by Vicky Savage
His easy charm and engaging smile are uncommonly attractive. “You must be Handsome Harry,” I say.
“Thank you for noticing. Harry Chambers, at your service.” Replacing his hat, he holds out a hand, and I shake it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, returning his smile.
“If you don’t mind a suggestion.” He reaches up and pulls a dark pink, woman’s hat from the shelf. “This fuchsia cloche would look amazing on you. The color would be stunning with your magnificent eyes.”
My cheeks grow warm at the compliment. “Thank you, but I’m shopping for a friend. That panama in the window is more what I had in mind.”
“Ah, an excellent choice. Let me get it for you.” Returning the cloche to the shelf, he walks to the window display and plucks the panama from the mannequin head. “I can model it if you like.” He sounds only half-teasing.
I laugh. “That’s not necessary, but I’d appreciate it if you’d wrap it for me.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
I set down my bags and dig my cash card out of my purse. Harry produces a beautiful chocolate brown hat box from behind the counter and draws out several sheets of matching tissue paper.
He arranges the hat carefully inside the tissue, and then peers up into my eyes. “Is this for a special occasion? Your boyfriend’s birthday, maybe?”
“It’s a little thank you gift, and he’s not my boyfriend—more like a mentor.” I don’t know why I added that last bit, but it’s probably because his flirting is kind of fun, and I don’t want him to stop.
The chime above the shop door sounds, and Harry momentarily drags his lovely green-brown eyes away from mine. “I’ll be right with you, sir,” he says over my shoulder.
He expertly ties a paisley ribbon around the box. “I can put this in a bag if you like, but it seems you’ve already got your hands full. I’d be happy to deliver it to you at the Chateau later this evening when I close up shop.” His eyes dance with a hopeful light.
I don’t have time to consider his offer, though, because the man behind me says, “I can help you with your packages, Miss Beckett.”
My heart dives all the way into my shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, and I turn around slowly. The sight of him nearly brings me to my knees. The clear azure eyes, the sensuous lips, and the long graceful limbs send hot blood coursing through my veins. Damn him!
“What are you doing here, Blackthorn?” I say, doing my best to project cool confidence and not blathering puddle of goo.
His gaze sweeps me in like a hungry lion, and he runs his tongue along his lower lip. “I stopped by the Chateau, and they told me you were shopping in town. I saw you from across the street. I wonder if you’re up to having that cup of coffee with me?”
He steps nearer, and I almost hold out a hand to ward him away. If I breathe in his scent, it will completely undo me.
“I’m in kind of a hurry,” I say, irrationally unnerved by the thought of having coffee with him. “I’m preparing to leave on an exploration.”
“Just a quick cup? Please?” He tilts his head and half-smiles.
My insides get all melty, and my good sense evaporates through my ears. “Okay, one cup,” I mutter.
As soon as the words leave my lips, I’m sure it’s a casmigorically stupid idea. I wish I could reel the words back into my mouth. I turn to Harry who also appears deeply disappointed with my response, but Ryder is already lifting the bags from my hands.
“We’ll take this with us,” he says to Harry as he slides the hat box from the counter. Turning to me, he says, “There’s a place just down the block. I think you’ll like it.”
FIFTY-TWO
I follow him out of the shop, and we easily fall into step together. It’s so freaking weird to be next to him—so familiar and yet completely surreal. He’s not my Ryder, he’s not my Ryder, I chant in my head.
The coffee shop is bright and homey and smells of cinnamon and vanilla. It’s decorated to look like somebody’s grandma’s parlor with charmingly overstuffed sofas and arm chairs sporting tatted doilies on their backs.
“Is this all right?” He motions to a small bistro table near a sunny window.
“Sure.”
“I’ll get our drinks. What would you like?”
“Just a latte, please, small. I can’t stay long.”
We pile my packages on an empty chair, and I shrug off my sweater. What are you doing Jaden? This is insane. Run while you still have the chance.
But I don’t run. I sit and wait until he returns with two steaming lattes. He sets one cup in front of me and takes the seat across from mine.
“Thank you for this,” he says. “It’s been a while since I last saw you, but I wanted to give you some time. Having been through something similar, I knew you needed it. I hope you’re feeling a little more settled now.”
“Actually, I am. Things are going well for me these days.”
“The IGC hearing certainly went well for you, even though it must have been difficult to relive all of those terrible events. Your friend Ralston was a real scene stealer. The courtroom was mesmerized by his testimony.”
“Thanks,” I say, liking the fact that he called Ralston by name and acknowledged him as my friend. “It’s nice to have that over with. It’ll be even better when a decision is handed down.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, they take their sweet time in some cases.”
