by Girard, Dara
He rested his hands on his hips and nodded.
“I won’t call you Lex again.”
“You think that’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you really that innocent?” He lifted her chin and gazed deep into her eyes. “Yes, you are.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to change that.” He headed for the door. “I have another T-shirt in the truck. Let’s go.”
“Yes, Alex.”
The sound of his name on her lips seemed to echo in the silent hall changing something between them. Suddenly, the air felt still as though they were the only two in the world. She didn’t know that his name would sound so natural on her lips and he didn’t expect to enjoy hearing it so much. But neither addressed how much that moment meant to them, instead Alex nodded and left.
Isabella took a deep steadying breath then followed him. Their tutoring session that day was short and awkward. Neither wanted to analyze why and deal with what had happened between them. The next time they met at the house they were back to normal and Isabella handed him a plastic container.
Alex stared at it, curious. “What is it?”
“Payment.”
He opened the container then smiled, pleased. “Ah, yes the brownies.” He looked up at her. “And the milk?”
“I forgot about the milk. You’ll get it next time.”
“No, I want it now.”
“You could make it yourself.”
“I want you to make it.” Alex left the house and walked toward the cottage. “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder. “We have time.”
Moments later, Alex leaned against the kitchen counter watching Isabella stir strawberry syrup in a glass of milk. “Remember to put enough in.”
She shot him a glance. “Would you like to do this yourself?”
“No, I’m just supervising. You haven’t done it in a while and you may have forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She added chopped strawberries, a bit of coconut milk, honey and mixed it all together then handed him a spoon. “Taste it.”
Alex ignored the spoon and lifted the glass to his mouth instead. He finished the contents then set the glass down. “Nope. That’s not it. Try again.”
Isabella stared at him openmouthed.
He laughed. “Just kidding. That was good. Let’s go.”
With their friendship renewed they continued to meet for tutoring and even did their weekend projects together. One weekend in particular, Isabella rushed through the steady drizzle of a mid-April rainfall toward Alex’s truck. Although a gray sky hung above, the day seemed bright to her because she got to spend the day with him.
However, on that day, after thirty minutes on the road Isabella grew concerned. “Alex?”
“Yes?”
“We’ve passed this sign twice.” She stifled a grin. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”
“I know where I’m going. Just hand me that map.” He pulled over to the side and parked.
She handed him the map and they looked over it together.
“You’re going in the wrong direction,” she said.
“Yes, it looks that way.”
She looked at him curious. “Couldn’t you tell?”
He shrugged. “I got turned around, that’s all.”
Isabella began to smile as she realized something. “When you took Mariella on that long drive you were lost, weren’t you?”
He briefly shut his eyes as though in pain. “Two extra hours with Mariella. For the first time in my life I thought I would burst into tears.”
She laughed. “Why didn’t you just ask for directions?” When he sent her a look, she held up her hands in surrender. “I forgot, it’s a male thing.”
Once they found their destination the day was perfect. A little too much so. The rain had given way to sunshine, and the air was clear with a slight breeze whipping up pockets of buttercups. While driving, they discussed their assignment: visit an “authentic” antique shop in the area, and interview the owner. Mr. Yanders had provided a list of certified shops in the surrounding area and each student team had made a selection. Alex, of course, had selected the store the farthest away, at least two hours.
When they arrived at Timeless Antiques, they were greeted by a very friendly middle-aged man who was eager to give them a tour and be “interviewed.” Alex had called him several days earlier to explain their assignment and to see if he could put them on his schedule. The store was an antique itself, an old farmhouse built in the early 1800s and remodeled to reflect the Victorian age. It was densely decorated from top to bottom with an array of items, including hand-carved solid mahogany furnishings, marble-top tables, curios, lamps, wardrobes, hardware, furniture and clocks.
Once the interview was over, Alex and Isabella parted to indulge in their own interests then met an hour later at the truck. Isabella leaned against the back of the truck eager to show Alex her surprise for him. When she saw him coming out of the store she could barely contain her excitement. “There’s something for you in the back of the truck.”
Alex stared at her, barely hearing her words. The full force of her beauty struck him. He’d always been amazed by how joy could alter her face, but he’d never imagined this. She had a look that was timeless. A face that could be carved in maple and displayed in a gallery, but even that would not capture her essence. At this moment, her unattractive clothes and limp hair didn’t matter — he saw her beauty as striking as a diamond in the sand.
Alex glanced up and saw he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A young man walked past Isabella smiling and stared at her with special interest. When he looked at Alex, his smile disappeared and he hurried away.
“Alex?”
“What?” he snapped, watching to make sure the guy didn’t look back. He didn’t.
Isabella stared at him confused. “Aren’t you curious about what’s in the truck?”
Not really. He looked at her and folded his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to remove a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sure.”
She gestured to the truck. “Then go ahead.”
