Finding Mr. Romantic
Page 17
"Can't you see? I don't want to be footloose any more. I want the whole pie. Marriage, a home, and job. Square as it sounds. I want to work for Dad. I want to pledge until death do us part. I want to fall asleep holding you in our bed every night. You got what you wanted. Susan broke her engagement because she saw how happy we were. What more do you want?"
"I want you to be the man I met at New Beginnings. I want to be the woman you taught me to be there. Free to be me. No strings attached.” She turned her face toward the sun that was rapidly disappearing behind a cloud. “Like we agreed."
"And you said I should grow up.” His sigh rose from the soles of his shoes. “You're more idealistic than Susan. She was in love with marriage. You're in love with some half-baked, flower child ideal."
Cee shook her head forlornly. “We're on opposite ends of the freedom track, Nick. You've had your fill. I've taken my first taste and want more."
"Freedom means doing what you choose.” He'd had his fill of begging her to marry him. His gut hurt, and his heart ached. “You're free to make a choice. Is that yours?"
"Yes,” she whispered.
As Nick walked rapidly away, the drops of rain that had begun to fall and wet his face tasted like tears.
* * * *
CELESTE WALKED HOME slowly, hot summer rain plastering her pixie-cut to her head and molding her blouse to her breasts. Nick cut her hair. Nick loved her breasts. Nick was gone. She'd sent him away.
She'd turned back without speaking to the caterer, the florist, or any of the people on her list. Tomorrow would be soon enough. When Nick said they could take Susan and Mark's wedding arrangements, she'd had a fleeting vision of herself in tulle with orange blossoms. A youthful look, and dream.
She felt younger than she had at the beginning of summer. Her biological clock ticked quietly now. Twenty-nine was young. Thirty would be young, too. They had time. They? Did Nick want babies? A nursery would be fun to paint and furnish. Together. Making a baby together would be fun.
Would Susan be embarrassed the way Marianne had been when they were in high school and her mother was pregnant? Like it or not, Cee couldn't forget her responsibilities, but Suz would be in college, and she wasn't her mother, really. The sun slipped out from behind a cloud, making rainbows in the puddles. Nick, her freedom teacher, had made it a memorable summer. How would she feel without him? What would she do without him? He wanted to wake up next to her in the morning and go to sleep beside her at night. She'd like that, too. But marriage? He'd changed.
Had she? Did she want to be totally free? Would he change his mind later, when the newness wore off, or did he really mean what he'd said?
Water seeped inside her sandals, wetting her feet. The puddles grew murky. She shivered and slowed her steps. The carefree guy she met just two months ago had given her romance and excitement, all she asked for. But he wanted more.
Nick was making demands.
* * * *
WHEN CEE FOUND the quartz tiger on the windowsill in the apartment Nick had vacated, she wept. He didn't want any reminder of her, any remembrance. Walking from room to room, she touched the chair where he wrote, the table where he ate, and the bed where he slept. The woodsy scent of his aftershave wrapped itself around her in the bedroom. In the kitchen, a faint aroma of bacon lingered. She ran her hand across the door that served as his desk and caught a whiff of chocolate donuts. He'd left nothing else, except memories. A week had passed since he moved out of the carriage house. It was the first day she'd entered his apartment. She was sorry she came.
Returning to the house to find her father in the living room with Susan, Cee held the tiger behind her back. He rose to hug her. “I'm glad to hear your tenant left. He was impetuous, not charming as you seemed to think."
Susan left the room. She'd made no secret of thinking Cee was foolish to send Nick away. Cee hadn't quite grown used to her change of heart but had seen so many improvements in her attitude and behavior, she was grateful. She set the tiger on a shelf.
Justin Bachman strolled over to pick it up and frown. “I hope you're not nursing a broken heart. The man had no class. Making jokes, spilling champagne, worming his way into a party where he wasn't invited.” He set the quartz animal down. “You're better off without him."
Was she?