Sunlight glints from his onyx hair, and he engages me with those impossibly blue eyes. He’s so outrageously handsome, I experience that long ago feeling of what’s this guy doing with me? Then I remember …
“So, this place is nice,” I say. “Did you used to come here with your wife?”
His face falls and he rubs his chest as if I hurt his heart. “It hasn’t been here very long.”
“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” I say, feeling like a jackass. “I’m still trying to figure out how to act around you.”
“Please, Miss Beckett, don’t feel like you need to act a certain way around me. I have no expectations other than to get acquainted. Eleanor’s told me a little about your amazing adventures. She’s a big fan of yours.”
I shrug. “Well I look a lot like her daughter.”
“That’s not why she likes you.” His gaze is piercing, and his tone makes me feel as if I’ve wedged my foot in my mouth once again.
“I’m a fan of hers too,” I say. “She went out of her way to help me, and I appreciate it.”
“She believes in you and your cause.” He’s annoyingly comfortable with himself, but he’s also being very gentle with me even though I’m acting like kind of a jerk.
“Anyway,” he continues, “it has to be strange to leave your family and move to an entirely new world. You’ve done it twice. Not many people alive can say that.”
I’m not sure if it’s the words he says, his obvious kindness, or the attractive way his hair flops over his forehead, but something goes off in my head—like a light switch being thrown inside me, and I see clearly for the first time. Other than my appearance, I’m nothing like his deceased wife. Eleanor said as much to me, and he knows it too. I’d never before considered that he might be interested in me because of my differences. I assumed he was only trying to get back what he’d lost.
With this new insight comes the disturbing realization that I’ve been doing exactly what I projected onto him. I’ve been wanting to get a piece of my Ryder back. The fundamental unfairness of it embarrasses me.
He takes a moment to shoulder off his jacket and drape it across the back of his chair. I use the time to study him. Up to now I’d done my best not to look at him too closely. His hair’s shorter than my Ryder’s, his complexion a little more copper hued, his eyes are the same endless ocean, but there’s an unmistakable difference about him. Maybe it’s his openness or the easy way he carries himself. I’m not sure. But if I didn’t have all this other baggage screwing with my head, I’d probably think he was so
meone worth knowing better.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll tell you all about myself, but I feel at a disadvantage. You already know a lot about me from Eleanor and from the hearing, and I know almost nothing about you. How about I ask you some questions first?”
“If you like.” He smiles modestly.
“Do you have a job, or are you still in school?”
“I graduated college two years ago. For my senior project, I set up a small film production company. We do mostly indie films, documentaries, that sort of thing. We’re still viewed as the upstart in the industry, but we won a couple of awards last year. So people are beginning to pay attention.”
“Okay, that’s a cool job. Film production.” A flicker of memory niggles at my brain. “Hey wait a sec, you’re Blackthorn Productions?”
“Yep. That’s me.” He grins over the rim of his coffee cup.
“I saw one of your films on TV. A sort of quirky thing about a community dog and the boy he adopted. I watched it with my adopted dog. We both loved it.”
“Oh yeah. Buddy’s Best Friend. We had a lot of fun making that. It got picked up by a major distributor, so it’s gotten a wide audience.”
“That’s so great, and a little surprising. For some reason, I didn’t see you as the creative type. I figured you’d be in politics or something like that.”
He laughs richly. “Noo. Not my style at all. I leave all that to my father. He’s a civil rights lawyer. I think he would’ve been happy for me to follow in his footsteps, but I can’t see myself going to court. And those robes? Forget it. Civil disobedience is better suited to my wardrobe.”
I’m glad to know his father is alive. In Domerica, both Ryder’s parents were deceased. But that was due to environmental factors that don’t exist in Arumel.
I try not to ask uncomfortably specific questions, but I probe a little more about his family. I’m curious as to whether his mother is also alive in this world and if his sister Catherine, my nemesis in Domerica, lives in Arumel. He tells me his mom is a prominent social worker in town. And the best news of all—he’s an only child.
After a gulp of coffee, he sets his cup on the table. “My turn,” he says. “Tell me about your family and where you grew up. I hear it was an Archetypal Earth?”
I describe Madison, Connecticut for him and give him a brief rundown on my dad and Drew. I describe my mother and a little bit about what it was like when she was killed suddenly in a car wreck. He already knows some things about my life in Domerica, but he seems curious to know more.
“So, you were queen for a while?” he says.
“Yeah, for about five minutes. It wasn’t an easy job, but I think I handled it okay. It’s weird to think about all that now.” I toy with the handle of my cup. “Sometimes when I look back on it, the whole thing seems like a dream.”
