One Moment

by Elizabeth Savino

  Hopefully this is the universal hand motion (not in a dismissive way, just a don’t worry about it way) indicating that I don’t want his help to just go. In case he didn’t read the book on universal hand gestures, I add, “It’s no problem, really I don’t have much and I’m sure you have a million other things to do than unload my truck. But thanks.” I finally say, thankfully without drooling (I hope). Still, waiting for him to give me the key to the cottage.

  Logan scowls which seems to be his normal facial expression when it comes to me. I must bring out the best in him.

  While scowling and getting more annoyed (if that’s possible) at me being obviously aggravating to him, he lowers his voice and say’s slowly, “It’s really not a problem. Give me the keys to your truck and I’ll get you unloaded.” (I think, no I know Logan is losing the little patience that he seems to barely be holding onto).

  I find it a little amusing how Logan said this last statement really low and slow, like I am deranged.

  I am trying to think of an excuse, any excuse to get Logan moving along to his house. I really need to get away from him. Why can’t he just give me the key and move along?

  My body or should I say the part of my body that appreciates the opposite sex that has been dormant for years has decided to wake up, stretch from her long sleep, and act like she drank a shit load of caffeine.

  I am trying to appear calm, at least on the outside. I have one arm crossed under my chest, unintentionally propping my breasts up for Logan’s view, and my other arm is leaning on it in such a way that’s trying to portray nonchalance. I don’t realize that this has my car keys in my hand dangling by my face.

  Logan decides to (once again) move things along. Moving his hand quickly to take my dangling keys, since he must think something is seriously wrong with me. A fair conclusion since I can’t seem to function (which unfortunately at the moment is absolutely true).

  When Logan quickly reaches for the keys that are dangling by my face, I automatically flinch thinking the worst. This reflex is unfortunately ingrained in my system (even though it’s been a long time) since my last boyfriend Steve.

  Logan stops cold.

  He narrows his eyes, but something else happens, his face softens for the first time since we have met. Now he continues studying me even further (which is almost impossible).

  Gently, which makes him even sexier (yes sexier), he says, “Just want to take your keys honey, let’s get you unloaded.”

  I’m such an idiot.

  I feel my face flame from embarrassment.

  Why can’t there be a sporadic bolt of lighting that could strike me down? Sink hole opening up and help me disappear, forever? I’ll even accept a stray bullet at this point from a drive by shooting.

  No.

  Nothing.

  I’m still here, now avoiding Logan’s gentle gaze. Which I am trying to decide if it’s sexier than his scowl. I’ll have to get back to you later on that decision. I unknowingly rub the scar on my forehead. Logan’s eyes zero in there. I quickly lower my hands to my sides thinking of something to do, or say.

  Before I decide to crawl under the large rock that is next to my truck a police cruiser pulls up the long drive. Logan turns his head slightly, glancing at the car. I make a quick mental note that Logan does not seem surprised to see a cop driving towards him. Maybe he has pressed some sort of panic button in his pocket and they are here to take me away.

  The cruiser stops and an attractive man steps out in uniform. What’s with the Texas hunks? Or better, why am I noticing this?

  Thankfully, before I put my arms out in front of me with my wrists together waiting to be handcuffed, Logan says, “What’s up Jonsie.” Who I am now assuming to be Jonsie folds his long, broad body out of his police vehicle.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend over here?” Officer Jonsie smirks.

  “No.” Logan states firmly.

  Officer Jonsie has already given me the once over, and then smiles at me. I’m used to being looked at. Once I reached age thirteen and began to develop the boy’s would begin to look. Then when I grew into my body and became confident, the men started to look, and tried to approach.

  Grace used to laugh and tell me I was oblivious to how beautiful I was. She should talk, she was gorgeous. I guess I’m alright. I don’t worry about scaring children. And I’ve never been asked to perform at the circus; I take this as a good sign.

