I didn’t take it to her house, though. The thought of her asking me to stay the night again worried me. Instead, the next morning I made a little extra time after breakfast and I took it over to the school to leave it in the office for her.
The inside of the school was painted with a thick cream-colored paint, and there were little handmade paper crafts hung up and down the halls and on the door windows of ginger bread men, paper trees, and handprints from the students. Just inside the glass doors, on the right, was a dark green metal door with a silver sign with the word “office” etched into it.
I turned the loose knob and the door screeched open to reveal two women behind a tall desk who were surrounded by piles of paper and a couple very outdated computers.
“May I help you?” asked the woman closest to me in a not-so-friendly voice.
She was a round woman in a purple cardigan over a black shirt. Her glasses, which were practically hanging off the end of her pointed nose, were the same color as her cardigan. And her short bob, which was cut and styled much like mine, framed her face in a way which only made it appear even rounder, and made me question if I should maybe grow my hair out a bit. The other woman remained silent.
“Um, yes. I hope so. I’m looking for Sarah Norman?” I asked, looking at both of them.
“And what would you like with her?” the woman in purple asked.
“She forgot her lunchbox at the park. I was just bringing it back to her,” I answered, lifting it to show her.
“I think she just went into the copy room back here, let me go check for you,” smiled the other woman.
She was dark skinned with long black hair, and she spoke with an accent that I couldn’t pick up, but her tone was much friendlier. She swooped out of the room in a red knit dress with a pair of fuzzy-looking black leggings and matching boots. The first woman just continued to glare at me over her glasses.
“Here she comes,” the second woman said, coming back into the room and taking her seat.
A moment later, Sarah came out and walked up to the counter beside the woman in purple.
“Hey! Thanks for bringing this to me,” she said. She was bright as always, but there was something different in the way she looked at me.
“Yeah, no problem. I cleaned it out for you, too, and I made you a sandwich, just in case,” I smiled, handing her the lunchbox over the counter.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she answered in an odd tone.
“Do you know her?” the woman in purple asked, turning over her shoulder to look at Sarah with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, this is Emily Heart,” Sarah explained, “She is one of my art students. Well, thanks again.”
Sarah scurried from the room before I could get another word in, and the woman in purple returned her harsh gaze to me, as if inviting me to leave. And so I did.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something a bit off about my encounter with Sarah. A part of me felt rejected in some sort of abstract way. I mean, I didn’t expect her to come flying over the counter to kiss me or anything, but she basically made me sound like I was just someone she barely knew.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t stay the night. Maybe she felt like I didn’t want to date her... I thought. So, since she invited me over for Christmas Eve, I decided that I would try to do something to make it special, and hopefully tell her how I really felt. But first, I needed the perfect gift.
Chapter 20
The hearing for my restraining order went well. At least, as good as something like that can go. Part of me felt like I was betraying Hector. But when they read the messages he had left me on my social media page out loud, a shiver of fear ran down my spine again, and I was relieved at the thought of having legal protection against him, just in case he really did want to hurt me.
One of the security guards by the door stopped me on my way out. She was a middle aged woman with a blonde ponytail and dark circles under her eyes. She looked frail, but her eyes were sharp.
“Excuse me,” she said in the kind of voice that makes you stop what you are doing and pay attention, “I don’t mean to pry but I heard part of your hearing saying that you are getting a restraining order on your husband?”
Hearing that sentence made me feel like I had swallowed a rock. A really big rock. I tried to paint on a confident face as best as I could.
“Yes that is correct,” I answered, my nose in the air.
“Well, I don’t mean to give you unsolicited advice, but is that really the kind of man you want to call your husband? If I were you I wouldn’t be filing for just a restraining order. I’d be filing for divorce.”
I knew she was right. It was the reason I picked up the pamphlet earlier that week, and it was the reason why I didn’t have any plans set for moving back to California. The word divorce, for whatever reason, was just difficult to comprehend. I didn’t go into my marriage planning for a divorce. It just felt so final, so ominous. It felt like I had failed somehow.
“I know it seems bad, but you are still young. You have a long life ahead of you, and you can make it one filled with love. Marriage is just a paper, and so is a divorce. What matters is spending time with the ones who love you and those who treat you right.”
I thought of Margaret and John, and their kindness in inviting me into their lives. And I thought of Sarah, and the warm glow she gave off, and the way I felt lighter when I was around her. Then, I looked down at my empty left hand, and how easy it was to take off his ring when I left. I knew I never wanted to put it back on. I never wanted to feel the way he make me feel again.
I nodded to the woman in agreements and she smiled back at me, pointing down the hall.
“There is a lawyer just down the hall that can help you. He is a divorce lawyer. He can give you the paperwork you will need. God bless you, and have a happy holiday,” she said, going back to work.
I walked down the hall to an office with a fancy metal sign that read ‘Tyler Martin, Divorce Lawyer.’ And beneath the shiny placard was a torn piece of paper that was hanging loosely from the door by a small strip of tape. The paper had a note scribbled on it which read ‘Out to Lunch. I’ll be back at 1.’
