Speak From The Heart: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  Katie and I pick up Emily and walk the few blocks to the midway, a set of carnival rides set up in a parking lot behind a portion of Main Street. The U-shaped arrangement of blinking lights and screeching music surrounds a Ferris wheel, the only ride I’ll be taking, and I purchase three tickets. We wait in line for our turn and listen to the sounds of riders enjoying the attraction. When we take our seats in the car, Katie sits between us, and I rest my arm on the back of the seat, enjoying the dimming evening light as we lurch upward in increments to allow other riders to take their place on the wheel.

  “Another secret,” Emily says as the car halts and then rocks back and forth. “This fairy is afraid of heights.”

  The panic in her voice gives away her fear, and I notice how her fingers wrap tightly over the safety bar. Katie looks up at Emily.

  “But sometimes we need to face things we are afraid of, right? We face them and learn we can do it. We can be strong, even if it’s scary.”

  I wonder, once again, why she’s trying to impart these words of wisdom to my child, and I teeter between feeling gratitude for her determination to help my child and being annoyed at her interference.

  “Fairy strength,” Emily says before she removes one hand from the bar and pats her palm against her chest. However, as the car rolls upward to allow another set of riders to board, she lets out another squeak. Katie smiles at Emily’s mouse-like noise, and I wonder if she’s laughing inside at this woman’s silly antics. It’s only a Ferris wheel. What can happen on here?

  As we near the top of the circular shape, Emily turns her head toward the beautiful view of the lake. This ride makes me feel like I’m soaring, and I’d love to float away. The thought reminds me of what Emily said on our date.

  She’s floating through life.

  Have I been as well? I’m comfortable where I am. Working with Tom. Living with Mom. Maybe I should want more . . .

  I think of the radio patent and the fact that Dad’s friend is interested. It’s the first mental challenge I’ve had in years, since leaving General Motors. I glance over at Emily and realize she’s the catalyst. She’s been the first emotional challenge I’ve had in years as well, and the two are not independent from one another.

  She’s the challenge that’s awoken my spirit and perhaps opened my heart.

  It sounds a bit fairy tale-ish, and I ignore my own thoughts, feeling like I’ll have to hand over my man card if I start thinking like that.

  The Ferris wheel lurches into action. The car hurls down toward the earth, the structure spins on its axis, and we roll upward once again. As we crest the top, the sun lowers in the west, and I’m filled with a sense of beauty and finality.

  Final.

  The word hits me hard.

  It’s going to end soon. The ride. The summer. Her visit. Emily is beauty, and she’s leaving tomorrow. It’s not like we couldn’t continue in some manner. Phone calls. Emails. Maybe a visit here and there, but I don’t like the fact it will all lead to nothing. She’s told me about her career ambitions and I’d never stand in her way. I have my own rocky road with Katie, and I can’t ask Emily to stay. It’s a vicious circle. We’ll spin around each other but never connect like the cars on this giant wheel. We won’t be what I need, and I’ve started to think I need her more and more.

  Maybe I do need a queen like my sister teased earlier, but I’m pretty certain the castle door is closed to that idea.

  The Ferris wheel ride ends, and we take Katie around the grounds to go on a few child rides on her own. Eventually, we make our way to a blanket spread on the grass near the marina. Tom set it out to save us a place, and he and Karyn sit behind us. My brother hands me a beer, but Emily declines the offer. Katie straddles her lap, playing with the zipper on Emily’s sweatshirt.

  For some reason, the distance between Emily and myself is growing already even though she’s sitting mere inches from me. Maybe separation is good, given she’s leaving, but deep inside, I know I’m not ready yet. I wasted precious time—two nights ago because I lost my shit over Gabe, and last night because I still stewed over it. Once again, he’s stolen from me. Stolen precious time with Emily.

  You did that to yourself, I remind myself. You made the decision to fester and stay away from her.

  “Your stubbornness is unnerving,” she said. Yeah, I’m ruining things all on my own.

  I sigh as I watch Katie continue to play with Emily’s zipper.

