A piece of the story...part 8
The next day, as five-o-clock neared, I found myself constantly checking the clock, then the door, and back again. Unchecked nervousness sent flutters through my stomach. Leanne came to tell me she had to leave a little early; a hair appointment. But I could tell from the blush on her face that she had a date. The mysterious Joe, I assumed. He had become quite a regular, and he always asked for “Miss Leanne.” Whenever he walked in the front door, Leanne would turn into a young schoolgirl.
Not that I was much better, I chided myself when I found myself staring at the door expectantly. Again. In my defense, there wasn’t anything else to do. No customers; it was too late in the day to bake something. So I sat on the little stool and-
The bell above the door sounded and, though I was staring right at it, startled me so that I fell off the stool. That was not a joke and you did read that right (you can go back and check if you feel the need). With my arms and legs flailing as my backside hit the floor, I must have been quite a sight.
And what did Henry Cochran do? Reader, he laughed. A straight-out, face-turn-red kind of laugh, too.
“Wow, thanks. Glad to know you care.” I huffed to a sitting position, resettling myself. I was more embarrassed than in actual pain.
I could tell from his face that he was trying to draw up the ounce of gentleman-ness that I dared to hope was inside him, no matter how deep. “I’m sorry.” To give him credit, he was trying very hard to keep a straight face. “You just caught me by surprise. Are you okay?”
I sighed and popped up from behind the counter. I’m pretty sure I saw my pride still lying there, flat on the ground, yet I found myself laughing, in spite of it. “Yes, I’m fine. Let me just get my things and then I’ll be ready to go.”
At a speed probably faster than light, I made sure everything was in order in the kitchen, locked the back door, and grabbed my things. I almost burst just as fast back to the front but took a quick moment to brush the flower from my new skirt and pat down my frizzy hair.
I followed Henry out the door to the waiting car. Excitement coursed through me as I was once again transported through the nicest part of the city. The car stopped, this time at the back. I was about to walk up the back steps to the door, but Henry grabbed my hand and pulled me back.
“This way,” he led me down a small path that was marked by perfectly placed landscaping stones. The path wound through a magnificent garden that was just starting to don its summer blooms. Various flowers, trees, and foliage, an occasional bench or gazebo, all filled the large space.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He looked back at me, still pulling me along, and grinned mischievously. “Somewhere Tara will never find us.” He took us off the path then. The garden had come to a natural end where it met a dense patch of trees, or a forest, really.
I struggled to keep up with his fast pace as a slight fear began to rise in my chest. What was I doing, going into the woods with a man I didn’t even know? Of all of the things that I had learned from living alone on the streets, this definitely raised red flags. I stopped then, unsure of what to do with the war inside of me.
Henry stopped, too, only after adding an inch or two to my arm from my sudden stop. His eyes met mine and he seemed to sense my fears, as his face shifted to sympathy. “I’m not going to hurt you, Cassie, I just want a dancing lesson.”
I was struck by the sincerity in his brown eyes. It was like somehow I knew I could trust him. I had seen lying eyes many times before, and I had grown accustomed to noticing them, but the eyes that stared back at me only held compassion. The butterflies once again replaced the panic in my chest, and we continued down the path, finally stopping in a little opening in the woods.
It was beautiful. The trees surrounding the space bent forward, together making a canopy. The grassy area was flat and perfect for dancing. A tree to one side was twisted with another and bent in such a way that was destined to be used as a bench. It was simply magical. Except…
“What about music?”
“Don’t worry; I am prepared.” Henry smiled and walked over to a stump where a portable record player was sitting proudly. “I wasn't sure which type of music you’d want, though. So I guessed.” Bing Crosby started singing and I had to smile. My favorite. “Did I forget anything?”
“Surprisingly, no.”
Henry laughed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Shall we start my lesson?”
The grip tightened on my chest again. “Alright.”
Reader, in those next moments, I had the most fun since my mother died. I was able to laugh and lighten up, although my feet started to complain from all of the stompings they received from Henry. But most of all, I felt myself being drawn closer to this man who held me in his arms. Suddenly, we weren’t strangers anymore, but the best of friends.
The following days and weeks almost went by in a blur. Every day, I worked with excitement until I’d see Henry come in right before closing. He would sit at the counter, order a coffee and a muffin, and just wait until closing time. Our friendship continued to grow with each dancing lesson, as did his dancing.
And for the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do about it.
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