Destiny Ever-Changing (7 page)

The sun is beginning to set, and it's the most mesmerizing thing I've ever seen. I don't remember sunsets looking like this when I was a little girl, but I guess, at that age, I just didn't care.

I don't know how long I've been walking or how far. I should probably turn back, since it's already going to be pitch black out here by the time I get home. Luckily, I have one of those handy little flashlights on my key chain, among various other things you need when you live in a city like Baltimore. I look ahead, and I see a set of stairs coming off of the steep bluff. I decide that I'll walk to those stairs, turn around, and head back.

I'm almost to the stairs when I see that there is something on them. No, it's some
one.
A pretty drunk someone, if I had to guess. I can see empty beer bottles planted in the sand all around. I can also identify that it's a man, since he's not wearing a shirt. I can't tell if he's asleep, but I feel compelled to make sure he's okay. Clenching my pepper spray on my keychain, I continue to approach the man.

Once I am near enough to distinguish that he
is
, in fact, breathing, I realize that I recognize him. He's the gardener that changed my tire, and it looks as if he's passed out cold. I know that I need to hurry and leave before he sees me, but I linger for a just moment to admire him. I didn't look closely at his features earlier today, since I was embarrassed the entire time. He looks much different now with his face relaxed. He must have been swimming, because his khaki shorts are still damp. His dark hair looks mostly dry, but it's a beautiful mess. He also has sand clinging all over his tanned, defined chest and muscular arms. I'd much rather look at him than the sunset.

Snapping back into the reality of the situation, I decide that I can't let him see me here. I quietly begin to turn to walk back, watching him carefully to see if he moves. Then, I notice his eyes slowly opening, and he looks confused. I instantly come to the realization that he only had his eyes closed and was not quite asleep.

Just great! He caught me!

I quickly think of something to say, and he looks up at mewith a half-drunk smile. I can tell by that smile that he remembers me . . . and everything that happened today.

"Laura?" he says with a sleepy grin.

He knows my name? "Exactly how do you know who I am?"

He sits up as if he snaps into reality. "I don't really. I just read it on a box earlier today, so I assumed that was your name. I'm not a psycho stalker, I promise."

"When you say 'box,' you mean the"

"Just a box," he quickly interrupts as if to save me from today's embarrassments. "I don't remember which one."

He's not a good liar, but I am relieved. "Good! Well, actually, I mean, you were right. My name is Laura. Laura Carey, actually."

He holds his hand out to shake mine and tries to stifle a laugh. "Nice to meet you, Laura Carey, actually. My name is Brooks Tucker, actually."

I can't help but laughing, even though he is making fun of me. "Okay, I deserved that,
actually
. I have a tendency to sound like an idiot when I'm around someone I don't know. I'm not what you would call a social butterfly." I still sound like an idiot.

"And yet you came and found me tonight?" He raises one eyebrow, looking insanely gorgeous.

"You have the wrong idea. I was just on a nice, long walk, and I could see you lying on these stairsobviously drunkand I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't even know it was you until I was within a few feet of you. In fact, I thought you were asleep, and I was going to leave before you ever saw me. I'm no psycho stalker either."

"Touché," he says as we both turn toward the sound of a gate opening at the top of the bluff. He quickly grabs my arm and drags me under the stairs with him to hide. I don't understand what is going on, but I'm having a hard time thinking of anything other than how close he is to me. With one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, he has me pressed against his side. Tight enough that I feel every breath he takes. Tight enough that a fury of nervousness and attraction explode through my body.

"What are we doing?" I mouth to him, attempting to overcome my temporary stupor.

Brooks simply puts his finger over his mouth, looking up at the stairs.

"Joshua?" a woman yells. "Are you out here?"

When there is no answer, the woman descends the steps halfway and repeats her inquiry. Again, there is no answer, and the woman huffs and goes back up the stairs. I hear the sound of the gate closing.

The curiosity is killing me. "What is going on? Who was that, and who is Joshua?"