* * * *
ALONE IN HER room, Cee picked up the romance manuscript Susan placed on her bedside table the day Nick left. Leafing through it, she saw there were twice the pages there had been before. He'd written an entire book and then offered to give it up for her. Curled up on the bed, fingering the fringe on her Spanish shawl, she read John and Isadora's story.
As dusk crept into the corners of the room and Cee finished the book, the parallels between hers and Nick's story and John and Isadora's faded. Nick breathed life into the pair, giving them their own histories, their own love story with a happy ending. She and Nick had a beautiful story all their own, waiting to be told, if she wasn't too late.
* * * *
NICK STEPPED FROM the sticky, sweet New Orleans night into the cool, smoke-hazed lounge. Less than half of the intimate tables were filled. He chose one that offered a clear view of the piano where a black man played jazz. A blonde in skimpy black took Nick's order for a beer and a shot.
The jazzman bowed to a round of applause, and a heavy-set man with a pasty face came on to play a few bars of a love song. “And now,” he called, breaking into “Georgia On My Mind,” “We have a little lady who will put Georgia on your mind."
Nick downed the shot and chased it, his hands tightening around the beer bottle to stop their shaking. Georgia's sweet, clear voice rang true in his mind, but the too-slender woman with jet black hair and a clinging gown didn't look like his mother.
Closing his eyes, he could picture her dancing around the house. Waltzing, two-stepping, breaking into a wicked twist. Grabbing a broom handle, she'd pretend it was a microphone, and when he laughed, she'd dance him around the room. Later, when he was too big to lift, she put her hands on his shoulders and danced with him.
The audience chatted loudly while she sang. Signaling for another shot, he asked the waitress, “Are people always this rude?"
She shrugged. “This is a piano bar, not a stage show. The music is background."
Finishing her signature tune, Georgia eased into a romantic ballad. Applause was mild at the end of her set, but she smiled, curtsied, and blew kisses. Her accompanist announced a break, and the spotlight went off, making the house lights seem brighter.
Nick shrank back against his chair, wanting to leave, and afraid he'd make himself noticeable if he stood. A waiter handed Georgia a drink; with it in hand, she walked from table to table to chat. He stared at the tabletop. Her shadow fell across his table, and he caught his breath. “Your first time in New Orleans?” she asked with an unfamiliar drawl.
He kept his head down.
She slid into the empty chair across from him. “Cat got your tongue?” The drawl became more pronounced.
Nick hadn't thought he needed closure, until the second woman he ever loved said goodbye. He looked Georgia in the eye.
She blinked lashes heavy with mascara rapidly. “You look like..."
"Your son?"
* * * *
CEE WHEELED HER MG into New Beginnings, praying she'd find Nick. His father said he took off, to sort things through. She felt sure he'd come here, but Bart Dennis, without saying where, acted as if he had someplace else in mind. She crossed her fingers.
The I in OFF CE was still burned out. Cee drove by, headed for Joy, where she pulled into Row 4. The door to the trailer on Lot E stood open. Teaspoon wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze. Feeling like she'd come home, she parked her MG and ran up the steps. “Nick."
No answer. She pressed her nose against the screen and her hand against the tiger in her lavender sundress pocket. There was no computer in sight, but the kitchen table bore the remains of a half-eaten donut—with chocolate frosting.
Nick stood on the shore, gazing over the clear blue water where she'd saved his life. On the other side lay their deserted island where he'd touched her to tears. So many memories. So much love. Her bare feet made no sound as she crossed the narrow stretch of grass. “Nick,” she said softly, hooking her arm in his.
Ocean blue eyes met hers. His expression was altogether too serious. She smiled, hoping to coax a grin from him. “Today I Am?"
"A man trying to let go of the past."
She was too late. Cee's heart pounded in her chest. Tears glazed her eyes.
"C.J.? Not you, sweetheart.” He took her hand in his.
"The karma's still there?"
He nodded, and the storm inside her passed. Tears and sunlight on the lake blended into diamonds. The air around her seemed to sing. “I'm so glad,” she said softly.
