Meeting Miss Mystic (9 page)

“You like her
a lot
. Sounds like you’re ready for the next step,” said Jane. “When’re you going to meet her? Up close and personal? You know,
in
person
?”

“Heck, I’d love to meet her. But, I can’t just pick up and go to Connecticut. I have commitments here.”

Jane took another sip of her warm cinnamon milk then looked up at Paul again.

“You
really
like her?”

Paul nodded.

“Time to visit Connecticut,” said Jane definitively.

“You think?”

Jane shrugged. “Don’t you have a break coming up? In the fall? A few days off when you could make a quick trip?”

“Columbus Day’s a four-day weekend.”

“There you go.” She had smiled then wrinkled her brow as if remembering something unpleasant. Her low, throaty voice had a hint of sadness in it when she continued, “Probably best not to invest anymore of yourself until you meet her, you know? Anyway, that’s what
I
think.”

“Aye, the lass has some good advice, I think.” Maggie had winked at Jane.

“May as well put your cards on the table, Paul.”

Paul had walked home slowly, thinking about Jane’s advice. He appreciated having fresh eyes on the situation, and he couldn’t help but feel Jane had a point. And once he really started thinking about meeting Holly in person, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Leave it to a virtual stranger to show Paul something right under his nose: it was time to book a trip to Mystic.

When he got home, he’d logged into an airline website only to discover that there were available flights that would have him in Hartford by Saturday afternoon and home by Tuesday night. He wouldn’t miss a minute of school and he had plenty of time to delegate the Homecoming preparations. It just felt…right. Right to buy a ticket. Right to go see Holly.

So, he did it. Just like that.

He just hoped she’d be as excited to see him as he was to see her. Settling into his favorite seat, he dialed her number, loving that she picked up right away.

“Paul?”

“Holly.”

“It’s me.”

He smiled, as he always did, at the sound of her voice, at the simple “It’s me” that she said every time they reconnected over the phone again.

“How was your day?”

“Summer Sundays are long, aren’t they?” she asked. “But the heat’s supposed to break on Tuesday. That’s not bad. Hey! Tuesday’s your first day of school, isn’t it? Good tidings all around!”

“It is!” he answered, sort of delighted she was keeping track of his schedule.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready, Sugar.”

“Sugar?!” she exclaimed, giggling for him. It was a more and more familiar sound that he loved even more than the pinging of his phone when he had a message from her.

“Sure. You’re sweet. You come from far away. And I bet you taste delicious.”

He heard her gaspy intake of breath and his eyes flew open, realizing what he’d said. He wasn’t thinking as he spoke, wasn’t measuring out the appropriateness of his analogy. But the words were true and he didn’t retract them.

“Paul…” she breathed in a small, unsure voice, stepping back from him emotionally, as she always seemed to when he mentioned wanting to be with her, see her in person, visit her. He knew she was nervous—heck, he was too—but at some point, they had to take the plunge, didn’t they? They had to meet in person.

Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

“Christmas is too far away,” he blurted out. “I bought a ticket, Holly. I’m coming to Connecticut in October.”

***

Panic.

There was no other word for the way Zoë’s heart leapt in her chest, doubling speed, while her hand holding the phone turned cold and the other one bunched itself up in a fist. All the familiar, safe warmth of the structure they’d created virtually—daily e-mails and texts, and a phone call every few days—was upended by his announcement and despite the sweltering hot evening, she felt a chill go down her spine.

She didn’t say anything, getting off the couch and walking to her bathroom where she flicked on the light and looked in the mirror. Taped to the left corner of the mirror was the picture of “Holly” that Paul loved so much. Her eyes flicked to it and she grimaced.

“Holly?”

“Um, yeah. Give me a minute, huh?”

Zoë put the phone down beside the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She’d tried to put in an order for clear contacts to replace her dark brown ones, but her ophthalmologist had insisted she needed two evaluations before a new prescription could be written, and he preferred to wait until after her October surgery. Her vision had changed drastically after the accident because of the head wound, and he wasn’t comfortable prescribing interim lenses and advised that if she insisted, they wouldn’t be covered under her mediocre health plan. She was essentially stuck with brown, or wearing her old glasses, until after her October surgery.

