Once Upon Another Time (28 page)

As the last person
filed out of the courtroom, I snapped my briefcase closed and made my way
toward the door.  I wasn’t the type of person who believed in the kind of hocus
pocus performed by people like Mother Paula.  However, I never believed in
ghosts either, and her prediction of Matt and Gavin being one in the same
person mimicked the strange dream I had many weeks before.  And that spooked
me.

Preoccupied with
the thought of what it all meant, the doors to the courtroom narrowly missed
hitting me in the face, as the plaintiff’s attorney shot back into the room.

“Aubrey, I know
you worked on this case pro bono.  I admire that.  And by the way,
congratulations,” he said while extending his hand.

I turned an ear
toward him.  “You’re glad I won?”

He smiled and
lowered his eyes, his head bobbed. 

“Well, I can’t say
I’ve ever gotten praise from any of my previous opponents.” 

It was difficult
to decide which was more distracting, his extremely elongated nose, or his bald
misshapen head that resembled someone’s first attempt at spinning a bowl on a
pottery wheel.  In the year that I’d known him, I had seriously toyed with the
idea of introducing him to Melanie. 

“Yeah, well what
can I say?  The guy really is a jerk,” he said, shaking his head.

“That happens to
be your client, so what does that say about you?” 

As he rattled on
with his explanation, I could no longer keep my eyes diverted and zeroed in on
the tip of his nose.  Its long ski slope shape gave an illusion of the tip
extending a good five--maybe six inches from his face.  I imagined him dropping
down on all fours, his nose to the ground sniffing like a bird dog.  The man
could probably pick up the scent of a two-day-old wild turkey trail after a
fresh snowfall. 

“So, what do you
think?” he asked.

“Um, what do I
think about what?”  I said, as I refocused my gaze to look him in the eye.

“I was asking if
you would be my date for Gill’s August Charity Ball.  I’ve got an extra ticket
and I know you don’t get out much, so I thought you’d like to go.”

Although I was no
Lindsay Lohan or Angelina Jolie, my life not featured on a two-page spread in the
tabloids, I swore my personal dating life had just as much notoriety. 

“Thank you, but
I’m seeing someone.” 

I gave a congenial
nod and walked out of the courtroom, while thinking about the prediction Mother
Paula had made.  As I took the stairwell at the end of the hall, I scoffed at
the ridiculous notion that Gavin and Vanessa would shop for engagement rings.  However,
what did bother me was what the Queen of Voodoo had said about Matt and Gavin,
implying they were one in the same person--a preposterous thought. 

Clattering down
the marble stairway, I thought about my encounters with Matt.  To see him, feel
his touch, and talk to him was also preposterous—yet, a fact.     

The sound of
gentle footfalls resounding throughout the stairwell interrupted my thoughts.  Stopping
to listen, a suffocating silence consumed me, as I looked upward toward the
second landing. 

You’re letting
it all get to you.
 

I moved on,
reaching the first floor following the L-shaped hallway that would eventually
lead to an exit at the back of the building.  Again, footsteps stalked me.  The
L-shaped configuration of the hall behind me blocked sight of who was following
me.  I walked a little faster, but as the haunting sound of footsteps sped up
to my pace, instinctively I began to sprint.  All the while, I kept thinking
about the plaintiff’s threat to get back at his wife.  And there was that
grisly sneer he gave me like a lion ready to devour his prey.

A shadow grew on
the wall, as my heart began to race remembering the empty stare in his eyes,
like the circuits in his brain could discharge into the same violent behavior
that cost him visitation rights to his daughter.

Stop running
,
I screamed in my head.  Out of breath, but ready to take a stand to let that
brute know he’s not going to scare me, I turned quickly and bumped right into
Mr. Ski Nose.  Angry that he’d frightened me, I went to swat him with my
briefcase, but he turned his head and put his arm up to block the hit. 

“What are you doing?”
he asked in a very surprised tone.

My eyes narrowed. 
“Why are you following me?”

He held up a file
folder.  “I think you forgot this.  It was lying on the seat of the chair at
the table.”

Embarrassed for
acting like a lunatic, I slowly took the folder from him.  “I’m sorry, I…” 
Before I could get another word out of my mouth, he’d stomped off down the hall
mumbling to himself.  

