Sometimes It Happens Here

by K. S. Thomas

  “I’m glad you two think you’re so funny.”

  “Who’s being funny?” he asks, his free hand cupping my elbow and tugging me to him. “I’m completely serious.”

  “Same.” Mama nods, reaching for the kettle just before it begins to shriek again. “Well, I’m serious about you two. I was being funny about the mug.” She taps it with her own as if we’re cheers-ing each other. “Told you so.”

  “Ah, right,” Bodhi says, curling his arm around my waist as if he’s anticipating my escape. “That’s where you get that.”

  “Hey!”

  “It’s true,” Mama says. “Rossi women are fond of I told you so’s, doesn’t help that we’re right so much of the time. You just wait, too. Because you’re getting two of them.”

  “Alright,” I interrupt the madness, putting my hand up to stop them both from carrying on down this road. “Let’s slow down just a minute. I think some people are getting a little ahead of themselves here.” I’m glaring directly at Mama, just in case she’s not picking up on the fact that she’s the some people I’m referring to.

  “That’s fine.” She lifts one hand in surrender. “You go right ahead and argue what is plain as pudding in this kitchen here this morning. You’ll just be giving me another I told you so for later.” Then she takes in the rest of the kitchen, and adds, “You plan on doing any baking here today? Or are you two just planning on sitting at the marketplace canoodling all morning?”

  “We’re going to bake,” I confirm, doing everything I can to channel my business as usual voice even as every part of me is screaming that nothing will ever feel anything like it usually does ever again. “Obviously. Canoodling isn’t going to pay the bills.”

  Bodhi does a half shrug, his face mimicking the gesture. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Ew! I don’t want to hear about you getting paid to kiss other women!” This time I really do try to bolt from his arms. He catches me before I get anywhere. Not that I was really planning to leave his embrace. Just bluffing. Mostly for my own sake. To prove that I could still do it. Could still walk away.

  “I meant us kissing, ding-dong. You know what the media would pay for shots like that?”

  “You better be joking.”

  He seems to realize instantly he’s touched a nerve. No doubt, Hannah has told him how much I value my privacy and why. “I’m definitely joking,” he assures me. “I promise. No one even knows I’m here. Media probably just assumes I’m laying low between movies, traveling with Teran. Same as always.”

  I nod. “Okay.” I take a few extra seconds to take him in, the gentle curve of his smile. The kindness in his eyes. The warm way his expression takes me in anytime he’s looking at me, like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on. A girl could get used to this. “So, bread.”

  “Bread.”

  “Bread,” Mama confirms, “and fast because it’s nearly six already.”

  “What?” Holy shit, time has been flying. And here I was certain it had stood still the second he kissed me. “Alright, time to hustle, Bodhi, or I’m making you explain to everyone why we don’t have any merchandise today.”

  “I know you think you can use my good looks and charm to your advantage here,” he says, right at my side at the table already. “But it’ll backfire, because I’ll just tell them you couldn’t get your work done because you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  “Less talking, more baking,” I snap. Right before I laugh. And throw a pinch of flour at his face.

  How we get any work done at all is a Christmas miracle in and of itself, but somehow we manage. Thankfully, I had all my regular loaves already in the oven before I even went to pick him up. Still, I’m thrilled with the way our Graham Cracker bread comes out and, judging by the way Bodhi continues to shove big chunks of it into his mouth, it’ll be a hit at the market as well.

  “So, what’s next?” he asks, closing up the back of my pickup after securing the last of the bread crates.

  “Next, I drop you back at Hannah’s and I head on to the market.” I start for the driver’s side door, but he catches my hand and drags me back.

  “Wait. I don’t get to come?” He makes the mopeyest, most pathetic puppy face ever. “But I baked the bread! I want to be there to see people enjoy it.”

  “Bodhi,” I reason, “If you are at my table today, everyone will be too distracted to even remember I’m the bread lady. The bread will go to waste. There will be no people enjoying the bread, there will only be people staring at the Bodhi James.”