Nick smiled and kicked off his shoes. Wading in warm lake water, they walked hand in hand along the lakeshore. “I found my mother and asked her why. She said she did what she had to do. She knew Dad was strong and would make me strong, too. She wanted what everyone seeks sometime—freedom to be herself and pursue her own goals."
"The same as I wanted."
Nick turned to her. “But you didn't do it at Susan's expense. Georgia never came home. Never grew up."
"Susan's substitute mother did.” Cee looped her arms around his neck. “And I think Suz has, too."
He locked his arms around her waist. “I felt sorry for myself for a long time; now I feel sorry for my mother. She missed so much and settled for so little but...” He shrugged. “She's okay with that."
"You were right. Freedom is the right to choose, and grow. I'm not settling for anything but the best, Nick, and that's you."
"As long as you're mine, you can be anything you want.” He brushed a kiss across her hair. “I don't want to make demands of you."
He understood.
She raised her face to him. “Today I Am ... a woman ready to say ‘yes’ to marriage with a mucho macho man."
Nick's laughter was husky, his kiss hungry, and his breath sweet.
"Chocolate donuts,” she whispered.
With an impudent grin, he pulled her down in the water, on top of him. “We'll always have fun. Pledging our love won't change that."
"I believe you, Nick.” Lying in the warm lake at New Beginnings with the hot sun shining on her pixie-cut hair and Nick's desire pressed against the purple thong beneath her dress, Cee was the heroine in a sizzling romance novel.
This year's birthday wish had come true. Twice. Once in fiction and once in real life.
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Epilogue
BALLOONS FLOATED OVER the garden of wildflowers. Champagne flowed from a fountain. A three-tiered cake with whipped cream frosting, a tiny bride and groom, and a wedding-wish candle sat next to it. Music from a three-piece orchestra blended with the breeze of the September evening.
The bride wore a purple dress with a tiny beaded jacket, a dress the groom had found in a color other than black. He wore a tux and tee shirt, no tie.
The matron-of-honor danced cheek to cheek with the best man. The maid-of-honor and her fiancé gazed into one another's eyes, swaying with the music. The bride's parents sat on a carved bench, her mother pleased, her father resigned. The groom's father and mother stood a small distance apart, studying the cover of his latest mystery book. Nick's romance novel, Love Finds A Way, wouldn't be out for several months, but he'd dedicated it to them, and the love of his life. C.J. Dennis.
Nick's bride laid her hand on his arm. “Penny for your thoughts."
"I was witnessing the happy ending to our storybook romance."
"Beginning,” C.J. corrected. “New beginning to a lifetime of happiness."
Her best friend since forever swiped a fat icing rose off the cake with her fingertip. “You did find a plum between the oranges and escarole."
"Pears and peaches.” Shaking her head at the rose Marianne offered her, Cee shook her head and smiled up at Nick. “I don't settle for next-best."
"Ready to make a wish, sweetheart?” he asked.
Her birthday wish for Mr. Romantic had come true, but she didn't want to wait nine months to make another wish, so she'd suggested a wedding candle, and Nick agreed. Leaning over the flame together, they blew. They couldn't wish aloud or it wouldn't come true, but when they looked at one another, C.J. Dennis's biological clock gave a satisfied tick-tock, and her husband, Nick, smiled.
Karma.
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Betty Jo Schuler
Betty Jo Schuler found her Mr. Romantic twenty-eight years ago, and she's delighted to say, he's still romantic. A former elementary teacher, she's now doing what she loves most-writing. FINDING MR. ROMANTIC is her sixteenth published book. She has two other books with Hard Shell Word Factory: MALE WANTED, a hilarious romantic romp, and CAMP CHEER, a pick-a-path mystery for middle-graders and teens.
Schuler, who has a B.S. and M.A. in Education, is an instructor for two online writing courses, one from Writer's Digest and one from Barnes & Noble U. She and her husband have four grown children with families of their own and love spending time with them (and with one another).
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