Forever's Embrace (Forever In Luck Series Book 2) (23 page)

 
Oh, there was that look, like she’d just grown
horns and a tail. “Stop looking at me like that! My brain just does that kind
of stuff, knows and thinks things no one else would.”

They
all burst out laughing. Jake’s dad stood and came over to her, giving her a big
hug. “There’s a place for you here, tootsie, if you want it. It’s in this book
and through those doors. But whatever you decide, know you’ll always be
considered family. Please translate the book, we’d be much obliged if you did.”

*****

Packed
and on the road, Jake was glad to be done. It’d been six and a half weeks since
the accident, and he’d been gone close to six of them. He hated to admit it,
but he was downright homesick. It was a good thing he’d dropped from the vet
tech program, because he’d never have made it being gone so long. This had been
a once in a lifetime opportunity though, and he’d learned much during his time
in Albany. Way more than if he’d gone through the vet tech program, so he was
pleased with that.

Fortunately
for him, he’d been so busy living at the farm and working sixteen hour days, he
hadn’t had much time to dwell on things, and he’d been negligent in calling his
family and telling them where he was or what he was doing. He’d checked his
phone though, figuring they’d call if there was a problem.

Pulling
into Monroe, he looked for the tavern Mickie had told him about. Finding it, he
was quickly drawn in by the old world charm. Baumgartner’s Cheese Store and
Tavern. Getting out, he headed inside, and was immediately taken back. This was
his dream, to make and sell his family’s cheese, and they were doing it all
right here, and then some. Stepping from the store to the adjacent tavern, he
found a seat at the bar and studied the old style menu. It all looked good, but
he was going for the Rueben sandwich. He wished Jules was here with him, wished
she could see this. She’d love it, he thought, he just knew she would.

After
placing his order, he pulled out his phone and looked over the messages Nate
had sent since he’d been gone. Not a whole lot there, just simple updates…out
of hospital…in rehab…getting better…discharged to home…home therapy…working
hard…doing alright. He hadn’t answered back or asked questions, because the
only way he could handle being away from her was through total withdrawal.

Shaking
his head, he tried his best to stop thinking of her, and had to laugh at
himself because it was hopeless. Man, his heart ached. Pulling up the images on
his phone, he looked at the pictures Linnie had taken of his chest the day of
the accident. He loved these images, but he could kick himself for not having
more. He really should’ve taken some pictures of Jules, but he hadn’t. His food
arrived and he began to eat.

I
should’ve taken a picture of her on the day of Linnie’s wedding, he thought,
and another with her hair down. Smiling, he thought of how she’d behaved that
day at the ice house, after having touched the fish, then laughed out loud
because the memory was hilarious. Then he thought of her and the chopsticks,
and how she’d reassured him that he wouldn’t go hungry.

Why
hadn’t he saved the chopsticks? She’d saved the fish they’d caught. He
should’ve saved the chopsticks. Why hadn’t he had her draw a picture just for
him? Why hadn’t he saved the text messages from her? Why, why, why? You’d think
he’d have learned his lesson after having lost his mother. There was no going
back and getting any of those things. He wished he had something of hers,
something tangible, something he could touch, but all he had were memories, and
the lingering feeling of her tears on his fingers as he’d caught them and brushed
them away.

Looking
at the bill, he reached for his wallet and realized it wasn’t in his pants
pocket. Huh, he could have sworn he put it there. Maybe his coat pocket, no,
wait, something was in the breast pocket? Yep, there it was, thank goodness.
Weird, he couldn’t remember putting it there. He hated this pocket, it being on
the small side and all. Struggling, he couldn’t get his wallet out. Pushing his
hand in the little pouch, he froze. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. He knew
for a fact that Jules had been holding onto it when he’d walked from her
hospital room, because he’d put it in her hand. He felt a tremor flow through
his body as he pulled out the polished piece of Baltic Amber. Jūratė
tears, cried for her one true love.

“Word of advice,
son, don’t give up. Things worth having are worth fighting for.”

