by Laura Briggs
“Don’t tell me you’re working on some art project at this hour?” In the background, Alice could hear the faint strains of a big band orchestra playing a waltz, no doubt in the cruise ship’s ballroom.
“No, not an art one,” Alice answered. “I’ve been doing some...family research.” Technically true, considering her reading material for the past two days.
“What on earth for?” Her mother’s voice competed with the sounds of laughter and music. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that it’s something to do with you and Warren, after all these years of dating.”
The sarcasm in her tone was unmistakable. Dolores had entertained hopes for months of Warren proposing; she hinted more than once that Alice risked letting a good thing slip through her hands.
“It sort of involves Warren,” she admitted, staring at her shoes. “Mom, remember what you told me that year before college? About not jumping into a commitment with someone?” She rushed on before her mom could recount the details. “Well, I’ve never really been sure…I mean, how do you know when it’s the right time?”
“Oh, honey that was different.” Dolores laughed, as if brushing aside the old memory. “You were so young back then, so impulsive. Eager to jump into any opportunity that came your way, like an eight year-old wanting to join the circus.”
Alice hesitated, remembering the regret in her aunt’s voice, the painful entries in her grandmother’s journal. “I’m just wondering if it’s time to stop waiting. If you think I could have a happy marriage like you and Dad.”
“Of course you can, sweetie. Your dad and I weren’t perfect, but we were willing to work out our problems. And I wouldn’t change it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I knew that,” Alice answered. “But it’s nice to hear it out loud.”
“Are you sure nothing’s happened?” The note of suspicion was still present in Dolores’s voice. “All these questions—is there something I should know about? Maybe an engagement on the horizon?”
“I’ve got to go, Mom. It’s late and I have an appointment tomorrow,” Alice answered, by way of avoiding her mother’s sharp insights. “Talk to you soon.” She hung up before she dragged someone else into her romantic quandary. Pocketing the phone, she turned towards the doors leading inside the study lab and pulled the handle, which refused to budge. Peering through the glass, she glimpsed the dimly lit interior and a sign proclaiming the lab closed at three in the morning.
Shouldering her bag, she turned towards the parking lot. So much for her research. Not that she was getting anywhere with sleep luring her away from the screen. Two steps into the parking lot, she froze in her tracks.
Her keys were in the pocket of her windbreaker. Which was inside the locked lab.
Groaning, she hugged herself against the night breeze, wondering if the bump on her head caused forgetfulness as well as hallucinations. Then, pulling the cell phone from the backpack, she dialed the number at the top of her emergency contact list.
****
“Lucky for you, I gave up sleep about a year ago.”
Jamie greeted her with a sleepy smile, his short brown hair tousled in every direction. Not necessarily a sign she’d woken him, considering his trademark casual appearance. But then old pajama bottoms and a paint-stained shirt were a little too laid back even for a starving artist type.
“I know it’s incredibly late.” She tucked hair behind her ear, suddenly embarrassed by her predicament. “But you’re the only person besides my mom with a copy of my apartment key. The one I gave you that time so you could pick up those sketches while I was on vacation.” Her voice assumed a pleading tone. “Would you rather I sleep on the sidewalk?”
“It would’ve been more considerate.” But his gaze sported a teasing glint. “Better come in and hang out while I get my coat and shoes.” He turned and stalked towards the apartment’s other room, leaving Alice to wander the cluttered living space.
She glanced over the rows of paint bottles, piles of sketch pads, and jars of bold colored pens and markers. Old newspapers spilled from the coffee table and a pair of reading glass peeked over the rim of a potted fern.
“Your place is even worse than mine,” she joked, straightening a framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
A fluttering motion caught her eye and for an instant her heart stood still. But it was only a series of notes pinned to a cork board, the pages stirred by the motion of the ceiling fan.
“I’m a big believer in carefree decorating,” Jamie called. This statement was accompanied by the sound of shoes and other small objects being tossed around.
She spotted two coffee mugs on his table amidst sketches and papers. Had Jamie had a guest? Or were they both his, left over from a series of mornings?
“Did you have company recently in this pigsty?” Her gaze scanned the rim of each one, looking for traces of lipstick. And there was a raspberry-colored stain that definitely qualified.
“Yes, but they’re not nearly as picky about the decor as you,” he called back.
Alice bit her lip, fighting the curiosity to ask more. She heard the muffled sound of fabric being shaken out. “You do know where the key is right?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want you to pick a lock or break a window or something.”
“Are you kidding?” His tone was indignant. “Of course I know where it is. I have to, given your travel itinerary. Half our assignments would be late if I didn’t have full time access to your work.”
“Well, at least I take a break occasionally,” she fired back, flustered by the implication that Warren’s plans cut into her work. An accusation made by someone she knew would spend every moment backpacking across Europe if it were possible.
Who would he choose for a traveling companion, she wondered, given the well-kept secret that was his dating life?
Her eyes fell on a covered canvas, its easel propped open in front of the window. The paint palette balanced on the nearby shelf was filled with a fresh selection of red and brown shades. “You’re painting at this hour?”
