Dentelle (22 page)

That was something worth pondering.

Not long afterwards, we wrapped up our
discussion. Jason and I said our good-byes, then jumped into his truck, and
drove downtown. Somehow, we timed it just right and flew through all the green
lights on Holly Street, passing Bob’s Burger & Brew, the Greenhouse, and
then Lulu’s. We were silent, allowing the latest Macklemore hit song to fill
the cab. I clutched the leather seats, my nerves on edge and my heart heavy as
I flailed with my emotions.

I was no longer thinking about the Canadian
Network or my personal predicaments.

No, I was remembering sweet, old Ellen Zimmerman,
whom I’d never had a chance to thank for the packets of orchid pollen or ask
how she’d known about Guardians. I’d never had a chance to say good-bye. Tears
threatened, and I sniffled, forcing them back.

“You okay, babe?”

I nodded. “Just thinking about Ellen.” He
nodded, touched my shoulder, and then swiftly pulled it back on the steering
wheel again.

I’d been too late. Life in the weeks following
our battle with the Ray-pacs in the mountains had been complete chaos. I’d
linked and survived, which was astounding enough. But then I’d had to deal with
the changes to my body as well as adapt to the new and unbelievable abilities
I’d suddenly inherited. With all that turmoil, it was a few weeks before I felt
mentally capable of resuming my volunteer duties. A few days before I was to
reunite with Ellen, she passed away.

The nurses said she died peacefully in her
sleep. That was a good thing, but the more I thought about those words, the
more it bothered me. That’s what we all want to hear when someone we love dies.
But how did the nurses know that? No one was in the room with Ellen. She could
have awakened in a panic, all alone, clutching her heart. The thought was
gut-wrenching. What if I’d visited earlier, provided her with Essence, as I had
twice a week for so many months? Would that have prevented the irregular
heartbeat, or “cardiac arrhythmia” as the doctors called it, that they
attributed to her death? Unfortunately, I would never know, and the guilt still
lingered. But so did the shock. She was the spunkiest, most positive person,
and even though she was elderly, she never seemed feeble. I certainly hadn’t
expected her to die anytime soon. She’d left a void in my heart.

When her lawyer, Mr. Crompton, had called a week
ago and informed me that Ellen’s estate had been settled and that she’d named
me in her will, I’d had to grab the couch for support. The realization that she
had a will, or would even include me in it, had never crossed my mind. It hit
me hard. After hanging up the phone, a storm of emotions had surfaced –
surprise that she’d mentioned me at all. Sorrow that she was gone. Hope that
she had left me a personal note. And relief that I might find closure.

“Alex. Hey, babe. We’re here. You ready?”

I stared at the red brick building, wondering if
Ellen had ever graced the hallways of this building or if Mr. Compton had only
met her out at the Mt. Baker Care Center. I grabbed my purse with one hand and
the door handle with the other. “Yes. I’m ready.” I’d already decided this was
an appointment I needed to attend by myself, and Jason had wholeheartedly
agreed. But he’d insisted on driving me, saying he’d just go for a walk and I
could text him when I was ready to go. I loved how in tune he was with my
feelings. Knowing I was in a tough place emotionally, he found ways to be
supportive but not smothering.

Once inside, I felt surprisingly calm. There was
nothing pretentious about Crompton & Keats. Fresh-cut flowers in the
reception area along with snacks, cookies and coffee instantly put me at ease.
Before long, I was stepping into Mr. Crompton’s open and airy office. He rose
from his desk and strode across the room with a friendly smile. Somewhere in
his sixties, with graying hair, he was a broad shouldered, athletic man.
Shaking my hand, he welcomed me and informed me I was “every bit as lovely” as
Ellen had bragged I was.

“Have a seat, Ms. Adams.” He motioned to the
large leather chairs. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, no thank you. And please, call me Lexi.”

He smiled and walked over to his desk. The
office was clean, tidy, and bright. Two extra-large windows offered views of an
outdoor Japanese-themed patio. Numerous plants dotted the room, and tasteful
paintings adorned the walls. There was none of that sterile mahogany stuffiness
here.

“I must tell you,” he said, shuffling through
some papers on his desk, “Ellen was not only a client, but she was also a dear
friend of mine. Losing her was difficult; a friendship like that is never
forgotten and certainly not replaceable. Her contagious zest for life was
unparalleled.” His voice hitched. He stopped and pressed his lips together.

