The Windchimes

As I lie here

In total blackness

The deafening silence

Humming and buzzing my ears

Then the wind picks up

And I hear them

The windchimes

Music to my ears

Such sweet delicate decibels

Floating on the breeze

Calming my fears and senses

Lulling me to sleep


Hippie Juice (Fortune Cookies cont.)

First she had to make sure she did a quick sweep of the house, picking up a few things and lighting some candles. Then she wanted to jump in the shower & freshen up. She showered using her favorite scented shower gel, followed with the same scented lotion & a just a spritz of cologne in a few select places. The scent had an overtone of gardenia, and she got lots of compliments when she wore it. Often, depending on who was asking, she would say she had Michael all over her, as that was the name of the cologne. She always smiled when she said this, as she had a few Michael’s in her day that she crushed on – one that was a pretty wild relationship, and the last one pretty intense without making it personal.

She put on a simple cotton summer dress – pink, mauve, and white with a touch of yellow, showing off her tan. It was sleeveless and v-cut, quite low – lower than necklines she typically sported. She tended to dress a bit more conservatively, never really showing any cleavage – having said that she didn’t have much cleavage to show in her opinion, though she did have more than some just not as much as most, especially these days in the age of choose your own size for a price.

She opted for very little jewelry, three anklets, a pair of silver earrings, and one silver spinner ring. She pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail. In the front she used a pretty bobby pin on one side and a tiny clip on the other side, pulling it back in a couple of waves that framed her face nicely. She brushed on a little blush, and a little pixie dust powder on her hands, arms, and across her shoulders and down her cleavage line. She applied a little black honey lip gloss – it was just the right shade to make her eyes look greener and made her lips look shiny and as full as they actually were.

She decided to put some music on, and chose the iPod, just so she wouldn’t have to keep messing with it and so they didn’t have to listen to any DJ chatter. Then the doorbell rang.

Once last glance in the mirror and she opened the door. He is smiling, looking really sexy and has food in his hands and she can smell it already – though she really isn’t interested in Chinese food at the moment.  She smiled and said, “Hey honey,” he noticed in the porch light she was shimmering in the particular spot he was noticing, “Come on in.” She grabbed one of the bags of food he had in his hands and he followed her into the kitchen setting the bags down on the counter.

He noticed the house was cozy, music playing, candles lit in a few places, and she smelled damn good – god he always loved her scent, especially when it lingered on him after they had been together. He always felt comfortable here, in her house with her, and wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t come more often. As usual, she looked hot, gorgeous, beautiful, mesmerizing – he was always surprised at how her beauty affected him. It wasn’t just her beauty though, it was all of her – her intelligence, her wit, her kindness and gentleness, her sarcasm, her take-no-shit attitude, her old soul. She really had no idea how she affected him, he knew that for a fact. If she did, she’d ask more of him, push him harder.

All he had to do is hear her sexy voice and look into her eyes and watch those lips mouth “please … whatever-didn’t matter” and usually he was putty in her hands. Yet, she didn’t make many requests of his time, and didn’t call as often as he’d like her, too. Of course, he could call her, and really didn’t know why he didn’t – some misplaced pride thing, loss of control, fear of being hurt, the whole thing.

“Hey beautiful,” he winked as he said it. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, kissing her softly on her black honey lips. “I don’t particularly care for the feel of that gloss, rather feel your lips, but sure love that color. They are so shiny I just gotta kiss ‘um!” he laughed, hugging her close and rubbing his hands up her back and the back of her neck into her hair. Though most of the house was dimly lit, the kitchen was bright, and he could see her well. He loved the laugh lines around her eyes and on her forehead, especially when she smiled.

“You thirsty?” she asked. “I made us something new – it’s called Hippie Juice. It’s got watermelon vodka, triple sec, coconut rum, and limeade,” she laughed, “It called for pink lemonade, but I thought the limeade sounded better.”

“Hippie Juice, why am I not surprised” he laughed, “You know I am always up for vodka, though aint never had  watermelon vodka before,” He winked at her. He grabbed a couple glasses and filled them with the SONIC® ice she liked to keep in the freezer. She poured the juice.  They both took a good long drink and agreed it was quite tasty.

“You hungry yet,” she asked, with a deviously flirtatious grin that purposely failed to hide what she she was really thinking. She took another long swig on her drink, noticing with all the ice, she now needed a refill.