He
had to go to her. He had to find her. He wasn’t waiting one more day for her to
contact him. He’d be at her house in about two hours. Linnie’d said she was
supposed to be in Connecticut come the third week of February, so he needed to
hurry. Paying his bill, he grabbed his stuff and left in a rush. He had her
address, and had looked up the way to her house some time ago, so he’d find it
from memory.

I’m
going to find her, he vowed, even if it means going to Connecticut. I don’t
care if she’s confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, I don’t. I
want her, and always have. We can still have a life together, it’ll just be a
little different than most, and so what, I don’t care, it’ll simply be our
normal.

A
little over two hours later, Jake pulled up in front of Jules’s house, his
breathing becoming shaky when he saw the for sale sign in the yard. Getting out
of his truck, he started up the sidewalk when the front door opened and a woman
he didn’t know walked out, locking the door. She stopped short when she turned
and saw him.

“Hello.
If you’d like to see the house, we’ll be having an open house on Sunday.”

Jake
nodded. “Ahhh, yeah.”

“Could
I offer you my card? I’m the agent listing this residence.”

Jake
reached up and ran his hand over his head, then took a deep breath. “No, ahhh,
I won’t be in town come Sunday.”

“Now
then? I guess I could show you the house now if you’d like. It’s a bit messy,
the movers having just dropped off boxes and packing material.”

Snapping
his head up, Jake jumped at the opportunity. “Please, if you’d be so kind. The
mess is no bother.”

“Alright
then, follow me.”

Walking
in, Jake was immediately inundated by the smell of cloves. The realtor was
nattering on about room sizes, square footage, and property taxes, but he heard
none of it. The rooms were crisp and fresh, in modern day color schemes, but
the décor was definitely old world vintage made functional. Looking around at
the furniture, he swore some of it had to be from Sweden, maybe had been her
grandmothers.

Moving
through the rooms, he saw her everywhere, in the richly jeweled-toned props
against the soft, light colors of the walls and furniture, in the whimsical
artwork she no doubt painted and collected over the years, in the passion of
repeated themes throughout, and in the cherished keepsakes protected by glass.

Her
kitchen was nothing short of exquisite, copper everywhere, on the walls,
hanging from the ceiling, and then there were old fashioned jars and crocks in
corners and on shelves full of fun and unique things. Dishes, dishes, dishes,
and a long, long shelf full of every kind of cookbook imaginable.

“I told you I
liked to cook...”

That
was a lie, he thought. She didn’t like to cook, she loved to cook. Stepping
into a little room off the kitchen, he found her den. Holy crap, the room
wasn’t big, but she had one whole wall full of books on cooking. Noticing two
of them on her desk, he stepped over and glanced at them. Oh boy, foods from
the time of Shakespeare, and then the other, contrasting cuisines from the
classical and romantic periods. No wonder she knew so much, if she liked
reading this kind of stuff. “Could I see the upstairs, please?”

“Certainly,
right this way. It’s three bedrooms and a bath up, and one bath down,” the
realtor explained.

The
smaller bedroom, still a decent sized room, had obviously been Linnie’s as
there was still some Packer stuff present and a crap load of boxes with her name
on them. The next room over was Jules’s bedroom, and he could, without a doubt,
envision her nestled all warm and cozy in that old fashioned bed loaded with
pillows.

Stepping
further into the room and trying not to be obvious, he walked across to her
night stand and glanced at the book she was reading. Oh good Lord, he had to
catch himself from laughing aloud, Design Fundamentals of the Art Nouveau and
Art Deco Movement. Yeah, some easy reading there, he thought, with a laugh.
Shit, what had he really expected to find, the chronicles of Beavis and
Butt-head?