  “I don’t know that that’s true,” he argues. “The last time I was there, no one even noticed me.”

  “That was before,” I explain.

  “Before what?”

  “Before you came out publicly at the high school for the Christmas show. Now, everyone knows you’re in town. And, everyone knows you’re Hannah’s friend. So, you’re not just a celebrity, you’re a celebrity that everyone thinks they kinda know because they know Hannah. Trust me. You would cause a non-stop stream of people walking up to the table, but none of them would be there for bread. They’d be there to chat with you. Their extended famous friend, Bodhi James.”

  “So, I have to go back to the house,” he says, disappointed but accepting. “and let you do your thing.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Alright.” He leans down and presses his lips to mine. He tastes like graham crackers. And here I thought he couldn’t possibly be more delicious. “But on one condition. Well, two.”

  “Name them.”

  “One, I get to take some bread with me. If I don’t have proof, Teran will never believe I baked anything.”

  I laugh. “Done. And two?”

  “You have to think of another way to get me out of the house for a bit.”

  “Like a date?” I ask, teasing.

  “Goddamn right, like a date.”

  “Deal.” This time, I kiss him. And the rush of knowing I can do that anytime I want now, will keep me floating on cloud nine for the foreseeable future.

  Bodhi

  “MEL?” I ANSWER HIS call just as I’m walking in the door. “I thought I told you not to call me until after the New Year.” Then I catch a glimpse of Hannah’s clock hanging in the foyer. It’s early in Blueshadow, which means it’s a smidge past midnight in Los Angeles. “Also, why are you awake?”

  “You would be too if you’d been up putting out Bodhi James wildfires all night,” he yells into my ear. Apparently, I’m on speaker phone and he’s not gauging his volume well. “Do you have any idea what your little hiatus is doing to me?”

  “Giving you more time to focus on some of your other clients?” I suggest though I’m guessing that’s not where he’s going with this.

  “Ha! Yeah. Like I can even think about any other client when you’re the one demanding so much of my attention,” he rants.

  “Mel, how would that even be possible? I’m not in town. I’m not looking for work. All of my past projects are at varying stages of post-production, none of which involve me right now. I literally asked you to not pay attention to me for the next month. How is this causing you problems?”

  “Well, Bodhi. I’m glad you asked.” He suddenly sounds convincingly calm. If I didn’t know any better, I might not anticipate the blow that’s about to follow. But I do know him better. So... “Ever since you took off, my phone has been ringing off the hook. It’s like all of Hollywood sensed you were off limits and instantly needed what it couldn’t have! Do you know how many scripts have been submitted to my office in the last week requesting your consideration? And do you know that one of those scripts was being pitched by Mac Turner? You know Mac Turner, don’t you, Bodhi? The Mac Turner who directed Oscar winning movies the last four years in a row! And Mac wants you! And I’m stalling, trying to come up with reasons why you’re currently unable to respond to offers and frankly, I’m out of excuses. So, I’m sending you the script. Give me an address, I’m having it expressed
to you. We’re not blowing this opportunity and I promise you, it will not wait until the new year. You hear me?! Mac Turner does not wait! Not even for you!”

  “Well, Mac’s going to have to.” Even as I hear myself saying it, I can hear how crazy Mel will think I sound. And a week ago I might have agreed. Working with Mac Turner would have been the opportunity of a lifetime. But that was before. Before Lilan. And Mona. And Blueshadow. Opportunities of a lifetime have taken on a completely new meaning now. And the prospect of working with Mac Turner just doesn’t rate as high as it used to. “Just stop making up shit and tell people the truth, Mel. I’m not entertaining offers until after the holidays. Period.”

  “What are you talking about? What has gotten into you down there? Are you on drugs? Have they forced you into a cult?”

  “Mel.” I’m losing my patience with him and fast.

