The Admirer's Secret

by Crane, Pamela

  “And all this time I thought I was crazy. But at least I can sleep at night now that I know I’m not the crazy one.”

  “Well, that’s yet to be determined,” Marc teased.

  “Aren’t you a funny guy?” Haley retorted. “Don’t quit your day job. Or night job… whatever this is for you.” She shot him a flirtatious grin, which he immediately returned. As she admired his radiant smile, a compelling sense of claustrophobia crept up on her. The room shrunk around her, and the temperature skyrocketed. She impulsively fanned her face, trying to do anything but break a sweat right there in front of him. The longer he gazed at her with those chocolate eyes, the more intense it got. She needed air. Now.

  “Oh, I’m a horrible hostess! Do you want anything to drink?” It was the only excuse she could think of to leave the room for a breath, but it was spoken too soon. She had an empty fridge, with the exception of bottled water.

  “I would love something. What do you have?”

  Shoot. “Well, right now all I have is water, but it’s cold. Is that okay?” Haley vowed to never let her fridge get this empty ever again.

  “That sounds perfect. Just what I wanted,” Marc replied with a wink.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back. And I accept tips.”

  “Tip one is to not eat over your keyboard.” He overturned the keyboard, spilling crumbs all over the desk.

  “How did those get there?” she feigned innocence. “I’m pretty sure I bought it that way. Well, let me get that water before you find anything else in there.”

  Haley traipsed down the stairway. She pictured the loonish grin on her face, but she couldn’t help it. Marc was getting cuter and sweeter by the minute, and she couldn’t help but notice the vacant ring finger on his left hand. While she didn’t make it a practice to check the hands of most men she met, his smile won her over. And those eyes! Deep brown, flecked with a hint of yellow. The setting sun sliced against them when Marc first came in, giving Haley a full view of their splendor. Out! She had to push the thoughts out.

  But inside her scheming mind, she considered planning her next “computer problem.” Catching herself, she brushed that thought away, fearing she was becoming desperate. She was only twenty-seven and in no rush to settle down. She was single and happy. She had hopes of writing film scripts, seeing the world, living for herself. Not dreams of falling for random computer repairmen. There was no room in her life for a guy right now. But the thought that there was some bigger plan in control lingered on her mind.

  Opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water, she observed the bare shelves, the sight sifting away her giddiness. Most evenings she spent eating dinner with her mother, so she hadn’t gone grocery shopping in weeks. This routine began after Haley came home from a bridal shower one Saturday afternoon a few years ago feeling unusually lonely. She wanted to be happy for the glowing bride-to-be, but she was secretly jealous. Insanely jealous. That same evening, she saw her house differently, with a sad realization that there were no personal effects from a man who loved her, no framed pictures of memories with a special someone. Dinner for one had gotten old, and a roommate was out of the question, because being obsessively neat made it next to impossible for anyone without unconditional love to put up with her nagging.

  For years, Haley settled comfortably into her private space. But recently, despite her desire to chase dreams of Hollywood movie-making, she found herself wanting real companionship—more than wanting, hungering for it—and spending evenings with her mother was a comfortable distraction from the void. It was by no means the solution, but dwelling on her loneliness hadn’t gotten Haley anywhere, so she returned to the only person who truly loved her, even with her flaws. Gabrielle always accepted Haley no matter what foul mood accompanied her, willing to be Haley’s retreat during the lows in life. And Haley had her fair share of lows recently.

  Cold air seeping from the fridge reminded her that Marc was waiting upstairs, and she felt her insides flutter. Nervous anticipation crept up on her, and she started running possible topics of conversation through her mind. After reaching the top of the steps, she paused before making her presence known, eyeing his broad shoulders and back while his fingers moved furiously over the keyboard.

  “How’s it going?” she interrupted while approaching him from behind, one hand offering the drink.

  “Oh, thanks.” He accepted the water and took a swig before continuing. “I think I figured out the problem; it wasn’t your monitor after all. Though you still should consider getting a new one before this one quits on you. You should be up and running in no time. You said you lost a file. Is this it?”