He looked at her, his eyes dancing as he drank the last bit of juice in his glass, saying, “Filler her up, while your refilling yours.” This time she added a couple cherries and a pineapple spear.

“You know I love inebriated fruit,” she added seductively.

As they both took another drink, she moved closer to him. He could feel her heat, and she could feel his. He set his glass down, and took her glass setting it down also.

“You are a hard woman to look at and not touch sometimes, Isabella. If you only knew what I was thinking right now,” he said his voice husky and low. He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips softly, gently, teasingly, gently biting her bottom lip. He noticed how pretty her hair looked when he came in, but he also knew it was probably about to get messed up. He liked the way she had it pulled back, it was sexy and innocent at the same time. He reached behind her removing the clip holding it all back loosely. He pulled his fingers down through it, pulling it from the back cascading over her shoulders. Her hair was as close to feeling like silk as anything he could imagine; it was so soft, and streaked with golden highlights.

As he ran his fingers through her silken hair, he continued to kiss her lips, moving slowly to her right ear. She moaned ever slightly, as he stopped and looking in her beautiful green eyes, he slowly removed the bobby pin and the clip she had holding back the front of her hair. Her hair fell wavy around her face, almost shadowing her eyes. He put his hands on her face, pushing her hair back enough that he could see her eyes. He locked eyes with her, pulled her close, whispering, “God, you are so beautiful. Woman you have no idea of the hold you have on me or how much I care about you do you?”

“No, can’t say that I do,” she said in a coy manner, kissing him hard, slipping her tongue in his mouth and sucking his tongue into her mouth.  He moaned and felt himself rising to the event.

He scooped her up in his arms, “I have missed you, and I am gonna fuck your brains out lady,” he confidently growled low, smiling as he kissed her neck, excited thinking about her sparkling cleavage that had caught his eye earlier. He couldn’t wait to get to that.

“I have missed you, too, and I aint the only one who’s getting their brains fucked out tonight,” she said in that sexy husky voice she had.

To be continued . . . 😉

Fortune Cookies

It had been awhile and she was missing his touch, his smell, his heat, his kiss. She was tired of waiting for his call, so she decided she would call him. She knew this was risky, as she really wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to him.

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear often, but what did that really mean? Sometimes she thought she knew implicitly what he was trying to say, yet at other times she really wasn’t sure. Were the words he said true or just pillow talk that meant nothing – again she wasn’t entirely sure. She knew what she wanted those words to mean, not just imply. But maybe to him, they were just words that were said during lovemaking and the heat of the moment.

Regardless, she was missing him, needed to see him, wanted to feel him, and share her bed with him. What the hell, you only live once and she was still a breathing living soul who needed to feel a connection with the one she felt was her soul mate.

She dialed his number, with great trepidation. It rang once, twice, three times, and as she is about to hang up – as she has no intention of leaving a message – he answered, “Hello.”

There was a long silence on the line, he said again, “Hello – anyone there?”

“Hey baby” she was continuing to hesitate. “Was thinking about you & thought I’d call and see what you’ve been up to. You busy?”

“No, actually thinking about eating some dinner. Have you ate?”

She replied, a little less nervously, “No, hadn’t even thought about it yet. Why?”

In that good-natured, sexy, low southern drawl of his, he replied, “How ‘bout I go pick up some of that Chinese food we like, and come by?”

Now excited and feeling a bit giddy, she said, “Ok, will you get extra fortune cookies, pllleeeease?”

“Sure darling, whatever makes you happy,” he laughed. “See ya in 30?” She could feel him smiling.

“Ok, sounds good – I’ve got the drinks,” she said much more upbeat than she started the conversation.

As they hung up, she immediately thought of several things she needed to do to get ready for his visit and their dinner together. First she had to make sure . . .

Tune in next time 😉

The One She Never Forgot

I have a couple of different story lines in work. My first three posts were all related. This post is from a different story line I am working on. I realize I haven’t named them, and I may flip back and forth in tense. Bad habit I am working on 🙂

Let me know what you think . . . I need input. Having said that – try & be kind LOL!!! 😉  And thanks for reading!!

This was weird, like a flashback, coming here after all these years. She was completely shocked when he had called and asked her to meet him at his mother’s house. He had said something about his mom leaving something for her. As she pulls up, she sees he is already there and the front door is open. She knocks and he yells, “Come on in.”

