Speak From The Heart: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  I turn and head for the outer room. I make it inside and almost out to the hallway when a hand covers my upper arm.

  “Don’t,” he commands, and I spin to face him.

  “Don’t what?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.

  “Don’t love her.”

  “Why? Because of Sami?” I argue.

  “No, because you plan to leave.”

  I gasp. Tears prickle my eyes, but I’m too angry to cry. How dare he tell me who to love? I realize it’s his daughter, and it’s unfortunate and perhaps inconvenient that it’s happening, but I won’t let him tell me who I can and can’t love. A child. A man. Or a family.

  “Let’s not do this,” I say with an eerie calm as a sob chokes my throat. “There’s nothing between us anyway.” I twist from his hold, turn for the hall, and rush down the stairs. The screen door slams behind me as I exit the house and race toward the street. I slow once I hit the pavement. Then I bend down, slip off my flip-flops, and run barefoot down the block, speeding away from the hurt in my heart.

  “Jesus, slow down.”

  I don’t register the feet racing behind me until I turn into Nana’s drive and finally slow my barefoot sprint. My feet ache. Running without shoes was a bad decision, but I needed the release of energy.

  I spin to face Jess at the edge of Nana’s driveway. My driveway.

  “Go home, Jess,” I snap before I turn away from him and stalk to the back porch. I open the screen door with a little more heft than necessary, and it gets stuck open. I realize Jess is still behind me.

  “What do you want?” I spin on him as I take a backward step into the enclosed area. A low lamp is on to welcome me home.

  “We need to talk.” He steps into the screened-in porch and locks the latch behind him.

  “I have nothing to say,” I huff, crossing my arms.

  “Well, I do. First off, Sami means nothing to me and as callous as that sounds, it’s the truth. I won’t go into the details of our relationship because we didn’t have one. We . . .” fucked. The word explodes without being said. My face turns away from him. I don’t need to hear this. I don’t want an explanation. “She’s not taking the hint, and I’m trying not to be a dick, but between last night and tonight, I’m over it.”

  Jess scratches under his chin.

  “Then there’s you and Gabe—”

  “Don’t you turn this around,” I snap, pointing a finger at him. “Gabe and me, nothing. I ran into him the second I hit the corner. You were already tied up, I might add.” I cross my arms, and Jess steps forward.

  “It wasn’t like that,” he growls.

  My eyes lower to his shirt, and I sniff as if I can smell her on him. To my surprise, he tugs the shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch. My mouth falls open as I take in his chiseled chest and the dramatic line of hair dashing into his jeans. He holds his arms wide at his sides, as if beckoning me to come and get him, but I’m still angry.

  “This whole night has been bullshit,” he spits.

  “What you said about Katie . . .” My voice drifts, cracking on the recall of his demand.

  “Yeah, about that.” He lowers his arms and steps into my space. “Katie is tricky. I need to be careful. I don’t want her hurt again.”

  “I’d never hurt her.”

  Jess shakes his head. “I’m not saying you would intentionally. You’ve done more with her in a few weeks than I’ve been able to do in years.” He scrubs at his forehead. “I’ll always be grateful. Always. But I can’t guard her heart as well as my own, and I don’t want you loving her if you’re going to leave. Don’t open her up to more heartache.” He exhales and slaps at his own chest with the palm of his hand. “Don’t open me to the same.”

  My forehead furrows. “Don’t you think I feel the same way?”

  Don’t take my heart if you’re going to toss me away like that T-shirt.

  It’s going to crush me to leave them behind, but I have no reason to stay, especially when Jess stands before me telling me not to love them.

  He doesn’t respond to what I’ve asked, so I turn away and step into the dining room. Heading toward the small alcove under the stairs, I’m stopped once again by his fingers on my arm. Jess spins me, and my back presses against the wood panel. He ducks his head but still barely fits in this cramped space.

  “Tell me what you feel,” he demands. “Tell me what you feel for me.”