  Jonsie takes another step closer and offers his hand to me. I shake myself out of my stupor and I grasp his hand, “Hi, I’m Laura. Just moving in here, yup, new digs and all, gotta get unloaded if you’ll excuse me. I just bought some groceries that really need to get put away, with this Texas heat and all. Uh, need my key’s big fellow.” I say looking up at Logan who now is looking at me like I am certifiably crazy.

  What .

  The.

  Fuck.

  Is.

  WRONG WITH ME ????

  I take the offered key from a now smiling Logan and walk (quickly) to my truck. I turn so they (hopefully) can’t see me and squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment. Did I just say new digs, and big fellow in the same sentence? Is that even possible? I did it, so obviously it is.

  I am such a dork. They shouldn’t arrest me, no; maybe I can convince Officer Jonsie to shoot me. Plain and simple. I don’t think it would take much to convince Logan to put me out of my misery. That man obviously must regret renting the cottage on his beautiful ranch to me.

  “Jonsie, what’s up man?” I hear Logan ask as I open up my side door of the truck. It decides at that moment to make the most awful screeching sound. This happens often, well more like all the time. I was just hoping that it wouldn’t happen around these men. Logan and Jonsie both stop mid sentence and look over at me.

  It’s Jonsie who says, “That thing should have been put out of its misery, like, two decades ago babe.”

  I smile at Jonsie and inform him, “So I’ve been told.”

  Logan shoots Jonsie a look that tells him without words to back the fuck off. This in turn makes me wonder why he’s giving him that look.

  I therefore decide to ignore this, and turn to my groceries, but that’s not before I see a shit eating grin spread across Jonsies face and then he mutter’s, “It’s about fuckin time.”

  Which Logan replies, “Not what you think man.”

  Again, whatever. I’ve got groceries to unpack and a truck to unload.

  I am ignoring this too. I need to get settled, or just inside the cottage. STAT! I really hope there’s air conditioning.

  Chapter Four

  Settling In

  I’m sitting at my little kitchen table, (that was included with the cottage). The air conditioning (thank God) is on full blast.

  After bringing everything in and looking around I decided to clean before unpacking. I cleaned every nook and cranny in this place. I know it was just me feeling uncomfortable. The place was already clean, but I needed something to do to distract myself from, myself.

  If I take time to ponder why I am really uncomfortable the answer would be because of my new landlord Logan Thompson. A.K.A Mr. Too Hot For His Own Good Cowboy. But I will not allow myself to think about this. Absolutely not.

  After I totally and completely embarrassed myself in front of Logan by flinching when he was just being a gentleman and going to take my keys! I scrambled to my truck while Logan and Jonsie were discussing whatever it is hot Texas men talk about. One who happens to be my landlord. Who in the last hour I have embarrassed myself in front of too many times to count.

  The other in uniform, who kept looking at me with curiosity until Logan growled at him, which made Jonsie laugh. Yes, I’m ignoring that too.

  Logan and Jonsie then proceeded (even though I resisted, refused, and swore I could do it on my own) to help me unload my truck, which with their muscle power only lasted a few minutes. Not that I had a lot, but some of the boxes were heavy. Plus some boxes that needed to be unloaded ar
e Graces. I don’t even know what’s in them as I haven’t had the emotional strength to go through them yet.

  These few minutes did not go without them both talking to each other (like I wasn’t there hearing every word) about my truck. How it was a miracle it could drive any distance. They had a moment where they walked around it trying to guess the original color, and how it should be declared a hazard. Comedians the lot of them.

  Again, whatever.

  I then stood in my foyer, anxious to get rid of these men, wishing they would hurry it up so I can lock the door and bang my head against it!

  Jonsie smirks, slaps Logan on the shoulder “Meet you down at the station later.”

  “Yup, see ya later.” Logan replies.

  That’s when Logan turned to me. His blue eyes burning right through me as if he can’t quite figure me out, but like he sort of wants to (or that may be wishful thinking on my part).

  He ends his stare by telling me in his gruff voice, “Everything should be in working order, if not let me know. I’m just up the road if there is a problem, I gotta go check on Cody.”