* * * *

Walking into my
office, I noticed the red message light on my phone flashing excitedly like a
panting puppy.  All keyed up at the sight of his master walking through the
door. 

While tossing my
black leather purse and briefcase on the credenza, I read the headline of the
Boston Globe spread open to page two on my desk, “Slumlord Charged with
Obstructing Justice.”  A bright yellow sticky note in Melanie’s handwriting was
stuck under the headline.  “You’ll never guess whose face is under here,” she
wrote.

I sat at my desk,
peeled the sticky note off the newspaper, and saw a photo of a sixtyish looking
man with a jutting brow, prizefighter’s nose, and receding gray hairline, whose
scowl resembled an angry bull.  Below the photo was the name Benjamin Solomon--Jeb’s
landlord.

It was a Zen
moment, while reading that Solomon had spent a night in custody after police
charged him with falsifying smoke detector records the day after a house fire
had sent six people to the hospital.  Obstructing justice is an indictable
offense that could land him behind bars for a long time.  Plus, he’d racked up
a staggering amount of violations from the Boston fire inspectors and courts,
and was under investigation for possible unlawful eviction of several families
from his rent-stabilized apartment buildings.

There was my “ah
ha” moment.  The apartment house Jeb lived in was rent stabilized, which meant
this would be the easiest case I’d ever win.

“Aubrey, you got a
minute to talk?” asked Laura as she strolled into my office. 

“Sure.”  I tossed
the newspaper aside and leaned back in my chair.

She sat down in
the chair facing me and crossed her legs.  “It’s about David,” she said, while
staring down at her lap.

“I’ve noticed you
seemed preoccupied lately.  What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know
exactly, but things have felt a little off kilter lately.” 

“Like what?” 

 Laura blew out a
breath of frustration, while her gaze now focused on the ceiling.  “We’ve been
seeing each other for five months.  In all that time, we’ve stayed at his
penthouse only a few times,” she said as her eyes lowered and met mine.  “He
always ends up staying at my house.”

“What difference
does it make where you and he end up?  He’s with you.”

“Yeah, but even
then, he rarely stays the night.”

“You know, there
are a lot of people who’d just rather sleep in their own beds, and there’s
nothing wrong with that.  Besides, the man showers you with gifts.  He buys you
expensive jewelry, takes you to fancy restaurants, sends huge bouquets of
flowers, and he just surprised you with a dreamy Cape Cod getaway.  What more
do you want?” 

Laura shrugged her
shoulders.  “I want what you have.  Gavin treats you special.  He doesn’t throw
materialistic things at you.  He takes time to be with you, and talks to you
and just hangs out.  With David, I feel as if I’m always being rushed.”

“Listen, not every
man is the same.  Remember when I discussed with you how I felt about Matt
always working.  It made me feel as if his job was more important than I was. 
And you were the one who pointed out the ways in which he loved me--how we
loved each other.  No relationship is perfect.  We all have different levels of
anxiety and self-doubt.  Before Gavin walked into my life, I’d dated some nice
and not so nice guys.  The fact is, every one of them left me, and you know
why?  Because I doubted myself.”

Laura gazed out
toward the window and sighed deeply.  “Do you think I’m developing some kind of
insecurity?”

“Let’s just say
I’ve never seen you try this hard before.  Maybe you’re falling in love with
David and it’s causing you to feel vulnerable.  Sometimes love can be scary.”

Ashley knocked on
the door.  I waved her in.

“Excuse me,” she
said as she tucked a curtain of long straight hair behind her ear to reveal a
delicate pearl earring.  “Laura, Mr. Fendworth is looking for you.”

“Please let him
know I’ll be right there.  Thank you.”

“So,” I said, “do I
think you’re acting insecure?  Absolutely not.  I think you’re just a little
scared.” 

“Hmm, that is an
interesting thought,” said Laura as she rose from the chair.  “Thanks.  Talk to
you later.”  Her monotone reply gave speculation that she hadn’t bought into
what I had said.

I glanced down at
the newspaper on my desk.  The last thing Solomon needed was an investigation
into the eviction against Jeb.  My gut told me something was up with him, and
as usual, I was right.

I looked at the
photograph of Nicholas sitting at the corner of my desk.  I’d packed a prepaid
cell phone for him to take to camp, so he could call me every evening to say
goodnight.  I knew he’d get homesick, even when he said he wouldn’t.

