She still felt at peace.
That was odd, to say the least. Sydney never felt peaceful for more than a handful of moments. Anxiety was as much a part of her as her brunette hair, as her intense green eyes. It hadn’t always been part of her, she knew. Once, long ago, when she was very young, she probably hadn't felt anxious about anything. But that was, of course, before everything happened that changed her, hurt her, made her into the person she was today.
Before.
No. Don’t think about that.
She paused at a crosswalk and stared up at the bright blue sky between the buildings.
Think about last night.
Think about the song.
The “walk” sign lit up, and Sydney crossed the street, lost in thought about the woman's singing.
And, like her past, like all the dark things that had come Before, hearing the song had changed Sydney.
This time, for the better.
Sydney walked into the grocery store, head bent, her shoulders curved forward, her feet taking deliberate steps.
And it was in this way that Sydney ran into someone.
She wasn't looking where she was going. All she wanted to do was get in and out of the grocery store as quickly as possible, and that meant going for a basket, filling it up, and then leaving as fast as her feet could carry her. For all Sydney was concerned, it was too beautiful a day to spend indoors, and even if she hadn’t hated grocery shopping, she’d promised Max last night that they would spend hours and hours at the park today.
When she ran into the person, there was a solid smack of body against body. Neither of them fell down, but Sydney was winded, and she knew the other person must be, too. She looked up in shock, already murmuring the words “I’m sorry” before she saw who it was she’d collided with.
It seemed that she was having a bit of bad luck lately.
Because before her stood none other than Mrs. Williams.
“Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Williams. I’m so sorry,” she forced out, crouching and picking up the plastic bag of groceries that Mrs. Williams had dropped. She handed the bag to Mrs. Williams, and the woman was grinning, which was a relief. She, apparently, didn’t remember much of Sydney’s slight the night before, and she also didn’t seem to mind that Sydney had run into her with the force of a minor typhoon.
“Oh, it’s fine, sweetie,” said Mrs. Williams with a shrug, massaging her shoulder. “You know, this might be God’s will! I was just thinking about you, and how I was hoping that you’d drop into Sunday service tomorrow.”
Sydney put up her hands automatically, began to stammer, but Mrs. Williams’ eyes had narrowed into a type of shrewd calculation that made Sydney’s blood run cold.
“You’re so new to town. Aren’t you lonely?” Mrs. Williams tilted her head to the side as she took Sydney in. “Don’t you want to find some friends?”
That, of course, hit her in a painful place, because Sydney didn’t have any friends here yet, save for Thom. And it was one of her deeper fears, that she never would have friends because she was so…strange. Sydney sucked in a breath of air like she’d just gotten punched, and then she deflated.
Yes, Sydney wanted friends.
But she didn’t want the kind of friends that Mrs. Williams could provide.
She remembered her parents’ church. How the parishioners had changed when they learned what had happened, when they learned what Sydney was.
People Sydney had known her whole life. Friends she’d had from birth.
Gone.
Just…gone.
Sydney found that her voice was lost in this moment of pain. Mrs. Williams had transformed from a relatively harmless busybody into a cold, calculating woman, and it was almost as if she knew that she’d caused Sydney heartache. It was almost as if she'd wanted to. She stared at Sydney, and she wore a smile, but that smile didn’t reach her eyes.
It didn’t even come close.
Sydney stood there and felt the immensity of her old wounds weigh her down.
And then Mrs. Williams’ face began to change.
Sydney watched as her expression transformed from a sort of gloating glee to an expression one might make after they smelled something unpleasant.
“Hello, Mrs. Williams. Sydney.”
That voice. Sydney straightened a little, turned to look at who had come up behind her, and there…
Well, there she was.
Caroline.
The woman who had helped her find Max.
Caroline was standing behind her in the entryway to the grocery store, a large, shiny black purse dangling from her forearm. Today, she wore a black dress that clung to every pretty curve, as if the garment itself were in love with her. Her face was bright, cheerful, and her deep red lips—cranberry red, Sydney decided—were turned up at the corners, as if she had a secret. Her head was to the side, and her long blonde curls were drawn up into a high ponytail that swept over her shoulder with a soft shush.
She took another step forward, her heels clicking on the floor. “How are you, Mrs. Williams? I haven’t spoken with you in so long.” Caroline’s smile deepened, but Mrs. Williams did not return the smile. Instead, she took a step backward, as if Caroline were advancing on her.
Mrs. Williams cleared her throat.
“I just remembered—I have to be somewhere,” she said, all in a rush, and then she nodded to Sydney before moving past her and making a wide berth around Caroline. “We’ll talk soon, dear,” she said to Sydney, but she said nothing to Caroline before she left the grocery store, making a beeline for her boat-sized SUV in the parking lot.
Caroline chuckled, and Sydney turned to look at her in surprise.
Caroline's laugh was a beautiful thing. Sometimes, you can’t anticipate the loveliness a day might hold. You just have to accept it, and that’s what Sydney did, watching the way Caroline tilted her chin down as she laughed, her mouth bright, curving, her teeth shining white against the red of her lips, the little lines at the corners of her eyes deepening, the black mascara making her long lashes stand out against the paleness of her face.