He opened his flatbed and stared at the large box. “Another batch of brownies?”
“No, open it.”
He lifted the lid and pulled out the object. He studied it a moment then set it down. “How much did you pay for this?”
“You’re not supposed to ask that, but you don’t have to worry. Your mother helped me. I told her I would do this. It’s a nice antique vase to put in your new home.”
He leaned on the truck and turned his head away. “Oh, Izzy,” he said in a muffled voice.
“What?”
He lowered his head and his shoulders shook with laughter.
Isabella folded her arms hurt. “If you don’t like it just say so, you don’t have to laugh at me.”
He rubbed the smile off of his mouth and sobered. “I’m sorry. I do like it.” He lifted it up again. “It’s just that it’s not a vase.”
“It’s not?”
He set it down. “No, it’s an urn.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “An urn?”
Alex looked at her expression then burst into laughter.
“But it can’t be an urn.”
He laughed so hard he could barely stand — he leaned against the truck to keep from falling to the ground.
Isabella rested her hands on her hips. “Alex, it’s not funny. What’s he doing selling urns?”
“Making money obviously,” he gasped. “Wait don’t be angry. I really do like it. I just see that there are a few more things for you to learn.” He draped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. Somehow his touch didn’t feel that way, but she didn’t move away and neither did he. They both knew it was time to head back, but Isabella didn’t mention it and Alex didn’t seem inclined to either. He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m hungry.” He grinned then patted the side of the urn. Let’s take Aunt Lucille to lunch.”
Isabella stared at him, sho
cked. “You can’t take that with us.”
“Why not?” He widened his eyes, appalled. “You can’t expect me to leave her in the truck.”
She folded her arms and frowned. “You’re being silly.”
He looked down at the urn with mock embarrassment. “You have to forgive her bad manners. Her mother hadn’t taught her any.”
Isabella opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when Alex smiled and winked at her. “Come on,” he said heading down the street. “I’m sure there are places here to eat,” he called over his shoulder.
Isabella glanced around wondering if others were watching him. He made an interesting sight: a tall man carrying a large urn under his arm. When she began to lose sight of him, she sighed and raced after him. “Alex, be sensible,” she said ready to beg if she had to.
“What are you in the mood for?”
She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Alex.”
He stopped in front of a bistro, glanced at the menu in the window then nodded. “This looks good.” He opened the door then gestured for Isabella to precede him.
“I wish I hadn’t bought you that stupid thing,” she grumbled, sending the urn an evil look.
“So you’re not coming with us?”
“No.”
“Okay,” Alex replied then went inside, closing the door in her face.
Frustrated, Isabella paced in front of the restaurant for several minutes then finally entered. She caught up to Alex just as he was telling the hostess that he wanted a table for three.
“You’re being cruel,” Isabella muttered as they followed the hostess to a small booth in the back.
Alex set the urn on the vinyl cushion then sat beside it. “Now you won’t feel left out,” he said to it and picked up the menu. He glanced at Isabella then held the menu up, completely covering his face. “Hold that thought until after you’ve ordered. I’m paying by the way. Aunt Lucille insisted. You wouldn’t want to make me look bad, would you?”
“As opposed to ridiculous?”
He shrugged then laid the menu aside. “Do I have to order for you?”
Isabella picked up the menu then randomly selected something. “I’ll get the Asian salad.”
Alex shook his head. “No, you won’t. You’re allergic to mandarin oranges. Select something else. This time read the description.”
She blinked, amazed that he had remembered.
“I can have a little,” she mumbled annoyed.
He sat back and tapped his chin. “If I remember correctly the last time you had a ‘little’ your tongue swelled up like a sausage and you had to eat through a straw for a week.”
She snapped her menu shut. “Don’t look so smug, I bet I remember more about you than you remember about me.”
He leaned forward, a faint light glittered in his eyes, but his tone remained serious. “Is that a challenge?”
It had been, but she decided to withdraw. She lowered her gaze unable to deny that he could be as tempting as a bed to a woman who hadn’t slept for days. Suddenly, she was aware that if she moved her leg only a few inches it would be touching his, that the table wasn’t as wide as she’d thought. She swallowed, determined to ignore the rush of heat to her face or that he could make her skin tingle by just a glance. She opened the menu instead and ran her finger down the selections. “I’ll have this.” She pointed to a chicken dish.
Alex pulled the menu to him then shook his head again.
“What now?”
“You don’t like asparagus. Don’t you read the descriptions?”
“It doesn’t really matter to me.”
“I can see that. It’s probably because you don’t take care of yourself.” He sighed resignedly as Isabella stared at him outraged. “I guess I’ll have to order for you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Please lower your voice.”
“I’m not shouting.”
“I meant lower it so that I don’t hear you.”
She snatched the menu. “You’re not ordering for me.”