  “Speak from your heart,” Nana said. “Tell it like it is.” I shake my head. There’s no way I will open my heart to him, not like this. Not when he doesn’t want me feeling things for his child. For him.

  When I don’t say anything, his hand cups my jaw, and within seconds, his mouth is on mine. The kiss is fierce, intense, fighting. We spar with tongues, and he unties the shoulder straps of my dress before tugging down the bodice. His hand slips around my back, unclasps my strapless bra, and drops it to the ground, all without breaking the kiss. His hands cup the swell of each breast, and he pushes them upward, filling his palms.

  “God, it pisses me off how perfect you are,” he mutters. He lowers his head to suck at one heavy globe before moving to the other. My fingers wrap around his ponytail, and I tug.

  “You piss me off too,” I tell him, and his mouth returns to mine. Hot. Wild. Wanting. His fingers lace into my hair, collecting it at the nape. Mine pulls at the band holding his together. Our mouths continue to wrestle, and then my dress and underwear are shoved down to my hips. I wiggle my legs, lowering the material down my thighs until both pieces drop to my ankles, and just as I step out of them, Jess spins me. I brace my hands on the wall as I hear his buckle unclasp and his zipper lower.

  His mouth comes to my shoulder, and he licks at the residual stickiness of Katie’s ice cream on my skin. “Superman,” he hums.

  I laugh softly, like a crazed woman deliriously high on him. This is crazy. However, love is a battlefield, and I’m soldiering on.

  He swipes the thickness of his tip along my backside. Bending his knees, he positions himself at my entrance. He leans in so his mouth comes to my ear.

  “Don’t make me want to love you myself,” he strains before he thrusts upward, filling me. I yelp at the sharp intrusion, though I love it. My hands grasp for the edge of the alcove for support, but Jess covers my hands with his and curls his fingers into mine before tucking our arms near my chest. He’s cocooning me like this, and my heart cries out.

  I hate how I feel about you.

  I hate how I already love you.

  I hate how my body responds to you, and my heart wants more, and my soul wants everything.

  Not someday, but now.

  However, I don’t say any of these things. I just feel him, sliding roughly in and out of me. Our mutual agitation recedes as the pummeling increases. The draw of our breaths heightens, and our mutual release comes quickly.

  I scream his name, and then he stills behind me, pouring into me.

  “Fuck,” he groans, holding my hips against his pelvis, the position burying him deeper. My forehead comes to rest on the wood, and his drops against my shoulder. He wraps our entwined arms tighter around my chest.

  “You’re so pushy,” he says.

  “You’re so stubborn,” I whisper, a smile gracing my lips.

  “I don’t know how I’ll let you go, Emily Post of Chicago.”

  “Then don’t,” I say, my voice still quiet. Ask me to stay and I might.

  “Don’t say there’s nothing between us.” He breathes against my neck, and we stand here like this, clinging to one another without answers about what to do next.

  Rule 15

  Heaven is in your heart.

  [Jess]

  I’m nervous when I arrive with the decorative wrought-iron fence panels in my truck, as promised. I have Katie with me as a show of good faith that I overstepped the other night. Things got a little intense. I can’t tell her how to feel about my daughter, but I just need to do a better job protecting my child’s heart.<
br />
  Still, we arrive today with additional peace offerings.

  We see her immediately upon pulling into her drive, standing on a ladder propped against the front of the house as she scrubs at a giant flowerbox under one of the windows.

  “Be careful up there,” I warn. Emily climbs down from the ladder and walks up to us. She squats before Katie, speaking to her first.

  “Are those for me?” she asks.

  Katie nods and extends her offering toward Emily. Three daisies.

  “Are these so you can play in the playhouse?”

  I don’t know what she means, but Katie nods and Emily takes the small handful of daisies, holds them to her nose, and inhales deeply. She tells Katie to go on ahead.

  “I’ll meet you back there in a minute.”

  She slowly stands as Katie runs off for the back.

  “And did you want to play in the playhouse as well?” she teases as I hold out my bouquet. Mine is a bit bigger than Katie’s. More daisies. She takes my offering and lifts it to her nose as well. I watch her lids slowly lower and then lift to me, and my heart patters double-time in my chest.

