Until the Stars Fall From the Sky Page 4

  “I agree,” Tara nods her head in confirmation. “His body language was screaming ‘interested’. So, what are you going to do about it?” she asks.

  I desperately hope that they are right. I don’t know what to think about everything because it was a surreal experience. “I don’t know that there’s anything for me to do. This is probably one of those chance meetings that will never happen again. I don’t even have his phone number,” I mumble as I play with my hair.

  Heather looks over at me with shock on her face and asks incredulously, “Are you seriously going to give up that easily?” I can’t believe that a decade of watching chick flicks hasn’t taught you better than that. Did you forget that you still have his jacket?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten. I just don’t know what to do about it.” I answer with exasperation.

  “Do you really believe he left it behind accidentally?” Tara added with a smirk. “Get real! I would wager that he has an ulterior motive. Haven’t you ever heard of Google?”

  Suddenly, my hunger decides to reassert itself, and my stomach gives a long plaintive growl. I am happy for the interruption, “Come on guys let’s not waste this food. Summer Corn Chowder is one of my all-time favorites.” As I eat my soup and sourdough bread, I think about what I could do next. Would I be a stalker if I went to the lake to return his jacket? Maybe not. He did leave it behind. What if the ball is in my court and he wants me to return it? After we finish eating, exhaustion sets in with a vengeance, and I start to yawn uncontrollably.

  Heather starts to gather the garbage from the table and comments, “Tara, it’s time for us to go and let this heroine get some sleep. Who knows what might happen tomorrow. Kiera could have a very big day.”

  I should be very afraid of Heather’s mysterious smile and wink. Unfortunately, I am just too tired to care. Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday!

  ~*~

  I am in the midst of a spectacular dream about Jeff. We are on a sunny beach, and I am cuddled on his lap, running my fingers through his dark curly hair. He looks at me, his eyes the color of dark chocolate and full of passion as he announces in a low, rumbly voice. “I’m going to kiss you now. I have wanted to do this since I saw you on the boat.” He gently strokes the side of my face and leans down to kiss me…

  Chimes? Why are there chiming sounds in my dream? Oh wait! I’m not dreaming. It’s just my iPhone reporting a text message. I struggle to bring myself to full consciousness, reluctant to let my amazing dream go. Why is the Girlfriend Posse texting me so early? Usually, they just come over and barge in because they spend as much time here as they do in their own hotel rooms. Groggily, I grab my phone off the nightstand and check the messages. I am shocked when I do not recognize the number. A grey speech bubble appears on the screen.

  Hello? Is this Kiera?

  Yes.

  Good morning. This is Jeff.

  I immediately save his phone number and add it to my contact list. I am surprised to hear from him because I didn’t even know that he had my cell phone number. I’m thrilled to hear from him, but it is a bit unnerving.

  Hi :-), how did you get my #?

  I’m sorry to bother you. You’re probably tired.

  I’m not bothered, just surprised. I’m hippo to hear from you.

  Ugh! Stupid AutoCorrect :( *happy

  LOL I’m hippo to talk to you too.

  LOL! Cute! How can I help you?

  I would like to take you to Starbucks this morning. Please say you’ll go.

  I don’t really drink coffee…

  OK, I don’t mind if you have some juice. :-)

  I laugh out loud at the absurdity of this conversation. Yet, my heart is beating like a hummingbird. Am I brave enough to do this? I decide that I have nothing to lose. Besides, I have a jacket to return.

  Sure. What time?

  10:30 work for you?

  I look at the clock and realize that it would give me slightly less than an hour to get ready. I swallow my mini panic attack and with shaking fingers, type my reply. He responds immediately.

  OK, see you then.

  Can I get your address?

  I slap my hand against my forehead. Duh! Of course he doesn’t know where you live, you dork. I quickly text him my address.

  Thank you. I can’t wait to see you.

  Me too :-)

  I look at the clock. Holy cow! I have 48 minutes to get ready, and I haven’t even showered. I rush to get into the shower. In my haste, I come precariously close to falling off the bath bench. I am housesitting in a vacation rental for a friend from college. At home, I have a roll in shower, which is much easier to navigate. I force myself to slow down because if I fall, it would be much more embarrassing than being late.

