Jem sat right across from me at the small square table, and Dave sat to my left. This was going to be a very long meal. When Dave was studying the menu, I threw some I-will-kill-you looks in Jem’s direction, but he shrugged them off with an infuriating smile. That thick-skinned side of him used to make me laugh. Now it made me want to scream.
When the waitress came for our orders, Jem looked up from the menu. “I will have the massaman curry, and the lady will have the seafood Pad Thai.” I froze. He still remembered what I always ordered in Thai restaurants. “That was always your favorite.” His voice had softened, and so did my heart.
“Wow, you guys really know each other well.” Hard to tell whether Dave was annoyed or truly impressed. “And you still remember even after all these years.”
“You never forget a good friend,” Jem offered with a smile as he handed the menu to the waitress. Dave placed his order, and we were left to our own devices.
Dave didn’t waste any time. “So, Jem, how come you moved to Europe? Job offer?”
I didn’t waste any time either. “He followed a girl he had met and volunteered to go and be her companion and protector. Isn’t that so thoughtful of him?” The barbs in my voice could not have gone unnoticed. Jem flinched, his lips stretching tight.
“Is that true? Protect her from what?” Dave asked, unwrapping his napkin and placing it on his lap.
With a strained smile, Jem fidgeted in his seat. “Kind of. I did follow this girl I knew because she had witnessed a crime and was in danger. I guess that sounds really dumb, doesn’t it?” He looked defeated, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“Of course not.” Magnanimous Dave. “If you loved this girl, why not?”
Jem shifted again, his hands smoothing invisible creases on the tablecloth. “The thing is I really didn’t love her.” His voice was quiet.
My wonderful, ever-sympathetic boyfriend bounced his gaze from Jem to me a few times, obviously at a loss for words. I came to his rescue. “So, why did you? Why leave your family behind to follow a woman you didn’t love?”
Jem’s amazing blue eyes came to rest on mine, anger darkening them to the blue of an evening sky. “I don’t know, Em. I really don’t know why. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I’ve always been dumb when it comes to girls. Maybe I was running away…. I don’t know.” The intensity of his tone surprised me. He was not one for angry outbursts. Forever the appeaser, Jem was always the one to calm me down in the middle of a fight. “I can’t start to explain how sorry I am.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dude,” Dave said. “We all have done stupid stuff in the name of love… or lust. You dust yourself off and start again.”
Jem managed a smile. “My friend Em won’t forget it so soon, I’m afraid.” No, I wouldn’t. Probably never. “And of all people in the world I want to make amends with, she is number one on my list.”
I didn’t turn, but I could feel Dave’s eyes on me. “Is that true? You won’t forgive him?”
Trying to keep my cool, but with my chest beginning to burn, I took a deep breath before talking. “He abandoned me. We had been best friends since preschool, and he left and stayed away for five years without as much as an e-mail letting me know he was alive and well.”
“Well, honey, he couldn’t do it without putting the girl’s life in danger, could he?” It was infuriating when Dave was more rational than me. Why was he defending my idiot ex-friend?
I swallowed back a nasty retort. “He could have told me what he was doing right before he left. Then at least I would’ve known he wasn’t just ignoring me.” I was babbling and I knew it. “Can we change the subject? I’m going to end up with indigestion.”
As if on cue the food arrived, defusing a very uncomfortable conversation. Pad Thai was comfort food, kind of like mac and cheese or mashed potatoes. My knotted stomach thanked me for it. I was famished and had to pace myself eating it, for fear of attracting the attention of the other patrons. Unlike me, Jem barely touched his food, playing with the floating pieces of vegetables and staring intently at his plate.
When our jasmine tea arrived, Jem had had enough. He stood up, thanked Dave for dinner and his kindness, and then looked at me, unsure of what to do next. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss my cheek, but in the end he gave me an awkward wave and left, leaving some money on the table.
“You could give him a break.” Dave looked me in the eye, his fingers interlaced by his chin. He had the most impeccable table manners. “The poor guy is obviously repentant.”
