Turning Point

by Deborah Busby

  "No, everything was fine. Derek, my husband, couldn't find the paprika, and he was making dinner, so I had to run home and show him."

  "Ooh-kay." He drew the word out, making it sound long and unbelievable.

  I opened my mouth to say something that would change the subject, but just as I did, the bell over the door jingled. My eyes shifted to the front door, and I froze as I spotted Theresa. She stood just inside, her gaze fixed on Landon.

  “Belle, dear. I was just dropping by to find out what time is good for dinner.”

  “Uh, hi Theresa.” I tugged at the hem of my shirt and shifted away from Landon. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.”

  “Why not?” Her eyes finally left Landon and she stared at me, judging. “Derek needs a good home-cooked meal every once in awhile, instead of just frozen pizza.” Her tone was condescending and she certainly meant it that way. I was not a good wife in Theresa’s eyes, something she liked to point out every chance she got.

  “I think I’m coming down with something, but I’m sure Derek would still love to come. About six alright?”

  Theresa smiled thinly and nodded. “That’ll be wonderful. You get to feeling better. I’ll send a plate home with your husband.” She looked back pointedly at Landon and put a particular emphasis on the word ’husband’ that was not lost on either one of us, “If he doesn’t gobble it all up, of course. You know how he loves my cooking.”

  “You don’t have to do that. But thank you.” I walked to the door and pulled it open. Theresa studied both of us one last time and then walked back through the front door and out onto the street.

  “She doesn’t like you,” Landon stated, matter of fact.

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “The feeling is mutual?”

  “Another understatement…”

  That began the first full week of Landon's employment at the store. While I recovered from the flu, he barely let me lift a finger. He went out for lunch that day and brought back chicken soup from the deli and a cup of tea. I wondered what he would have done if he’d known what was really wrong with me. What would he do if I just rolled up my sleeves and let him see the bruises? Would he understand what had happened to me? Would he be horrified? Or would he just feel sorry for me?

  It didn’t matter what he would think, he’d never know the truth, at least not from me. Nevertheless, Landon was always watchful. Every time I looked up from my semi-permanent place at the counter, he was keeping an eye on me. In a way, it made me feel protected and safe, but it was also extremely disconcerting.

  At home, with Derek, I was invisible. Even Hannah and everyone else in this town seemed to look right through me. But with Landon, it was as though he was really seeing me, all of me…as if a spotlight followed me wherever I went.

  He was always smiling at me. What was he thinking when he looked at me? I wished that I could have just a few seconds inside of his mind so that I could get the answers I needed.

  Still, I kept my distance, a safe, respectable distance, even though he was never far from my thoughts.

    

  My mom started many traditions when she opened Turning Point. She sponsored one of the local little league baseball teams, she entered a float every year in the Fourth of July parade, along with participating in many other local events.

  By far, her favorite was selling the high school yearbooks out of the store. She usually kept twenty-five or so on hand for the kids who didn't get theirs at school or whose parents ordered too late. And she always bought one copy for herself.

  One day, while Landon was out running an errand, I snuck in the back, and found the box that held the stash of old yearbooks. Using my stellar math skills, I figured out what year he should have graduated from high school. I found the right book and opened it, filled with the anticipation of a sneak peek into the former life of my new and interesting employee.

  I flipped through the senior pictures, looking for him — but no Landon. I searched my mind for his last name and came up empty. Had he ever told me his last name? I shrugged. Seaside High School wasn’t that big, and my math wasn't actually that good, so I picked up the yearbook from the year before and the year after flipped through them too — no Landons there either.

  Now I was confused. He did say that he went to high school in Seaside, didn’t he? I was sure that was what he told me.

  Disappointed by my fruitless search, I shrugged off the nagging pull in the back of my mind, put all the books back before Landon returned and went back to work.