"That is Jacqueline Martens. She lives up there."

"Oh, she's the woman you work for. Which makes Joshua her . . . husband?"

Brooks begins to fidget. "No, not yet."

That woman must make him nervous or something. I see an immediate change in his mood and his facial expression as he helps me out from under the stairs. He was calm and almost charming before; now, he is nervous and sullen. His once relaxed face becomes hardened and furrowed. Deep creases are forming just above his brows, and he presses his lips into a tight line.

"Why were you hiding from her?" His mood change causes my soaring adrenaline to leave me feeling more like a deflated balloon.

He begins to say something a few times, but he can't seem to form the words. "I just don't want her to know where I am," he finally says with an edge of bitterness in his voice.

It's obvious to me that he is agitated. I'm not sure what has provoked this behavior from him, but I decide it's time for me to go. "Well, Brooks, it was nice to see you again, and I want to thank you again for today. I have a long walk back home, so I better get started. Maybe we'll see each other around town."

"I doubt we will, but maybe," he says as he sits and glares at the sand, completely emotionless.

That was the strangest conversation I've had in a long time. I can't figure out what is going on between him and his employers. Out of nowhere, she shows up, and he turns into cold stone. I almost wonder if there is some sort of love triangle thing going on.  His behavior was just so odd, and he became so indifferent. He could have at least offered to walk me home; it's an awful long way to walk without much light.

After what seems like forever, I finally make it home. Fumbling with the keys, I finally get the door open and flick the light on. I take a quick shower to wash away what feels like five pounds of sand, and I get ready for bed. When I walk over to the balcony doors to close the curtains, I think I see movement on the beach, but when I take a second look, I don't see anything. I assume going two days without sleep can do that to a person. I really need some sleep.

I wake up to a faint orange glow in the room. Nearly forgetting where I am, I get up and start surveying the room. Walking out onto the balcony, I see that the sun is beginning to rise, so I walk down the stairs and head toward the sand. I love to sit on the beach and watch the sun make its glorious escalation into the sky.

I find the perfect spot to sit and observe my surroundings. The aquamarine sky is gradually filling with bright rays of ginger radiance, and the water looks as if glitter is spilling out of the sun into the waves. There is a steady breeze blowingjust enough that I have to hold my silk robe down onto my legs. I can still see my footprints in the moist sand trailing off to the right from my walk last night, but . . .

I get up and walk over to the prints. There should be two sets of footprints here: one set from when I left last night and one where I came back. Instead, there are four. The other two appear larger than my feet, and they stop right at the clearing that leads to the house and go back in the direction they came from. It wasn't my imagination. I saw someone on the beach last night.

Chapter Six — The Puppet Master

Brooks:

I watch Laura walk away into the darkness, and I feel terrible about my mood toward her. None of this is her fault, and I don't want to bring her into my world of problems. I know my demeanor changed after Jacqueline showed up, but it was like a wakeup call to me. I had almost forgotten everything that I had been depressed about after I had a few beers and Laura showed up. I was shocked to see her here; I didn't think I would ever see her again.

We didn't have time to talk much before Jacqueline showed up, but just in those few short moments, she made me feel like a real man again. I have been having this strange dream every night about waking up with puppet strings attached to my hands and feet, and when I look up to see where the strings lead, I see that my father is the puppet master. He laughs eerily and begins working the strings, and I suddenly realize that I am being led down the aisle at a church. As I look to the front of the church, I see my bride pointing at me and laughing insultingly. When I reach the altar and lift her veil, I see Carl Martens' face instead of Jacqueline's, and that sight always wakes me up.

Being with Laura for just those few minutes made me forget all of that for a little while. I felt an urge to talk to an attractive woman and get to know her, just like any other man in the world would. There was the nervous banter at first, but then we smiled, laughed, and joked with each other. For a moment, I felt like I was in total control of my own destiny. I didn't have a puppet master to make my decisions for me.