For the sake of maintaining the pleasant mood, I focus on the beauty of Domerica and challenges of life inside a dome, while avoiding the parts about Ryder and the events leading up to my relocation. He listens attentively and doesn’t try to press for more information.
“My life’s been kind of a crazy kaleidoscope ever since my first accidental shift,” I tell him. “I’m still trying to get my arms around this whole Transcender business. Maybe after a few more years it’ll become routine, but I have so much to learn.”
“Do you like living in Arumel now? Do you think you might stay here permanently?”
“I can’t realistically live anywhere else,” I say. “Arumel has the only known Transcender community. I suppose I could always hide out somewhere and pretend to be normal, but that would be too much work. And I promised myself never to live a lie again. I’d rather put my gift to good use.”
He smiles his approval. “That’s admirable. But you didn’t say whether or not you like it here.”
“Yes, I like it. I’ve made some good friends. The thing is, when I was in Domerica, I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. It’s not that my time there was wasted because I learned so much, and … well, I loved the people immensely. But I’m not sure what the future would have held for me if I had tried to stay there long-term. All I know for sure is that this is where I’m supposed to be now.”
“Then you see this as your destiny?” He raises a questioning eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t try to lure me into that debate. I don’t look at it in those terms. We all have something unique to contribute in this life, and as long as we’re being true to that, destiny will sort itself out.”
The antique clock on the fireplace mantle behind me chimes, reminding me that I need to get my packing done or I won’t be ready to leave in the morning.
“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cut this short,” I say. “I really need to get home. I’m leaving on exploration tomorrow, and I still have a lot to accomplish tonight.”
“Can we continue this another time?” he asks.
Long sigh. “Look, Blackthorn, you seem like a nice guy and this has been fun. I mean that. But I still have strong reservations about a friendship with you.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
I tilt my head back and gaze at the ceiling a moment. I can’t believe we’re really talking about this, but since we are, we might as well get it all out on the table.
“Do you know what a perpetual contract is?” I ask.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“And you know that supposedly such a contract exists between you and me?”
He shifts uncomfortably and stares at his coffee. “So I’ve been told.”
“Well doesn’t that bother you? I mean, don’t you wonder if that’s what this is all about? That because of some woo woo cosmic pact made a hundred lifetimes ago we can’t stay away from each other? What if we end up …” I fumble for words. “Well, what if it ends badly, like it has in the past?”
Our eyes meet and hold. “What if it doesn’t? What if this,” he waves his hand to me and back to him, “is how it’s supposed to be? How it was always supposed to be? I mean, I loved my wife tremendously, but I don’t believe I was meant to spend the rest of my life alone. Do you? Wouldn’t you rather know?”
“Truthfully? I’m not sure. The pain …” My throat swells, and I turn toward the window.
“I understand,” he says gently. “Well, it’s completely your call. If you tell me to go away and never contact you again, I’ll honor that. I swear.”
So, here it is—the moment of truth. Do I want him to go away? Now that I’m convinced he’s not trying to recapture something he had with his wife, am I capable of letting go of the past and getting to know this man on his own terms?
I drink some cold latte to unknot my vocal chords. “It’s just so complicated, and I’m into simple these days. I need more time to think about it.”
The corners of his mouth fall, and he nods slowly. “Look, I know you have to leave, but can I ask a favor? Could I have a quick look at your TPD bracelet? I’ve heard about them, but never seen one up close.”
The request seems odd but harmless, and I feel kind of bad for disappointing him. “Sure,” I say, unfastening the bracelet and handing it across the table.
“May I?” he asks, his thumb poised over the latch to the medallion.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
He lifts the top and a holographic map of Arumel City rises up. “Wow, cool.” He turns it from side to side, examining it closely. “The detail is extraordinary.”
“We have some talented cartographers at the Chateau.”
The map disappears as he refastens the medallion. He opens the bracelet to the inside and reads the inscription out loud: “Timeas non plures semitas vitae. Fear not the many paths of life.”
“Whoa, you read Latin?” I’m impressed.
“Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t.”
He grins. “Neither do I. I’m just messing with you. I already knew the Transcender motto. I thought maybe you needed reminding.”
I slu
mp back in my chair and shake my head. “Well played, Blackthorn. I walked right into that one.”
A slow smile creeps across his lips. “I’m not above a little trickery, if it will get you to change your mind.”
I can’t resist returning his smile. This guy’s hard not to like. His eyes rest on me waiting for a reply. The want I see in them causes a strange stirring deep inside.
If I’m honest with myself I want him too, but I’m so profoundly scared. He’s right. It’s only fear that’s holding me back, and I refuse to let the events of my life turn me into a spineless coward when it comes to love.