    

  During that first week working with Landon, we spent a considerable deal of time talking. He asked me about college, and why I'd come back to Cannon Beach. I told him the story of my mom and her fight with cancer. When I finished, he reached across the counter and gave my hand a quick squeeze. Did he feel what I felt every time we touched? Or was I alone in all of this?

  "So, why don't you have a book for sale in this store?" he asked me.

  "What?"

  "You said you’re a writer, right? What have you written?"

  "Um...nothing."

  "Did I misunderstand?"

  "I said that I always wanted to be a writer. I’ve started countless novels, but I never finished any of them. I always thought I would have time eventually. Then my mom got sick, and the rest is history."

  "But what about now? What’s stopping you now?"

  "Now I don't have anything to write about."

  "What do you mean?" He asked, puzzled by my admission.

  "Look at me, Landon. I am a measly nobody in a tiny town. I run a bookstore. I have nothing to write about, and if I did, no one would want to hear it."

  "I would," he said simply. "I would read anything you decided to write."

  "Why?" I asked him, bluntly.

  "Because you fascinate me.” He hung his head and shuffled his feet, embarrassed by the admission. Not meeting my gaze he added, “I'm drawn to you and I can't explain why, I just … am."

  "You’re grateful because I gave you a job, Landon,” I brushed off his admission. “Don't confuse gratitude with any other feelings you think you’re having."

  "I like you. What is wrong with that?"

  "Nothing, I suppose. As long as that's all it is." The truth was, deep down, I wanted him to like me.

  The handsome man stood before me, told me that he was drawn to me and that I fascinated him. My heart soared, hearing those words, but that moment passed quickly. Fear shredded every ounce of joy.

  "Tell me that you don't feel the connection between us," he pushed.

  "There’s no connection. There is nothing for you here. You would be wise to remember that." I was terrified. My lie had to be clean and believable.

  Landon stood, leaning over the counter and brought his face so close to mine, that I was sure he was going to kiss me. He leaned across the counter and brought his face so close to mine, that I felt the softness of the breath he released fan against my skin.

  "You can deny that you like me if it makes you feel better, ignore the fact that I can’t stop checking you out, or that I think you’re pretty hot. But ignoring it and denying it won’t make it go away. You’d be wise to remember that."

  He promptly turned, walked into the storeroom and left me to ponder his last words.

    

  Back at home, Derek was subdued. If Theresa had said anything to him about seeing Landon in the store, he didn’t let on, and for that, I was grateful. The truth was, he was so preoccupied with the presentation in Astoria that he didn't even pay attention to me. As long as I kept the house spotless and his dinner was ready on time, he couldn't have cared less about me.

  Hannah hadn't come back to the store, which was not unlike her. Disappearing for a few days after one of our fights was standard operating procedure for my big sister. I didn't bother to call her, not that she would have answered anyway. She would come back...eventually. Last year, after a particularly
vicious fight she disappeared for over a month. The squabble we had over hiring Landon was rather minor in comparison, and I expected to see her any day now.

  My bruises were fading as well as could be expected. Some of the smaller ones were almost gone, but the bigger, deeper bruises were turning ugly shades of purple and yellow. My back looked as though it was covered with the same colored pansies we had planted in the boxes outside the front of the store in the spring. Almost pretty.

  On Landon’s second Friday, I got up before dawn and said goodbye to Derek as he left for Astoria. He wouldn’t be back until late Sunday afternoon. It would be a relief to have a few days without my husband’s drama and expectations. If I wanted to leave the kitchen a mess, I would damn well do it.

  The next morning, I cleaned the entire kitchen before leaving for work.

  There was always the possibility that Derek would forget something and have to return home. Astoria was only about a two-hour drive. Besides, old habits are extremely hard to break, especially when they’re beat into you.

  When I got to the bookstore, Landon wasn't there. I didn't realize how much I had gotten used to seeing him first thing every day — the way he looked leaning up against the doorframe holding two cups of steaming coffee, with a sweet, expectant look on his face, almost as if he needed to see me as much as I needed to see him.