I bristled at his words. “I don’t care. He left me hanging for five years. Let him squirm a little.” Not my usual philosophy. I felt ashamed of my behavior even as I spoke. “Let’s not talk about him.” I stretched an arm over the table and held his hand. “We’re finally alone. Are you spending the night?”
“Are you inviting me?” His eyes twinkled with mischief. I had to laugh.
“I am. We’ve been so busy, and it’s been a couple weeks now—”
Not letting me finish my thought, he leaned over and kissed me, long and deep. I relaxed into his kiss. Dave’s lips were like a good glass of red wine, warm and soothing.
“So, Celia took me to see a witch today,” I said when we came up for air.
“No way!”
Jem forgotten, we spent the rest of the evening together chatting and enjoying each other’s company.
When we finally left, I was suddenly so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open on our way home. Dave noticed and left me to sleep it off.
“We’ll do this another time.” His lips moved on top of mine. “Love you, gorgeous.”
With him gone, I sat on the couch, unable to sleep, my mind—and heart—full of Jem and contradictory feelings I didn’t want to have, but were there nevertheless. Why couldn’t he have just stayed in Europe? Why couldn’t I move on? Why was life so complicated?
CHAPTER FOUR
__________
Old Wounds and Magic
“This is insane.”
The word hardly described the madness of what we were doing. In the small copse behind my house, Celia and I stood before a metal trash can lightly packed with photos of Jem and me, and some odd items I had dug up from my memory box. Nothing too valuable, even emotionally; just a few things I picked to appease my crazy sister.
The wind had been whipping everything and everybody for the last few days, and it had not quit yet. I wrapped the flaps of my heavy sweater closely around me in a useless attempt at protecting myself from the punishing wind. “Can we go now? It’s cold.”
Celia slapped me across the top of my arm. “Of course not. We’re not done. We have to set the whole thing on fire.” Easier said than done. The lighter had apparently run out of fluid, and after a few failed attempts we gave up. “Shit. What do we do now?”
“We go home, Celia.” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but my sister had other ideas. Digging through her enormous purse, she pulled out a small box with a triumphant grin. Matches. Of course she would have matches in that Mary Poppins purse of hers. “How are you going to light one of those in this wind?”
Celia crouched by the trash can and offered me a wicked smile. “Never doubt Super Celia,” she said, bringing back my childhood nickname for her. Bending further, she stuck both her hands inside the can and struck a match. By the sudden flare, I could tell she had been successful. She stood up, wiping imaginary dust from her coat, and we both watched as the small pile of items inside the metal container started to burn. A reeking puff of smoke rose, the acrid scent of burning plastic stinging my nostrils. “See? I have my ways.”
I weaved my arm through hers and pulled my baby sister closer. She was nuts, but I loved her. “You’re a regular witch.” The flames quickly consumed the sparse contents of the can.
“And don’t you ever forget that, my sweet Muggle sister.” The fire died as quickly as it started and, letting go of Celia, I poured the small cont
ainer of water I had brought with me over the ashes. “Ever the cautious one, Emily.”
I smiled. She was the impulsive one, while I was the think-many-times-before-acting one. Sometimes I wondered if one of us had been switched at birth.
Trash can and ashes carefully disposed of, we left the house and headed to our favorite caffeine spot in town. While I ordered my usual flat white, Celia went for the gigantic latte smothered in whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. How she kept so thin was an honest-to-God mystery. Celia used to get along famously with Jem because of their common love for everything fattening. We sat down in our usual booth in the Old Bookstore, coffees in hand and a plate of mini pastries in front of us. Through the window we could see people rushing back and forth, trying to get out of the nasty wind and fighting to keep their clothes from flying over their heads. Inside the coffee shop it was warm, and the heat of the mugs in our hands melted the remaining chill away. The comforting smell of the coffee caressed our noses and smoothed out our nerves. It suddenly felt very cozy.
