by Alison Mello
When the session was over and he was back in his Jeep, he checked the time. Lunchtime. He veered off the road toward Dina’s Diner. Anything would do for now. He parked and jumped out, wedged in a euphoric mood. He seated himself at an empty booth in the back and picked up a greasy menu in front of him.
“What can I get you?” a kind voice asked before he got the chance to consider his options.
Keeping his attention on the menu, he replied, “Egg white omelet with veggies. No cheese, please.” He glanced up at the beauty before him.
“Hi.” He beamed, hoping for a gesture of recognition from her, but her reaction was stoic.
“I’m sorry, I believe I saw you today in the common room at…” He paused when the thought of the disheartening place he noticed her hit him.
“I remember.” Her facial expression remained unchanged. She pulled a pen from the front pocket of her apron and wrote down his order. “Drink?”
“Just water, thanks.” He handed the menu to her, and she walked away without a word. He scoffed at her cold manners, assuming she had issues.
When she delivered his food, he swiftly emptied his plate and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table, leaving a fifteen-dollar tip for the beautiful, unreceptive waitress. He had the rest of the day to do as he pleased. He had a lot of those days lately, not that he was complaining, but sometimes he feared it might get him into trouble. Maybe it was time to think about his future. He assumed nobody was willing to hire a disgraced vet. Perhaps he could put his inheritance to good use.
The surface of his skin was rough. He struggled to get on his feet as the strong winds carried the heavy sand through the air. His eyes were tightly shut as he crawled on the ground desperately in search of shelter. The loud hissing of the wind terrified him to the core. He had to concentrate on each step he took for fear of losing his grip. He ceased moving and leaned against a tree, hugged his knees to his chest, and held on for dear life. The winds grew stronger, shaking the root of the tree he leaned on for support. A huge branch fell to his feet and then another. A realization hit him. This was it. The moment he had been fantasizing about. He had finally come face to face with his death. All his sins played vividly before his eyes. He thought about his children, how he neglected them, and how he mistreated their mother. The price he paid for his iniquities. Another branch fell by his side, scraping his forearm. It bled, and he thought he deserved it. He glanced up and saw a frail branch, the biggest yet, just a few feet from his head. He closed his eyes and made amends with his past, his heart beating ferociously against his ribcage. Awareness dawned on him again. The end was here. Unexpectedly, the winds ceased, the sun emerged through the murky clouds, the sand was still, but he couldn’t see beyond his feet. He rubbed his eyes a couple of times. A blurred image stood before him. It was the image of a woman, dressed in nothing but a black silk cloth from head to toe. Her presence conveyed supremacy and carried prosperity. Her silk cloth, creating beautiful mesmerizing patterns, blew around in the air like a flag in the wind. A gust of air hissed as she inched closer. Her garment concealed her face and hair, but as she paced closer, it unveiled her. His eyes watered, and his jaw dropped in confusion as he humbly gazed up at her, her skin glowing through her silk. Her spellbinding eyes revealed her unsullied soul. “We meet once again,” he muttered.
The cryptic meaning of his dream last night conquered his thoughts all day. Why did she appear in his dream? Why did her presence feel so powerful? Amid his fears and nightmares, her presence in his dream brought him some sort of solace. It was vitalizing, and he was at peace. No more worries or fears. She was an angel. He’d only met her twice in one day, which was a week ago, and her cold demeanor contradicted with how she appeared in his dream. He hoped to see her again.
He stepped out of his Lexus, which he opted for rather than his usual Jeep due to the infamous Seattle freeze. He strolled toward the door for his first group meeting of the week, fiddling with his car keys. He swung the door open, startling her as she reached for the knob. His mood miraculously changed to elation. She regarded him without a hint of a smile that made him wonder what was so wrong in her life that she lacked such a simple feature. He stood in her way, and she frowned before taking a few steps back.
“This is the third time we’ve met. Can you at least tell me your name?” It was actually the fourth time for him…the angel from his nightmare. After a slight hesitation, she stepped forward, returning his fierce gaze and wearing the scowl.
“Courtney.”
CHAPTER 8
The average pencil is seven inches long with just a half-inch eraser, in case you thought optimism was dead.
~Robert Brault
Courtney pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the stool before getting comfortable. It had been a long day, and she was desperate for a break. She had to work the second shift in order to make the early group session with the other battered women. A sorry bunch, herself included. She had had enough of the sobby stories that were gradually drowning her soul in a pool of despair. There hadn’t been a meeting when one of the women hadn’t broken down into hysterical tears. It began to feel pathetic. She needed to be empowered to move on, not dragged into depression. She had learned her lesson and was ready to start a new chapter.
While deep down she longed for William’s protection and assurances, she despised and feared him. Courtney continued to live at the shelter while she worked to secure better accommodation. It might take longer than planned. The tips weren’t coming in as she thought, and the less than minimum wage salary wasn’t enough to keep the lights on. Desperation skulked through her nerves. She contemplated other ways to make money, but scary thoughts such as running back to William terrified her. He was right; she couldn’t survive without him. He was her savior. He would be beaming with pride if he saw how much she lacked without him.