I smiled inwardly at the thought of Ellen
Zimmerman flirting with him, which she undoubtedly would have done. He was
attractive and distinguished-looking, and she’d probably made him blush a few
times. “She was an amazing woman and a dear friend of mine, too,” I said
quietly.

He nodded and cleared his throat. Locating the
folder he was looking for, he sat down and talked a little bit about himself,
explaining how Ellen had named him as executor of her estate thirty years
before. He reminded me that she had no children, just a few nieces and nephews,
but no one who’d cared enough to visit while she was alive. Then he frowned and
talked of distant relatives showing up after her death, hoping to claim some of
her fortune. He assured me they’d had no such luck, because she’d protected her
assets well. Clutching my purse, I listened attentively and nodded at all the
right times but felt a bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know anything about her
having a fortune, and since I wasn’t family it seemed odd he’d be imparting so
much information to me.

“Lexi, I don’t know if you were aware, but Ellen
used to own several flower shops in Europe.”

“Yes, I did know that,” I said, relieved to be
on neutral ground.

He straightened a manila folder against the desk
and continued, “Years ago, when she sold out, she invested her money wisely and
lived a comfortable, but by no means, extravagant life. After her passing, she still
had a sizeable amount of money in her trust fund. Unfortunately, several long
lost relatives, trying to claim a share of her wealth, slowed the process of
finalizing her estate, which is why I wasn’t able to contact you sooner. But
things are settled now, and,” he added with a wink, “the gold-digging, distant
relatives are out of luck, on their way home, and undoubtedly more disgruntled
than when they arrived.” He rose with his folder and walked around the desk.
Sitting in the chair next to me, he grasped my hand. “Lexi, Ellen asked me to
give you two things. First, a letter that she wrote to you that is still
sealed, and second, a check for a considerable amount of money. Money she
wanted you to use for your education and for whatever else you deemed worthy.”

My heartbeat escalated, and I must have jumped,
because he squeezed my hand tighter. “I…I don’t know what to say?” I said,
reaching new levels of bewilderment. “I had no idea she had money set aside.” I
felt funny discussing her financial affairs. And worried about what he meant by
“a considerable amount.” Like, was he talking a couple thousand dollars? A
couple hundred thousand? I didn’t want Ellen’s money; I just wanted her back.
Her stories, our games of pinochle, and our crazy conversations. My lips
quivered, “Oh, I don’t need any money, Mr. Crompton. But I would like to read
the letter.”

Mr. Crompton smiled, patted my hand one last
time, and then shuffled through the folder. At last, he pulled out two
envelopes. “I understand the idea of inheriting a lot of money might be
uncomfortable or even embarrassing, which, let me tell you, is refreshing. In
fact, Ellen said you’d probably try to, as she phrased it, ‘poo-poo’ the money,
but she really wanted you to have it. Before we proceed with the financial
aspect, though, she asked that you read her letter. Please take into
consideration the letter is sealed, and I have no idea what it says. It was
meant for your eyes only. Also, intriguing, as always with Ellen, she left two
letters.”

My eyes widened. “Huh?”

“This is going to sound strange, but I am
supposed to ask you,” he glanced at his notes, “if you and she ever discussed
the matter of Guardians.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, unable to
speak. What? No, we hadn’t, but she’d given the orchid pollen to Ash. Unsure
how to respond, I shook my head slowly in the negative.

“So, you never discussed Guardians?”

“I don’t think so,” I whispered. This was really
awkward. Even though I could tell he had no idea what he was referring to when
he said “Guardians,” I felt like I was breaking every code in the book by
trying to answer his question.

“Okay, then I’m supposed to give you this letter
if you say no.” He handed me a thick, ivory envelope with a flower decal on the
outside. He marched across the room. “And this one,” he said, waving it in the
air, “you are supposed to watch me destroy.”

My mouth fell open, and before I could utter a
word or change my mind, the paper shredder, sounding like a blender with its
motor on the fritz, came to life. Dumbfounded, I covered my mouth as the letter
disintegrated into a pile of shreds. I sure hoped I’d given the correct answer,
because now I’d never know what message it had held.