  I choose to wear my cream-colored sundress with a tan belt because I do not have time for the hassle of putting on pants. I do take the time to put on some light pink lace underwear because going commando on a coffee date is just tacky. I don’t have time to blow dry my hair and tame it with a flat iron. So, I rapidly scoop my hair up into a sloppy bun. I glance at the clock again. If Jeff’s not early, I have 12 minutes to put on some makeup and earrings. At the last minute, I decide to wear his bomber jacket. Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I wheel to the front door to wait.

  Chapter 9: Jeff

  By the time I send the last text, my hands are shaking from adrenaline. Wow! I can’t believe she actually said “yes”. I slide my phone into my pocket and run out to my truck. It’s a pigsty. There are used water bottles, candy bar wrappers and fast food napkins everywhere. I snatch a garbage bag from the garage and begin filling it as fast as I can. I get the shop vacuum and begin cleaning Lucky’s hair off of the bench seats. Lucky is a golden retriever, but he is better known as “The Shedding Machine.”

  After I finish cleaning my truck, I race toward the shower, throwing off my clothes as I go. I quickly shave and brush my teeth. I grab some Levi 501’s and light blue chambray shirt and put them on. I program Kiera’s address into my phone and climb into my truck. I can’t believe that I’m this nervous. I’ve been dating for half my life. What is so different about Kiera? Once I reach her house, I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and eat a couple of Tic-Tacs, just to be safe. I take a deep breath and exhale as I knock on her door.

  Kiera opens the door, and I am rendered speechless. I thought she was stunning when I saw her at the lake. Nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing her again.

  The first thing I notice is that she is wearing my jacket. It is so large on her that it is hanging off of her shoulder. It gives me an odd sense of pride to see her in it. Before now, I never really understood the appeal of letterman’s jackets. It is much clearer to me now because I would like to announce to the world that she is mine.

  She is even more beautiful than I remember. Instead of pigtails, her hair is in an up do, and she is wearing a sundress with spaghetti straps that highlight her figure beautifully. She is wearing some cool shoes that look like they have been hand-painted. When I finally regain my power of speech, I manage to stammer out “Kiera, you look amazing!” I have learned some things from my mom and my sister, so I hasten to add, “I really like your shoes.” Instantly, I wish that I had a delete button for my so-called conversational skills.

  At first, she seems puzzled by my admittedly odd greeting. She looked down at her feet and then back up at me. She gives me a dazzling smile. “Thank you. I love them too. They are from a company called Alegria. I have a bunch of different styles because it’s one of the only brands that I can wear.” She backs her wheelchair out of the way so that I can get through the doorway. “You can come in if you’d like, I just need to pick up my purse.” I step just inside the entryway as she grabs a leather backpack and hangs it on the back of her chair. “I’m ready to go, if you are.”

  I motion for her to go first as I respond, “Sounds good to me. Is there anything you need me to do?

  “It would be helpful if you can shut off the ligh
ts and shut the door behind me,” Kiera asks easily. “Is the blue truck yours?”

  For the first time, I consider my truck from her vantage point. Not only is it ugly as sin, my truck sits very far off the ground. I’m really embarrassed that I didn’t think about this ahead of time. I grimace as I answer, “Yes, it’s my truck.”

  She ponders the situation and offers a solution, “The way I see it, we have two choices. We can take my van, or you can lift me into your truck, and we can stick my chair in the back.

  “Do you have a preference?” I ask carefully, not wanting to offend her.

  I think she senses my discomfort, because she gives me an encouraging smile as she replies, “Nope, whatever works for you is fine with me. Now, if it were raining, I might give you a different answer because it is a pain to sit in a wet chair.”

  I return her smile and reply, “In that case, I vote we take my truck. You’ve given me a socially acceptable reason to hold you in my arms, and I’m sure as hell not going to turn that down.” Kiera blushes bright red and I wonder if I have pushed the boundary too far.

  Suddenly, Kiera looks up at me and winks, “I was hoping you’d say that. It was pretty comfortable in your arms the last time I was there.” I watch as she flushes even more.

