by Jamie Knight
I could understand his reluctance to send a picture, not really wanting to lose contact with him either. I had felt lost and broken before we started writing, and I was finally starting to feel better again.
However, it would seem I had done something to offend the fates because suddenly, the messages from Jacob stopped. I tried to find out what happened to him, but no one would tell me much because I didn't have clearance or know his last name. All I was able to find out was there had been an attack on his transport with a car bomb, and he was missing in action. I assumed he had been killed.
Somehow I survived that loss.
Hayley came back just over a year later with another bright idea. She had gotten a job as a paralegal at a reputable law firm. I knew the law better than some of the lawyers, so she suggested I do the same. They were looking to expand and were taking candidates. Turns out, she worked for the famous Howell and Howell law firm.
As amazing as it would be to be back in law, and at one of the titans of the profession no less, I was hesitant. I had lost a lot of the gusto I'd had when I was younger. Then I remembered what Jacob had once written about trying things and not feeling like you had to commit forever. This bucked up my mood considerably, and I decided to try the paralegal training and see how it went. It might help me heal to do some good for others.
My breath caught as I walked up to the legendary Howell and Howell offices. As notable for its modesty as its exquisite red-brick architecture. Imagining working there was one thing, but being presented with the actual prospect of it was something else entirely. The weight of reality was more than I had imagined. Doing my best to center myself, I went in, trying not to think about where I had parked.
The next-door cafe smelled absolutely amazing as I passed on the way to the one and only elevator. Giving in to temptation, I popped in for a medium hot chocolate and a cinnamon bun that was roughly the size of my face. Sufficiently sugared up, and still not late, I headed for the elevators munching on the last few bites of the bun.
“Hello,” said the surprisingly perky, redheaded assistant behind the reception desk at the top floor.
“I'm here for the paralegal training,” I managed to say.
“Name?”
“Charlotte Foster,” I said.
“Ah, here you are, follow me,” she said, getting up gingerly.
The assistant led me to a back room with several large windows, which was set up as a classroom, with lines of tables and chairs from almost front to back. It made me wonder exactly how many people were going to be at the training. The room set-up was already giving me flashbacks to college. I took a seat near the middle in the second row from the back, the position I had always found the most comfortable during lectures.
Like a broken pipe, the other trainees started to trickle in and picked their seats, each one getting closer to the appointed time than the last. The morning traffic and sketchy parking no doubt playing a deciding role. With everyone seated, none of us late in the conventional sense —though it got pretty close to the wire near the end — the training started.
The class was headed by none other than Jim Howell himself. I recognized his black hair and green eyes from an online article I had seen about him and the firm’s success. Legend had it that he had worked as a paralegal for years before going to law school, helped in no small part by his father, who was a successful lawyer at the time.
The main issue had been the LSAT, Jim having a slight back deformity that kept him from being able to sit long enough to take the test. He could have gotten accommodations in which he wrote the test in two parts, but his results would have been flagged. Mr. Howell explained to them just how flagrantly illegal and prejudicial this was, in clear violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act, and Jim was able to write the test in two days with no red flags being applied to his results. He graduated from law school in less time than usual and with honors.
A lot of the information given at the beginning of the training was pretty rudimentary. I could have been mistaken, but there really didn't seem to be much to it. Though that also could have been because I had two-thirds of a law degree finished and knew case law like the back of my hand.
A lot of what they were going through in training was the copying and filing system, the latter of which we covered in the first year of law school. Still, though, I tried to pay attention as best I could, really wanting to do as well as I could. The prospect of a job, really any position in the legal profession, was filling me with more drive than I'd had in a while.
As the opening of the seminar went on, I noticed a guy in the row behind me who seemed to be staring at me. Not in a creepy way, but he had noticed me. It had been a while since a man had looked at me in this way. Particularly someone as hot as this guy was. I felt a little flutter in my tummy — something else that hadn’t happened in a while.
I had worn my best dress to try and put out a professional image. It was sleek and black and looked really good with my pale skin and ethereal Irish features inherited from my mom. The dress was pretty short and sowed off my legs, which is to say nothing of what it did for my breasts, which were already natural high C-cups. Though, to be honest, that didn't seem to be where he was looking. The gaze I felt and noticed out of the corner of my eye was trained sharply on my face. Another new experience I could definitely get used to.
I saw him smiling at me, and I smiled back, a warm feeling coming over me.
At noon we had a break for lunch, most of us going down to the cafe, a few venturing out to find sustenance elsewhere, risking not getting back in time. Tracking down the guy from the back row, who stayed around to sample the cafe's great smelling products, I plucked up the courage to go over to his table and sat down at the one next to him. Despite the fact that most of the bistro-style tables in the cafe were two-seaters, very few people seemed to be taking advantage of this.
Even from that angle, I could clearly see his eyes — so bright and blue, I had to look twice. They were shining like gems against his black hair and dusky complexion. It reminded me of how Jacob had described his eyes. He said that his eyes were usually the first thing women noticed about him. I wondered if this could be my missing soldier, but that didn't seem likely, though, as I was reasonably sure my Jacob was dead.
