Then There Was You (20 page)

I cracked it open again and found a letter tucked inside the first few pages.

Dear Mrs. H,

Words can’t express my thoughts. I’m sitting here on my bed on my last night at Fairbanks imagining what it will be like to have to say goodbye to you tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. You have been my rock these last few months. I came into this place alone and hurting. I had just watched my first love drive away in her car the night before I came here. I could barely think straight, much less function doing anything else. I sat down in your office that first day wishing I could just die and never have to face another day without her. But, you helped pull me out of that depression. In this journal you gave me, I was able to write myself through some dark days. Inside it, you will find some lyrics, some poems, and some long strings of words that barely make sense, but through it all, I was healing. I have you to thank for all of that. You were there when I needed you. You talked when I needed you to talk. You listened when I needed you to listen. I can’t thank you enough for the influence you’ve had over my life. You were the light in my darkness. I will never forget you.

Love always,

Chris

I’d never really considered myself a praying woman, but that day in my office, I prayed to God that He would watch over Chris. I gave myself a few moments to gather myself, but I knew it was time to move forward. Without reading any of the other entries, I closed the journal and found a place for it high on my bookshelf. Then I picked up the phone and called Officer Blevins at his desk to summon my next scheduled client.

It was getting close to eight o’clock. I sat at a tiny table for two at Acropolis Grill, anxiously waiting for Chris to arrive. My mind retraced our shared past as my hands wrung in my lap. While I’d wondered about him from time to time and hoped that someday I’d see him in concert, I never imagined I would actually be meeting him like this.

I’d spent the night before thinking about our backstage encounter and his amazing performance at the concert. It was exciting to see that Chris had finally fulfilled his dreams of becoming a musical sensation. I was curious to see how much time had changed him or how much stardom had transformed him.

So many people had misjudged him as teenager. Sure, he’d made some mistakes, but I’d never discredited his talent, his thirst for success, or his tenacious drive to reach his goals. There was just something about Chris that drew people to him… his spirited enthusiasm, maybe? Either way, I was as proud of him as I could possibly be and was about to get my chance to tell him so.

Wondering if his entourage of personal assistants and protection agents would be escorting him to the table, I checked and rechecked my phone to make sure he hadn’t cancelled on me. When he finally walked in alone, I barely recognized him in the coat and sunglasses, but there was definitely a distinguishable air about him. I recognized the familiar smile on his face as he walked toward me. When he removed his sunglasses, his eyes glinted in the candlelight of the restaurant.

I stood up to greet him with a quick hug. “So good to see you, Chris.”

“Likewise,” he said with a hasty peck of a kiss that didn’t quite make it to my cheek—a phantom of sensation hovered over my skin.

As he grasped the back of my chair like a perfect gentleman, I sat back down. He slid his jacket off and hung it on the back of his own chair, glancing at me with a nervous smile and settled into his seat.

Thankfully breaking the ice between us, he joked, “Wow, Mrs… I mean, Salem, I can’t believe I’m here with you again after all these years. Seems like only yesterday I was sitting in your office with you while you talked shit about me in your notebook.”

I smiled at him, playfully nudging his forearm that rested on the table. “You’re crazy. I never talked shit about you.”

Chris’s wide grin exposed the deep dimple on the side of his cheek. It was the same dimple I remembered from years ago, but with a little added stubble—further proof of just how many years had passed.

“I know,” he teased. “I just like giving you a hard time.”

Remembering when he and the guys used to give me a hard time about my girly free throw shots in the rec room, I chuckled, “Some things never change.”

“Haha,” he retorted. “Very funny.” He looked down, casually readjusting his silverware on the table. I wondered if he felt the same nervous excitement that I felt inside.

A tall, slender man approached our table. “Welcome to Acropolis Grill. I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you folks to drink this evening?” The waiter looked at me expectantly.

“Just a sweet tea for me,” I replied. I glanced back at Chris who had his eyes on me, watching me with an indescribable gleam in his eye. I smiled bashfully.

Chris ripped his eyes away, turning his attention toward the waiter. I immediately noticed his face was defined by a sharp jaw line with a hint of stubble that ran across his cheeks and chin. “I’ll have a tall glass of whatever you have on tap,” he said, glancing toward the bar.

With a nod of his head, the waiter headed off get the drinks.

“So, Salem,” Chris asked, once again fixing his gaze on me, “what’s been going on with you over the years?”

Hmmm, where to start?
“Well, let’s see… I stayed at Fairbanks until about five years ago when I took a position at the local pregnancy care center. I’ve really enjoyed working with the young mothers, but I miss my coworkers and the kids at Fairbanks, too. Oh, I don’t know if you’d heard or not, but Officer Blevins retired about three years ago.”

“No, I hadn’t heard,” Chris said. “I’m sure he’s thoroughly enjoying himself though.”

“Yeah, I hear he keeps the fish busy in the streams with his trout fishing buddies.”

“I’m sure he does. So, how about you? What do you like to do when you’re not at work?”

“Well, now that I’m a single mom, I’ve been super busy with Alexis, running her back and forth for sports and dance. I don’t have a lot of free time, but when I do, I love to read.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Single mom?”

I considered my response. I mean, how much was too much? What were the chances I’d even see him again? I didn’t want to divulge too much information and later regret airing my dirty laundry.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve recently gone through a pretty rough divorce from Graham.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Chris said, shaking his head with genuine compassion.

I sat up straighter, not wanting him to feel sorry for me. “It’s for the best, really. Something that should have happened years ago.” And that was the truest thing I think I’d ever admitted aloud.