“Are you wearing the potion Marcy gave you?” Celia asked, a big fat white mustache on her upper lip. “I don’t smell it.”
“That’s because I’m not wearing it.” I was still seriously suspicious of that greenish goo the witch had given me. After last night’s dinner, I had been tempted to wear it but had decided against it. “It’ll probably kill me, or at least give me a rash.”
The look of disapproval Celia gave me was enough to melt metal. “She may look a little quirky, but she’s a very powerful witch.” I almost choked on my coffee. “You don’t believe me, then? Let’s make a bet. You wear the potion and if Jem doesn’t leave you alone I will… do your laundry and grocery shopping for a month.” That sounded heavenly. There were very few things I hated more than washing clothes and going grocery shopping. “If I win, you have to come with me to an event of my choice.” God! That was a tough one. Celia was involved in so many things, there was a very strong possibility I would end up bungee jumping.
After a moment of hesitation, I gave in. “All right, you got your bet. I’ll wear the stupid stuff, but if someone dies because of it, it’s on your head.” She laughed, her shoulders pumping up and down in that funny way of hers. My eyes strayed toward the door, and all the blood suddenly drained from my face. Walking in our direction was Jem.
Everything I had ever felt for him came flooding back in a tidal wave. Totally unaware of the turmoil he was causing in my heart, he sped up, a bewitching smile on his face.
“Emily Rose. Oh my God! Is that you, Super Celia?” He opened his arms welcoming my traitor sister, who in a swift move ran to hug him. “Celia, you look great. So grown-up.”
Celia didn’t even blink when she met my poisonous glare. “Come and join us, Jem. It’s been so long.” What the hell was she doing? Inviting him to sit with us as if we were still the best of friends. “Emily and I were just chatting.”
In his defense, Jem did throw me a questioning look, as if asking me for permission. I must suck at body language because he sat down with us anyway. “I hope I’m not intruding.” Of course you are, idiot. “I was going to grab a coffee and go, but now….” The blue of his eyes blinded me for a second, and I found myself nodding my approval.
Not one to be coy, Celia slapped him across the forearm. “What the hell were you thinking, leaving us like that and not a word for years?”
Jem chuckled, his face opening up like a book, a gateway to his soul. “I can’t tell you how much I regret my decision back then. If I could turn back time I wouldn’t even hesitate. I missed you guys so much.”
“Yes, it must have been hell living in Paris,” Celia teased with a sly side-glance at me.
“I wasn’t in Paris, at least not all the time.” Jem twisted his hands on the table. “I was based in Provence the first couple years. Then moved a bit closer to Paris. Got to visit quite a bit, but never actually lived there.”
My lips were glued together. I was afraid of opening my mouth, not knowing what may come out of it. Celia had no such qualms. “You lucky bastard. Living the life while we were stuck here in good old USA.”
“It wasn’t that fantastic,” Jem replied, the smile dying away. “It was lonely at best. A volunteer prison of sorts. I really couldn’t do much without exposing Tina to danger. She was too scared to go to the authorities, and it still isn’t resolved.”
“But she let you go?” Celia was once again wearing a thick white mustache and blissfully unaware of it.
“Tina agreed to move elsewhere. I think she was bored, as well. So that gave me a way out even though Tina—to quote her—strongly discouraged me from doing so.” Jem was still torturing his hands.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why? Why did she discourage you from leaving?” My eyes stabbed his with what I hoped was fury.
He looked up at me with a mixture of surprise and sadness. “She thinks I may be in some kind of danger by association.”
My heart flipped. “Are you?”
His hesitation spoke volumes. “No, I don’t think so.” His expression said otherwise. “I know nothing about the case. Tina never confided in me.”
“Were you offered any kind of protection?” Celia asked, her hand going instinctively to his arm.
“No, Tina never went to the authorities with the case, so we were on our own.” Jem covered Celia’s hand with his own. “But I don’t need it. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Really? There’s no danger?” Celia asked, her face contorting in genuine concern. She had always liked Jem better than any of my other friends.