“Correction, I was about to paint. Then the phone rang.” A drawer slammed in the other room. “I told you I was meant to give it up.”
“Really?” A playful smile tugged her mouth, her fingers twisting the corner of the fabric cover. “So what’s under here? An imitation Rembrandt? Maybe a Van Gogh forgery?” She gave the cover a tiny jerk.
“Ali don’t.” He emerged from the other room so quickly it surprised her. His brown eyes were wide with alarm, his hand moving to hold the canvas cover in place.
Warmth stung her cheeks and her heart dropped. Jamie was the last person she expected to snap over a joke. “Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping hands to her sides.
“No problem.” Jamie cleared his throat, his expression lapsing into something more nonchalant. “It’s not ready for viewing, that’s all. You wouldn’t appreciate it if you saw it now.” A half-hearted smile flitted across his face as he rattled a keychain. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.” She matched his casual tone, her heart resuming its normal rhythm. The awkward moment had vanished and in its place came their familiar good-natured banter. “I thought you were just grabbing your coat and shoes,” she said, glancing over his jeans and dark blue jersey.
He offered a sheepish grin. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t escort you home looking like a professional slob.” He opened the door and guided the way downstairs to the parking garage.
Tense in the sudden darkness of the garage corridors, she scanned the shadows for any otherworldly figures as her fingers wrapped themselves around Jamie’s arm.
“Sure you’re okay?” He glanced down, searching her face with worry. “You’ve seemed a little on edge lately. And a little more scatterbrained than usual, I might add.”
“What? Because I left my keys somewhere? Hardly seems fair coming from a guy who keeps his eyeglasses in a potted plant.”
“OK, you have a point.” He unlocked the passenger side door and held it
open.
Crawling inside, she leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed. She waited for more questions, but there was only the sound of the engine sparking to life. A moment later, something soft brushed against her skin, and she opened her eyes to find Jamie tucking his jacket around her.
“You have goose bumps,” he said. “Course you might be warmer if you bothered to wear a jacket in February.”
“I left it in the computer lab,” she retorted, a shiver stealing through her despite the cover. Why did the tender gesture make her tingle like that? She fondled the soft fabric, noticing the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the folds.
As the car maneuvered the side streets of Charleston, they were silent. She could feel Jamie’s gaze on her periodically, no doubt full of worry and curiosity. Last time they had been in a car together had been moments after her second head bump, and she was certain he had studied her with the same look then.
When the car eased into a parking spot, she gazed at the front of her apartment building, its quiet sidewalks empty of pedestrians in the early morning hours.
Pulling the jacket off, she reached for the key ring in Jamie’s coat pocket. “I know you’re the model gentleman, but I can see myself up. I think I’ve been enough trouble for you tonight.”
“You mean today,” he corrected.” Through the windshield she could see the faint light cast across the horizon. Dawn wasn’t far away.
He drummed his fingers softly against the steering wheel. “I’d be a pretty poor excuse for a friend if I didn’t ask why you were in a computer lab at three in the morning. Or why you’ve been falling down staircases, walking into metal poles, and losing your keys. Don’t answer that if it’s none of my business, by the way.”
Alice’s heart caught. He was offering her a second chance, tempting to her to talk to him. Something that she wanted desperately to do, to unburden her fears to someone she could trust.
Except everything about her fears sounded too crazy for any sane person to believe.
“It’s probably just the bump on the head,” she answered, tentatively. “Things have just seemed a little weird, lately.”
He stayed silent, his patient presence a comforting aura that gave her the courage to go on.
She tucked hair behind one ear, forgetting momentarily that it signaled her nervousness. Here goes. “Ever since I bumped my head I’ve been having these…well, visions. Maybe.”
“Visions?”
“Yeah, you know, like…” Like what? The side effects of pain medication? A junk food induced nightmare?
Her heart raced under his questioning gaze. “Like…like Scrooge,” she stumbled at last, a weak laugh accompanying the joke. “In A Christmas Carol. When he sees the ghosts that aren’t really ghosts, but dreams…” she trailed off, aware how ridiculous it must sound. Cheeks burning, she forced her gaze to meet his.
“OK…” Jamie’s brow furrowed, his expression showing he didn’t know how seriously to take her story. “So this is what? A dream?”
“More like a memory. Following me around, bugging me about important decisions.”
“You’re being haunted by a memory?” He shifted around in the seat, so he faced her. Then, in a worried tone, he asked, “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“You mean like a doctor?”
A flush spread across his face, along with a sheepish smile. “You can’t blame me for worrying. I’m no physician, but I’m pretty sure you don’t fool around with something like this.”
“Look, just forget it.” She reached for the door handle. “I have a doctor’s appointment at eight, so I’ll sort it out then.”
He caught her arm before she could push the door open. “Hey, I’m sorry. That was presumptive and unhelpful. Can I ask one more question?”
“Go ahead.” What did she have to lose? He already thought the worst, anyway.
“Was this “ghost” by any chance a relationship therapist?”
“Maybe more like my grandmother. But not my real grandmother, since she doesn’t even remember me.” She winced, realizing how incoherent this seemed.
