“Carol,” I remembered. She was one I would never forget. She went out of her way to be nasty to me and I never really knew why. I left work in tears more times than I could count. Blaming me for everything that went wrong in the place, changing the schedule the night before I was supposed to work and not telling me, talking shit about me behind my back. I had never experienced anyone as malicious as that witch. I finally quit because of her
“What ever happened to her?” Maggie asked.
“After I left, I never saw her again. Actually, I never went near the bar again—I didn’t trust myself. I harbored a deep and sadistic desire to punch her in the face. The bar closed a few years after I left. Good riddance, too, the rest of the staff watched everything happening and never stepped in, not even management. Besides, it all happened over eight years ago.”
“Karma will get her. She’s probably fat and ugly now.”
“She was fat and ugly back then,” I replied with a grin. We both laughed.
I didn’t want to think about my stalker this weekend, just forget he existed for a little while. I wanted to relax and enjoy one of my most favorite places on earth, La Jolla, and the ocean. My stalker was back in Arizona and I was here where it was safe.
“Where the hell is that bitch!” I knew I shouldn’t yell out loud, but I was fucking pissed. She disappeared again.
I checked the doors and windows, but they were all locked, damn her. I didn’t hear no dog inside, so she must have taken it with her.
I’d been waiting for her the whole evening and she hadn’t come back yet. That bitch was shacked up with some guy. I knew it. She was nothing but a fuckin’ whore, but she was my whore and I didn’t share.
I saw that grease monkey driving around checking on her. I’d seen him a few times lately. He needed to be taken care of. Nobody sniffed around my whore and got away with it.
I took one last look around and jiggled the front door again before I sauntered away. Stupid people around here didn’t notice a damn thing. I’d been hunting this neighborhood for over a year, watching her, and not one idiot had paid any attention to me. Like I always said, people don’t see what doesn’t concern them. They were blind to what was happening all around. I laughed at the thought of her face when she finally saw me. It was going to be fuckin’ priceless.
EMILY
I jumped out of bed just after seven. I did great back home getting up early and running. Now, with a beach to run on it was absolutely perfect, a weekend of living my ultimate dream. I wasn’t going to waste my morning sleeping in. Throwing on my running gear and a light jacket, I quietly made my way out the door. I heard Andrea leave earlier and Maggie’s door was still closed so I assumed she was still asleep.
It was beautiful outside, sunny with a bit of a chill in the air. Perfect to run along the beach. There were already a lot of people out here with the same idea. I jogged across the street to the park overlooking the water. Making my way over the rocks along the footpath, I followed the sound of the waves toward the beach. Down into the cove directly below the house, on an outcropping of boulders flattened by years of saltwater perfecting them, a group of people serenely took part in a yoga class. They stretched from one pose to the next in a beautiful fluid motion. It was relaxing to stand and observe them. I was doing yoga classes twice a week now, but I hadn’t yet reached the point of moving from one pose to another without stopping to balance myself. I wanted to lose myself in my practice like the people I was watching now. They seemed oblivious to everyone around them.
Heading down to the water, I spent a few minutes stretching my body before I began running south at an easy pace. I watched the seagulls diving in and out of the ocean looking for their breakfast, calling to one another as if spreading the word of a bounty of food. A school of tiny iridescent fish seemed to glow beneath the water, darting in and out of the surf at the shoreline.
Maybe I would win the lottery and just retire to a beach house like this someday. Write all morning and learn to surf in the afternoon. A girl had to dream, right?
I designed my beach house as I ran. An open floor plan and all the windows facing the ocean so I could take in all the beauty every single time I looked outside. I would want a deck or a patio facing the water, too. God knows that’s where I would spend most of my time. The sun would be shining every day and my friends would come to visit. Maggie would find a job in the same town too because … well, my best friend had always been there. I continued my wonderful fantasy as I turned and ran back.
There were a whole group of young guys in the cove trying to master their boogie boards. I walked in circles cooling down, watching them, and taking mental notes for someday. They seemed to spend more time flying off of the boards than standing on them. It was exhausting to watch.
My body felt the bruises they received every time they went airborne from an angry wave. I really wanted to learn how to boogie board, but at the same time, I wasn’t ready for the beating.
Leaning back on the rocks just above the cove, I sat, watching the world go by as I took a breath and completely enjoyed the serenity all around me.
The number of people walking along the beach was multiplying. There were a few little children out there too. I loved watching them race to the water’s edge, only to squeal in delight and run back when waves lapped at their feet.
Couples walking hand-in-hand conversing and oblivious to those next to them, and others, strolling alone, took in the glorious view.
I noticed one man in particular. He was hard to miss, although I couldn’t see his face. I noticed his legs first. They were magnificent. I could see the muscles working while he ran, even from a distance. And his butt, holy sweet Lord, was it nice with his running shorts tightly sculpting his form. He was tan, as though he spent every morning out here. His dark hair with the sun kissed tips reflected halos from the light as he ran. I licked my lips in appreciation of the sight of him. I watched as he headed farther down the beach, wishing I had gotten a glimpse of his face. There was nothing like a well-sculpted body on a man and I was one to admire and appreciate the view when presented with the opportunity.