  For just a moment, I missed him.

  I decided that he must have finally come to his senses and realized that whatever he was thinking or feeling about me was horribly misplaced. On the other hand, maybe he finally decided that he had the job in the bag and didn't need to butter me up anymore with free coffee and extra attention.

  Either way, it was probably for the best. I shrugged it all off and busied myself getting the store ready to open, trying to push thoughts of why he was late out of my mind.

  Landon finally arrived about ten minutes after the store opened. When he breezed through the door, my heart leapt. Young and gorgeous, anyone would be attracted to him. Beyond his good looks, there was a kindness about him, too. Most young men his age tried to act macho, and uncaring — Derek still acted that way — but Landon wasn’t like that at all. He held doors open for me, lifted heavy things without being asked, brought me coffee every morning without fail, and watched over me in a way I wasn’t used to. When he was around, I was safe and cared for.

  There was no reason he should be attracted to me. Besides not being his type, I was married, unattractive and from what my husband said, my butt was too big.

  Landon could have any woman he wanted, except me.

  My gaze lowered, but not before I noticed he carried a small white paper bag from the local deli.

  "Mornin'. Sorry I'm late."

  I briefly took note of how particularly sexy he looked this morning, as though that was anything unusual. The jeans hung low on his hips. The t-shirt he wore was tight — as usual — and a small gap between its hem and his jeans revealed just the slightest hint of taut skin over the muscles of his stomach. And today, his shirt was made of a thin, white fabric that let the glow of his tan skin show through. If I weren’t married, I’d have ripped off his clothes right then and there.

  Oh my God, my hormones were out of control.

  Maybe I needed to make a doctor’s appointment and have a CAT scan. Perhaps, a medication could be prescribed for lonely, married women.

  "Good morning, Landon. You're late? I hadn't noticed."

  He laughed softly, as he sauntered over and placed the white bag on the counter in front of me.

  "What's this?” I asked.

  I reached out to open the bag, his fingers gently grazed against mine as he released it. Shyly, I retrieved my hand. Instantly, my pulse raced, a hot flush fanned against my face as I lifted my eyes to his.

  "Well," he began sheepishly, "You see… today is my birthday and I wanted you to help me celebrate."

  I stared at him, mouth gaping.

  "I had to wait at the deli for them to finish baking everything. Apparently people don't normally buy cookies at this hour." He cleared his throat when I didn't say anything immediately. "What do you say? Have one with me?" he asked.

  "It's your birthday...and you brought me a cookie? That's backwards."

  "Maybe.” He shrugged. “But the other day I noticed how you devoured the cookie that came with your lunch—.

  “Oh my god, you must think I’m a pig!” I exclaimed in embarrassment, my hands covering my blush.

  “Actually, it was kind of hot.” Landon confessed. My hands slid down my face. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "And I noticed that you haven’t been too happy the past couple of days. So, it’s my birthday, and on my birthday, I get whatever I want.”

  “Whatever…you want?” I stammered as my throat tightened and dried. He had no idea of the things I wanted.

  “Well…that too,” he said suggestively and I thought I might pass out. “But for starters, I want for you to be happy and I figured a cookie was a good place to start."

  "Really?" I squeaked out in disbelief. Oh, this boy was smooth.

  "Really."

  His expression held no mischief or pretenses. What I saw instead was simple concern. His eyes brightened as he opened the bag and held it up to me. The aroma of the fresh baked cookies swirled my senses. The smell of chocolate, butter and brown sugar, blended and baked to perfection drew my mouth to water. Just one cookie wouldn’t hurt.

  “Please, go ahead,” he encouraged with a warm smile.

  He was serious, sincere. At first I didn’t know how to react to his simple gesture. He had no idea, that not only bringing me my favorite cookie, but offering me to go first, touched my heart. I blinked back tears as I reached into the bag and pulled out a large chocolate chip cookie, still warm from the oven. My entire body relaxed, something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

  I felt the smile, it broadened so wide across my face it actually made my cheeks hurt. From the top of my head, down to my toes, I was truly elated.