  She leaned forward, and her cheek felt his hot breath pass over it. She nodded. “That’s it.”

  “I’m not trying to be nosy, but it comes with the job. It seems like the file you lost was a story of some sort. Are you a writer or something?” Marc’s curiosity stirred Haley. So he wanted to know more about her. That was a step in the right direction.

  “Aspiring screenplay writer, actually. Right now I’m just a secretary; it’s not really the most glamorous life.”

  “Nothing is as glamorous as people make it out to be. But that’s great that you have passion about something. A lot of people lack that part of life and just become complacent.”

  “Yeah, writing helps me feel like maybe I can make a difference in the world; share a message, y’know?”

  “Sounds like you know what you want. I’ve always felt that each person is designed with purpose. It’s what we are here for, right?”

  “Exactly! Can you explain that to my mom? She doesn’t understand how much I love this work. She thinks it’s a waste of time. It intrigues me how a movie can capture the heart. My goal is to get a screenplay made into a movie someday.”

  “Wow—so you could be famous. Maybe I should get your autograph now.” He grabbed a piece of pink heart-shaped paper and pen off her desk and thrust them at her with a forged starstruck urgency.

  “Ha! We’ll see. It’s a cutthroat business.”

  “Hey, if you don’t believe in yourself, who will? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should always follow your dreams.”

  Déjà vu hit Haley like a ton of bricks. A thought skittered through her mind that perhaps Marc was an angel sent to remind her of her dad’s words, but she hurled the childish notion aside.

  “So what kind of movies do you write? Comedies, thrillers… Wait, lemme guess. Romance?”

  “Right now I’m just dabbling in it, you could say, but I’m a stereotypical woman, so you could safely assume romance. I’m not really sure that I’m good enough, but maybe someday I’ll get to see my name in the credits.” She inwardly winced at her confession. Was she telling too much about herself?

  Experience taught her that vulnerability somehow always deterred men. The moment she got comfortable and open, they seemed to run off, leaving her to dust off her broken heart. With each male disappearing act, she had always chalked it up to the whole cat-and-mouse dating game, where a guy always wants a challenge, but that just wasn’t her style. She wore her feelings on her sleeve, period. And she kept assuring herself that one day a guy would appreciate that aspect about her. Something beyond Marc’s blithe smile told her Marc had other intentions for showing up today, and the thought caught her pleasantly off-guard.

  “What about you? Do you have a dream?” she asked.

  “Yes, but not this. I’m still waiting for some lightning bolt to strike me with some revelation of when to go after it. But this IT stuff pays the bills for now.”

  “So you like working on computers and sneaking peeks at strangers’ personal lives!”

  “Oh yeah, I love it. Give me five minutes with your PC and I’ll tell you things about yourself you never knew. Though some things I’d rather not know, I’ve found out over the years.” He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, and looked up at her slyly grinning. “Though, I wouldn’t mind knowing more about you, Haley.”
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br />   Wow, that was forward. Oddly, his assertiveness didn’t feel intrusive.

  “Thank you,” Haley mumbled, averting her eyes downward, then she noticed blue fuzzy slippers adorning her feet. She unexpectedly grew self-conscious of her appearance. Having changed into a vintage t-shirt and cut-off sweatpants, she could have been mistaken for one of the residents of the local shelter. Moreover, she didn’t remember taking a shower yet today because of her morning rush, adding to the homeless effect. Of course I would be looking and smelling my worst, she agonized.

  Turning back to the computer in response to Haley’s bland reply, Marc began the process of shutting it down. He didn’t see her face turn every shade of red.

  Color flowed into the room through a narrow window, creating tiny prisms on the corner of the glass desk. The deep reds and yellows illuminated Marc’s handsome profile, casting an almost heavenly glow. Scruff peeked out from under his chiseled jaw. As Haley examined him, entranced, Marc turned toward her. Their eyes met. She shied away.

  “Well, I really appreciate all you’ve done. So what exactly did you do?”

  “It looks like the cable somehow got unplugged from the hard drive. But it’s up and working now.”