Chapter Three
Jacob
Lunch was more of a relief than it should have been. The siren song of sweets and caffeine was just too strong to be ignored, and my mouth started to water as soon as I got in line at the café. My drink order already in my mind, I started scanning the pastry case, genuinely shocked by the size of the cinnamon buns. Not quite willing to go that crazy, I settled on a muffin and a white chocolate macchiato. I took up one of the tiny, two-seater bistro tables and sat down to wait for my drink order which came up much faster than I expected.
I was just settling down when the angelic beauty who I had spied in the training room sat down at the table next to me. Her already short dress rose up even higher on her creamy thighs. I could see this in my peripheral vision, so I didn't have to look away. The bolder part of me said I should try and talk to her. It was pretty evident that she was there on purpose. She had taken my attentions well and was trying to reciprocate while still upholding the social order. I would have tried to strike up a conversation if only it weren't a more daunting prospect to me than taking a bear cub from its mother.
We both sat there in a perpetual stalemate until, once again, my sweet sister came swooping into the rescue.
“Oh, hey,” Hayley said, marching toward my table.
“Hey,” I said, acknowledging her existence.
“How do you two know each other?” she said, looking at the girl and me.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“I don't know what you mean,” the pretty girl said. Her voice was just as angelic as her face.
“Really?” Hayley asked, cocking an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips in a self-satisfied way.
“Nope,” I s
aid, with a slight shake of my head.
“Never see him before,” the girl said. She nervously shrugged. It was cute.
“Well then, Charlotte, meet Jacob, my twin brother. Fraternal obviously. Bro, meet Charlotte, my best friend of the last few years.”
We managed to pluck up the courage to look at each other directly, the spark even more potent than it had been before.
“The firm is getting really big then,” I said, still lost in Charlotte's crystalline blue eyes. “They are hiring so many people.”
“Oh, you have no idea, they're growing like mad. It has been a long time coming. They've been too big for their britches for a while now,” Hayley explained as she pulled the two tables together to form one conversational group and sat down.
“Moving into a tower of doom?” I asked.
My sister and the angelic girl laughed. “Oh, no, never. They bought two other buildings in the neighborhood. Keeping up the theme and all that,” Hayley said.
“Makes sense,” Charlotte agreed and then a sip of her drink when I looked at her. I could tell she was a little shy.
“I was wondering about that,” I went on, starting to feel more comfortable. “So, they'll have openings for all the paralegals in training?”
“Oh yeah. We all probably won't all be working at the same office, though.”
“Are there any openings at this one,” Charlotte asked quickly.
Hayley smiled at her. “A few, I think. They've hired some new lawyers but are starting to run out of room. It is the prime assignment, of course. There are about to be some bragging in terms of not only working at Howell and Howell but in the original office.”
“That would be cool,” I admitted.
“Yeah,” Charlotte agreed.
“Maybe you'll both get a position with me,” Hayley suggested.
“Oh,” I said, not thinking of that.
“Yeah, that would be neat,” Charlotte agreed.
“We have worked together before, of course.”
“When?” Hayley asked.
“You don't remember,” I asked, pretending to be hurt.
“No,” Hayley confirmed.
“The lemonade stand,” I said with a sheepish grin.
“We were twelve!” Hayley laughed.
“Still counts,” I said.
“I suppose, but really.
“It was quite successful if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Hayley said, remembering and looking off into the distance.
Looking around my twin, I gave Charlotte a smile and went on. “We made so much money the corner store called the cops on us for dispensing without a small business license,” I pointed out.
“It was never proved that they called,” Hayley argued.
“Well, no, not officially, but who else would have done that?”
“How much did you make?” Charlotte asked. Her eyes were slightly cast down, letting me see how long her lashes were. It felt like she might blush if she looked at me directly.
“Six hundred in a weekend,” I said proudly.
“Mom took it for our college fund,” Hayley gripped, her annoyance obvious.
“Most of it,” I amended. “Fifty bucks is a lot when you're twelve.”
“Well, I've got to get back to work,” Hayley said, with a wink, leaving us to our own devices.
As soon as my sister walked off, the silence stretched between us. The confidence I had built up was gone as I faced the woman alone. My mind was blank, just filled with awe over her face and curves.
“Did you end up going to the university?” Charlotte asked quietly.
I cleared my throat to find my voice. “Hayley did. I mostly drifted for a while, letting my parents believe I was going to USC.”
She nodded. Silence fell again.
“How old are you now?”
“Twenty-eight,” I said, surprising myself at how open I was being.
“What happened to your arm?” Charlotte asked.
Ordinarily, I would have been at least a bit offended by such a blunt question. Though Charlotte said it with such genuine curiosity, sweetness, and concern, I couldn't really bring myself to be mad at her.
“I'm sorry, is that offensive to ask?” Charlotte asked, as though reading my mind, “I just noticed you were doing everything with your right arm.