  “Oh. I get it.” Judging by the disdain in his voice, I’m not sure he does. “It’s a woman.”

  Maybe he does. Or, at the very least, as much as he’s capable of getting it.

  “It’s none of your business, Mel. The only business you and I have right now, is you telling everyone my business is on break for the holidays.”

  “I’m not letting you screw up what could be the greatest opportunity of your career,” he insists.

  “You don’t have a choice.” I bend over to untie my shoes to keep from tracking snow inside the house. I can hear Mel open his mouth, taking a long drag of air and preparing to start in on me again and I decide to put a stop to it before it happens. “Goodbye, Mel.” I swipe the red button, making him disappear. Then I put the ringer on mute, anticipating the back to back calls I’m about to get from him. He’s not just going to let this one go. And for the sake of our working relationship, I’m prepared to take measures to keep me as unaware as possible of his ongoing efforts.

  “Thought I heard someone out here,” Hannah says, stepping out of the kitchen, just as I turn the corner into the main living space. Her house has an amazing open floor plan, every room just kind of melts into the next, connecting everyone whether they’re in the dining room or kitchen or living room.

  “Teran up too?” I ask, taking a detour to the couch. Now that Lilan isn’t around, my body is more than happy to remind me that it’s not usually up and operational at five in the morning.

  “He was,” she says, walking over and plopping down in the cushions beside me. “Made me coffee and breakfast. Then he went back to bed.” She laughs and it’s sheer delight bubbling out of her.

  “You’re really happy,” I observe. “With Teran.”

  “Trust me, no one is more shocked by this than I am.” She pulls her long, dark hair around to one side, draping it over her shoulder before she begins to braid it. “But I am. I’m really happy.”

  I bump her shoulder with mine, grinning. “Wanna know where I was this morning?”

  “Nope.”

  “What?” I swear, my jaw just dropped to my lap. Hannah is the nosiest person I know. I can’t believe she’s being so blasé about my disappearing at the crack of dawn and showing up again hours later. “Since when?”

  “Since Lilan texted me five minutes ago from my driveway to tell me all about it.” She curls up as if she fears retaliation, meanwhile she’s giggling too damn much to be genuinely concerned.

  “I think Lilan and I are going to have to discuss some rules where sharing you is concerned,” I mutter dryly. “She can’t go around stealing my thunder at every turn. Obviously, we need to set some sort of boundaries here. You’re my friend, too.”

  “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, bud. If anything, having Lilan tell me first just generates more curiosity on my end. Just because I already know where you were, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear all about what you were doing!”

  I lift myself up enough to turn sideways, pulling my knee up to be more comfortable. “Okay. How much time do you have before you have to leave for work?” Because I’m going to need to know whether I need to skim over the less important details or not to get my whole story told here.

  “Twenty minutes.”

  Not nearly long enough.

  She seems to agree, because she adds, “You’re already dressed and ready. Why don’t you just come with me today? The kids will love it and we can chat Lilan and Christmas show all day long. Well, you know, when I’m not doing the teaching thing.”

  “What about Teran?” Not that I don’t think he could entertain himself for a few hours on his own, but now that they’re a thing I feel oddly weird about not including him in things Hannah and I do.

  “He has plans already.”

  “He does?” Everyone he knows in town is going to be working. What plans could he possibly have?

  “Apparently, he’s got a job interview.” She shrugs. As if it’s nothing.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I do a doubletake. “Teran. My brother. Has a job interview?” As far as I know, he hasn’t had one of those since he was in high school and applied to work at Eagle Outfitters in the mall. Since them, I’m pretty sure, my connections have supplied him with a steady stream of gigs to keep his finances flowing.

  “That’s what he said.”

  Let’s pretend it’s real. For just a second. “Doing what?” I’m not saying he has no skills, but as far as jobs he’s qualified to do, there likely isn’t much to be found around here. Unless they have an underground movie scene, I’m unaware of.

