her hands up in the air.

  “For heaven’s sake, Anne, anyone can tell you’re not a child. I only insist because of your…”

  “Because of my disability? Because I am blind?” she finished for her. “Oh please, Lucy.”

  Lucy pulled in a deep breath. “I’m just being protective. If it comes off as invading your space, then I’m sorry, honey. I really am doing my best to lay off on my urge to interfere. And you can’t say that I have not improved.” She grinned.

  Anne shook her head and chuckled. She couldn’t deny that she had. She had reduced her obsessive visits and now practically left much of the tasks in the house to Anne, herself.

  “Anne,” Lucy started, her tone growing serious again. “Your father told me about the party.”

  “He contacted you during your holiday then,” Anne said, raising her cup to her lips.

  “It was important,” she brushed off hastily. “Honey, the way you treated Nicholas Bradley-”

  “The man was an ass,” Anne cut her short. “He deserved it.”

  “All he did was show a bit of interest in you.”

  “You weren’t there, Lucy. You don’t know what happened.”

  “But, honey-”

  “Why is it that whenever there is a conflict between my father and me, you take his side?” Anne blurted with frustration. What she wanted to say was that she knew. She had always known.

  “That’s not true, Anne. I’m just concerned about you. And your father is usually right in most of the cases.”

  She turned around to throw her cup in the sink, her mouth in a grim, straight line. Of course she would say that. Lucy had been long in love with Philip Mullen. She wasn’t certain if her dad was recipro
cating that love, but he sure as hell was treating her like his wife. Yes, Lucy Farrell may not have been his employee in the last five years, but she knew exactly why the woman was seriously attached to her father and her. But would her dad ever introduce a woman such as Lucy Farrell as his mistress? A middle-class woman and one who had been his daughter’s aide?

  “Lucy, I know what I did and I don’t regret it,” she said firmly. “And what more, I don’t want to discuss Nicholas Bradley, okay?”

  Lucy resigned with another sigh. “I have to get my hair done and I happened to score the first appointment at the salon. So, I’ll see you in a few days then?” She wound her arms around Anne, giving her a hug. “I love you, honey. And I know I can be an intruding old crow, but that is because I worry so much about you.”

  “I know,” Anne whispered back. “I love you too.”

  Ten minutes later, she had the house back to herself. Lucy was gone and Eric hadn’t returned.

  Lucy could indeed be such a pain on her side, but she couldn’t imagine not ever talking to her. There were times when she wanted to scream and tell her to back-off; however she would always just manage to net her temper in time. She had long realized that having her in her life was more important than being right.

  She pressed the clock for the time. 9.17am. She palmed her face. Breathe, Anne. He’s not dead. He didn’t have an accident. He’s just late. He’ll be back soon.

  And when had Eric sneaked himself into her life too? Undeniably, they had grown closer. She could snuggle up to him while watching TV, rest her head on his chest and fall to sleep. And she loved how he would gather her in his arms and hold her tight to him. Did it mean he loved her? Her heart pounded, her chest walls constricted. She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure, which only made her more nervous whenever she thought about him.

  The rose… the rose… it just meant he was growing closer to her as a friend, right? She clasped her hands and tucked them under her chin. Oh, the embarrassment if she took it any further. She’d ruin what they had, and she didn’t want to lose him. She would rather have him holding hands with her, planting her roses and hugging her when things just got tiring for her than have him leave completely because she wanted more.

  The door threw open and he stepped inside the hallway. “Anne?”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m here in the living room.” She stood up to walk towards him. “You’re late.”

  “Yeah… I just took a longer route.”

  Did he pause? She frowned. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes. Trying to catch my breath, that’s all.”

  “Oh, okay.” She smiled and reached out for him. “I was beginning to get worried. I had all these thoughts in my head that something had happened-”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her, catching her hands and stopping her from leaning into him. “I’m wet and sweaty. I don’t want you bathing in it. Give me a few minutes to clean up?”

  She nodded.

  He raced up the stairs, leaving her alone again in the room. She winced. So there was her doubts all cleared up. He treated her only as a friend. And despite everything she had told herself she wouldn’t do, she was behaving so needy. Get a handle on your vagina, Anne. He’s a friend. And that is all he wants to be.

  CHAPTER 12

  He needed his run. It’s what had kept him alive all these years. It was the one reason that made it difficult for others to keep up with him.

  “How do you do it? How do you get away so fast?” Bobby had asked him once.

  He had smiled, ruffled his hair and then went on to clean his rifle quietly. He’d never told anybody how. But he had learned by mere observation. He remembered exactly when he started honing on his skill. Tucker Wilder. He had been hired by Cavallo to take a hit on a target. Although he had accomplished his task, he couldn’t get away from the target’s guards as they shot him down on the stairs of the very building he had used for scoping his target.

  A week later, he was no longer the stand-in. Cavallo had made him his permanent contact and he had inscribed his first rule. Run.