I continued following his progress and leaned forward when he turned and headed back my way. I strained to catch a look at his face the closer he got.
My whole body froze and I let out a gasp.
Holy shit!
I closed my eyes and opened them again. A chill raced over me in disbelief.
No way. Not after all this time. My heart stopped beating for a moment and I gasped again.
After all this time, after dreaming of this one man for years, he was here, in the place of my fantasies, running along the same beach I had just run on—the very beach we used to stroll on together a lifetime ago—running in the direction where I was sitting, frozen in place.
Elliot.
EMILY
Time stood still. Years melted away and I was in his arms again. He looked magnificent running on the shoreline. He looked godlike … perfect … delicious.
Every memory I ever held in my heart came flashing back in an instant. I never thought I would be able to look at him again. He didn’t notice me. His eyes were focused on the path in front of him. For one split second he seemed to stumble, almost stop, then he righted himself and kept moving. My heart called out, look up—look at me—see me. I wanted to scream out to him … I’m here … I’m still here, but nothing came out of my mouth. I just sat there and watched him run.
He passed by, never even glancing upward. His eyes were looking straight ahead as he pounded the sand with his feet, dodging the water as it danced on the beach. With every second that passed, the vision of him became smaller and smaller until all that remained was the image frozen in my mind.
I didn’t feel the tears streaming down my cheeks or my heart beating a million beats a minute, or the gasp escaping my mouth when I finally let out a breath. I had to pinch my arm to convince myself this was real. I was awake and I just saw Elliot D’Arcy run pa
st me down the beach.
I thought I had finally let him go. I had to, it was killing me after he walked away and I didn’t handle it well. Deep down, I felt like I was the reason he left. I didn’t know how to show him how much I loved him. I did, but I was so young and selfish back then, so damn insecure about everything. When I finally started to figure it out, I looked for Elliot. I stalked him on social media. I read everything he wrote, kept track of him professionally, but personally, he went off the map completely. Once in a while I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but it was just wishful thinking on my part. I couldn’t find him.
La Jolla was one of his favorite spots, but I never thought to look here. We always dreamed of having a place on the beach, here in the cove. Maybe he finally made our dream a reality for himself.
I glanced down the far end of the beach where he disappeared. He was here and then, poof, he was gone again. The pain of it and the desire I still felt for Elliot just kept knocking me on my ass.
I played with the idea of walking down the direction Elliot ran, but I hesitated. That old friend of mine, doubt, came creeping in. I was petrified to go chasing a broken dream. What if I saw him face-to-face? How would he react? What if I was a long forgotten memory he didn’t want dancing in his head? What if he truly hated me for what I did to him all those years ago? I couldn’t face it. I was afraid of what the answer might be and I couldn’t go through it again. My heart was just beginning to finally heal from the last time. I didn’t know if I could handle being shattered again.
Later, I told Maggie I had seen him on the beach, my reaction, and my fear. Her answers were so simple.
“Maybe you were meant to be apart to learn to love yourself. To each go your own way so you could grow, and someday, when you meet again, your love can be greater than anything either one of you has ever known.”
I wish I could believe her words. There was truth in them, such profound truth.
ELLIOT
I saw her sitting on the rocks above the cove. It sucked the air out of my lungs, causing me to stumble. She was sitting right there, a stone’s throw away from me. At least I think it was her.
Emily … the woman I had tried to purge from my soul for the last seven years.
The woman who was the lover in every book I had written since the day I met her. The woman who invaded my mind, be it day and night.
Emily … my muse.
It had been seven agonizing years since I walked away from her.
Seven years of beating myself up and wondering.
Seven years of wishing I could have found a way to make her see how much I loved her.
Seven years of hoping she still thought about me.
Seven years of living hell.
For a moment I thought she spotted me. My heart stopped for a second, then it began to pound in my ears. It drowned out the sound of the surf behind me. The chatter around me ceased. For one single moment I thought our eyes met, but she moved on. She didn’t notice me. I wanted to find a hidden spot where I could stand and watch her, take in every inch of her and not have her see me. I knew this cove, there was nowhere to hide and still have an unobstructed view of her. So I did what I always do, I ran … I kept running along the surf. Like I had done for the last seven years. I just kept running.
I ran all the way to my house at the other end of the beach. Slamming the door behind me, I bent over, grabbing my thighs, and my breathing came in ragged gulps as I tried to suck in air. Just breathe, I chanted to myself. Breathe.
My thoughts began to race, doubt knocking at me. Was it really Emily? Or did she have a twin out there who just happened to be in La Jolla? Was she visiting someone?
I hadn’t seen her in a long time, except in my dreams. She looked so different and yet completely the same. I wanted to see her up close and guide my fingers over her face. To inhale the scent of her and tattoo it into my brain. She was the most beautiful woman God ever created. Emily was perfection in every sense of the word. She was sunlight and a gentle rain. She was feisty and passionate and angry. She had invaded my thoughts for seven years and now she was here. At least I thought it was her.