With a sigh, I decided to come back later, and instead, I walked down the street to old Main Street where there were a few small shops filled with boutique-style clothes, handmade soaps, and antique jewelry. I knew I needed to get the perfect gift for Sarah and I’s Christmas Eve together. This time I knew I was going to do it: I was going to tell Sarah how I felt about her. And I was even going to tell her who I really was, and hat I was getting a divorce.
I had never really shopped for another girl, at least, not for the kind of present I was looking for. I started in the clothing shops and browsed through racks of blouses and sweaters, but I decided against buying any of them. Clothes made strange Christmas gifts, and I didn’t know her size or style.
Next. I went to the handmade soap shop. It was bright, full of pastel colors, and it smelled like the perfume section at the mall. The walls were lined with clear bowls and painted wood crates filled with every type of soap imaginable. They had bars of hand and body soaps, liquid soaps, shampoos, laundry soaps, dish soaps, and even soap for pets. While it was all beautiful and smelled delightful, I was internally cringing a the connotation of giving someone soap, and was already thinking of a million different ways she could take it wrong, when something caught my eye.
By the door was a pyramid of tower of round soaps about the size of baseballs. They were mint green and labeled ‘Mistletoe Kiss Bath Bombs.’ The thought of Sarah and I’s mistletoe kiss crossed my mind, causing me to lick my lips. And the thought of taking a bath with her caused my heart to flutter as I picked up a bath bomb and rushed it to the register for checkout.
The cashier wrapped it in red tissue paper and laid it gently in a holiday themed paper bag, decorated with green peppermint stripes. I took it, walking out of the store feeling giddy that I had found something for Sa
rah. But it wasn’t enough.
The gift was cute. Sweet, even. But it wasn’t serious or heartfelt. As I passed one of the antique shops in search of a more meaningful gift to accompany the bath bomb, I saw a sign in the window for 50% off jewelry, and I decided to take a look. The store was all dark and dusty with crowded aisles of knick-knacks and old furniture. Dim yellowed lamps lit the rooms with an eerie glow.
In the center of the large main room, beside the cash registers, were glass cases filled with various styles of antique jewelry. There were yellow gold broaches, matching necklace and earing sets covered in gaudy green and blue clusters of jewels, and rings the size of golf balls in intricate designs. None of them seemed to say ‘I really like you.’ So, I left, and headed back to the Bed and Breakfast.
Chapter 21
When I arrived back at the B&B, John was sipping a cup of tea in the living room. He seemed relaxed as he stared into the crackling fireplace. His face was still bruised a bit, but he was already looking so much better.
“Hello, John. How are you?” I asked, peeking my head in.
“Hey, Emily. I’m doing well today, just been taking a breather. Would you like to come sit with me for a moment?”
“Sure,” I said, taking a seat beside him on the couch and placing my green shopping bag on the coffee table.
“Grams told me you went in today for the hearing on your restraining order. I just wanted to make sure you are doing okay. Did it go well?”
“It did, actually. They still have to serve it to him, but I’m already feeling a bit better just knowing I have one now.”
“Good, good. I’m glad. And what is this fun little bag?” he asked, pointing to the green soap bag.
“Oh, that’s just a Christmas gift for Sarah,” I shrugged.
“Sarah?” he asked, with a scheming sort of grin on his face. “Well, I actually have something I’d like for you to give her for me.”
“Oh?” I asked, a bit confused why he couldn’t simply give it to her himself since they were so close.
“Come with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs, practically skipping a step or two as he did.
He took me into his room, leaving the door open and releasing my hand to pull something out from under the bed. He placed a nice-looking green jewelry box down on the bed and opened up the gold clasp, reaching in to pull out a small necklace.
He turned to me, holding it by the chain to let the charm on the end dangle in the light. It was a small golden heart-shaped locket.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
“It was one of my mother’s,” he said, “She bought it for herself for her birthday one year. My father wasn’t much of a gift giver, so she would sometimes buy herself little things instead.”
“You want to give this to Sarah?” I asked.
He placed the locket in my hand, “No, I want you to give it to Sarah. Sarah is a close friend of mine, and I think she deserves someone who can see how wonderful she is. She deserves someone like you. I can see the way you look at her.”
I shook my head, “No. John, this locket is too special. This is yours.”
“It just brings back bad memories, and it wasn’t bought in love. I was hoping, maybe, you could give it new memories. Give it love.”
I couldn’t help but hug him. He really was an angel to me.
“Now,” he said, stepping away, “My head is hurting a bit, would you mind finishing up some of the phone calls for reservations for next week so I can take a nap?”
“Not at all. Sleep well, John. And thank you. Really. This is so special.”
I took the locket down the hall to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, turning the locket over in my palm. It was only about the size of a dime, and the inside where the pictures usually were was blank. The outside was shiny, and there were almost no scratches or blemishes at all on the heart, save for a few small marks by the clasp.