Caroline's smile was even better than her laugh. She was smiling at Sydney now, adjusting her purse’s handle at her elbow.
“How are you today, Sydney?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling.
“Much better…now,” said Sydney, and then she took a deep breath, and she told the truth: “Thank you for…for getting me out of that. Mrs. Williams can be… She can be…” She trailed off. She didn’t want to be mean, but she also wanted to be truthful. Was it mean to be truthful?
Caroline grinned and nodded. “No, no, I understand. Trust me, I do,” she said, and her smile softened. “It’s no trouble, really. Mrs. Williams doesn’t like me all that much, as you could probably tell. And I might as well put that dislike to good use and help someone out, if I can.”
Beneath that beautiful gaze, Sydney felt herself lightening. But she was also curious. “Why wouldn’t Mrs. Williams like you? You’re…wonderful…” she breathed, before she realized what she was saying, and then the words were out in the open between them, and she couldn’t take them back. Her face turned red, but Caroline chuckled sweetly, putting Sydney at ease right away.
“I don’t think Mrs. Williams sees me that way,” was all she said, her head tilted to the side as she gazed at Sydney, her mouth forming the softest of smiles. “Anyway, so good to see you again, but I have to get going. I have quite a few of these to put up around town this morning.” And from her shiny black purse, she took out a piece of paper and a small box of tacks.
Sydney blinked. From her vantage point, she really couldn’t see much of what was on the paper in Caroline’s hand, but she had seen clip art of a music note as Caroline drew it out of her purse…
Her heart began to rise into her throat.
“Can I… Can I see that, please?” she asked Caroline, and—surprised—the woman handed it over to her.
It was an advertisement for voice lessons, wi
th tearable strips of paper cut at the bottom reading “Caroline, voice instructor,” along with Caroline’s phone number. Words like “premier vocalist” and “decades of experience” and “classically trained” stood out to Sydney in the paragraph declaring that Caroline was now offering voice lessons.
All at once, Sydney’s breath began to speed up, coming faster and faster, and her heart pounded inside of her chest, keeping its own time. She looked up, the sheet of paper held tightly in her fingers, and she studied Caroline’s face.
Could it be?
Was it her?
The singing angel and Caroline the angel were one and the same?
“You’re a voice teacher?” asked Sydney then, and Caroline’s smile widened.
“Yes, though I haven’t taught private lessons in ages. I thought it’d be fun to start doing it again,” she said, taking the piece of paper from Sydney’s hands when she offered it and tacking it up on the overly full bulletin board in the grocery store entryway.
Sydney stood there, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She tried her best to work up the courage. She tried to try to find the words to ask Caroline if it was her who sang so beautifully, if it was her who Sydney heard at night in the courtyard. But she couldn’t do it. And then Caroline was turning, waving goodbye over her shoulder.
When Caroline was halfway through the automatic doors, Sydney managed to blurt out, “Caroline?”
Caroline stopped. She put up her hand to halt the closing of the doors, and then she took a step backwards, turning and smiling at Sydney as her skirt swirled around her calves, as her heels clicked smartly on the floor.
“Yes?”
“Is it… Is it you?” Sydney asked, and then—realizing what a silly question that was—she cleared her throat. “Is that you that I hear singing? At night?”
Oh, what a mess. That’s not how she’d wanted to phrase it, but it was the only combination of words she could find inside of herself.
Still, Caroline’s smile didn’t falter, though there was a bit of ruefulness in the furrow of her brow and the shake of her head. “Oh, my, can you hear me outside? I don’t mean to be a nuisance, but there’s no real way to sing quietly when you’re practicing.” She chuckled. “But, yes, for better or worse, I suppose that’s me.”
“Nuisance?” Sydney whispered, and then she was shaking her head adamantly, her cheeks flushed. “You’re no nuisance.” For once, her voice was firm. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in all my life,” she said, choosing her words with care. “You sound… You sound lovely.”
That wasn't exactly what she had wanted to say. You sound like an angel, descended to earth. But when Caroline gazed at Sydney with seemingly new eyes, Sydney knew what she said had been enough. Now it was between them, this truth.
“My goodness,” said Caroline slowly. Her smile was soft, and her brow was still furrowed, but there was a depth to her gaze now that hadn’t been there before. It was as if she saw Sydney, as if she truly saw her, for the first time.
“That’s…so nice,” said Caroline, and she breathed out. “No one’s talked about my voice like that in a long time.” And then she fingered the strap of her purse, almost absentmindedly. “I’m glad you like my singing, Sydney. Thanks.” She bowed her head a little, and she turned with another wave. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure. Give that big dog of yours a smooch for me!” And she was gone, clicking her way over the parking lot pavement, the sound of her heels echoing back to Sydney like their own kind of music.
Sydney wandered through the grocery store, placing things in her basket, but she didn’t really see what it was she took off the shelves, didn’t really interact with the man checking out her groceries, other than to tell him that, yes, she did want plastic bags and not paper. She spent, perhaps, a full hour in the grocery store, trying to make her food budget stretch as far as possible for the week, and through it all, her mind was a million miles away.