As soon as Jacqueline showed up, I felt those imaginary strings working their way around my hands and feet again, and I was suddenly thrown back into the reality of my near future. The situation reminded me of skydiving without a parachute. You would experience exhilaration and thrill for few short minutes, but then you would slam into the groundtaking away all memories of pleasure and leaving only pain. My demeanor drastically changed toward Laura after that because I came to the sudden realization that no matter how hard I try to fool myself, I can't change my destiny.

I look off into the distance down the shoreline, and I can only see the faintest silhouette of Laura. That little flashlight can't be producing much light for her to see, and I worry that she'll fall and hurt herself. You also never know whom you'll stumble upon on the beach at night or what their intensions may be. I should have offered to see her home safely, but I was too wrapped up in my own frustrations to think of it at that moment.

Finally, I decide to follow her to be sure she makes it home without any harm. I'll just stay back as far as I can, so she doesn't see me following her and get scared. I don't know where she lives, but I will walk ten miles if that's what it takes. I'm not sure what it is about her, but I have an overwhelming desire to protect her. I hardly know her, but I know she's unlike any other woman I have ever met. She's not confident at all, and she seems very shy. She doesn't even appear to be aware of how beautiful she is.

I saw her face very closely while we were hiding out under the stairs earlier. I couldn't tell that she had any makeup on at all. Her skin was creamy and radiant, and her cheeks had the slightest natural blush. When she got embarrassed, the color in her cheeks intensified, which just make her glow even more. I didn't have any trouble keeping eye contact with those emerald green eyes and thick, dark lashes. When she spoke, I noticed how her pale, pink lips looked so soft and supple. Everything from her clothes to her hair was so simple and yet so spellbinding.

I watch her outline up ahead as she walks. Her hair is whipping around in the wind, and I see her hips swaying in a steady, graceful rhythm. She walks with determination, never looking back. I am startled when she abruptly veers to the left off of the beach, and I am hoping that she has made it home. I've been walking for nearly twenty minutes. 

Once I make it up to where she turned, I stop to look for any signs of her. There is a small, white house, but I can't see any lights on. It suddenly occurs to me that I know this house; I pass it all the time. There is another building next to itI believe it's a garagewith a room above it. A set of doors leads out to a balcony, and there is a lamp on in that room. I can't see Laura or anyone else, so I wait a few minutes to guarantee she has, in fact, made it home.

She emerges after a moment, wearing a towel on her head, a long t-shirt, and a thin robe. I watch her as she takes the towel off her head and flips her head upside-down to dry her hair. She flings her hair back as she stands up straight again, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. She is the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen with her wet hair falling wildly around her shoulders and that long white t-shirt.

I see her walk over to the doors, and I know it's time for me to leave before she sees me. I should have left as soon as I saw that she was home. Now, I'm going to have that picture in my head of her with the wet hair and t-shirt. That's the last thing I need; I can't let myself get attracted to another woman right now. I've been letting all of this with Laura distract me, but I have to face the fact that nothing can ever come of it. In less than four months, I'll be married to Jacqueline. I am resolute to stop thinking about Laura and focus on how I'm going to get through the next several months.

It's a long walk back home, but I'm glad.  I have no idea how Jacqueline is going to react when I get home, so I try to think of something to say. I need to figure out a way to keep the peace with her until this is all over. If I don't, she's just going to make me more miserable than she already does. I'll just have to learn to grin and bear it as best I can, but I know it will be hard. She isn't an easy person to like, and I sometimes wonder how I ever cared for her at all.

When I reach the stairs leading up to my house, I gather my beer bottles and toss them in my bucket. Just before I begin going up the stairs, I see the moonlight reflect off of something on the ground. When I pick it up, I realize that it is a necklace with a locket on it. It must be Laura's, or I would have noticed it earlier. Now that I know where she lives, I'll just stick it in the mailbox tomorrow, so I don't have to see her. I don't want to risk being around her again and having those feelings of magnetism causing more trouble.