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” I say.

  “Jess, we both got overheated.” She smiles sheepishly, still hiding behind the arrangement of white petals and bright yellow centers. The flowers remind me of her.

  I step closer and brush back the loose hairs falling out of her messy ponytail. “I was too rough.” My voice drops, recalling the way I went at her. I was so pissed off and scared—scared because she’s leaving and taking both our hearts with her.

  “I liked it,” she whispers. Not caring that we stand in the front lawn for the neighbors to see and thus fueling the rumors already spreading around town, I kiss her thoroughly. She melts against me as we enjoy each other’s lips for a few minutes before I pull back, remembering Katie’s in the backyard waiting on Emily.

  “Whatcha working on here?”

  “Curb appeal. More repairs.” She sighs. My pattering heart screeches to a halt.

  “Because you’re selling,” I whisper, squinting up at the house. It’s such a nice place but turnover happens around here. Older people die, and younger people move in. One-half of our population used to be retirees who purchased places as second homes or for use as summer birds. Then the school system improved, and people decided to stick around for longer than the warm weather months. Some of us have always been here, though, and the houses have remained in the family. Like the Parrish house.

  “Grace and I are still deciding.” Her words do nothing to assure me. Sell or rent—it’s all the same to me, because she’ll go.

  “So there is a plan B?” I ask teasingly. Emily watches me for a long minute. Make me part of your plan, I want to say. But I don’t.

  “I should get started on your fences then,” I say after clearing my throat. I head to the truck, and Emily disappears into the house with her flowers. When I enter the backyard, I find her setting out a blanket. I carry the metal panels to the edge of the property. The install won’t take long. These fences are more decorative than privacy, and they don’t require a foundation.

  I begin working, listening as Emily rambles on to my child like it doesn’t matter she’s not speaking in return. The whole thing baffles me.

  “I have something for you,” I hear her say. “It’s a write-your-own story book.” Normally, I drown out sounds when I’m working. My mind usually wanders to a million different things but I can’t tune out the sound of Emily’s voice speaking to my child. It speaks to me.

  “Let’s call you Princess Katie, to protect your identity,” she continues, and I shake my head. She’s really good with this fairy-tale stuff.

  “Shall we begin with, ‘Once upon a time there lived a girl named Princess Katie?’” Emily throws her voice as she speaks.

  For some reason, I look up as if I expect my daughter to answer her, as if one little word, like yes, will crack the vault on her silence.

  “How about, ‘She was very smart and very pretty, but she had a secret spell cast upon her?’”

  Good God, not this again. I shake my head and begin working on the first panel piece. I notice Katie sits right next to Emily, their thighs close, and I’m a little jealous of the nearness. I want to tuck Emily back into me. I couldn’t stay with her the other night because of Katie. I hate to leave my daughter assuming my mom or Tricia will cover things, but Tricia heard Emily and me fight, and she warned me I either needed to chase her or give her up.

  I chased.

  “The words of another took the words from Katie,” Emily continues, fixated on this concept. It isn’t like we don’t all agree something happened, but I feel like we’ll never know if Debbie did something or said something or if Katie saw something. It’s all a great mystery. Maybe she watched her mother walk out the door for the final time. My heart clenches at the thought. It’s all possible considering I found her hours after Debbie left.

  “The King and his family were very sad the princess could no longer speak.” The words drift to me as I continue working. My fingers slip with both sweat and nerves.

  Why does Emily have to be so pushy? Maybe pushy isn’t the right word. Persistent? Insistent? Just let it go, I want to tell her. My daughter isn’t going to say anything, and it’s taken me a long time to accept the reality. She’ll talk when she’s ready. Or not.

  “The royal family was unaware how the spell was made or how it could be broken because Princess Katie couldn’t tell them. However, the princess knew the answers.”

  I freeze, my back to them as I lick my lips. I should tell her to stop.

  “And it was up to the princess to break the spell. Not a godmother. Not a good fairy. It had to be her.”