She pulled her phone from her pocket as she ate her dry chicken sandwich on her thirty-minute lunch break. She checked on the status of a free painting class she’d earlier signed up for. It was all set to begin in a few hours. Courtney was overjoyed by the temporary comfort. Doing what she loved had been taken from her. It was the unseen benefit of her new life, to be able to do as she pleased without answering to anyone. Then there was the stranger that kept crossing her path. She had a good look at him this morning at the support center when he literally ran into her. His beautiful, captivating blue eyes bored through her the moment they fell on hers. He made her nervous, causing her to recoil anytime they met. A sneer reluctantly took form as she recalled their first encounter in the common room. He was by far the most handsome man she had crossed paths with and instantly attracted to since William. It had been four bad years, and not once did she think she’d have the opportunity to find another man so attractive…and then the thought of why he needed counseling brought her back to the harsh reality. What was going on in his life that needed fixing? Was he an addict of some sort? Was he abused as a kid and now living with the mental effects? Whatever it was, she did not want to know. She had enough demons of her own and didn’t need anybody else’s.
***
Courtney sat behind the white canvas, staring nervously at the paintbrushes and the tubes arranged neatly before her. It had been so long it was like attempting to ride a bike after years.
“Bonsoir, mesdames et messieurs.” An average height, outlandish character energetically marched into the room. He wore a hoop earring in his right ear and a black beret shifted to the left side of his head. He was skinny and had the most enthusiastic attitude she had ever seen. There were six students in the class. Courtney could feel their greenness to the craft. She was well aware she was a pro compared to them but needed to start from the bottom to build up her confidence.
“I am Monsieur Rousseau, and I have been teaching this class for fifteen years. Twelve of which were in Nice, France, and I relocated here for a fresh start.” He smirked mischievously. “Now, I know it’s a nervous feeling beginning a craft as
this, but I can assure you, it is not that nerve-wracking. Once you made a decision to come here, it means the talent is in there.” He touched the left side of his chest with his right hand, signifying the heart. After the introductions, he placed an apple on a piece of tissue and encouraged the class to draw exactly what they saw. Courtney shut her eyes and sighed before picking up the brush. She gazed at the tubes and picked up a deep green and white paint. She expertly mixed the colors together to get the perfect shade of green, flawlessly completing the trial exercise in less than fifteen minutes. She placed the palette on the table and admired her work.
Monsieur Rousseau made his rounds, admiring and arbitrating. He stood motionless behind Courtney and gazed at her painting. His silent gesture began to poke doubts into her self-confidence.
“Impressive,” he uttered.
She sighed, releasing the breath she was holding. “Thanks.”
“You don’t belong in this class, madame. This is for beginners.”
“No, I am exactly where I need to be. I haven’t painted in years, and I want to ease my way back in. Being here is what I need.”
“Okay, Ms….?”
“Greene, but please call me Courtney.” She opted for her maiden name. Feeling liberated, she grinned at him, enjoying every bit of the feeling.
“Courtney, I think you’ll do just fine here,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes.
***
Courtney climbed into bed later that night feeling content and full of pride for taking a courageous step to getting her old self back. She checked her phone, and the first thing that caught her attention was an email from William’s lawyer asking for her lawyer’s information to begin the divorce proceedings. She hadn’t heard from him since he threatened to file a missing person’s report almost a month ago. She doubted he had gone through with it, since no one had approached her. This was his way of getting her to expose her refuge, and she wasn’t going to fall for it. She deleted the email and turned off her phone.
***
She sat by the window of a coffee shop a few miles from the shelter to enjoy a moment of normalcy, free from her complex life. She sipped her hot mocha and picked up a newsletter she’d grabbed from the front desk at the shelter, mostly advertising jobs, private counselors, and a couple of positive words to boost the broken spirit. She focused on the job listings as she enjoyed the rest of her beverage. She was so engrossed in her reading she did not notice him approach her table.
“This is getting ridiculous, don’t you think?” Zachary asked.
Courtney glanced up at him with a scowl, irritated by the interruption. With a smirk, he touched his upper lip in an effort to alert her to the ridiculous white whipped cream mustache, but she did not catch on to his signal.
“What?” her scowl deepened.
“You have cream on your…” He repeated the gesture.
“Oh.” Embarrassed, she plucked a tissue from the dispenser and wiped it off. “Thanks.”
Amused, Zachary nodded. “Good to see you again. Have a good one.”
Running into him again was bizarre and no longer feeling like a mere coincidence. “Please,” she said, motioning for him to join her. Without much consideration, he obliged. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” She took in his handsome features, taking notice of his perky blue eyes, his chiseled nose, tender lips, strong neck down to his shoulders, and broad chest. Her knees trembled as her body reacted to his proximity.