  Zip up. Zip down. Zip up. Zip down.

  The noise becomes more annoying as my tolerance lowers.

  “Enough,” I hiss while I look from Katie’s fingers to her face. With both my eyes and my words, I warn her. When she first stopped speaking, eye contact was integral to our communication. I needed her to look me in the eye when I spoke so I’d know she heard me, and her expression told me if she understood something. Tonight, I’m on edge. The air around us crackles and I want to dismiss it as anticipation of the fireworks display. People surround us with their cheerful chatter and their playful banter. It’s a night of family, happiness, and celebration, but I’m slowly unraveling.

  “Are you trying to zip me up?” Emily interjects, maybe trying to lessen the tension around us. She keeps her eyes on Katie, who has stilled mid-motion. Of course, Katie doesn’t answer Emily. She doesn’t even look up at her.

  “One more fairy secret, Princess Katie,” Emily says, and I roll my eyes. Not this shit again. Sitting forward, I bring my knees upward and wrap my arms around them. Squinting off in the distance, I feel numb with all this princess and fairy crap.

  “A poem.” Emily takes a breath before she continues. “I will miss you when I go, but in my heart, I’ll love you so. If you should ever wish to speak, know your words will stay with me. My heart will always hear your voice. Your words are silent by your choice. And though the miles keep us apart, I’ll hear your words deep in my heart.”

  What the hell?

  Silence descends over our little space and Katie slowly restarts the zipping motion.

  One—click—tooth—snap—at a time.

  Her little eyes shift to me. She looks to see if I’m watching her as she plays with Emily’s zipper even though I’d warned her to stop. Between Katie’s defiance and Emily’s poem, I lose it. I’ve had enough of the zipper noise and enough of Emily’s mumbo-jumbo.

  “Shut it with that nonsense,” I say to Emily. Katie freezes. The zipper is almost to Emily’s neck. “Just shut up, Emily.”

  The silence from a moment ago becomes an eerie stillness. My mouth fills with more angry words, more explanations of why she needs to stop spewing this crap about fairies and professing her love.

  “Mommy said shut up.”

  The world stops moving.

  Trees halt their swaying.

  The air stagnates.

  The lake stills.

  “What did you say?” I don’t even recognize my own voice, let alone the soft tenor of hers. Katie has stilled again on Emily’s thighs.

  “Jess,” Emily whispers. “Don’t frighten her.”

  Frighten her? Don’t frighten her? Did she not hear what I heard?

  “Say it again, baby,” I whisper, afraid that I’m dreaming. My heart thumps triple-time in my chest.

  “Mommy said shut up,” Katie repeats. She falls against Emily’s chest and buries her face at Emily’s sternum. It’s not enough. I need to hold her, touch her, feel that it’s real. That she spoke, and what she said is the truth.

  Debbie told her to shut up. So she did.

  How does a four-year old find that strength?

  And how did she become brave enough to finally tell me at six?

  I reach for her. My hands slip between their bodies, and I tug Katie to me, tuck her into my own chest. My head rests on the top of hers as I wrap my arms around her. I want nothing more than to cocoon her from the evil of what happened, to protect her against it ever happening again. And most of all, I want her to forgive me for ever letting it happen in the first place, even
though it wasn’t my fault. Not directly.

  I hold my breath as my heart thunders in my chest. I think I’m going to throw up, and I want nothing more than to get out of this suffocating crowd.

  Then the first hiss fills the dark sky, and the black night bursts into color. A spray of fire in electric white jets upward, illuminating everything. Only I’m not watching. I’m not really seeing the display.

  My child just spoke.

  And what she told me makes my heart hurt.

  The fireworks go on for what seems like an eternity. When they finally finish, I stand with Katie held tightly to my chest. I turn around, and my brother looks up at me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, slowly standing.

  “Katie just spoke.”

  “What?” Karyn shrieks. She struggles to stand quickly, but I just want to get home. I just want to ask my daughter a million questions.

  Jess, don’t frighten her.