  “Wow, you’re a genius. So, what do I owe you?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”

  “That’s so nice of you, Marc. Really.” She didn’t want to end the conversation, but she was fumbling for something more to say. Nothing came to mind.

  Her captivation left her speechless, and she noticed Marc’s faltering steps toward the door. The conversation took a clumsy turn, and they both stood frozen, as if time was put on pause, waiting for someone to press the “resume” button. Haley sized Marc up while he stood before her in silent confidence. Her gut told her that perhaps her presence was stripping him of that, rendering him more tongue-tied by the second.

  “Well, I guess I better get going now,” he said with his back half facing her.

  One last try. Say something. Butterflies swarmed her stomach and she realized she lost him to the silence. Walking downstairs, he turned around at the bottom step and held out his hand.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Haley. I hope to see you around.” As their hands met, she felt him hold on slightly longer than a formal good-bye would warrant. Her hand was warm in his; it fit perfectly.

  “I’ll be sure to keep plenty of water on tap in case I have another computer failure.”

  She caught a sneaking grin part his lips. She had made him smile. That was a good way to end the evening, right?

  As she opened the door and led him out, she felt her throat tighten with disappointment. She watched him walk further and further from the house, realizing that her chance of seeing him again dwindled with every step.

  Not if she could help it. They would see each other again. Somehow she knew that a greater force was orchestrating this, and she was prepared to go along with whatever it had in store.

  Chapter 9

  Haley filled rest of the evening with a couple hours of work, jotting down sticky-note reminders to pay late bills, and picking at leftover spaghetti her mom sent her home with the night before. The sky was pitch-black with hundreds of stars twinkling above when Haley returned to her office desk to tidy up some stray papers before heading to bed. Something out of place caught her eye, something tucked under the corner of the keyboard. A piece of pink paper with a note scribbled on it. She pulled it out from its hiding place.

  Haley,

  It was a pleasure seeing you today. I hope to see you again in the near future.

  Marc

  Her eyes widened with pleasure—a memento. The handwriting looked oddly familiar. Could it be? Bolting across the hall with the note in hand, Haley ran for her bedroom and hastily grabbed the pile of anonymous letters. Placing Marc’s letter next to the others, she rifled through the stack, comparing the script side by side. Sure enough, the similarities were striking. The curl at the end of the Ls, the roundness of the As. It couldn’t be… could it?

  **

  She flipped her eyes to the clock on her bedside table. Four hours and thirteen minutes had passed since seeing Marc. Haley lay wide-awake in bed waiting for sleep to take her. Tonight it wasn’t her usual sleepless state that buzzed her brain alert with a swarm of anxious thoughts. No, it wasn’t anxiety. It was something completely different.

  Obsession.

  A mental accounting of every detail of the evening. She couldn’t get Marc out of her mind. She knew it was crazy. She knew this had to be a case of utter desperation. But the letters, and now this note… this was fate. It had to be. The handwriting similarities were too coincidental. She wondered if Marc was thinking about her right now.

  Turning over for the umpteenth time, Haley settled on a view of the window where the moon hovered bright against a clear night sky, its luminous beams squeezing out the lurking darkness. It was well after two o’clock, giving her a mere five hours of sleep before work the next day. Just enough to function.

  Reaching under her pillow, Haley fluffed it up and sank into its downy comfort. Her thoughts unwound each tight concern—until she settled on the most prominent concern of the moment. Her mom. Her mom finding that letter.

  Haley wondered if she was still awake. The woman barely slept, usually busying herself with house cleaning and baking into the wee hours of the morning. Haley always suspected that it was her way of coping with life as a widow. Haley needed to talk to her about everything that had been happening, but what would she say? That she’d been corresponding with a total stranger for the past two weeks via unmarked letters and now she suspected—with no real proof—that her secret admirer was the local computer guy? No, her mom would probably commit her.

  Please fall asleep, she commanded herself.

  It didn’t work.