  Her comment seems to take both of us by surprise. I chuckle softly and respond, “Well, I guess your chariot awaits.” I lift her up as gently as I can. Her arm slips around my neck for support. I notice that she inhales sharply, and I wonder if I am causing her pain. “Am I hurting you?” I ask with concern as I place her on the bench seat and reach across her to buckle her in.

  Kiera laughs as she blushes again and admits quietly, “I’m embarrassed to admit this. I was taking a moment to sniff you. You smell great.” She blushes and looks down.

  Now it is my turn to blush, although my complexion does a much better job of hiding it. “Umm, thanks. It’s just Polo. My mom gets it for me every Christmas because it’s her favorite men’s cologne. She told me once that my dad used to wear it.”

  “Do you remember that?” Kiera’s expression is a mixture of curiosity and concern.

  “Sometimes I get a wisp of memory, but it’s gone before I can confirm whether it’s my imagination. I was only five when he was killed in a Jet Ski accident,” I explain.

  A look of sadness crosses her face. “I’m sorry. I know that it is rough to lose a parent. My mom died when I was four. She had a brain tumor,” she explains.

  “Of all the things we could have had in common; I’m sorry that it’s the loss of a parent, Kiera,” I say as I squeeze her hand.

  “It’s okay,” Kiera remarks sagely, “I’ve come to terms with the fact that it was probably for the best.”

  I sense there is a story there. In the interest of keeping the mood upbeat on our coffee date, I change the subject. Her family tragedy isn’t really my business. At least it’s not yet. I hope that someday we will feel comfortable enough that we can provide support for each other. I’m astonished that my thoughts about Kiera are so focused on the long term, given my chaotic life.

  Kiera shakes her head and gives my hand a slight reassuring squeeze as she states, “Besides, I’m sure we have more than that, and after all we have Nantucket Nectar.” Kiera gives me a quirky grin and flashes her dimple.

  I had forgotten how much her mere touch affects me. I will my heart rate to slow down. “That’s true. I can’t wait to see what else we have in common,” I retort, winking. As we pull up at the Starbucks, my truck backfires like a cannon. Kiera flinches and grabs my arm for support. “Sorry ‘bout that. This thing has a mind of its own. I’m lucky it runs at all. Are you ready for a bite to eat?” Kiera nods and starts to take off my jacket. “Here, let me help you.” I offer, slipping the coat from her shoulders and placing it behind my seat.

  “Thank you. You’re such a gentleman; I’m impressed,” Kiera compliments with a smile.

  I run around the truck and get her wheelchair out of the back. I hope that I reassemble it correctly. When I open her door, she looks down at it and remarks, “You’re very close. The cushion is in backward. It’s an easy fix; just flip it around.”

  “I can’t believe I’m such an idiot.” I mumble, as I hurry to turn it around and brush off any dirt that may have gotten on it from my truck.

  “It’s okay,” Kiera rushes to reassure me, “it’s not like you encounter these on a daily basis. You’ll know better next time.”

  “Next time? I like the sound of that!” I reply. She must think I’m a total goof, but I am just thrilled that she hasn’t ruled out seeing me again.

  I reach out to pick Kiera up. She places her hand on my chest and blushes slightly “You don’t get it do you? I like you and I want to see where this goes.”

  “That works for me.” I respond as I give myself a mental high-five. I gather her to my chest. Her warm spicy perfume floats up and fills my nose with an intoxicating scent. Without warning, my body begins to respond to her. I try to set her down in her chair before my dilemma becomes blatantly obvious. I step behind her chair and start to push it. It occurs to me that I might be being rude. “Is this okay?” I ask bashfully, “Please let me know if I cross any boundaries.”

  Kiera laughs as she remarks, “Nah, you are fine. My arms can use a break. My shoulder is still sore from yesterday. I’ll let you know if it’s ever a problem.”

  Getting through the door is a bigger challenge than I anticipated. I wonder how she handles this when she is alone. It must be a pain. I’ve just never thought about it before.

  “What would you like to drink, Pip?” I ask her as we stand in front of the ordering counter.

  Kiera looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “Kiera, I asked you if you would like to order something,” I inquire again. This seems to rouse her out of her thoughts.