  Then I remember Emily.

  I spin to face her. Her expression mirrors the mix of all my emotions. Elation. Concern. Fear.

  “I need to get home.” I don’t know why that’s what I say.

  “Of course. You need to go.” Emily pushes at my arm, and then Tom adds, “We got this stuff. Go.”

  I walk away with Katie’s legs looped around my waist and her arms around my neck. Her leg kicks out, and I feel a tug to her body. I crane my neck around and realize Emily’s behind us, her hand on Katie’s outstretched ankle.

  “Hold on to me so we don’t lose you,” I say. I stretch out my hand to hers, entwine our fingers, and lead us through the jumbled maze of bodies all trying to exit the marina area now that the fireworks have finished.

  Eventually, we snake our way through the surge of bodies and walk the final street to my mom’s house. Mom, Tricia, and Pam sit in the front yard with bottles of wine standing on the grass between them.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom says before I’ve crossed the lawn.

  “Katie just spoke.” My voice should hold excitement, but I’m still too stunned.

  “Praise Jesus,” Mom says, rising up from her yard chair and coming to me. I set Katie on the ground before me, and Mom squats before her. “Can you say something to Grandma?”

  “Hello,” Katie says. It’s the sweetest sound, the prettiest word. A key has been turned in the lock on my heart, and a million pieces of light have been set free inside me. Mom holds out her arms, and Katie walks into them, knowing she’s safe in the trusted, loving embrace of my mother. Tricia and Pam hover, and it’s a beautiful moment for my family.

  And then I turn.

  Emily stands at the edge of the yard. The miracle worker. The fairy queen.

  Oh my God, I’m a sap.

  How did she do it?

  Why did she do it?

  What did I say to her before it happened?

  Shut up, Emily.

  I step toward her, but she steps back. Her feet move from the grass to the street.

  “You take this moment, Jess.”

  I’m overflowing with gratitude, but I can’t find the words to express it. Most of all, I owe her an apology, but I’m speechless and can only manage to mouth two words. “Thank you.”

  She covers her heart with both her hands, nods once, and turns to the street, walking away from me.

  Rule 20

  Sometimes, we only hear what we want to hear

  because we aren’t fully listening.

  [Emily]

  What happens when the spell is broken? They live happily ever after.

  That’s how the story goes. Only, it’s not my story, and I’m not a part of theirs. I’m so happy for Jess. I’m so happy for Katie. There is still recovery to come. More questions to be answered. More special moments to live, but I will not be a part of it.

  Tears blur my vision as I walk the remainder of the distance back to Nana’s.

  It’s a miracle, it truly is, but I’m left with a huge sense of loss and an ache in my chest.

  You did good here. I can almost hear Nana’s voice in my head, but I’m hit with a wave of grief, and the tears fall.

  I take out my phone, ready to call my sister when I see I have a message from my boss—several, actually. It’s late on a Saturday, but he’s called three times.

  “Doug,” I say into the phone when I return his call. “I’m sorry it’s so late. Is everything okay?”

  “Wonderful news, Emily. Frank Simmons quit on Friday, and we’d like to offer you his column.”

  Frank has been writing a book review column for years. His interests are stodgy and outdated, and I know I could really do something amazing with this section of the paper. It’s not exactly what I’d wanted, but I realize I hadn’t actually known what I wanted until it was offered to me. Finally.

  “That’s wonderful,” I say. Despite the good news, my tears of loss still clog my throat.

  “You don’t sound very excited. I thought this was what you wanted.” His tone turns stern, demeaning even.

  “Just things going on here. I’m very excited. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

  Doug hesitates a moment before speaking. “Emily, you aren’t going to ask for more time off, are you? Are you going to flake on this job?”

  Flake? Does he think I’ve been on a tropical vacation? I’m ready to tell him what he can do with his column until reason stops me.

  This is it. This is something I’ve always wanted. It’s here. My dream job.

  “So do you want this column or not?” he repeats, his voice still terse.