“Not exactly,” I said, unable to keep from smirking for the crushing irony.
“What do you mean?”
“I'm left-handed,” I said, “so not really the right arm.”
“Oh, I see,” Charlotte said, blushing adorably.
I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Charlotte, particularly considering how pretty she was. I hadn't really spoken to many women for the past few years, outside the very occasional fellow soldier, my company being entirely male.
Not that I was great with women before that. I wasn't a virgin or anything. I'd had a girlfriend in high school, but we had grown apart from when she went to college, and I started traveling — mostly around Europe — getting my own, more self-directed sort of education.
“Is it okay if I ask what happened?” Charlotte asked again, tentatively.
“Motor accident. I have no movement above the elbow and not much below it, really. My hand is still okay, though.”
“Can you write with it?” she asked.
“Not well, but yes. Playing guitar is out of the question, though,” I admitted.
Charlotte looked like she didn't know if she should laugh or not. It actually had been a joke, but my naturally deadpan tone didn't make that clear.
“That was a joke,” I clarified.
“Oh!” Charlotte said, laughing more out of relief than anything.
“I don't play guitar except in video games, which is still work, surprisingly,” I added.
“You're doing really well,” Charlotte said.
“Thanks. It took more than a year of retraining, but I've now gotten my right arm doing most of what my left used to do. It's still fun trying to cook, though.”
“I can help with that, I love cooking,” Charlotte said, a big grin on her face. When she smiled like that, she was practically radiant.
“Thanks for the offer, but that could get a bit awkward,” I said.
“Why is that?” Charlotte asked. The way her smile dropped, I worried that I might have offended her.
“I'm living in a hotel room, at the moment. It doesn't really have a kitchen. I've got my eye on a stunning apartment, but the landlord is hesitant to rent to someone with PTSD.”
“That's not fair!” Charlotte blurted with unexpected fury.
“You don't need to tell me,” I said.
“Is there anything you can do? Can't you get a lawyer or something? I mean, you're going to know enough!”
I actually had a lawyer for a friend in Ann, which should have been much more of a help than it was, but I didn't want to ask her for anything more. She had given me enough already. Ann and my sister were really pulling me up out of my funk with this new job. I owed them both a lot.
I thought about how Hayley had met Liam, her husband, pretending to be his fiancée so he would have someone to take to a friend's wedding. Most of his friends and family were already married or engaged, and he was embarrassed. It got a bit rocky but turned out okay in the end, the two actually falling in love.
“I wonder if I showed up with a fiancée. Not for real, just someone pretending to be my fiancée. It might make me look more stable and get the landlord to reconsider my application.”
“I'll do it!” Charlotte announced, jumping up.
“Really?” I asked, not expecting that at all.
“Yes,” she said, blushing cutely at her previous exuberance.
I could have kissed her in my delight, but I reminded myself that the pretty girl was just being nice.
Chapter Four
Charlotte
I knew what Hayley was doing. I wasn't sure if Jacob did, but she was his s
ister, so it seemed likely — with or without twin psychic powers. Hayley was setting us up. If she thought I didn't see that little wink she gave her brother before leaving, trying to be oh so sly, she was very wrong.
My first instinct was to be a bit miffed at her, but mostly, I was embarrassed about not being able to just talk to him myself. Talking was a problem because of the root of my selective mutism; I didn't think I was pretty enough. I thought Jacob was interested but couldn't entirely be sure. Maybe he was being kind when he smiled at me. I really didn't think so, but my low self-esteem could do weird things to my perception of reality.
“That was a set-up, right?” I asked, knowing full well that I was blushing.
“Indeed,” Jacob agreed. I liked how his blue eyes lit up a bit as he said that.
“She wasn't really subtle about it,” I said, trying to deflect my embarrassment.
“That was never really her strong suit. I should know, we grew up together,” he said.
“She is well-meaning, though,” I said in case I had offended him.
“Always,” he agreed.
“I can't say I mind, actually,” I said, my embarrassment coming back with a vengeance. I couldn’t believe I was flirting with such a hot guy.
He grinned and scooted his chair slightly closer. “Me either. Thanks again for agreeing to play the part of my fake fiancée. I really think it will help. Wow, there I go again.”
Jacob sat back and put a hand to his forehead. The look on his face was a little befuddled.
“What?” I asked.
“Bearing my soul to you. I don't know what it is, but there is something about you that really puts me at ease,” he said.
“That's good, though, right?” I asked, the blush on my cheeks getting hotter. I felt like my heart was doing flips in my chest.
“Well, yes, of course, particularly if we are going to be fake engaged,” he said.
I caught Jacob glancing at my breasts. It was brief, but definitely there. My embarrassment was nearly trumped by the feeling of flattery. No one had looked at me like that in a while. I didn't think I looked too bad, but I hadn't exactly been trying to attract male attention with my clothes or anything. I still couldn't stop myself from imagining what Jacob would like to do with my breasts. I was more than willing to let him give it a try.