  He pulled off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water sprayed onto his flesh, washing the odor of his sweat off of him. His mind traced her face. She looked worried. Was something bothering her? But she smelled beautiful.

  He sighed and took the full brunt of the spray on his face. Every time she touched him, she’d put his body through a wringer of hormones, hardening him, tormenting him to the brink. This won’t do. I need another hobby. I need a distraction.

  He reached for the shower faucet and flipped the lever to cold. The icy cold water sprayed on his body and he winced. How many cold showers are you gonna take? Just kiss her already and get it over with.

  He bent forward, his arms against the wall as he braced his body from collapsing to the wet, tiled floor. The water struck his back, rolling down his buttocks and thighs.

  Stop playing poker with your goddamned lives. Anne doesn’t deserve this. How long are you going to keep up with this charade? You don’t belong here. You missed the bus on the boyfriend and husband when you picked up your gun and murdered someone. Do you think Anne will love you when she finds out the truth about you? She’ll despise you. She will hate you. So give up while you’re still ahead and return to what you do best. No one retires from being a murderer. And neither will you.

  “Eric?” she called out as she clutched the front of her dress stiffly to herself. “Could you help me?”

  “In a minute,” he called back, buttoning up his cuffs. He straightened his sleeves as he walked the short distance down the hallway to her bedroom. He opened the door without a thought. “What did you-?”

  He stopped short. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t overly familiar with the female anatomy. After all, he had bedded several women in his life. But none had taken his breath away as the woman who stood before him now.

  “The back has got buttons instead of a zipper,” she said, turning her bare back to him. “Could you do them for me?”

  His eyes scrolled slowly down her fair skin. He sucked in a deep shivering breath. What did the woman think he was made of? Stone? He might as well be because he was hard as that now.

  He clasped the lowest button and delicately fastened it through the loop. As his fingers travelled slowly up her back to the next button, his knuckles grazed her skin. It was soft, as he had always dreamed they were. He wanted to place his whole palm against it, to feel her beneath his fingers, to press his lips against her skin.

  Was that the last button? It couldn’t possibly be. He wanted more. His heart hammered inside him. His flesh burned, aching to be dowsed by the taste of her skin. He moved her long golden curls aside and leaned into her, breathing her in. His lips grazed her flesh as they travelled up her shoulder and to her nape.

  “Eric,” she whispered with a slight tremble.

  He snapped back to his senses. Don’t complicate things. You’re fucked up as it is. Don’t involve her too in your screwed up life.

  “We have to go,” he said coldly. “Or we’ll be late for your concert.”

  The auditorium rumbled with claps and cheers as the orchestra made their final bow. Anne clasped the neck of her violin tightly as she stood amongst her fellow violinists. Did I do well? Did he like it?

  “Anne, let’s go,” said Lindsey, as the string section took their turn to make their way off the stage. “Are you coming to the after-party?”

  “I don’t know. I am here with someone and I haven’t asked him yet.”

  “Really?” Lindsey said with surprise. “Where is he? A boyfriend? Well, you gotta show me who he is now.”

  Anne smiled. “No, not a boyfriend. Just a friend.”

  “In any case, you have to invite him. We’ll all be there, Anne. And you have to come also.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind. But let me ask him first.”

  “If he doesn’t want to come, then you must. I know a few men who are interested in you.
William for one,” she teased, cozying up to her.

  “Anne!” she heard Eric’s voice through the loud chatter in the back.

  “Is that him?” Lindsey whispered into her ear. “Damn, he’s handsome. Can I have him if you’re not interested?”

  Anne stiffened, her fingers almost snapping the pegs of her violin. A hot flush spread through her body. She felt a sting in her chest. Was she jealous? She would after the way he had touched her while he had buttoned up her dress, running his lips over her shoulders, caressing her back. The memory sparked a throbbing wetness between her legs. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breaths.

  “You have to introduce me,” Lindsey whispered again, completely oblivious to the state Anne had got herself into.

  Her face darkened. She didn’t want to introduce Eric to any woman. She wanted him. She wanted him all to herself.

  “You’re gonna give me a dance, right?” Eric said over the loud booming noise in the club.

  “But Eric, I can’t,” she replied, shaking her head.

  “Promise me, you will.”

  “Eric…”

  “Promise me.”

  “Fine, I promise.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  “But first let me get you something to drink. You look so parched. What will you have?”

  “A cosmo?”

  He smiled. “Stay right here,” he said into her ear. “Don’t move.”

  He disappeared into the chaos of the night, leaving her standing amongst a crowd of usually disciplined symphony orchestra musicians, now drunk to their bones and brushing against her as they staggered about the dance floor.

  “Hey,” someone said.

  “Eric?”

  “William.”

  “Oh, hi.” She smiled.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t think so, William,...”

  “Oh come on, you owe me. We promised to help each other practice and yet you disappeared on me.”