  “Yes. Absolutely, yes.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll see you Monday.” With that, he hangs up and it’s all final. I start a new position at the paper on Monday. The position I’ve coveted for ten years. My own column.

  Then why am I not more excited?

  + + +

  It’s dark when something tickles my face and I swat at it. My nose twitches, and I rub at it with the side of my hand. The teasing touch comes again, and my eyelids flip open. I’m ready to scream when a hand covers my lips, and Jess’s intense eyes stare down at me.

  “Jesus,” I mutter into his palm.

  “Nope. Just Jess.” He removes his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper like I’ll wake someone.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He swipes something down my nose again, and I note the daisy between his fingers. “I have all this energy.”

  His voice drops, and I know what he wants without him saying it. He’s here for sex. Only, I’m not certain I can do it.

  “How’s Katie?” I ask. The question might burst his bubble, but his focus on me intensifies.

  “How did you do it?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” I hold his gaze.

  “Why did she speak for you?”

  “It wasn’t me,” I tell him. “It was just . . . time. I guess?”

  “It’s all that make-believe you fed her.”

  “I told you once before that sometimes you just need to believe in something. Real or not.”

  He continues to look at me.

  “Make me believe,” he whispers. “Make me believe this was real. You. Me.” His hand cups my cheek and then his lips lower to mine. He takes his time kissing me. His kisses are as soft as the petals of the flower he stroked over my face. Delicate and fragile. I know I’m going to break if we do this, if he makes love to me again.

  One final time.

  We start slow, the pace measured as his hands roam my body. He tugs down the blanket covering me, grabs my sleep shirt, and removes it by pulling it up and over my head. When I lie back, he’s quick to take off my shorts, and then he lies beside me. He strokes down the center of my body and back up with the flower head of the daisy. The soft petals circle a breast before he drops the daisy to use his fingertips, callused and rough from labor, and I love the feel of them on my skin. His fingers trail over the slope and tweak my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He plucks at me and then moves to t
he other breast. His eyes follow his motions as if he’s memorizing the swell and dip of my breasts.

  His palm flattens, coasts up my chest, and covers my throat. He leans down to kiss me with his fingers pressed to the pulse hammering at my neck. When he pulls back, his nose rubs against mine. His hand continues to travel my body. It glides to my center and curls over the mound. He slips two fingers into me, and I bow off the bed a bit, melting under his touch.

  “You’re so perfect,” he says to me, and I close my eyes. I can’t listen to his sweet words. Let this just be sex, but I know I’m lying to myself. I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m with this man.

  While his fingers work, his mouth lowers to my breast, and sucks at it. The onslaught of sensation brings me quickly to a breaking point. I softly cry out my pleasure. He shifts over my body and moves his mouth to my other breast before pressing kisses down my midsection. He moves down my body once again. His face settles between my thighs, and his tongue lashes forward. His tongue that snapped and snipped at me when we first met. The same one he used to call me pushy. The one that kissed me in a library. That tongue now works at my core, and I’m rapidly approaching a cresting point again. My hips rock, and the gentle force brings him closer against me. He laps and licks before sucking at my clit, and I crash once more.

  He presses a final kiss on my sensitive folds, then sits back and tugs his own T-shirt over his head. He tosses it aside and shifts off the bed to pull down his shorts and boxers in one smooth movement. Naked and beautiful, he brings his lean body back over mine and holds himself at my entrance.

  “You’ve broken the spell put on my daughter, but you’ve put one on me instead. I can’t get enough of you.” He enters me with a slow surge forward, filling me to the hilt. Pausing, we breathe each other in. His mouth hovers over mine, not kissing me but stealing my breath.

  “I can’t let you go,” he says, and my heart breaks. He must. I need to leave. We haven’t spoken about my new reason for leaving. We are only this, right now, joined as one. He pulls back, and my hands cup his firm ass, holding him before he withdraws completely. He thrusts forward, and we both gasp. We repeat the dance a few times, but it’s not long before we can’t keep it slow. Our tempo increases, and his fingers move to my core once again.