  There’s a pause.

  “She needs to be very brave,” Emily says and then her voice shifts as she speaks more directly to my daughter. “Do you think Princess Katie is brave?”

  I look up, watching as my baby girl stares up at this stranger. Is she a fairy godmother? Could she be a mother to a child who isn’t her own? It’s something I haven’t ever imagined—marrying again, falling in love, giving Katie a new mother—until recently.

  “I think Princess Katie is very brave,” Emily states and I wonder if I’m half as brave as my child, who has locked herself in an impenetrable cage.

  “There is a condition to Katie’s spell. On the night of the fire in the sky, three secrets whispered in her ear by a good fairy will help the princess find the courage to break the spell.” There is another pause in her altered voice, and she stares down at my child, as if holding her breath, waiting for Katie to agree to something.

  Good luck, woman. It’s not going to happen. No words will escape those tight lips.

  “Should that be the end? A cliffhanger where we don’t know the truth? Or will it be true? On the night of fire in the sky, with three secrets revealed, will Princess Katie be unlocked from her spell?”

  Now, I hold my breath. Will she answer Emily?

  “Do we need a beast or a prince? A knight in shining armor, perhaps?” I chuckle to myself, knowing Emily doesn’t believe in that part of the story. No man needs to fix her. So efficient. Sometimes, I think she’s the stubborn one, but there’s a vulnerability to her.

  No one’s ever picked me.

  Jesus, men are stupid beasts.

  “Actually, the beast already has a story where he learns to love and then receives love in return, so that idea is already taken. And then the guy who steals a shoe, that’s gone as well. Let’s see…” Emily pauses. “Girl in a tower. Nope. Mermaid under the sea. Nope. I guess since this is Princess Katie’s story, we’ll leave it up to the princess to save herself, because she is brave enough to do it on her own.”

  I’ve finished a second panel and move onto the third when I hear Emily say, “Good enough to write ‘The End?’” Another silent pause. “Then time for pictures.” She has everything set up. I’m assuming she didn’t have colored pencils l
aying around, so it’s another gift for my daughter. Emily is thoughtful.

  “Katie,” Emily’s voice shifts. “I want to tell you another story, about my nana.” I glance up to see Emily stroking Katie’s hair behind her ear, her voice soothing as she tenderly touches my child.

  “My nana died. Do you know what that means?” Without waiting on any acknowledgement from Katie, Emily continues. “It means she went away, and I won’t ever see her again. She’s in heaven. Do you know where that is?”

  Katie looks up at the sky, and my heart beats three times as fast as it should. I never had to have this conversation because Katie was still so small when my father was killed. She was too young to understand and newly under her silent spell.

  Jesus, now I’m even using Emily’s label for it.

  “When a person goes to heaven, they can’t come back, honey. It’s just the way of things. I’m going to leave soon too, Katie bug, but I’m not going to heaven. I’m going to my home because I don’t live here. This is Nana’s place, but I want you to know I’ll be missing you every day. And maybe . . . maybe I can come back here someday and see you.”

  Her voice sounds thick, and I watch as Emily closes her eyes.

  Dammit. Don’t do it. Don’t go.

  “I was scared when Nana left me, but I know she’ll always be in my heart. Her memories will always be inside my head, and I’ll love her forever despite our distance. Anyway, I must be very brave now that Nana’s gone. I need to make all kinds of decisions, and I need to stay strong. Just like I know you’ll be strong when I go because you know that I . . . I care about you.”

  She fights the words I know she wants to say because I told her she couldn’t. She couldn’t love my child. Watching her struggle makes my chest ache and I want to go to both of them, wrap them in my arms, and never let either one leave me.

  “How about some lemonade?” Emily interjects, quickly changing the topic and offering Katie a weak smile. She swipes under her eye and then unfolds her legs to stand. Before she does, she presses a kiss to Katie’s hair and then pushes herself upright and walks to the house with hurried steps. Katie’s eyes follow Emily, and I don’t know who to go to first.