  “You’re really going to like this,” she says, bursting with anticipation. Clearly, she’s been sitting on this, waiting for the right moment to tell me. “He’s talking to the head of our arts in entertainment school to see about adding classes about film and the production side of things.”

  “Huh.” That’s actually pretty cool. “He’d be good at that.”

  “Right?!”

  “It’s still weird though.”

  She nods. “Yeah. A little.” She pulls both feet onto the cushions and crosses her legs. “Wanna talk about you now?”

  “I could talk about me now,” I agree. “Lilan made me pick her tea mug.”

  “Did she now?” Even though she’s mocking me, I can tell she knows this one little fact is profoundly significant. I can also tell, that Lilan left out this part of the story when she talked to her.

  “Yeah.” I take a moment to consider whether it bothers me or not, Lilan skipping this detail when it was such a pivotal point in the way things transpired between us this morning. Maybe it shouldn’t. Lilan sucks at the vulnerability game. Admitting to giving in to the possibilities of fate and fairy tales would likely make her cringe to the depths of her soul. And, knowing this about her, probably means I should respect her desire to keep this part of our story to herself.

  “And?”

  “And I think I picked a pretty good one.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LILAN

  “Brought you something,” I announce walking into the music room where Kaleaha is standing hunched over her desk, pen furiously moving over papers. Well, until I interrupt her.

  “Will it save me from having to explain to students’ parents that their children have no rhythm and therefore cannot play the instruments required to set said rhythm in the music we play in band?”

  I glance down at the bag I brought. There’s bread in it. Probably not the solution she’s looking for. “It’ll provide fuel to write said parents about their children’s lack of rhythm.”

  She drops her pen in surrender. “I guess that’ll do.”

  Moseying into the room, I take in the current set up. She’s got the place set up like a full orchestra. It’s pretty impressive. “Did you get a funding boost or something? I don’t remember you having so many instruments for the music program.”

  “He didn’t tell you?” She looks surprised. “Bodhi made a huge donation at the beginning of the year. Apparently, he does it every semester. Has been since the board made budget cuts seven years ago and left us pretty much depleted in the
music and theater department. I always knew we were running on the good deeds of a benefactor; I just never knew who it was.” She glances sideways. “Until now.”

  “You’re kidding.” How am I just hearing about this now? “They were going to get rid of music and theater? What about the annual Christmas show? The entire town comes to that. It’s the highlight of the season, has been as least as long as we’ve been alive!”

  Kaleaha nods. “I know. We were beside ourselves when we found out.”

  “And yet, somehow, it never came up in conversation.”

  “Lilan,” she says, more serious than I expected. “Seven years ago, telling you about our budget cuts didn’t seem like a pressing issue.” She gets quiet, then tentatively goes on, “It was right after the accident.”

  “Oh.” Of course. No one told me anything that year. If they did, I was in too much of a blur to remember anyway.

  “Besides, Bodhi swooped right in and saved the day. The panic struck and dissipated all within the same day,” she explains, taking steps away from her desk to meet me in the middle of the room where I got hung up. “Can I have that bread now? I skipped lunch to finish up some things for last period and now I’m starving.”

  I hold the bag out in front of me, dangling it in her face. “Here. It’s a new recipe and it’s yummy.” When she snatches the bag from my fingers I add, “And I baked it with Bodhi, your swooping benefactor.”

  “God,” she says, rolling her eyes as if annoyed. “That pretty boy is just going around saving my ass all over the place.” Then she grins. “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “All the dirty and deeply disturbing thoughts you’ve been having since you baked with him.” She sits down right there on the floor, opens the bag and rips a piece of bread straight from the loaf. “And don’t tell me you haven’t been having any. I know bribe bread when I see it. You came here to unload. So, do it. I’m ready. I’m fueling up as we speak.” She waves her bread back and forth for a second before she dramatically yanks a piece off with her teeth.