I wanted to go into town and wander about, to see for sure. I felt like a stalker, wanting to sneak behind doorways, watching for her.
My emotions were running rampant. Up and down and all over the place. I kept going back to the last time I held her in my arms.
I didn’t even know what really happened anymore. I was with her one moment, and then, just like that, I was gone. I walked out of her life. I was terrified I would’ve hurt her if I’d stayed. My emotions overruled my common sense when I was with her; I had no control. She drove me to the edge of insanity, to the point I couldn’t think or reason. I acted impulsively, like I was on drugs. She was a drug to me.
Her passion combined with her anger at life made her whole body vibrate at moments. She was a time bomb just waiting to detonate, and I didn’t want to be the person to set her off. I loved her too much to be the reason she destroyed herself.
So I walked away … and I waited.
Days became months, then became years. I figured she went on with her life, forgetting about me … about us. I thought maybe I did too, but I was wrong.
Catching a glimpse of her proved just how wrong I was. Her face was implanted in my heart and my mind. It kept invading my thoughts, appearing more often as the years scrolled by.
Maybe it was the sign I needed to do something, I needed to find her and see once and for all if she had really forgotten me, if she had moved on. Only then could I ever be free of her.
I hit the shower, rinsing away the sand and sweat, while making a plan of how I could stroll around town and maybe, just maybe, get a glimpse of her, make sure it really was my Emily. Damn, I hadn’t acted like this since I was a teenager in heat over some girl.
I knew she was on Facebook because I occasionally looked at her page. She didn’t post much, just an occasional photograph or two. Most of them were a group of friends hiking or out for a happy hour.
Lately pictures of a dog had appeared. She seemed to take a lot of scenic photography too. I always thought she would write more. She was a damn good editor but she was wasting time with that. She was a born writer.
She used to constantly make up stories of people we would see when we were out and about, who they were and the crazy things they might have done. We could spend hours going back and forth describing in detail a life of some stranger we saw on the street. I hoped to God that she still did that. Her imagination was one of the many things I adored about her.
Throwing on jeans and a T-shirt I picked from a pile of clothes in the corner and grabbing a ball cap to shield my face, I dug out my shades and headed into town. It was early so I figured I’d check the cafes first.
I couldn’t believe I was stalking a woman like some nut job. I had it bad, really, really bad. In fact, I think I had it worse than the characters I wrote about in my mysteries.
Man stalked woman until he went insane and got committed to a facility from hell. Maybe, if I couldn’t find her, I would have to write a storyline about my actions today. My obsession with Emily Golden had generated a number of bestsellers already.
The central square in La Jolla was busy with people ambling about, lots of tourists, and of course, the locals who had made this little beach town their home.
The outside cafe tables were filled with people eating, so I wandered about, browsing the shop windows across the street. I didn’t see her anywhere.
Jane’s Cafe had a line coming out the door with patrons waiting for their orders. I kind of lingered just across from there, partially hidden in a doorway of a shirt shack. I nodded at the owner working behind the desk. Most of the locals knew me so I wasn’t worried that I would stick out loitering in doorways.
I glanced briefly up and down the street and then back at the cafe.
I saw her just as she stepped outside with another woman. They snagged a table just as some peopl
e were leaving. From where I was partially hidden, I heard her start laughing at something her friend said. It was her, my Emily. I would know her laugh anywhere. My mind filled with memories again. I had loved to make her laugh.
The first time I ever laid eyes on Emily Golden she was laughing. Not a giggle or a quiet, delicate sort of laugh, it was a loud, boisterous, stop-the-room kind of laugh. A laugh that made you turn your head and take notice, made you want to know what made her laugh like that.
I spoke at a writer’s workshop in Phoenix and she was part of a group attending. I was gathering up my papers, trying to get organized, when a peal of beautiful laughter startled me. It was the kind of laughter that rang out like music, like a song you immediately needed to search out the source because it made your heart want to join in on the music.
She was standing with a small group of people just inside the door next to a table set up with coffee and water. The first thing I noticed, besides her laugh, was her smile. She had the smile of a mischievous imp full of expression. Her whole face lit up, and those eyes, they sparkled so bright I could see them across the room. Long, dark, wild curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Her legs, encased in a pair of leggings, were miles long. She was a magnet drawing me toward her. I couldn’t break my gaze away. Her body moved so animatedly as she talked. Shifting her weight from one leg to another and moving her arms, nodding her head, it was almost like a dance.
I wanted to know who she was. I had this incredible desire to run my fingers through that mass of curls and do something, anything to make her laugh again. I wanted to know her name. I wanted to know everything about this woman.
Emily and her friend stood up from their table, jolting me out of my trip down memory lane. I watched them dispose of their breakfast and glance around the courtyard. Emily pointed to a store next to them and headed toward the entrance, soon disappearing from sight.
Shattered Pearls Page 9