He broke into a wide grin. “Want to try and stop me.”
In the end, Isabella decided — she didn’t want to think that she had surrendered — to let Alex place the order. The choice was perfect and she enjoyed a succulent dish of red snapper with sautéed seasoned vegetables. She enjoyed her lunch so much that she didn’t see what Alex was eating or notice him staring at her until she’d cleared her plate.
Isabella licked her lips. “What?”
A smile tugged on his lips. “You liked it, didn’t you?”
She stared down at her empty plate. “No, I hated it.” She watched his smile grow and continued to tease him. “I hated it so much that I’m going to come back here and order the same dish just to show you how much I hated it.”
The waiter set a large bag on the table. “Here’s what you ordered, sir.”
Alex took out his wallet. “Thank you. I just need the bill.”
Isabella stared at the bag. “What is that?”
“I saw how much you hated your lunch so I decided to order more.”
“I know I should be ashamed, but I’m not. It was delicious. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Isabella shot him a glance. “I was talking to Aunt Lucille.”
“I’m sorry,” he said then leaned his ear toward the urn. He nodded then said, “Aunt Lucille says you’re welcome.”
Moments later, they ambled back to the truck under the warm, steady gaze of a late afternoon sun. Once inside, Alex handed Isabella “Aunt Lucille” to hold then began their journey back to town. “I wish my schedule wasn’t so busy. But after we’re married, I think we should spend all day here.”
Isabella gasped.
Alex turned to her alarmed. “What?”
“You misspoke,” she said unable to look at him, her palms growing moist, and her voice unsteady.
“What did I say?”
“After we’re married. You meant you.”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “I meant me…and Gabby. After we’re married, “I’ll — I mean we’ll — come back here,” he corrected, but somehow his words sounded empty the second time.
“Gabby will love it,” Isabella said in a bright voice, hoping to fill the sudden silence, although her words sounded as empty as his. The truth was that, for a moment, what he had said felt right. She’d wanted it to be true. But she soon hated herself for even wanting it to be real. Alex belonged to Gabby, no matter how much she liked to be with him or look at him or talk to him. He didn’t belong to her.
Alex nodded not knowing what else to say. What an idiot! How could he have made a mistake like that? What the hell was wrong with him? He gripped the steering wheel. It was just a slip of the tongue; nothing more than that. Isabella was right, Gabby would like it there and they’d have a great time. He liked Gabby, he liked her a lot. Then why didn’t that make him feel better? The rest of the drive he fought to bring order to conflicting thoughts then felt someone tugging on his arm.
He turned to Isabella who looked at him strangely. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“No reason. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’m at my house.”
He blinked then looked around him. He didn’t even remember the drive back. Perhaps it was better that way. “Oh, okay. Goodbye.”
“I buckled up Aunt Lucille for you.”
He managed a smile. “Thanks.”
Isabella glanced at the cottage house where light stood bright against the evening while in the distance the Victorian mansion stood dark and empty like a cave. She turned back to Alex, her hand gripping the door frame. “It was a wonderful day. I had a great time.”
“Yes, so did I.”
“I’m glad…” she said a little too eager. “That we had a good time,” she quickly finished. She waved then dashed into the house.
Alex took a deep breath then drove away.
Chapter 12
For the next two weeks, Alex’s tutoring meetings with Isabella started earlier and earlier. Sometimes they would meet before her appointment with Mrs. Lyons and after, and their sessions became more frequent and longer. Soon others began to notice.
“Do you know what time it is?” Tony said, glancing at his watch as Alex gathered his things prepared to leave.
Alex zipped up his bag. “I’m meeting Isabella.”
“How dumb is she?”
He glared at him. “She’s not dumb at all.”
“Then why do you spend so much time with Isabella?”
“I don’t spend that much time.”
“You met with her yesterday at six and you didn’t return home until nine.”
He shrugged. “It was a complicated project.”
“How could anything be so complicated that it takes you two hours to figure it out? What do you talk about?”
“Antiques.”
“Just antiques?” Tony asked doubtfully.
No, Alex thought. They’d stopped talking about antiques weeks ago. When they met they shared about their ambitions and hopes. He felt comfortable with her. Nothing he said was silly or ridiculous. He knew Tony wouldn’t understand. He didn’t understand it himself. “Look I’m just helping out a friend okay? She’s like a big sister to me.”
“I have a big sister and I’ve never spent that much time with her.” He glanced at the urn on the dining table. “How long do we have to look at that ugly thing?”
“It’s not ugly.”
“Because Isabella bought it for you?”
“It’s not like that.”
Tony nodded, but didn’t look convinced.
Mariella also had her suspicions as she sat in their bedroom and watched Isabella eagerly gather her belongings for her study session with Alex.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m going to meet Alex at the library.” Isabella sent her sister an odd look. “I told you that.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“What are you up to?”