Chapter 5
I was thankful I had brought my cream colored sweater because it was chilly. Anne and I sat outside the Pizzeria and waited to be served. She was looking at me sympathetically when she said, “You’re always so quiet.”
Lamely I remarked, “I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just thinking.”
What could I tell her, that I felt hopeless, lost, and that I was uncomfortable around her because I didn’t know her? The truth would be far ruder than silence, or so I thought.
She was still looking at me. Was that pity I saw in her dark, almond-shaped brown eyes – my dad’s eyes? I hoped not, I didn’t want to be seen at all.
Anne Scott was my dad’s sister. She was twenty-two when I was born and had never married, although she was never without the company of men. Her wavy auburn hair fell just below her shoulders. Today she had a half up-do. Her appearance was impeccable, tidy, and pin-up glamorous. She wasn’t overweight but she was curvy and a couple of inches shorter than me. Even now, men stared. Unlike me she adored attention and I admired that she wasn’t shy.
Anne owned and operated a bakery in town that was popular for its old-fashioned soda fountain. Anne loved to bake but she couldn’t cook...at all. She had one full-time employee - an older gentleman named Benjamin Dalton. He was a retired teacher and also a widower. Ben, as he preferred being called, was born in Mississippi but moved to Kansas when he was young. He was a jovial and kind man. He also liked to tell stories and I was told he had many talents. Anne said she was lucky to have him and when I was ready, I could help out in the bakery.
An hour passed but Anne and I had exchanged few words. I felt lonely, even in her presence. It was a weeknight and there were few people milling about. As I picked at what was left of my cheese pizza, Anne excused herself to speak to one of her gentleman friends. Before she left I asked permission to walk across the street to the chocolate factory, which just so happened to be the same chain that had a store in Old Colorado City. Was I seeking to ground myself through nostalgia? All I knew is that I needed to go, or maybe I just needed to get away.
I walked in a hurry, but in a hurry for what? To my left a sporty black motorcycle caught my eye. Then I noticed the rider. Tall and very slim, he too was covered from head to toe in black. I looked away, indifferent. As I passed him I noticed his head was turned in my direction and I could feel his eyes bore into my back. Seeking shelter from being seen I hurried up the stone steps and opened the door.
The store was old and the wood floor creaked as I moved about. A teenage girl stood behind the counter waiting to offer assistance. I scanned the items and recognized the dark chocolate pretzels my dad liked so much. I knowingly and mournfully smiled and went over to the baskets where I chose the usual…chocolate covered gummi bears. I reached inside my backpack trying to locate my wallet, but nothing...I kept searching.
I heard the bells chime. A presence drew near but I didn’t look up. I heard the movement of a leather jacket and then the girl spoke.
An attractive voice greeted her in return before handing over a 10.00 bill. “This should cover it.” In my peripheral vision I saw him raise his hand as if to stop her.
I was embarrassed and almost didn’t take the bag when the girl handed it to me. I turned to object and for a brief moment my eyes locked with his but the connection felt like minutes more than seconds. His eyes were a brilliantly soft azure, or were there even words to describe their intensity? His eyes had pulled me in somehow, and as they caught the light they momentarily flared blue-green. He had a strong, square jaw, slender face, well-defined cheekbones, and his tousled hair was a rich light brown. He was attractive but it was more than that.
The young man stood just a few inches taller than me. He was lean but toned; he stood rigid with his eyes focused on me. Something unspoken was happening. I know I wasn’t imaging it. Suddenly the bells chimed and a fresh gust of air stirred the air around us, swirling up his scent from beneath the aroma of old leather. I hadn’t noticed one quite like it and it stirred an unfamiliar, physical reaction in me.
The connection was broken and I gathered my thoughts, thanked him, and hurried out of the store knowing full well he was watching me. I rushed around the corner and rested against the wall of a bank. What was wrong with me?
I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts and decided to walk home. Anne was giving me some space but she expected me home at a certain hour and had given me a spare key. As I walked I folded my arms across my chest, pulling the sweater tight, protecting myself from the cold and also from vulnerability.
I rounded the corner and saw Anne’s off-white Victorian house in sight. Blue trim carved out the corners. A neighbor’s brown and gold calico cat was curled up on the porch swing but as I loomed closer the cat hissed and ran off. I watched her dash into some nearby bushes and looked up to see a dark figure standing near a light post at least two blocks away.
Was that him? Or was it my imagination?
I quickly let myself in and locked the door behind me. I peeked out the window but the dark figure was gone.
Feeling frazzled I let Pandora in and turned on the TV for company and sat down on the couch, which backed to a large window facing the front yard. Pandora nuzzled me for reassurance and curled up at my feet. I reached over to examine Anne’s books. My fingers rested on a hardcover. I flipped through the pages and saw she had highlighted certain quotes or sentences, all relating to the paranormal. I read them, shook my head at what they inferred and closed the book. I opted for one a little less morbid and settled on an old Sunfire romance novel - anything to get my mind off instant attractions and eerie works of fiction.