As she comes through the door, he comes around the corner with that beautiful wide grin of his. He looks good, actually he looks great. As he reaches to hug her, she says, “Hey stranger! What’s going on?” At the same time, he says, “What’s up?” They hugged, a long caressing hug, implying they knew each other much better than they actually did. At the same time, they both say, “You look great!” Laughing, they walk arm in arm into the living room.

They spend the next 30 minutes engaging in small talk. How their jobs are going, and who has ran into whom where. Their conversation was good-natured, maybe almost flirtatious, bantering back and forth about this and that, and nothing in particular.

“You know I have known you now for almost 10 years.”

“Damn has it been that long?” he asked.

“Yeah – I sure wished I would’ve kissed you before you got married, ‘cause I know I’ll never get the chance now. I’ve thought it about it many times over the years – a little regret I have,” she said quite matter-of-factly, though with a joking tone. She wasn’t real sure what made her blurt that little tidbit of info out. She had kept it a secret for so long.

He shocked her when he said, “How do you know I don’t want to kiss you now more than ever?” His tone was not joking – he was serious.

At that, she just looked at him with a confused look which then turned into that sultry half-smile she gets sometimes when she is fancying something ornery or naughty. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said soft, but huskily, “How do you know I don’t want to kiss you now more than ever before?” He is looking right in her eyes with a soulful look, but his eyes have a twinkling in them.

She laughs, “I don’t know, your beautiful wife.”

He laughed slightly, “I’m talking about you right now. I’m not even thinking about her – I’m thinking about you.” He adds, “Our relationship isn’t what I thought it would be.”

“Mine & yours, or yours & hers?” she laughed.

“Both,” he replied. Now she was really intrigued, and beginning to feel warm inside with excitement, trepidation and a sensual feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time. He always made her feel sensual like this. They had never crossed the line, though – no matter how close they got, how alone they were, or how many sparks seemed to fly between them.

He had gone around the corner into what used to be his bedroom, and came out with his guitar. “I forgot about this one,” he mumbled to himself and began to strum a piece of a tune then a piece of another tune, just messing around. Then he started playing something slow. She knew she recognized it and told him to keep playing until she figured out what it was.

Just as she smiled and said, “Clapton,” he began to sing to her –

What’ll you do when you get lonely

And nobody’s waiting by your side?

You’ve been running and hiding much too long.

You know it’s just your foolish pride.

Layla, you’ve got me on my knees.

Layla, I’m begging, darling please.

Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.

 I tried to give you consolation

When your old man had let you down.

Like a fool, I fell in love with you,

Turned my whole world upside down.

Layla, you’ve got me on my knees.

Layla, I’m begging, darling please.

Layla, darling won’t you ease my worried mind.

He hums and continues to strum the guitar.

Let’s make the best of the situation

Before I finally go insane.

Please don’t say we’ll never find a way

And tell me all my love’s in vain.

As he’s singing to her, she’s watching him intently. She begins to sing with him, but his intensity is beginning to blow her mind just a bit and she is frozen in that moment as he is serenading her – smiling as he finishes the song . . . .

Layla, you’ve got me on my knees …

Layla, I’m begging, darling please . . .

Then he reached over and ever so tenderly kissed her lips. This time, though she was trembling and a little shocked at his behavior, she was not to going to let the moment pass her by, as she had so many times before.

When his lips were on hers, so warm and soft and moist, she parted her lips and his tongue slipped in slightly, the tips tangoing. This was more than she could handle – she knew this was the moment she had thought about, dreamed about, had regretted not doing so many times. This was it – embrace this moment or run. She tried to think, but was so enraptured now by his kiss, his tongue dancing in her mouth, making her feel warm and wet in a place that didn’t belong to him. Her mind was not hers – not clear about right and wrong, just foggy from the heat of his body and his kiss. This kiss she had imagined so many times over the years.

“Oh my God,” she thinks, his kiss was so hot. She put her arms around his neck and his hands began to explore the curves of her body, her hips, her breasts and up her neck, in her hair. All the while, the kissing continued growing hotter and more passionate by the second. As they were standing when all this began, by now he had her pressed against the wall, with his hands in the small of her back. Her hands caressed his back, his shoulders, and his tight chest. He kissed her, going back and forth from her mouth to her neck, and whispers, “You are sooo sexy. I can’t believe it took me so long to kiss you. I love the way you kiss.”