She hadn’t re-dyed her hair black, and the roots were growing out a medium blond. Only about half an inch was visible, but it was more than enough root to notice. Zoë knew she needed to do something about it, but to go from black to her natural blonde was going to take several professional salon appointments and she needed to put a little money aside for such an extravagance.

The scar on her face wasn’t pretty. And after the surgery in mid-October, it would be raw and seepy for a week or so before starting to heal. By Thanksgiving and definitely by Christmas, her face might really start looking as it had pre-accident—with the addition of a thin, white scar she’d have forever— but for now, it still bothered her.

And while eschewing pizza for salads had helped her take off about ten pounds, she wanted to take off the last fifteen before meeting Paul in person. She’d like to fit back into her old clothes nicely, while right now she was voluptuous, at best.

There was absolutely no way she could see him so soon. She’d be lucky if she looked like Holly-in-the-Picture by Christmas. Christmas had been her goal. They had—tacitly, if not out loud—agreed to see each other for Christmas! It wasn’t fair of him to suddenly change the rules!

She picked up the phone.

“When are you coming?” she asked directly, her voice grim.

His voice was guarded and uncertain when he answered. “Columbus Day weekend.”

Oh, the irony.
Her surgery was scheduled for the Tuesday after Columbus Day.

“I wish you’d talked to me first.”

“I thought—I mean, I
hoped
you’d be happy.”

Her heart clenched at the quiet hurt in his voice.

“Look Paul—”

“No, Holly. I need to explain first, okay? Why I did it. Where I’m coming from.”

Zoë turned off the light in her bathroom and crossed her dimly lit bedroom to open the window next to a lavender suede bean bag chair. She took a bracing breath of the sea air before plopping onto the pile of mush, wrapping her free arm around her bent knees and holding them against her chest.

“Go ahead.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “You ready?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, her voice thready. She wanted to hear what he had to say. She wanted to hear the words that were coming, the sweet words about what she meant to him and why he wanted to see her. Even though later—after he’d found out the full scope of her deception and never contacted her again—they would hurt like hell.

“Holly, listen. This last month has been…” he paused before continuing, “well, the best of my life. Getting to know you this way…I mean, I was really skeptical at first, but I feel like I have this direct line into your head, into your heart, without all the subterfuge and mixed messages that come from body language and making assumptions about someone. And you’re…I mean, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, Holly. The way you care about your students, your strength after losing your mom, your loving relationships with your aunt and sister. I love how you look on the sunny side, and you know? I even love it when you don’t. I love how you say ‘It’s me’ whenever I call you or you call me. Because, seriously, who else could it be anyway? It
is
you. Lately, it’s
always
you. I’m not good at this, but what I’m trying to say—I’m trying to say that even though I’ve never laid eyes on you in person, I want to, I need to, because I’m falling for—”

“Stop!” Zoë gasped, her face flaming hot, her body trembling. “Stop,” she whispered again, reaching up to rub her furrowed brow with her free hand.

Zoë had never wanted a human being to finish a sentence so much in her entire life, but she couldn’t bear to actually hear him say the words only to retract them later. Which he would when he found out the truth. Of that she was sure.

“This is going too fast,” she murmured, realizing he hadn’t said another word since she’d interrupted him. “I don’t—I don’t know if I’m ready, Paul.”

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, and she felt—actually felt—a piece of her heart die at the simple beauty of the single, breathed word. “It’s not for five weeks still. And really, you’ve already met me. Can’t you get used to the idea of seeing me?”

Sweetheart.
There had never been a sweeter sound, a more welcome, more heartbreaking sound in the entire space of her life. When she died, the last thing she wanted to hear in her head was Paul Johansson’s voice breathing
Sweetheart
in her ear once again.