“Lexi, I’m going to step out of the room for a
bit and give you some privacy. Ellen asked that you read that letter before I
give you the check, and I’d like you to be as comfortable as possible, which
means you won’t want me hovering around you. When you’re ready for me to come
back in, just poke your head outside the door.” Pointing at the small sofa, he
said fondly, “I brought that in at Ellen’s suggestion, because she didn’t like
the chairs. Feel free to make yourself at home. That’s what Ellen would have
done.” And with that, he left his office. A quiet solitude settled around me,
and the only sounds were that of the classical music playing in the waiting
room.

My hand was shaking as I moved over to the sofa,
but I smiled. Ellen wouldn’t have asked for the couch, she would have demanded
it. Probably said something about life being too short to sit on hard,
uncomfortable surfaces. I opened the envelope and pulled out several
hand-written pages. The scent of a thousand roses overwhelmed me, and I
sneezed. I brushed my nose. She must have sprayed her perfume all over the
pages, probably hoping I’d get a kick out of it. Sliding off my shoes, I pulled
my legs up to my chest, and started the letter.

Dear Lexi-girl,

    
How are you, my
dear? Please tell me you’re not grieving over an old lady like me. You know my
philosophy on life:
 
You can’t go back to
the way things were; you can only live in the present. If you want to reminisce
once in a while about our good times together, like when I beat you at
pinochle, that’s fine by me, but the only things I want you dwelling on are the
possibilities of your future.

Well, I suppose it’s okay to shed a few tears…go ahead…I’ll
wait…

I set the letter aside, laughed a little bit,
and brushed my cheeks with my fingertips. Only Mrs. Zimmerman could find a way
to be bossy from the afterlife.

Okay, you over it yet? Good.

Now, we can move on to more important
matters – like the men in your life. Personally, I think Ash is a handsome
devil of a young man. Quite the skilled guitarist and an ostentatious flirt
(but then again, so was I). You, however, were already madly in love before Ash
came along. I remember the first time you told me about Jason. You were all
dreamy-eyed and blushing head to toes. If he hasn’t already, I know he’ll come
around. Once he does, he’ll never let you go. I’m proud of you, because I know
he must be someone super special to have won your heart.

Right about now, you’re probably
wishing I’d get on with it and explain a few things. I bet if I was sitting
there next to you on Jim’s sofa, you’d grab my hand and say, “How did you know
about the orchid pollen?” Since you are reading “this” letter it means you
shredded the other one, right? (Just covering my tracks here). And it means I
never got a chance to tell you my story. I’m truly sorry. The right time just
hadn’t presented itself yet, but please know I always intended to tell you
about the love of my life. His name was Jonathan, and he was a Guardian. (Which
if I’m right, so is your Jason).

I gasped and pressed the letter against my
chest. Gazing out the window, I stared at the red maple trees without really
focusing on them, and they blurred into the background. “Oh Ellen!” I whispered
aloud. “You were in love with a Guardian, too?” I shook my head and hurriedly
devoured the elegant writing before me.

Close your mouth now. Shock is not very becoming on a
beautiful face such as yours. Smile, relax, and enjoy the story of my life, my
dear.

On a brilliant afternoon, nearly 75 years ago, in the city of love
(Paris, of course), I was 16 years old and working in my parents’ flower shop,
La Boutique De Fleurs. I was tending the store alone because my parents were
out on deliveries. While I was designing an arrangement with irises, my
favorite, a big, but athletically-built young man strode into the shop. He
moved with precision around the displays. His very presence exuded confidence
and commanded respect. I believe the Norse God of Thunder (Thor) would have
crumbled in his presence. So you can just imagine a small, timid, young thing
like me, trembling at the size of him, wondering if I was safe being alone with
him. (Okay, maybe I wasn’t timid, but I was quieter back in those days and
perhaps just a bit shy).

Anyways, as he placed his order, I kept my head low, afraid to
make eye contact. But when he requested several hundred dollars’ worth of
orchids, I gasped and raised my eyes to meet his. It was a moment I’ll never
forget. They were soft as velvet, smiling brown eyes, and they seemed to touch
my soul. My heart rate spiked and I blushed furiously. He tilted his head and
smiled, then placed his large hand over mine and asked if I was okay. My whole
body shuddered at his touch. Electrical currents seemed to snap in the air
around us, and I wondered if I’d ever be okay again. My fear instantly vanished
and was replaced by a fever of curiosity.