Jamie’s fingers moved to her shoulder. He squeezed it reassuringly, sending warmth flooding through her. “Ali, I pretty much slept through my college psychology courses. But it seems obvious that whatever these important decisions are—well, this is your heart’s way of getting your mind’s attention.”
“Yeah, well, I just wish it could tell me what I believe is the right thing to do.”
“Life doesn’t always make sense. Since it’s so complicated, you’d think geometry and calculus would seem pretty easy in comparison, which doesn’t explain why I failed math, too.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “You’re not bad at this. Sort of like a psychologist as a stand-up comedian. I think you should have your own advice show.”
“Think so?” He grinned. “Listen, it’s practically morning. What do you say to coffee and donuts around the corner? There’s a little Irish place where we can finish up this therapy session.”
For a second, it sounded like a date.
He studied her, his expression shifting subtly from enthusiasm to reserve. “I know, I know. You have to go. I understand it’s a busy day.”
“I have to get ready for that appointment,” she said. “And my hair is a mess ...”
“It’s OK, Cinderella,” he interrupted. “I don’t need any more explanation.” He opened the car door and stepped out, going around the other side to open hers as well. “I have to finish the chauffer’s act all the way,” he explained. His familiar cocky grin was back in place, making her feel more comfortable.
“Come see me later, OK?” She smiled, trying to smooth the awkward moment. “We’ll wrap up the circus project. That pair of monkeys is finally ready for a trapeze act.”
“Sure. Later then.” With a brief smile of goodbye, he climbed back in the car.
Alice waved as he drove away, her eyes squinting against the rising sun. Alone again, she rubbed the key, wondering what lay in store today. Would the doctor’s appointment free her mind of its shadows? Or confirm her deepest fears?
Ghosts Of Romances Past
17
Did I just ask her on a date?
Something between wild panic and exhilaration clenched Jamie’s chest as he drove away from Alice’s apartment building. Of course it was crazy to feel even remotely excited about what just happened. After all, what could be more inappropriate than flirting with his co-worker? Especially when she happened to be his childhood sweetheart—and was currently dating someone else.
The pink-streaked early morning sky filled the windshield, reminding him of the color Alice’s cheeks flushed when the breakfast invitation popped from his mouth. And no wonder. She was probably scared thinking she’d have to reject him yet again.
No, he wouldn’t push it this time. He would offer his friendship and support as a fellow artist. But he wouldn’t make a move unless she signaled interest, and more importantly, until she sorted out her relationship with Warren.
The mistakes of the past should be enough to keep him from rushing headlong into romantic declarations. After all, look where it had gotten him last time. The summer his life took a direction he never planned.
****
True, the Winston Summer Art Program in Georgia had been a last minute decision. A way for eighteen-year-old Jamie to keep his creative muscles toned between high school graduation and his up-coming college career. All his plans were riding on a scholarship from a school in New York, so the Georgia program was just a way to kill time.
Until the moment he laid eyes on a young girl with red hair and deep green eyes. Freshly arrived off a bus from North Carolina, she struggled to carry a bulky suitcase and read the Winston campus map all at once.
“Hey you,” he shouted in his best “teacher” voice, “put that down right now!”
She dropped it, her eyes wide with surprise, giving him time to scoop it up an
d flash a friendly grin. A bit risky, but she seemed to like his sense of humor. Which was good, since Jamie knew he didn’t have movie star looks on his side.
In the next few minutes, he discovered all the essential information: her name was Alice, she shared two of his classes, and she liked working with paints, pens, and watercolors. Meaning his heart would find it very hard to resist getting to know her better.
So, of course, he made sure to be her partner on the class mural project. Which led to hours of personal conversation as they sketched blueprints, mixed colors and shades, and outlined designs.
In his spare time, he started a personal project, a canvas he wouldn’t let anyone see. Especially Alice, who tried in vain to peek at it as they lazed away summer evenings on the school lawn.
“Why all the mystery?” she would tease, peering at him above her half-eaten apple. “Is it some weird, alternative art thing with two-headed people?”
“Maybe.” He grinned, enjoying the air of secrecy, wondering if the truth would please or upset her, were she to find out.
The scholarship for the New York Studio Art School arrived when Jamie was exactly two weeks into his relationship with Alice. His father phoned with the news early on a Saturday morning, interpreting his lack of enthusiasm as a sign of late nights and not enough sleep. He didn’t know Jamie found something to rival his dreams of becoming a world famous painter.
Though he’d known Alice less than a month, Jamie pictured a life together in a one bedroom apartment, instead of alone in a dorm room. He’d have to find a part-time job somewhere, of course, but he would balance it all. As long as Alice was beside him sharing the journey, nothing else mattered.
He even bought a ring—a jade stone surrounded by tiny diamonds in a silver setting. Striking, memorable, unique. Just like the girl he hoped would wear it.
But it didn’t go that way. Alice couldn’t envision a lifetime together based on one month, no matter how deep and intense the connection. Which left the options of taking the scholarship or doing nothing at all.