She hitched her shoulder to the side, resting the phone between her ear and shoulder, rubbing her tired, glistening eyes with her fingers. A bead of sweat rolled down her face, plopping onto the swelling top of her breasts like a tear.

“Paul, I love where your heart is, but I don’t feel like I deserve all of the wonderful things you just said about me. I’m a little…overwhelmed. Can you maybe give me a day or two? To think about everything?”

“Holly, please don’t hang up yet. Let’s talk about it. Let’s—”

“I just need to think about it, okay? I’m going to hang up now. You hang up too so I’m not hanging up on you, okay?” She was saying “okay” every other word.

“Okay. But, I meant every word, Holly. I won’t take any of them back.”

Yes, you will. Someday.

“Good-night, Paul,” she whispered

She hung up, letting the phone drop to her lap as she hung her head and sobbed.

***

Paul had braced himself for Holly to push back, but he’d never anticipated she’d stonewall their whole conversation and hang up. He stared at his phone, at Holly’s disappearing picture, vanishing as the phone faded to black.

He stood up quickly, scooping up Cleo as the swing pushed back in his wake, whooshing forward a second later to nail him on the backs of his legs. It felt good, even though it hurt a little. It certainly hurt a lot less than the fact that Holly hadn’t welcomed his visit with open arms. He locked Cleo in the kitchen, put his phone in his back pocket, making his way down the porch steps and around his house, headed into town. He was halfway to the Prairie Dawn before he realized that was his destination.

You have all of this bonnie romantic energy
, Maggie had told him. Maybe
too
much. Maybe he was pushing Holly too hard, asking for too much too soon.

But, no. No, that couldn’t be. She wrote to him every morning and again every afternoon. She texted him when something funny happened in her day or just to tell him that she was thinking of him. They talked for hours and hours on the phone every week, and she never seemed anxious to hang up. He couldn’t have misread the signs. She liked him every bit as much as he liked her. He could feel it. He’d place any bet on it.

So, what had he missed?

He hadn’t missed her reticence to talk about meeting in person. He’d acknowledged it in his head, but decided to push her anyway, assuming it was just nerves and that she’d have to, eventually, overcome her fears. Apparently she wasn’t ready yet. At all. She couldn’t even talk about a visit, let alone welcome it.

“Heya, Principal Paul. Beautiful evening, eh?”

He nodded to a couple of parents taking an evening stroll.

“Principal Paul! Only two more days, sir!”

He high-fived a passing senior who played tight end on the football team.

“Hiiii, Principal Paaaaaaaul,” sang a group of four sophomore girls, giggling as he smiled and waved at them, telling them not to get into trouble so close to the start of school.

By the time he reached the Prairie Dawn, he’d run into at least a dozen students and almost as many parents. It was something he loved about Gardiner, knowing his families well enough to greet every parent and student by name, ask about their lives and interests, feel solidly a part of the community around him. A part. Not apart, as he had in Kennebunkport, where he couldn’t stand the deference shown to his father and family. He didn’t want to be a Johansson with the expectations that accompanied his family name. All he’d ever longed for was to be his own person blending in with those around him, without the heavy weight of his family’s influence and money asserting itself when he simply said his name. He wanted to choose his own destiny, be his own person, make his own way.

He opened the door of the Prairie Dawn, marveling at the cool breezes circulated around the bookstore and café by the cheerfully painted overhead fans. No more air conditioning needed until next summer. The screen door slammed behind him—a sound he recognized from the summer camps of his youth and the Prairie Dawn of his now—and he chose a seat at the copper coffee bar, waiting for Maggie to notice him.

She turned around and her face brightened. “You’re early!”

“Early?”

“For Euchre. With Nils and Jane.” She flicked her wrist and looked at her watch. “About forty-five minutes.”

Huh. His mind sure was occupied. He’d completely forgotten his promise to play cards with Maggie, Nils and their new friend, Jane. The same Jane whose advice last night had propelled Paul toward buying the airline tickets that had been such a disaster on the phone with Holly tonight.

“Oh, no. I know that look, Paul. What’s goin’ on?”