At one point, he goes below her neckline and begins to touch and kiss her right above her breasts. He unbuttons the top button and out spilled her right breast. He stepped back as he unbuttoned the rest and then he just stood there with his mouth open. He already knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. She often didn’t when he saw her. Though he had tried to imagine what they looked like underneath her blouse many times, he had not done her justice

Nervously, she laughed and asked him, “What?”

He looked at her and smiled and told her he just needed a minute to take her all in. “You are beautiful, lady. You are beautiful. Look at you.” He is stroking her breasts, and begins to gently kiss and lick them, wandering with his lips getting closer and closer to her nipples – he stops and says, “Your tits are beautiful, perfect.”

She laughs and offhandedly commented, “You mean for someone my age.”

He looked at her and said, “No – for any age.” Then his lips slowly covered her nipples and began to give them the gentlest of kisses, with his tongue darting in and out first slowly then quicker, then slowly again. Her response was a deep sensuous moan and she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him closer to her, leaning her head back.

After about fifteen minutes of this passionate kissing, he asked, “Now what?” with a big smile on his face. “Come to my bedroom,” he taunted her.

She whispered, almost breathlessly, “Okay.”

With that, he grabbed her hand and took her back to his old bedroom, and they fell on the bed together, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies. As they took each other’s clothes off, they tenderly caressed curves and muscles soft and firm. She had never felt this way before, and her passion for him and the thought of this illicit act almost frightened her. Almost. Instead it just fueled her flame even hotter and together they made love for hours – on the bed, against the wall, in the bathroom in front of the mirror and then back in the bed. Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms.

“I love your scent on me,” he whispered. She smiled, snuggled closer, saying nothing, scared to break the spell in the room. This was unchartered territory for her, and she wanted to do nothing that might take her away from this moment that belonged to her.

They both notice that their bodies fit together perfectly. She loved the feel of his hands on her, one arm draped over the small of her waist.

“Your skin is so soft,” he nudges her ear, breathing in her scent, “I . . .”

Lyrics to “Layla” – © Eric Clapton

The Night They Met

She remembers the night she met him in 1976. Lyla was young, just 14 ½ years old, working at a local seafood restaurant down on the waterfront, in what was at the time a sleepy little town. There was at any time up to 10 teenagers working there in the kitchen, bussing tables and greeting guests. Lyla was hired as a busgirl and was bussing tables for $1.46 an hour. After doing that awhile she changed to the position of salad girl, she wanted to try something different, though her pay stayed the same. Plus it kept her closer to the boys in the back.

Not too long after starting this job, she started dating one of the boys that worked there in the kitchen. He was two years older than her. There were several couples among the teen workers there and there were plenty of shenanigans in the kitchen. After working there for a couple of months the owner took a shining to Lyla, called her Little Bit, liked her spunky personality and attempted to tease her often. The owner decided she should be the hostess. He told her it was because she had a booming voice that carried, with a smile that followed, reaching out to the guests as they walked through the door, which was probably the truth. He also had her bring his dinner to him downstairs when he wasn’t making his presence known running the register. He would call up what he wanted, the kitchen prepared it, and then she took it down. He usually engaged her in some conversation for about 15 minutes before sending her back to work. He liked her, she reminded him of himself at that age in that she was confident, but she was not cocky, and had a naivety about her that appealed to him. He could tell she was a good girl.

Being the hostess put her right in the front of the restaurant greeting and seating all the guests, away from everyone else her age. Due to the speed the waitresses supplied the teenagers to ensure they kept up, especially on the weekends and holidays, Lyla was all over that restaurant. She got to know everyone there well, that was the kind of personality she had – quite outgoing and gregarious.

There was a boy named Grady who worked there awhile that summer.  One night, Grady’s cousin, James came up to see him before the restaurant had closed. It seems like he came with a friend, though Lyla really doesn’t remember that detail. What she does remember was a tall, tanned boy dressed in overalls, no shirt, and a floppy black felt hat covering dirty-blond colored kinda wavy hair that hung to his shoulders. He had a southern drawl that was quite noticeable and a wide infectious ear-to-ear grin. His blue eyes shone underneath that hat, showing his chiseled features. Damn he had nice arms, nice shoulders, nice chest. Some might think he was a little on the thin side, but Lyla liked them like that.  For a teenage boy, he was quite charming. Lyla liked his laugh and she was drawn to him right away.