Chris stared at me intently. I don’t know why it made me nervous, but it did. I tried not to look too deeply into his soulful eyes as they searched mine because his scrutiny was unnerving.

The waiter returned, placing our drinks on the table. “Are you guys ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?” he asked.

“Just a few more minutes, please,” Chris said, taking a sip of his beer and opening the menu.

“Sure. Take your time. I’ll be back to check on you shortly.” Once again, the waiter disappeared around the corner.

I finally relaxed into my seat and soaked in every detail of Chris as he glanced over the menu. His dark brown hair was gelled, sporting a messy fauxhawk. His espresso eyes were set deep beneath a jutting brow line. I suddenly realized that this was not the same Chris that I knew from juvie. He was no longer the angst-ridden teenager who sat on the sofa in my office, pining over a girl. This was a very
different
Chris.

His elbows rested on the table, giving me a perfect view of the tattoos lining his arms. Some were tribal symbols, but one in particular caught my attention—a beautiful Latin phrase written on the outside of his forearm.

“Dum spiro spero,” I muttered aloud, attempting to enunciate the words correctly. Chris looked at me funny, so I pointed at his arm. “I love your tattoo.”

He glanced down and a look of sadness, maybe regret, washed over his face. “Thanks. I got it a few years ago. It’s Latin. My Latin teacher at Southside kept it posted on her wall. I never cared too much for her class, but for some reason that phrase always stuck with me.”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, it translates to ‘While I breathe, I hope.’”

“Oh, wow…” my voice trailed. “That’s beautiful. Hope for what?”

I watched his eyes as he caressed the tattoo, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Sucking in a deep, ragged breath, he sighed, “Hope for happiness. Love. Everything, really.” He pulled his arms in, looking self-conscious.

Despite his smile, his eyes were glassy and I worried I had struck a nerve. The counselor in me wanted to dig in and question him—get to the bottom of those emotions. If I knew I had more than just a few hours with him, I would have encouraged him to talk about it. But, this was my only time with Chris. It had been fourteen long years since I’d seen him and I wanted to cherish the time we got to spend together, not dredge up feelings that neither of us had time to process. Who knew if or when we’d see each other again?

Chris broke the momentary silence. “But, enough about me. What’re you ordering?”

I swept my eyes quickly over the menu. “I’m kinda leaning toward the marinated chicken gyro.”

“That sounds delicious. The lamb chops sound good, too.”

I suddenly noticed for the first time that it felt as if everyone in the room was staring at us. Chris fought to ignore them, focusing solely on me. I could only imagine what it was like to have everyone in the room recognize you, vying for an opportunity to ask for a picture or an autograph.

Before we had a chance to order our food, a girl who might have been thirteen years old practically exploded when she reached the table, a twinkling set of braces beaming dreamily at Chris. “Chris King, oh my gosh, it’s really you!” Her hands were waving wildly, fanning her face excitedly. A splatter of spit landed on my cheek and from the way Chris flinched, I couldn’t tell if he got sprayed too, or if he was upset about being noticed.

“Shhh,” he whispered in good humor. “Let’s not cause a riot. Be cool.”

She pursed her lips. “Sorry,” she said, wobbling like she might faint, “but it’s really you?”

I turned away to stifle a giggle. I felt bad for Chris, but this was too funny.

He nodded. “In the flesh.”

“Can I get your autograph?” She reached in her back pocket and thrust a pen and paper in his face. He graciously accepted it.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. What’s your name?” Chris glanced at me, silently apologizing for the disruption. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

“Emma,” she said, nervously twisting a strand of hair on her finger. She shot Chris another wide, metal smile.

“Emma,” he repeated while he signed the paper.

Emma quickly pulled out her cell phone, shoving her tiny body next to his to snap a picture of them together.

Handing it back to her, Chris said, “I’ll tell you what… you keep this on the down low and I’ll hook you up with a signed album. My guys will take care of it for you.” Chris winked toward his body guard.

“Really? Oh my gosh. Thank you.” She pressed a tight hand to her heart, fluttering her eyelids. “I love you so much. I know all of your songs by heart,” she chattered.

Chris smiled and cleared his throat. “Thank you. I love my fans, too. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she squeaked, bouncing around in place.

This was an interesting experience for me. Clearly, she idolized him, but I only saw Chris as Chris. Not as the sexy rock star. He was just Chris to me.

“You’re welcome, Emma. Take care.” Chris winked at her.

The sweet girl skipped away with her new prized possession clutched to her chest.

After she walked away, Chris leaned back in his chair and caught my gaze. I wondered what he was thinking.

I giggled. “Well, that was—”

“Crazy? I know,” Chris nodded, exasperated. “But, it comes with the territory.”

“You handle it so well, with such patience and grace.”

“I learned fast. I had to get used to all this attention, when really all I wanted to do was just get up on stage and sing, you know?”

I nodded, remembering the way he owned the stage last night. I confirmed with a mischievous grin, “You do that well, too.”

“Thanks, Mrs. H—” He caught himself again and corrected, “I mean, Salem. I can’t get used to calling you that. Anyway, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Um… thanks… I think,” I stammered, hoping he meant it as a compliment.

As if he could read my mind, he said, “Oh, it’s definitely a compliment.” He flashed me a knowing smile.

As if someone had flipped a switch inside me, something instantly changed. Blushing, I instinctively covered my mouth, attempting to hide my grin. I stared him, surprised by how forward he was being, and suddenly it hit me—the difference in Chris.

This was a
man
sitting in front of me. A very attractive, very confident man. And that’s when I felt it for the very first time—the pitter patter of my heart in my chest.