Or, really, her mind was less than a mile away.
With Caroline.
She tried not to think about her so much. She tried not to think about the way Caroline had ducked her head, the soft smile on her mouth deepening as Sydney praised her. She tried not to think about all of the things she’d wished she’d told her.
She tried not to think of Caroline’s lips. Of her long fingers curling around her purse’s shiny black strap. She tried not to think of the curve of Caroline’s calves, her breasts, and what they might feel like beneath her palms, beneath her mouth.
Sydney tried not to think about all of this.
And failed miserably.
By the time she got back to her apartment—tiptoeing down the hallway and inserting her key into the lock as quietly as possible, on the off chance that Mrs. Williams was there, ready to deliver another sermon—she was hot and tremendously bothered.
Max was at the door, as enthusiastic to see her as ever, and she patted her dog behind the ears and unpacked the groceries, then gave him the bone she’d bought for him, which he accepted most gratefully.
And when she let herself into her bedroom, she shut the door behind her, leaving Max in the living room, which she rarely did.
She leaned against the door and listened to the thrum of her own heartbeat, loud in the stillness.
Sydney closed her eyes.
She breathed in and out, but her breath was catching in her throat, because when she closed her eyes, she remembered.
She remembered another mouth. Another smile. Sweet, soft fingers and a curve of breasts that Sydney tried so, so hard to forget.
And couldn’t.
She opened her eyes, banged her fists back against the door, but only once. She knew it’d make Max upset, that he’d bark, and she didn’t want any of the tenants to complain about barking. But there was so much energy surging through Sydney just then that she had to let it out, had to let it out somehow.
Sydney felt as if she were wound so tightly that nothing would ever undo her. She felt as if rope was wrapped around her arms, her middle, her hips, her thighs.
She felt…trapped.
Sydney crossed the room, sat down on the edge of the bed, gripped her coverlet with white-knuckled fingers, and tried to slow her breathing, tried to ease the pounding in her skull, in her temples, tried to stop thinking about what Caroline might look like beneath that dress, what Caroline might look like...beneath her. When Sydney closed her eyes, she saw Caroline, yes, but she saw someone else, too, someone from a long time ago, even though it wasn’t that long, not at all…
Pain—deep, lancing, harsh—pierced her heart, as if the pain were a needle and every memory a thread that pulled itself through, squeezing tighter and tighter…
Sydney opened the small bottle that sat on her bedside table. She took out one of the pills and placed it on her tongue, and she swallowed it without water. She’d done that many times before, when the panic threatened her, and to get up, to go into the kitchen to draw herself a glass of water seemed like an insurmountable task.
She lay back on top of the coverlet, her hands on her stomach, and she waited for the pill to work.
For a long moment, she was still tense. For a long moment—longer than was comfortable—Sydney felt the pain, the panic surging, as high and powerful as a tsunami wave. And then the pill, blessedly, began to take effect, and she felt the tension drain out of her limbs, her stomach, her head, pooling away.
She closed her eyes, and now, when she envisioned Caroline standing there, none of the old memories, the well-worn, searing memories, came. It was only Caroline and only Sydney’s desire, and both of these things were not safe, not by far, but Sydney could think of them without panic consuming her.
Max scratched at the door.
He whined from the other side, and Sydney pushed herself up onto her elbows. A side effect of the medication was that she was often dizzy after taking it, and she was dizzy now, but if she sat for a moment, the dizziness would subside. So she closed her eyes again, mutter
ed to her dog, “Just a minute, buddy.”
Finally, she managed to stand, picking up Max’s leash from the top of her dresser.
There, on the dresser, beside Max’s leash, was Caroline’s blue belt. The belt the woman had lent to Sydney when Max escaped, the belt Sydney had used as a makeshift leash to get her dog back to her apartment. Sydney still had it.
She should give it back.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She remembered, of course, Caroline’s apartment number: 718B.
Sydney didn’t think about it; she was filled with the illusion of ease that only an anti-anxiety medication could bring, a sort of devil-may-care attitude that she had had once naturally. There was a lightness in her heart. So she had the courage to take the belt to Caroline, and what did it matter if the courage came from a pill? She felt brave now, nevertheless. That was enough.
Sydney took the belt in her hands, folding it carefully.
She patted Max on the head, promised she’d be back sooner rather than later, and she left her apartment and climbed the creaking staircase all the way up to the seventh floor.
718B. That was the door before her now.
Sydney took a deep breath and knocked.
Chapter 4
After the knock, of course, doubt descended. Sydney knew that she should turn around and walk back down the hallway, down the stairs, into the relative safety of her apartment. She had just seen Caroline. It’d be weird, wouldn’t it, to show up at her door? Would Caroline find it strange and uncomfortable that Sydney had remembered her apartment number?
Perhaps it was strange that Sydney remembered it.
She should go. She should just turn around—
But there was no time.
The door opened.
And Caroline was standing there.
The Longing Page 4