Moving
to the last and largest bedroom, Jake was overwhelmed when he saw her easel and
painter’s palette. She had a shitload of brushes and tubes of paints. The walls
and floor were lined with stacks of paintings. Walking around to look at her
current work on the easel, he stopped, and stood staring. He didn’t quite know
how to describe it, but it was a colorful piece with a strong romantic feel. A
profile of sorts, of the two of them kissing. Then hovering around them in
flowing curves and lines, was a wreath of flowers and vines tied at the top
with an amber colored oval shape, that was remarkably similar to the one he was
holding in his hand right now. When combined, it created the illusion of a heart
around the two of them. At the very top of the painting were the words
Ti Amo Anch’io
. Those were the words
she’d said to him right before the helicopter took her away.

“Beautiful,
isn’t it?” the realtor said, as she came and stood beside him.

He
continued to study the painting, then answered, “Yeah, the style is kind of
familiar, I just don’t know what it is.”

“Oh,
I do. You see a lot as a realtor. It’s art nouveau, the predecessor to the art
deco movement of the nineteen twenties. It’s prevalent throughout this house,
and this is a pretty cute piece, rather resplendent in all honesty. I imagine
it’s called, ‘I Love You Too.’”

He
turned and looked at the woman, his brain skipping all over the place. “I’m
sorry, I missed that, what did you say?”

“The
painting, I imagine it’s called, ‘I Love You Too.’ My husband’s Italian, ti amo
anch’io is Italian for, I love you too.”

After
weeks of being dead inside, Jake’s heart came to life. “Has the owner moved
already? Is the property available now?”

The
realtor nodded. “Yes, she hasn’t been here for some time. She’s been
convalescing elsewhere, and is in the process of relocating to another state
due to employment.”

Moving
to the stairs, Jake began going down at a clip. “Should I wish to make an
offer, is the owner still in the area to close the deal quickly?”

“No,
I’m sorry she isn’t. But we have the means to timely manage a sales agreement.
Would you care to take a handout with information regarding the house?”

“Yes,
please,” he answered, taking one more look around before heading to the door.

Handing
him a sheet of paper, she said, “My name and number are on the sheet. Might I
get your name for my records?”

Looking
over the sheet he found her name. “Ms. Tamburo, I’m Jake Albrecht. It was nice
to meet you. Thank you for your time.”

“You’re
very welcome, I hope to hear from you soon.”

Getting
in his truck, he took a minute to think. She loved him, and he loved her. They
were meant to be together. He would find her, he absolutely would. He would go
home. He would go back to Luck and regroup, get Linnie to help him. She had to
help, she just had to. He wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

*****

“Linnie,
I really appreciate your taking me shopping,” Jules said, as she unpacked
several bags of groceries. “I want to make a few nice things for the guys for
Valentine’s Day.”

Linnie
laughed at her. “How is this different from any other day around here? You’re
spoiling them, Jules. They’ll never need to find themselves a wife because you
spoil them with your cooking.”

Jules
couldn’t help grinning as she unpacked more stuff. “I know.” She blushed. “But
I like to cook, and they appreciate what I do, and that makes it all the
better. I have years of not cooking to make up for.”

Linnie
shook her head. “Good thing they work hard enough to appreciate your efforts.
So what’s on the menu tonight?”

Jules
shrugged. “Nothing big, I’m feeling something French though, I thought we’d do
Cornish Hens L’Orange, served on sausage dressing, with some fire roasted
vegetables, then we’ll finish with these quaint little individual lemon
soufflés.”

Linnie
snorted. “Nothing big, huh? I’m afraid to ask about tomorrow.”

“Oh,
tomorrow will be a snap,” Jules said, making her point by snapping her fingers
once. “It’s going to be Steak Au Poivre, marinated fresh mushrooms, a classic
green salad, and these little fingerling potatoes. Aren’t they cute?” she
asked, holding up a bag of small elongated potatoes. “I thought I’d roast them
lightly, then sauté them in rosemary butter. Look, they even come in different
colors. See?”

Linnie
looked at the bag, then back at Jules. “Might the lettuce for this salad be
plain old iceberg, with a few carrots and purple cabbage shreds, and come out
of a plastic bag?”