He set his cup of cappuccino on the table and met her gaze. “Zachary.”
Courtney snickered and averted her eyes.
He chuckled. “We seem to run into each other a lot, all in a course of one week.”
Courtney nodded. “Weird, huh?”
She couldn’t believe how giddy she was. All the confidence she had gained back in the last couple of weeks was rapidly dissipating before her eyes. Though it was a great feeling, she understood it was bad timing. She wasn’t in any position to embrace a new relationship of any kind. The charged emotions that passed through her body were intriguing, contradicting every concern.
“So, what do you do, Zachary?”
“I’m an ex-Marine,” he said, and she picked up on the pain in his voice.
“Oh, that’s interesting.” Now she had some sort of a clue why he was in counseling. The revelation pacified her fears. She’d imagined the worst.
“And what do you do, Ms. Courtney?”
“I’m just a waitress.”
“Just? It’s something.”
“I guess.” She shrugged.
“Well, what do you like to do for fun? I ask because I’d like to take you out sometime.”
Doubt and fear clutched her heart. It had been awhile since a man regarded her the way he did. It was overpowering and bizarre all at once. Still, she should be focusing on fixing her screwed-up life before letting someone in. And he should be doing the same with his, whatever that was. Not to mention she was legally married to a maniac she was on the run from. Oh, why was this her life?
She remained stoic while she thought about his proposal. Focusing on his features, she took notice of his ruffled dark brown hair, which in a sensual way complemented his striking eyes. His features were well defined, beautiful brows, the same color as his hair. She stared longer at his impeccably luscious lips, wet from a sip he just took from his cup. He wore a black jacket over a white t-shirt and blue jeans that hung perfectly on his hips. He definitely was a little over six feet tall, judging by how his legs stuck out of the booth at the diner. He was without a doubt a man of any girl’s dreams. His bronzed skin was rich and flawless, and something about him cheered her dull spirit, like she’d known him before, yet she knew nothing about him. The feeling was peculiar.
He observed her while she thought about her answer. She bit her lip before speaking. “I don’t have much fun, and what I like to do will probably bore you.”
“Try me.”
“I love to paint.”
“I know just the place. Can I pick you up?”
“No!” she said sharply. The thought of him picking her up from a shelter was belittling, only a reminder that she lived an abnormal life. “Give me the address and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay, give me your number and I’ll send it to you.”
They exchanged numbers, and he left her for a meeting he was late for. Mortified by her behavior, she hoped she hadn’t run him off.
***
Courtney threw on her favorite faded jeans, a t-shirt that had a question mark on the front, and black kitten heels. She tied her hair up into a neat bun and checked her image in the mirror a couple of times. She second-guessed her choice, thinking she looked hideous for a first date. There was nothing she could do about that. Her duffle bag contained nothing remotely right to be considered perfect or even decent for a date. The thought of William crossed her mind. Was this considered cheating? Was she prepared to move on from him so soon? The idea of Zachary seemed like a rebound, but in her heart, he was more. There was something special about him. It was right, as though it had been written and sealed in the heavens.
She double checked the address he sent her earlier and was impressed by his choice of location. It warmed her heart that he chose a place solely based on her interest. He was definitely not William or any man she had ever encountered. Or perhaps he was concealing his truth until she felt safe with him.
Hours before dark, she suffered a conflict of opposing thoughts, questioning her decision to go on this date. Her counselor would definitely not approve, and she comprehended why. She needed to heal, find herself, before letting anyone in. She was making the same mistake she made years ago—expecting refuge from a man to fill the void another created. She didn’t know how to be alone, and that frightened her. She was clueless about this man, yet she couldn’t stop herself from making a costly mistake.
It’s just a harmless outing with a new friend, she tried to convince herself.
***
Sh
e stood in front of the building and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. A faint gust of wind brushed against her cheeks, and she inhaled in appreciation. Her troubled thoughts drifted away to contemplate a promising evening with a man she considered a stranger.
A gentle touch on her shoulder made her jump, startled by his gesture yet embarrassed by her exaggerated action. William did a number on her. She’d always reserve her faith in any man, cold to any touch even if it was from love.
“Where were you? I called your name a couple of times.” Zachary gave her a sympathetic gaze.
“I apologize. My mind drifted away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She smiled ruefully.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” He opened the door for her.
“No, I have a habit of being early.”
“Why? To check for imminent threats?” he joked.
Courtney giggled. “I love that you chose this place. That’s nice of you.”
A brief, comfortable silence lingered between them while they waited for the hostess.
“I booked a private room since you don’t need an instructor, and I can be your student,” Zachary said.
“That works.”
The celestial voice of Nat King Cole played softly through the surround sound speakers, crafting the right mood for the perfect night he had planned. They took their seats in front of an empty canvas facing each other. Courtney flipped through their artwork in search of an easy task he could work with. She opted for a painting of a beer can sitting on a plain bench.
“What do you think about this?” She flipped the file around to face him.