  I took a bite and let out a groan of pleasure.

  "Wow," Landon said. "I'm going to have to get you a cookie every day if that's how you react. Can you do that again please?"

  I laughed, embarrassed by my reaction.

  "So, how old are you today? Eighteen?” I joked and looked up at him with a fresh bite of cookie still between my lips.

  He laughed with me, and the sound warmed me. He reached into the bag, pulled out the other cookie, and put a huge piece in his mouth.

  "Why thanks." His mouth was full, and he chewed as he spoke. "Do I still look eighteen?"

  "Um…" I leaned back and pretended to examine him thoroughly. "Close enough."

  "Whew!"

  "Hey, just be grateful. You’re much closer to eighteen than I am!"

  "You aren't too much farther than me..."

  "I'm a lot farther away, Landon."

  "I think you’re perfect."

  My breath caught in my throat. For the second time in a matter of minutes, this young man had rendered me speechless.

  He looked at me as if he wanted me to say something. I wracked my brain for the right response. A thank you didn't seem appropriate, somehow. So, I did the only thing that I could think of.

  I shoved the last bit of cookie into my mouth

  Landon stepped forward and brushed his thumb lightly across the corner of my mouth.

  "You had a bit of chocolate," he said softly, placing the thumb that had just been on my skin into his mouth. It was intoxicating to watch. My knees went weak, and I fought the urge to throw my arms around his neck and replace his thumb with my tongue. Oh good lord! My pulse pounded as I stood before him, fantasizing about what I wanted to do to him.

  "Well, I should get to work," he offered after several long moments, bringing me back to the present, where I wasn’t throwing myself at him right here in the middle of my store.

  I nodded, slowly chewing the last of my cookie, wishing for just a second that he would to
uch me again. Instead, he turned to walk away, and I hurried up and swallowed before he got out of earshot.

  "Landon?" I called out to him before he got to the back room.

  "Yeah?" He peeked his head around the corner, a hopeful look on his face.

  "Happy birthday."

  "Thanks," he replied. "You're the first."

  "The first to what?"

  "To wish me a happy birthday."

  "But what about your dad?" He shook his head, his smile fading. "Thank you for the cookie," I said gently.

  "No problem." He disappeared into the back storage room.

  He brought me a cookie because he had no one else to celebrate with today. I was sad for him. What about his dad? Perhaps Landon was actually as lonely as I was.

  I spent the next few hours entering credit card receipts into the computer and straightening up the store. A group of tourists wandered past the windows, some even peeking in, but it was approaching noon and we hadn't had a single customer all morning. I found myself itching to get out of the store for just a few minutes and knew exactly who I wanted to go with me.

  I hopped off my stool and found my way toward the back of the store.

  I stepped into the back room and stopped dead in my tracks. Landon was shirtless, lifting a heavy box of books up to the top shelf. Sweat glistened on his body.

  He hadn't spotted me, so I took advantage of the opportunity to admire the view. I couldn't help myself, and proceeded to break a plethora of sexual harassment laws as I imagined what it would be like to touch him.

  His pants clung to his hips just below his waist. A soft trail of hair formed on his tight sculpted chest and stomach then disappeared into the waistband. When he turned, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo that covered nearly his entire back. It was a large tree made of Celtic knots. Really beautiful work. I stood there mesmerized by him. Even on his best day in high school, Derek didn't hold a candle to this boy.

  My reaction to Landon fully clothed had been bad enough, but seeing him half-naked brought about a completely new visceral reaction that stirred me to my core. As I stared at him, Hannah's words sprung into my mind, "One look at him and I almost came."

  Landon hopped off the stepladder and found me staring at him. If he knew what I was thinking, he didn't give it away.