  Haley despised her thoughts. It was her thoughts that kept her awake tonight. Her mind bulged with anxiety about her empty love life, her approaching birthday that ticked away another year. Ticked away a chance at finding love, at having kids, at having hope for a fairy tale future. Not that she believed in fairy tales. Though sometimes she dreamt them. No, she’d decided on a career, so why was this running through her head again?

  In a way, she didn’t want to feel hope. Because with hope came heartbreak. And she couldn’t survive falling in love and getting hurt. Not again. Her mind flipped through the pages of loss and settled on Jake—the epitome of her hurt. But that was the past, she had to remind herself, and she shouldn’t dwell on it. Besides, she sure liked the giddiness that a crush reaped. Seeing Marc was certainly the day’s highlight, and a smile snuck up on her lips as she envisioned him next to her. Letting the image ferment in her mind, the longer she permitted herself internal revelry, the more her fear festered. What if Marc’s interest was a mere figment of her imagination and would never surface into a lasting relationship? He hadn’t asked for her number, hadn’t asked for a date. If he was so interested, why hadn’t he made a move? But the note… that was his move. If they were playing checkers, it would be her move next… right?

  As her mind churned, doubt poured from her heart as she reflected on what was going on inside her. Tonight she was being honest with herself, something she didn’t do often: She was also afraid. Afraid to never find true love yet equally afraid of love itself. And she was afraid that she would have to choose between the dream of becoming a serious screenplay writer and the dream of pursuing a relationship.

  Most of all, she was afraid to find out that her heart had misled her once again.

  Chapter 10

  Sweet Mrs. Ellsworth. She had bid Allen good night over four hours ago before turning in. He couldn’t help but grin at how the landlady’s soft wrinkles caressed her raisined lips. Nice ladies like Mrs. Ellsworth seemed a dime a dozen in this town, ambling down every block and standing at every street corner offering genuine smiles and kind words to all who cross their path. Yes, Allen had come to the right place.
The most unsuspecting town in the nation.

  As Allen sat cross-legged in the cushioned armchair sidling against his bed, with notebook in hand, he dribbled words across the college-ruled lines. Nothing in particular inspired him at the moment, except the image that had haunted him all evening. Haley Montgomery. Haley Michaels. Ah, the name certainly had a ring to it.

  He stood up from his chair and tossed his notebook on the bed. A walk seemed the only solution for clearing his head tonight. Perhaps the chill of fresh air would spur his creative juices. He grabbed his coat, stuffed his cell phone in his pocket, and carefully peeled the door open. The joints of the house and original maple flooring groaned more than a woman in labor. With stealthy steps he descended the massive stairway and slipped out the front door. The shock of negative temperatures would make this a short walk.

  Allen lumbered down the sidewalk, following its broken path where the roots of a large bare tree jutted up from under the concrete. He considered all of the feet that had once trod this footpath, imagined all of the lives that crossed this ground. Unnoticed lives, unnoticed footsteps. A contrast to 2,500 miles west, on Hollywood Boulevard in Grauman’s Chinese Forecourt, where tourists mill about paying homage to the footprints of the stars immortalized in the legendary cement. All his adult life he had worked for the fame that those concrete blocks represented, but there was something serenely beautiful about the anonymity of unnoticed steps here in this small town tonight.

  The sidewalk turned a sharp corner, heading further into the cozy neighborhood of two-story homes safeguarding children nestled into their beds, snug and warm against the night. Protected against men like me lurking in the shadows, wandering these vacant streets.

  His was a lonely existence. It always had been for Allen. Wrapped in idyllic seclusion, he spent most of his time hibernating behind a laptop screen punching away at the keyboard. This trait left him with many isolated nights, though loneliness rarely bothered him. Childhood had forced him to get used to it when his father disappeared from their Denver, Colorado, home. His father’s selfish search for the next big business opportunity lured him from his family and left his two children with an ill-equipped mother and a mountain of unpaid bills behind. An abusive stepfather succeeded the absent father figure and beat Allen into isolation until his bedroom became his only source of comfort. Every waking moment was spent fighting for his and his younger sister’s lives, though she miraculously escaped their stepfather’s iron fist.