I held the locket to my heart. Even though it was small, it held a lot of weight, and I needed to find a way to lighten it. I needed a way to make it my own and give it a new purpose. And then it hit me: I could have it engraved.
After placing it in one of the drawers of my dresser, I went down stairs to finish the work that needed to be done around the B&B while John rested and Margaret prepared dinner. And once I was finished, I wrapped my red coat around myself, the necklace tucked inside my pocket, and snuck out the front door and back down the sidewalk towards old Main Street.
There, in a brick building on the corner, was a small jewelry shop that did repairs, sizing, and various other jewelry services. I took the locket inside and up to a glass counter where an elderly man was sitting. He had frizzy white hair and thick glasses that made him look a bit like a bug, and he was reading a book on birdwatching.
“Hello,” I smiled, removing the necklace from my pocket and placing it on the counter between us.
The man put down his book and looked down at the necklace, and then silently back at me.
“I was wondering,” I continued, “if I could get this engraved?”
“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning forward and picking up the necklace, looking at it from all angles. “When?”
“By Christmas Eve,” I said, tentatively. I had never had anything engraved, and so I was unaware of how long it usually took.
“What do you want engraved on it?” he asked. His voice was scratchy and gruff.
“On the inside I was hoping to get Sarah on one side and Emily on the other.”
“A sister gift, then?” he grumbled under his breath, “Yes, well, it will be very small letters.”
“That’s perfect. I don’t want to alter the necklace too much, and I’m not looking for anything flashy.”
“I can have it ready the day before Christmas Eve. But be sure to pick it up then, because I’ll be closed for the holidays. Don’t want your sister going without a Christmas present,” he said, pulling out a piece of layered paper, and filling it out with a shaking hand before tearing of the top and handing me the pink piece underneath.
“Oh, she isn’t my sister,” I said, taking the paper and turning to leave.
“Oh?”
“She’s,” I started, my voice trailing off. What would Sarah be? I haven’t asked her out, yet…I thought. “Never mind. Well, thank you. Have a nice day.”
“Mhm,” he waved, taking the necklace and disappearing behind a curtain in the back corner of the shop.
Chapter 22
Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was Christmas Eve. I’d been unable to catch a time that the divorce lawyer was open, and since his office was closed for the holidays, I decided to put off the divorce until after New Year’s. We had two new sets of guests, but neither of them spent much time at the B&B, and they spent most of their time out and about, visiting relatives.
I had picked up the glistening necklace the night before, and it was absolutely perfect. Our names were written in thin sweeping letters, and he even cleaned the locket for me at no extra charge. I had nothing to wrap it in, so instead, I wore it under my turtleneck, out of sight.
I’d chosen a red turtleneck, black slacks, and a pair of black strappy heels to wear for the night. While my short blonde hair couldn’t be pulled back, I did clip my bangs back into a 90’s bump in an attempt to look sophisticated, or something like that. I slipped on my coat and boots, and with the green soap bag in hand, I made my way to Sarah’s house in the snow. I was confident, and felt like I could handle anything the night had to offer, or at least, that’s what I thought.
I knocked on Sarah’s door, and it swung open within seconds. Sarah stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyebrows buttoned together as she looked me up and down. She was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black hoodie, and her hair was in a messy bun. Her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying.
“Sarah? Are you okay?” I asked. When I took a step towards her, she took a step back.
; “What is wrong with you? I mean, seriously. You think after what you did you can just come over here, all dressed up like nothing’s wrong?” Her voice was sharp and accusatory.
“What? What did I do? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, of course. Play dumb. I mean, I know we aren’t going out or anything, but at least now I know why. You were just messing around with me. Well, fine. Hope you had fun,” she snapped, starting to close the door.
My hand shot out, stopping the door as I pleaded, “Sarah, I mean it. I really don’t understand what you are talking about. Please, tell me. Let’s talk.”
She paused then opened the door again, standing to the side to let me in before closing the door behind us. And for a moment we stood in silence before she re-crossed her arms and explained, looking down at the floor.
“I tried to find you on social media to send you a friend request. And I found you, but you were posing in pictures with some man you never mentioned. You never told me you were married.”
“Oh my God! Sarah, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you, but I was scared. I was going to tell you tonight. It’s true, I’m married. But not for long. I’m working on a divorce right now,” I said, dropping the gift bag by the door and taking her hand.
She still wouldn’t look at me as she continued, “Oh, yeah. Sure. One of those types that is always saying you are going to leave them, but you never do, and then I’m going to become your girl on the side.”
“I’d never do something like that, Sarah. You aren’t my girl on the side. I really am leaving my husband. That’s why I’m here in Maple Creek. I’m taking a breather, and looking into getting a job and a place out here. I left California for good.”
“Really?” she asked, looking up at me with tear-stained cheeks.
“Yes, really. In fact,” I said, taking my hand back and reaching up to undo the necklace, “I didn’t just come here for our date. I came here to ask you something.”
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