They flirted a little, and at one point he almost had her pinned in as he leaned with one arm holding him up against the wall, essentially blocking her exit. She laughed, gave him a little wink and said, “Excuse me James, but I think I better get back to work now,” smiling and placing her hand on his chest as if gently pushing him away. He laughed back, and wanted to say something, anything, but inside he was so nervous, he felt like he might throw up. She was dizzying, and though he knew he was inexperienced to some degree being only 15 and all, James sensed she was different than any other female he had ever met. All he could do was smile, and tip his hat just a little to her as he moved to allow her to walk away. She looked just as enticing walking away as she had when she walked up to him. “My God,” was all he could say under his breath, while his grin stretched across his face slowly.

Even though she had a boyfriend, she knew even if she didn’t Mr. Overalls wouldn’t be interested in her. Though he was a little flirty, she knew it was doubtful she was his type. She was friends with lots of boys like him & knew others, but they were not interested in short girls with little boobs, tiny waists, big hips and deep raspy voices. She had pine green eyes, not the beautiful blue eyes most of the boys seemed to like and her hair was not straight or that cute summer blond color either. She was curvy, especially for a 14-year old, just not in all the “right” places boys her age were looking for. Her hips were too big for her bust, making her hourglass bottom heavy, in her opinion.

Lyla was a fiery spirit, kind of a hippie chick, and very much a non-conformist. She wasn’t a major rule-breaker per say (well that depended on who you asked) and did not get into trouble with the law, but it was obvious she was a bit of rebel. Like many teenage girls of that age, she was not brimming with self-esteem regarding her looks. She felt like most of the guys attracted to her were so only after getting to know her – liking her for her personality, not her looks. Quite frankly, that mind-set stayed with her most of her life.

Lyla really liked her boyfriend, thought she loved him actually, but she had not slept with him yet. She was still a virgin, though she had done plenty of other things. She wanted to be intimate with him, and find out what all the bruhaha was about, but she didn’t quite trust him enough to give him that special part of herself. Her boyfriend was jealous at times, moody, sometimes had quite a temper (though he never hurt her) and though all her friends were drinking and doing drugs – he partied hard and drank a lot.

Though she wasn’t angry at her boyfriend, she secretly wished that she would hear from this blond boy in the overalls. Maybe she knew this relationship was not going to last. Maybe she was genuinely drawn to Mr. Cutie in the Overalls. Maybe she would ask Grady later what his cousin thought of her, if he had mentioned anything about her.

After saying good bye to his cousin, James thought about that girl he had just met, Lyla. Damn, he thought she was the hottest thing on two feet he had ever seen – tight body, sexy deep voice, and she seemed not only smart, but had a great sense of humor, too. He liked that in a girl! Walking up the road to hit the highway so he could hitchhike home, he couldn’t get this Lyla girl out of his head. For some reason, even though they spent all of maybe 10 minutes together, she seemed different than other girls he had met or spent time with.

Oh Hell Goob, he told himself, Get over it, she has a boyfriend and lives nowhere near you. You probably won’t ever see her again, but maybe I’ll get lucky, he thought, and she’ll visit me in my dreams tonight, smiling he rubbed his crotch just a bit at the thought. Once he got home, he was still thinking about Lyla, so James decided he would call Grady tomorrow and find out everything he could about her. Shit, he kept telling himself, she wasn’t that hot – but she was and he was fascinated by her.

Lyla waited for weeks, but never heard from Mr. Overalls, as she was fond of calling him. Though she was not above calling a boy, she did have a boyfriend and that would be inappropriate. She really cared for her boyfriend, too, but was beginning to realize they would probably not be a forever couple. She was still quite intrigued with Mr. Overalls and thought of him often. She knew he lived a good distance away, which was an issue when you didn’t drive yet. Coincidental run-ins just don’t happen in those situations, so there was no way to just run into him somewhere.

She asked Grady at some point about his cousin, and Grady told her he was dating someone. So much for that – she knew she wasn’t his type. She didn’t forget that tall blonde boy with the southern charm though. She liked the way he called her Baby and then winked – she remembered it from the night they met. But he’s got a girlfriend, and she’s got a boyfriend, and that was that.  Maybe she’d get Mr. Overalls’s number and call him, someday. She’d definitely think about that.

She is my soulmate

James knew Lyla loved her husband & that she felt they were soul mates, she’d told him that many times. But he couldn’t quit thinking about her, couldn’t get her out from under his skin – which actually pissed him off at times, this lack of self-control. Lyla was his soul mate, no matter who was hers. Though some people would think he was crazy, he knew it to be true. James knew he was helplessly hoping, but he cherished the moments she allowed him into her life.