  After he say’s this I notice he looks at me a little more intensely (if that’s possible), almost like he is waiting for me to say something. Do something. Hmmm.

  When I just stand there not saying anything Logan runs his fingers through his hair looking flustered, “I’ll check that everything is how you expected it to be, well talk later, yeah.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. So again, I didn’t say anything.

  When I replay the last few minutes of Logan’s one way conversation with me, I realize what bothers me is the way Logan was looking at me. Hard, cold. No, it doesn’t bother me as much as I find it annoying that he has come to some preconceived opinion about me after only meeting me for a little while.

  Sure I was a lunatic in the mini mart; sure I probably scared his son. But not to the point that he’s going to need therapy. Yes, definitely feeling annoyed, and a little angry now.

  So here I am sitting at my little kitchen table wondering what Mr. Cowboy wants to talk about later. I’ve came to a predetermined conclusion that whatever conversation Logan wants to have is not going to take place.

  The first thing I did was put away my groceries. I think my ice cream melted, and I think this because when I picked it up I heard it slosh around the container. It’s in the freezer now, so I can drown my sorrows in it later once it refreezes.

  The cottage is one level. It’s small, but perfect for me. I don’t need a lot of room. The bedroom is at the back of the house, behind the house runs a beautiful stream. The view is amazing. Postcard perfect.

  Thankfully the bed is a full size, which is what I had in New York so my sheets will fit without me having to go find a store today. I make my bed with my lilac sheets and dark purple comforter. There is a light oak night table next to the bed. It’s there that I place my totally girlie lavender, pink, and silver chandelier style lamp.

  Gently I place a framed photo of Grace and Ellie in front of my lamp. They were so happy in that photo. I don’t allow myself any time to look at it. Quickly I place it down, but find comfort in knowing it’s there, right next to me when I sleep. If I allow myself to look at the picture, I won’t get anything else done today. I am literally hanging on by a thread.

  From my numerous embarrassing moments, to my near breakdown in the mini mart, this concluded with a full crying bout in the parking lot. Then learning I have a hot cowboy landlord, and let’s not forget the awaking of my dormant libido. Like I said, hanging on by a thread here. I have a lot to do, without breaking down and crying (again).

  As I unpack my clothes in the dresser my eyes catch my reflection in the mirror that is hanging right above it. Not a smudge or fingerprint to be seen, thanks to my superb cleaning skills.

  I stare at the person staring back at me who looks lost and broken, making me wish I left the thin layer of dust as a barrier to well, me. I look tired. My hair is getting a bit frizzy, which is a rarity considering even I thought that I had good hair. Grace used to tell me that she got Mom’s pretty blue eyes, as I got Dads green. But I got Mom’s great hair. Ellie got both, the beautiful auburn hair, and my Dads green eyes. She would have been a knock out.

  OK…..brain, do not go down that path.

  In the closet of my bedroom I place Grace’s boxes. It’s a walk in so there is plenty of room for all of my clothes, and the boxes. I still can’t bring myself to go through her personal belongings. I decide to store them there for now. Silently promising myself to find the strength to go through them soon.

  Maybe going through them will bring me some closure. That’s what I hope for, but deep down I don’t believe that closure exists. I think it’s a made up statement from people looking for some way to stop the hurt. I decide to put Graces boxes on the top shelf in the closet, close enough to me, yet not in my sight all the time.

  Off of my bedroom is a bathroom. There’s a tub! It’s a tub that only a tub God would have created. Yes, I know there is no tub God, but if there was this is what the tub she created would look like. It is a huge claw foot tub. Two people could fit in it, no problem. The back is sloped enabling you if you desire to rest your head perfectly. I would not picture Logan Thompson putting in a tub like this. This makes me think of him, in the tub with me, which I also shouldn’t be doing.

  With still too much to do, I need my brain to start thinking about organizing, not missing my family, or taking a bath with a specific hot cowboy.