My intuition
always seemed to be right on, so why had I tried to ignore my gut feeling that
there was an odd connection between Gavin and Matt?

* * * *

Across the
Providence skyline, the setting sun reflected off the buildings on Kennedy
Plaza.  The sound of the loud gong heralding the beginning of the music for the
evening and the start of the WaterFire show reverberated throughout WaterPlace,
a four-acre park in the heart of downtown tucked beneath Rhode Island's State
House.  Winding cobblestone promenades, a large fountain, beautiful pavilion,
and old world arched Venetian bridges that crossed over the Providence and Woonasquatucket
Rivers running through the City, was like a taste of Venice in Providence. 

The evening took
on a fantasy like feel, as Gavin and I stood under an art constellation of one
hundred glowing blue stars suspended from a grove of trees with lush-leafed
branches.  Each star in the art constellation named,
Starry, Starry Night
,
had white ribbons with written wishes that hung from each point like tails of a
kite, while hundreds of luminary candle lanterns flickering on the lawn created
a fairytale-like setting.

We’d both written
our wishes on the white ribbons and agreed to keep them secret, lest our wish
on a star wouldn’t come true.  Mine was that Gavin would stay in my life and
Nicholas’s for a long time. 

Why had I not
dared to wish for forever? 

As Gavin looked
for just the right star to hang the ribbons on, I wondered how I was supposed
to face down my fears or know with dead rock certainty that if I gave my heart
it wouldn’t get broken for a second time.  I thought back to Matt’s collection,
a red bucket filled with action figures he’d bought at a garage sale.  Although
imperfect, he treasured the one-armed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and faceless
Batman just the same.

 Learn to trust, I
told myself.

I had so many
things to be thankful for with Gavin.  He actually looked at me when I talked
to him, and how engaging he was in conversation, his interaction with Nicholas,
not grand romantic gestures, just both of us being considerate of one another. 
However, the very tall muscled man with chiseled cheekbones, Roman nose, dark
wavy Dr. McDreamy hair, and eyes as blue as the illuminated stars in the trees
above was so much more. 

For years, it
seemed as if I’d lain in a cold metal bucket of broken hearts and self-imposed
imperfections.  Somehow, this man with shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms
and the pocket on his loose khaki shorts bulging with car keys, a wallet and
cell phone, had pulled me from that bucket.  As Gavin hung each ribbon on
different points of one star, I felt my soul connect with his. 

Calm prevailed as
we walked hand-in-hand through the park snaking our way through thousands of
people.  World music heard throughout from the many speakers mounted on the
walls along the river, mixed with the performance of a small jazz band. 

Thousands of
people skirted the river-walks and cobblestone pathways, while scads more lined
the Venetian-like bridges.  A shimmering ribbon of bonfires glowed down the center
of Woonasquatucket River, while sounds of crackling wood mixed with the
lingering minor chord from a Chopin nocturne gave an ethereal feel to the
moment. 

We strolled along
the banks of the river sprinkled with performers and artists.  Groups of
children surrounded a man folding origami, while waiting for a paper swan. 
Costumed people dressed as gargoyles, mystics, a Zeus and two topiaries stood
watch, while a green mermaid pulled her tail along the walkway trying to keep
up with the fairy and butterfly walking beside her. 

“I have a
surprise,” said Gavin, as we reached the landing dock for gondola rides. 

“You’re taking me
on a gondola ride?” my voice squeaked.

He kissed the back
of my hand, and a million clichés of princes and knights in shining armor popped
into my head as we waited in line.

“I’ve never taken
anyone on a gondola ride.  You’re my first,” he said.  His eyes were all
enthralling, my heart felt as if it’d leapt into outer space like a shuttle
orbiting earth.  

“Touché,” I said. 
“All the times I’ve come to WaterFire, I’ve never been on a gondola ride.”

 Gavin and I
climbed into a thirty-six-foot black gondola lined with gold trim.  The gondolier
told us it had been authentically constructed and shipped from Venice, as we
each gladly accepted a glass of red wine for our trip down the river. 
Crackling fires released aromatic scents of blazing cedar and pine and sent
them swirling around our heads, while the gondolier effortlessly steered the flat-bottomed
Venetian rowing boat.