  She finally answers. “Yes, I’ll have a medium Chai Tea and a vanilla scone please,” Kiera orders politely.

  I notice the barista is not looking directly at her. I find it very annoying. I am offended on her behalf. “I’d like a Grande Breakfast Blend coffee and a cinnamon scone,” I add, completing our order. I swipe my bankcard and wait for our order.

  Kiera looked at me with a curious look on her face, “This is the second time you’ve called me Pip. Why do you call me that?” She tilts her head and looks up at me, waiting for my reply.

  I honestly had not realized I actually said that out loud once, let alone twice. I was thoroughly busted and completely embarrassed. “If I tell you, I’m going to completely reveal my inner nerd–” I hesitantly utter as I feel myself begin to flush hotly.

  “Oh, please do!” Kiera’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she cajoles. “It would make me feel so much better to know that I am dealing with a kindred spirit. I’m a complete and total doofus.”

  Mercifully, our food and drinks arrive, so I usher us to a table and lay out our food. I fix my coffee with two sugars and a generous dollop of cream. I discover that Kiera likes her drinks with a lot of sugar and cream too.

  After I finish prepping everything, Kiera looks at me expectantly. “Well,” I continue, somewhat uncomfortably, “as a child, I had a major crush on Pippi Longstocking and you’re like my grown up, fantasy version of her.” I shrug vulnerably as I watch carefully for her response to my peculiar pronouncement. I watch as a look of befuddled astonishment crosses her face.

  “Really?” Kiera exclaims as she laughs, “That’s sweet, and a tad twisted.”

  Her husky laugh packs a punch. The sound envelopes me like a sexy embrace and I feel myself growing hard. “I’m afraid you’ll find that’s a pretty accurate all around description of me,” I reply with a grin.

  Kiera raises a curious eyebrow, “Do tell?” she prompts.

  “No way!” I answer, shaking my head vehemently, “I’m not spilling all of my secrets up front. You’ll just have to hang around me some more to find out what I’m talking about.”

  “From my point of view tha
t doesn’t seem like such a hardship,” she quips. “What exactly is the downside here? Your interpretation of Pip isn’t as disastrous as I expected. My dad used to call me Pip as in ‘Pipsqueak’. Truth be known, he probably still does.”

  “Well, it’s a relief to know I’m not the only one that inappropriately nicknames you.” I chuckle and blush. “What does your dad do for a living? Does he live close? Am I going to have to deal with a shotgun?” I ask, curious about her family.

  “My dad is a long haul truck driver. I spent a lot of my time growing up on the road with him. I actually live in Geravis now. He has a mobile home outside of Brooks. He can be home as often as he chooses as long as he makes enough to pay the bills. I can’t really answer the shotgun question, because I’ve never dated anyone seriously enough to risk that confrontation,” Kiera replies, sipping her tea and taking small delicate bites of her scone.

  My curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide just to be forthright with my question. I figure that if she doesn’t want to answer me, she’ll change the subject. “Did you get in a trucking accident with your dad? Is that how you ended up in a wheelchair?” I ask, hesitantly.

  “No! My dad would never hurt me. My dad was the hero in this situation. My mom did this to me. When I was 18 months old, she threw me down a flight of stairs. No one could understand why she did it. What no one knew at the time was that she had a brain tumor in her frontal lobe the size of a golf ball and she wasn’t capable of making rational decisions. The fall almost completely severed my spinal cord,” Kiera explains gravely.

  I reach out to hold her hands. Her hands are ice cold in spite of the fact that she is drinking hot tea. I brought her fingertips to my lips and gently brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Pip, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine. How devastating for your family.” I respond gently.

  To my relief, she does not pull her hands away. Instead, she answers, “No, you can’t imagine. Lifelong friends of my parents were suddenly whispering about our ‘house of horrors’ and dad had to juggle visits with me in the hospital and my mom in jail until she became so sick that she was declared unfit to stand trial. Despite the fact that the world hated my mom with a passion, my dad loved her until the day she took her last breath. My dad set the bar pretty high. When I find love, I want that kind of love and devotion.” Kiera blushes and looks away.