Lyla held his heart in her hands, and she really had no idea of the control she had over him. He gave her an idea, but even she, as intuitive and as smart as she was, would never truly know the magnitude as long as he didn’t belong to her. But oh if he ever did, she would be amazed beyond belief what he would and wouldn’t do for her – her happiness, her piece of mind. James has loved Lyla for close to four decades now, and even after having no contact for close to 25 years, he never forgot her or the effect she had on him. He couldn’t explain it either, he had tried more times than he could ever count or remember over the years to try and fathom this hold she seemed to have on him – it just was what it was.

He had had many relationships with other women, even a couple of wives, but Lyla had always held a little piece of his heart that no other woman ever managed to occupy. He wanted her to leave home with him when they were teenagers, but she was afraid, and he understood completely and did not blame her in any way. He came back about 16 months later with a ring in one pocket and plenty of money in the other for them to start a new life, with every intention of asking her to be his wife and spend the rest of their lives together growing old and enjoying the life they would surely be blessed with – but it didn’t happen that way.

James wondered what he would do now if Lyla ever wanted to be with him. The baggage this situation might bring – would it be worth it? He didn’t have to consider this scenario long, before deciding oh yes, it most certainly would. He tells himself, if for some crazy reason that happened while she was still married that he would tell her no. He would never in any way want to place her in a compromising position. But he wonders would he really be able to trust himself – with her – in that type of a situation. Incredibly doubtful, he admits to himself, with very little shame – especially if he was with her, looking into her beautiful soul-reading pine green eyes. Listening to her speak to him with her deep raspy sexy voice. Sitting close to her, smelling her and feeling her heat. The thought of touching her in places he hasn’t touched in almost 40 years . . . and more . . .

Last Chance With The One That Got Away

Was working off a writing prompt the other day posted by Writer’s Digest, I believe.  The word count was ~500, I went way over – which I am good at! I finally just stopped, but think it could be fleshed out much more – this scene and maybe even more. These were my instructions:

You call an old flame from high school whom you still have feelings for and ask to meet up. The flame says, “Sure, how about noon at the pub by your house.” While waiting at the pub, your flame walks in—wearing a wedding dress (or tuxedo). The flame looks at you and says, “I’m supposed to be getting married today, but …” What happens? Write this scene.

James was surprised when he had picked up the phone and Lyla’s very distinctive voice was on the other end. He hadn’t heard from her in a couple of years. Their history was complicated, and really in some ways was ancient – high school years. Though he had lost touch with her for a few decades, he had many phone conversations and computer chats with her over the last ten years or so, with the exception of his disappearances. Considering the circumstances, they knew each other fairly well and usually were quite comfortable talking or chatting online. He was glad the pub wasn’t far.

As Lyla opened the door to enter the pub, a tall man in a tuxedo reached past her and opened the door for them both. They hadn’t seen each other in decades, but he knew who she was the minute he saw her. James was dazed by her appearance, and her intoxicating scent, as he followed her in through the door. As she turned around to thank him for his gentlemanly behavior, she realized who he was.

“Oh my gosh,” she said as she reached up to hug him. He hugged her with an intensity that surprised them both, picking her up off her feet and spinning her around once before setting her back down.

With his big ear-to-ear grin, he responded, “Hey baby!” At that moment, it was all he could manage to say. His mind was racing, and he was wondering if he was really doing the right thing. Though he was beginning to second guess himself, he decided he would not let this moment pass him by again.

“I have never seen you dressed like this, wouldn’t have thought that was your style. Might not have recognized you, especially after all these years,” she said with an easy laugh.

“I’m supposed to be getting married today, but …” he said pensively, as he lowered his head.

“No you’re not – stop jacking with me, seriously, you look incredibly handsome, but why’re you dressed like that” she laughs.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I AM supposed to be getting married today, Lyla.”

“What? I had no idea,” she said. “Why didn’t you say something? I know we haven’t talked in a couple years, so I’m obviously out of the loop. Why didn’t you say something? Why are you here?”

Before he could even formulate what he wanted to say, she repeated, “WHY didn’t you tell me you were getting married and more importantly WHY are you here?” It was obvious Lyla had no idea what to make of this from the bewildered look on her face. James was quiet, and incredibly nervous, and he knew she deserved answers since he agreed to meet her. He could have told her on the phone, but this was the first chance he’s had to see her in decades. He had to see her. He had to do this right.