Jem laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “No, of course not. She was worried about being left on her own, that’s all.”
At that moment, I scanned through every memory I had of criminal shows on TV and every episode that focused on witnesses of major crimes. I shivered a bit remembering that it never ended well for the idiot who decided to come out of hiding. It’s fiction, woman, only fiction.
Was it?
Silence fell for a few moments.
“Your boyfriend looks like a good guy,” Jem said suddenly. I choked on my coffee.
“He is,” Celia replied for me while I coughed into a napkin. “Dave is the best and loves her to death.”
Yes, he wouldn’t leave for five years without a word of good-bye.
“I’m glad you have someone, Emily Rose.” Why did he look sad, then?
“Am I interrupting something?” Marcy, the witch, was standing by our table looking positively quirky. Her red hair had been teased into an eruption of curls, kept in semicontrol by a wide, red headband. Her glasses, still sliding down her freckled nose, were gigantic polka-dotted frames that made her face look even smaller. “May I join you?”
My deranged sister jumped up and hugged the magical Pippi before directing her into the seat next to mine. “Marcy, this Jem. Jem, this is Marcy.” She punctuated her words with a wink.
Marcy had a moment of instant recognition. “Oh, that friend! Nice to meet you, Jem, and welcome back to the States.” Jem looked lost. Who could blame him? This strange little creature seemed to know a lot about him when he knew nothing about her. “Celia has mentioned you.” Jem relaxed a little.
“What are you doing here, Marcy? Didn’t take you for a coffee drinker,” Celia asked.
“I’m not, but they also have the best oolong in town,” she explained, straightening the collar of her polka-dot sweater. She waved at one of the waiters, who seemed to recognize her and waved back. “I come here a lot.”
A moment later, she pulled on my sleeve and leaned in. “You must not be wearing it or he wouldn’t be sitting here with you,” she whispered.
I realized she was talking about her silly potion. “I forgot.” A little white lie would prevent her feelings from getting hurt, and save me from embarrassment. “I will wear it next time.” If I didn’t specify when next time was, was it really a lie?
“Mind you, I don’t understand why you want
him to stay away,” the little witch continued in her hushed voice. “It’s obvious you still have feelings for him.” I almost jumped off my seat. Thankfully, Celia had engaged Jem in an animated conversation about the pros and cons of being a fugitive from the law—not quite sure why—and Marcy’s words reached my ears only.
“I do not!” My emphatic tone made the witch blink and grimace. Was that amusement in her face? “I have never had ‘feelings’ for him. We were just friends.”
“Right. And I’m the Pope’s wife.” I wanted to throttle her. Good thing I actually liked her. “You’d be better off admitting it to yourself and moving on.”
As furious as I was at her, I couldn’t deny the wisdom of her words. I was in love with Jem. Always had been, and his five-year absence hadn’t changed that. The difference was that I now was in a relationship with an amazing man whom I cared about and loathed hurting. “He will hear you,” I said, feebly trying to shut her up.
Jem turned his attention to her. “So what do you do, Marcy?”
Celia beamed. “She’s a witch.”
An eyebrow shooting upward, Jem stared at Celia and then at Marcy. “A witch? Like a Land of Oz witch?”
Marcy laughed. “If you are referring to the Wicked Witch of the West, then no. I’m more the Harry Potter type of witch, minus the flying brooms.”
For some reason, he kept staring at me as if expecting me to totally deny this outrageous claim. I couldn’t. “She owns a magic store around the corner from here, Polka Dots & Eye of Newt.”
There was a moment of silence as Jem apparently digested the information, and then a loud explosion of laughter. “I’ll be damned. I thought I’d seen it all. A real witch, eh?”
“Potions made to order,” Marcy added, taking a dainty bite of her pastry. “I have one for just about anything that ails you.”
“Do you have something that can erase the last five years?” The question floored me. I knew he wanted to be forgiven, but I didn’t realize how bad. “Something to turn back time so I can correct my mistakes.”
Loved You Always Page 4