I knew in that instant he was someone important. Someone I
wanted to know. Someone who would change my life. He wasn’t the most handsome
fellow I’d ever seen, but his face was kind and honest, and he radiated a
positive energy that was contagious. Naughty, I know, but I couldn’t stop
looking at his huge, supple lips – wondering what it would feel like if they
were pressed against mine. I remember being shocked by my bold and unexpected
thoughts, and I snatched my hand away in a fit of embarrassment. Oh, how he
laughed. He bowed and thanked me profusely, saying he was honored that such a
beautiful woman would blush at the touch of such a giant and bristly man.

Managing a few unintelligible words, I finally took his order.
I let him know it would be a few days before I could have that many orchids
ready to go. I remember him leaning over the counter, inches from my face and
saying, “Good. I need a reason to come back and see you again, my delicate
flower.” (He spoke in French, of course. I’m translating for you).

As he turned to leave, I called out, “Wait! I need your
name…for the order.”

He flashed a brilliant smile. “Jonathan,” he said and
disappeared.

Oh, how he dominated my thoughts for the next several days. I
spent so much time day-dreaming about our next encounter. I could have written
a dozen romance novellas with all the different ways it would play out. (Very
detailed and passionate stories, mind you). I bought a new dress, painted my
nails, fancied myself up, and even made sure my parents were scheduled for
deliveries on the day he was supposed to pick up his order. My goal was to
“wow” him in hopes he’d ask me out on a date. I can honestly say, he ignited my
fiery nature.

Unfortunately, our next meeting did not go as expected. First,
he came in with a gorgeous French girl on his arm. They were laughing and
seemed quite intimate, overly friendly with each other. I was heart-broken and
jealous. Then, as I was gathering his orchids, he and the girl started
whispering frantically and then ran out of the shop without an explanation or
an apology. And there I was with a few hundred dollars’ worth of orchids. I
waited, hoping they’d return. But no! They didn’t come back that day or the
next. To say I was angry would be an understatement. After that, I practiced
all kinds of nasty things I might say to him if I ever laid eyes upon him
again.

Oh, I’m sorry, Lexi-girl. I’m getting carried away. I need to
shorten this up or I’ll be writing you that romance novel. If you want to stop
and get a drink, Jim keeps bottled water in the little refrigerator next to his
desk. Trail mix, too. Go ahead. I’ll wait and think of a way to condense my
story while you get yourself some nourishment.

I laughed aloud, stretching out my arms and
legs. Bouncing to my feet, I decided a nice sip of cold water was just what I
needed. And even if it wasn’t, I would have gotten one anyways. Just for Ellen.
As I walked over to the fridge, I tried to picture Ellen Zimmerman as a young
girl. I bet she was stunning. I’d only seen her with silver curls and wrinkles,
but her shining blue eyes had always sparkled with youth, mischief, and fire. I
giggled to myself. It was easy to understand her anger at Jonathan for
disappearing on her, I’d felt the same way with Jason several times before I’d
learned he was a Guardian and was rushing off to save people. Funny how she and
I both fell in love with a Guardian before we even knew who they were. I
plopped back down on the sofa and started up again.

Okay, now that you’re back. I promise to shorten this story.
It’s just so easy to get carried away when I think about my first encounters
with Jonathan – so many emotions! By now you’ve figured the reason he
disappeared so abruptly without his orchids was because he’d had a vision and
needed to save lives. Let me tell you, he did come back to the flower shop and
pay for his orchids a few days later. He was apologetic and attentive to a
fault, and then he lavished me with compliments and asked me out on a date.

Needless to say, I was quite pleased and already besotted, but
I played hard to get before reluctantly agreeing to meet him. We dated for
several months, growing closer with every passing day. He spoiled me with
extravagant dinners at the Eiffel Tower and took me on cruises along the Seine
River. We went to shows and explored the city on bicycles like tourists,
wanting to experience everything together. We visited museums and art
galleries. We laughed a lot, lived life to the fullest, and loved living it
together. It was a magical time. But there were times when he was distant and
would disappear, saying he had business to attend to. He was vague, claiming he
had some sort of government job. I believed him for the longest time, but deep
down in my heart, fear began to fester. Fear that he was lying about something
– that maybe he was seeing other ladies.