James looked at her and said, “I need a drink, let’s go sit down over here in the back.” They ordered their drinks at the bar, before they made their way to the booth in the back of the pub. They were sitting just long enough to light a cigarette when their drinks were delivered. Lyla stirred her margarita; James took a slug off his Grey Goose. He stared at her and took her hand in his. He was amazed at the electricity that seemed to run through him just from holding her hand. He was so nervous, he was afraid he might tremble ever so slightly, so he took a deep breath to recompose. He noticed the bracelets she was wearing; one was leather with hematite beads wrapped five times around her wrist. He noticed she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

He had heard she was widowed, and it was all he could do not to contact her. As a matter of fact, that’s why he left the country for over a year to work in Switzerland – to put as much distance between them as he could. James got a new cell number and quit browsing on Facebook before leaving, but he had found out about her husband dying a few years back. James had loved Lyla since the day he met her. She was 14, he was six months older and had already turned 15. Talking to her the first time made him so nervous, he almost threw up. She was something else – her eyes had a soulful depth, and a deep green like the color of pine needles, and her smile lit up the room and was as contagious as a cold. She was smart, funny and sarcastic, too – he liked that. His heart belonged to her, it always had. Every woman he ever allowed himself to get close to since had that same color of eyes though that wasn’t the only reason, coincidentally it turned out that way and he was fine with it.

He felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest when he walked away from her all those years ago without even telling her he had a wedding ring in his pocket with her name engraved in it. How could he tell her? She looked so happy and was in love with another man. He had stayed away long enough to save a nice stash of cash so he would have something to offer her when he came for her. He had no idea until he got to her parent’s house that she had moved in with her new boyfriend across the street a few months prior. He had stayed away just long enough to lose her. As much as he wanted to leave there with her, hand-in-hand headed for their new life, he could tell she was happier than he had ever seen her. Though he knew they had a connection, he just couldn’t do anything that would cause her any turmoil. Her happiness meant more to him than his own, and she had endured enough turmoil.

“Lyla, I told you some time ago, whenever someone asks, I always tell them you’re the one that got away. You have been no small part of how I examine a prospective girlfriend, wife, even friend. My memories of you run long and deep,” he said softly, his voice trembling just a bit, enough that she noticed. “Anyone who wins your heart is luckier than anyone else who ever lived. I want to win your heart, I always have. But it has to be on your terms, not mine.” He added, “And your timing is impeccable . . . always loved that about you!”

“James, what about your bride-to-be,” she asked.

He ignored her, took another gulp of his vodka, swallowed hard and finished it up. “My lord woman, you have no idea how smokin’ hot you are do you. You’ve have an imagination and a wit and a depth I’ve not found in most others – I have never been able to get you out of my heart. I am not going to feel like I am settling again, not if there is any chance you and I might have a life together.” He looked over and motioned the waitress to order another drink – he needed it, as he was getting nervous since she was strangely quiet. Lyla wasn’t typically a quiet person. As he was holding her hand, gripping it at this point, her hand was starting to sweat just a little. He eased his hold and now was cradling her hand in both of his. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You know I wanted to marry you back then. I have always wanted to spend my life with you. At this point, Lyla, we aint getting no younger girl,” James’ voice cracked.

When the waitress came over, he ordered another Grey Goose. Though she hadn’t finished her drink she ordered another margarita telling the waitress, “I think we might be here a bit.”

Lyla smiled at him, squeezed his hand, and said, “Tell me about this poor woman you are going to leave brokenhearted at the alter. And as you are telling me about her, you better make sure this is really what you want, ‘cause you won’t be able to undo it.”

Lyla felt bad for this woman she did not know, but she knew how James felt about her. He had made that clear in bits and pieces over the years after they had reconnected in their 40s. She had always felt they had a connection, and he had always had a little piece of her heart. One time, when he told her just because someone is your soul mate doesn’t mean you’re not someone else’s, she told him she felt like maybe they were soul mates in another life. This was the first time she had laid eyes on him, with the exception of one picture on Facebook, in almost 40 years.

© ~ Sadie ~ and Windchimes and Dreamcatchers, 2013-2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to ~ Sadie ~ and Windchimes and Dreamcatchers with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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