  After I put away all of my toiletries in my seriously cool bathroom, I make my way to my living room. Against the wall is a couch that looks very inviting. A dark cream color which is a few shades darker than the cream painted walls. A big picture window takes up a good portion of the wall across from the couch. I really lucked out with the furnishings in this place, I love everything. And it’s in almost new condition.

  I place my TV in the corner on a box; I will eventually have to get a piece of furniture for it. I put a few personal touches, a few throw pillows on the couch, but they don’t match. I look around taking inventory of what I need to do and buy to put my personal stamp on my new surroundings.

  I don’t have the energy to set up the spare room which is now empty except for the boxes containing my craft and jewelry supplies. I will be turning that room into a crafting room for myself. For my profession.

  This will be the most important thing for me to do, as this is how I make my living now. My handmade jewelry is being sold in quite few prestigious stores and I am grateful for that. If that didn’t happen I would never have been able to leave my boring job and survive.

  Now that the numerous stores I sell to have ordered, and reordered many times I knew I was able to take this big step. This gave me the confidence to pick up and move, hopefully in the right, healing direction.

  It is definitely a dream come true. I have a passion for making jewelry, turning some metals, leathers and fabric into something beautiful. I use beautiful stones and gems in some of the jewelry I make. Something other people “ooh, and ahh” about, then purchase to either wear or give as a gift.

  Talent. Pure talent is what Grace and Jenny would constantly say. They wore pieces I made all the time. I could tell it was because they really loved how it looked, not because they felt obligated.

  For years, I would just laugh at them, never actually believing in myself. I have to admit, after creating a new piece; I always take a moment to admire it. I would never claim to be finished if I didn’t think the end result totally rocked.

  Most pieces sell for quite a few hundred dollars. Some even a lot more, depending on the medium used. These pieces sell often, proving that shoppers really like what I create. With this as my profession, I am able to work from home, and that said home can be anywhere, as long as I am able to ship my products. I buy most materials from trusted vendors on the internet, so this I can do anywhere too.

  This thought reminds me that I need to find out where the closest p
ost office is located. This also reminds me that I have nobody to ask. As much as I want to hide away for the foreseeable future, tomorrow I will have to make my way back to the mini mart to ask someone, or just go out on my own and do a little exploring.

  So much for staying in and hibernating.

  What I won’t do is ask Logan. Not that I even have his phone number if I did want to ask. All prior interactions were done through email.

  It’s getting late; the sun has set awhile ago. What I could use is a cup of tea and a good night sleep. Hopefully nightmare free.

  I make an executive decision to fill my new tub, pouring in my favorite bubble bath that has a light scent of lavender and vanilla. When the tub fills to the right height I slowly lower myself into the warmth, breathing in the relaxing scent. I take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, trying to clear my head. Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe one I won’t even embarrass myself in too much.

  Chapter Five

  New House Guest

  “What’s the story with your new tenant?” Jonsie asks while smirking at Logan. “Although smokin hot, she looks like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

  “You noticed that too, huh? I don’t know, saw her at the mini mart when I stopped in to get Cody a water. This was before I knew she was the one renting the cottage. Cody got away from me for a second and grabbed her hand.” Logan stops and looks at Jonsie to see if he would give the look of pity. But he doesn’t. He was stoic, he accepts Cody just as he is. No judgment.

  “As I was walking over to them to get Cody, she pulled her hand away from him like he had bubonic plague and tore out of the store near tears.”

  “What the fuck was that about?” Jonsie asks being his typical protective self over Cody.

  “That’s the thing, I got pissed. I guess after Sarah I know I immediately think the worst in all women. And seeing her pull her hand away was all I focused on. But when I think about it, she looked pained, not like she was repulsed or anything. I think I jumped to the conclusion that it was Cody that startled her, but now marinating on it for a few hours; I don’t think that was it. Then I pull up to my ranch and see it was her who rented the cottage. I don’t know Jonsie, in my gut I feel like she’s hiding something.”