One evening, a clear night with a dazzling full moon, I caught
him, hands entwined with Amelie, the same girl he’d brought with him to the
flower shop months before. My heart ripped in two at seeing the two of them in
an intimate embrace. Unwilling to stay and watch them (I was sure they’d start
kissing next and I couldn’t take that), I turned and ran away. Anger, pain, and
betrayal – those emotions dominated, destroying my self-confidence. I broke it
off with him the very next day. He asked me why, but I refused to tell him.
With tears in his eyes, he said, “I love you, Ellen. I always will. But this is
probably for the best.”

I cleared my throat and noticed a tissue box
sitting at the other end of the sofa. Pulling the box closer, I wondered if Mr.
Crompton always kept that box there, or if he’d put it there for my benefit. I
wiped my face and then blew my nose. All those emotions Ellen had experienced –
yeah, I could relate. I’d felt the same way when Jason had said there was
nothing more to our kiss than Essence. I’d wanted to cry. I’d wanted to scream,
and I’d wanted him to kiss me and tell me he was lying. Love was complicated
enough. Throw Guardians, Innocents, and Amethysts into the mix, and matters of
the heart got even more messed up. Dropping the wadded tissue on the cushion, I
began reading again.

A few weeks went by, and I was in shambles. (True, back then I
couldn’t follow my own advice about not living in the past). Problem was, when
I saw my future, Jonathan loomed largely before me. But I refused to go begging
for a second chance when he was the one who’d been unfaithful.

Then one afternoon, the strangest thing happened. I was
distracted. Deep in thought. And I walked right onto the train tracks,
completely ignorant of the train barreling down on me. My life flashed before
my eyes. I didn’t have time to react, but I remember the train whistle
shrieking. That was just before Jonathan flashed between me and the train,
tossing me out of the way but being struck himself and pulled under the train.
In that moment, my world came crashing down.

The train eventually screeched to a halt, and people began
looking for a body. Everything was chaos. I was numb. Frozen. Unable to think,
speak, act, or cry. After a couple minutes, I spotted movement several cars
back. I remember watching Jonathan’s head emerge, and then he crawled out from
under the train. He should have been dead, but he wasn’t. He looked bloodied
and injured, and despite a limp, he moved with his usual stealth. When our eyes
met, he held a finger to his lips and then slipped away, disappearing into a
thicket of trees. Somehow, I made it home. I don’t remember anything. It’s
always been a blur. All the rest of that day, I wondered if I was crazy. Had I
hallucinated everything?

That night Jonathan snuck into my bedroom and told me the
truth. I learned about Guardians and Amethysts and Ray-pacs. Everything and
more. A world within our world. So amazing and wonderful. Are you wondering if
I believed him? All I can tell you is that I did. I never doubted him. Maybe it
was because I’d seen the train strike him and knew any normal human being would
not have survived. Maybe it was because I’d always known he was someone
exceptional, and now I had the proof. Maybe it was simply because I loved him.
I just don’t know.

After that, we were inseparable. For a while, he was in
trouble with some of the higher-up Guardians because I was an Innocent and
wasn’t supposed to know about the Guardian Network. We resolved that issue by
getting married. (The happiest day of my life, by the way). Even though I was
an Innocent, I was accepted into the Paris Circle because I was Jonathan’s wife,
and he was a well-respected chap. You’ve probably already figured out that what
I’d seen between him and Amelie under the full moon was simply the two of them
“linking.” Luckily, Amelie was madly in love with an Innocent, so there were no
hostile feelings between us.

For a year, life with Jonathan and the Paris Circle was
amazing. There was always excitement and Innocents who needed to be saved.
Oftentimes, I was around and would help out where I could. There were a few
Ray-pac incidents, so I kept the Circle supplied with orchid pollen. Funny that
such a beautiful flower could hold such paralyzing effect. Jonathan and I grew
even more madly in love and talked of having children. Life was wonderful. But
that all changed in one day. That was the worst day of my life.

During the midnight hours, all members of the Paris Circle met
with surprise attacks while they were at their homes, sleeping in their beds. A
vicious group of Ray-pacs. Actually, over the years, the more I thought about
it, the more certain I became that there must have been several groups of
Ray-pacs, all who’d joined forces in an effort to take out the entire Paris
Circle of Guardians. The only reason I’m still alive is because Jonathan had a
premonition in the middle of the night that I was in harm’s way.