Sound Advice (Sensations Collection Book 1) Page 7

  “Hey, Katie. What do you have there?” I took the book she held out to me. “Oh, I love this story too. Have you read it before?”

  Silence, but she nodded

  “Are you waiting for story time or something?” There seemed to be more kids in the children’s department as I looked around for a librarian. I was slowly becoming aware of people watching me talk to Katie Carter, and I was also self-conscious as to how this scene looked – a strange, sweaty woman in a tank top and bright orange shorts with her hair slicked back in a ponytail talking to the town mute. When I looked up, nosy onlookers turned away.

  “Would you like me to read this to you?”

  Katie nodded again.

  I walked her over to an area in adult fiction where there was a table with four chairs. I pointed to a chair for her and we sat down together. I read the story of a young mermaid who defies her father and heads to the surface of the ocean to see a young man. Eventually the girl trades her most valuable asset, her singing voice, for legs so she can meet this prince. When he finds the mermaid washed up on the shore, she has legs, but no voice to communicate. Eventually the sea witch, who stole the mermaid’s voice, uses a potion to change her own appearance and takes the beautiful voice as her own.

  I froze on this page, staring at the picture of a second beautiful woman with an evil appearance gazing at the handsome prince. He had been fooled and the beautiful mermaid princess watches in horror from the corner.

  “Katie, did an evil witch steal your beautiful voice?” I whispered.

  “That’s enough.” Jess’ voice bombed at me from where he lounged on the other side of the table. I could see the muscles and veins in his arms flexing, his jaw clenching tightly, but I pushed onward with one more question.

  “Did she cast a spell on you?”

  Jess reached across the table and swiped the book out of our hands as we held the book jointly. He looked down at the picture on the page, a picture I was sure he had seen several times before and yet never really observed. Jess glanced up at me with solid blue eyes as Katie’s nodded.

  “Mr. Carter, is everything okay over here?” The concerned librarian asked, curious who was making all the noise in the corner.

  “Yes, we’re fine,” he answered without taking his eyes off of me. “Do you have any books for children on sign language?”

  One never knows when the wind blows, but weather can be predicted and in the case of rain, outerwear protection is a must. A lady should never be caught without an umbrella.

  “Matters of Manners,” 1958

  JESS ALLOWED ME to help him present the sign language book to Katie. He was hesitantly awkward at first and eventually let me take over the introduction. I babbled about how I liked to talk, but I wanted to hear Katie, and one way to do that without her having to speak would be with signs made by her hands.

  Although Katie did not refuse to learn, the locations we chose at first were too distracting. Jess and I agreed to meet the next day at the library, but there were too many people coming in and out and Katie would not do the motions with curious observers. Another day, we met in the courtyard behind the pizza parlor, but we lost Katie’s interest again when lunchtime arrived. We decided to try the park after lunch where I wrote letters on a pad of paper, but Katie wouldn’t sign. Jess’ frustration grew and he growled, “This isn’t working” several times under his breath. Finally, I suggested some place more familiar. I knew Jess needed to work at Sound Systems and I wanted my grandmother’s radio repaired, so I recommended we try to learn there. I also hinted that our lessons should be on a schedule. This was a recommendation made by my sister.

  “Kids like a routine,” Rosie had said on the phone the night before as I laid out the whole scene in the library. “Make it more like school or camp. One half-hour or one hour a day, every day.” I was surprised that Jess accepted my suggestions at all. He was easily frustrated.

  “This isn’t working and I don’t like to force it. I don’t want her to think she’s stupid.”

  “She won’t think she’s stupid unless you act like she is. You have to be positive about this. Make her feel special, unique. This is communication between you and her,” I reminded him.

  “Then where do you fit in?” Jess barked.

  Without thinking about it, I responded playfully. “Where ever you want me to fit.” I immediately regretted my words and sucked in a breath, shocked at myself for such a bold, flirtatious comment. Thank goodness he laughed.

  “Really,” he replied with a sly smile, and that combination of playful and dangerous tickled my skin.

  The first meeting at the shop was a success. We sat at Katie’s play table in the corner while Jess went to work behind the counter. His ears were listening, but his hands were focused on dismantling Nana’s radio. Instead of working on the alphabet, I decided to begin with practical signs. As Katie and I played kitchen and restaurant, I asked Katie to respond to me with Thank you and No, thank you and You’re welcome using her hands in the appropriate manner. A half hour went fast and when I glanced over at Jess, his hands were placed on the table and he was watching our interaction.

  “I think that’s all for today. Katie, can I come play tomorrow?”

  Silence, but Katie nodded yes.

  “Thank you,” I said and signed to Katie.

  Katie signed you’re welcome with a big smile on her face.

  Proudly, I walked over to the counter.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Jess hesitated. “Emily? Thank you.” Awkwardly, he tried the sign and let his eyes drift in the direction of his daughter before looking back at me.

  I signed You’re welcome with a knowing smile on my face.

  I SPENT THE next couple of days in the same routine. Every day I walked to the repair shop, worked with Katie for almost an hour, and walked back to Nana’s. At Nana’s, I gardened, repaired the chopped off flowers, and laid down mulch to ease the constant job of weeding. I had the first floor cleaned to a point of only needing a light dusting and vacuuming. Moving up the stairs, I started with my mother’s old room by cleaning the curtains, bed linens, and a threadbare rug. Spending time in my mother’s room brought back a flood of memories.

  My mother was a difficult woman to please. She had been severely disappointed when her marriage failed and she’d held a grudge against my father for too long. Ironically, his last name was Post, and my grandfather liked to joke that he expected a man with such a name to be more stable. I wasn’t sure what names had to do with character, but then again I was named after my grandmother’s idol, Emily Post, because her daughter married a man with the honored last name.

  Being in my mother’s room was a reminder of her final days. Breast cancer took her when she was too young, and I was too young as well to have lost her. Twelve is a terrible age to lose a mother. Her loss was felt not only by Rosie and me, of course, but by her own mother, our Nana. I owed Nana everything because of this death. She’d given up many things so I wouldn’t have to be uprooted after such a tragedy. “To have a normal life, like your mother planned,” Nana would say, knowing that our mother dreaded her small town upbringing. I would resent my mother’s plan for me at times, because my plan was for my mother to be present. But I couldn’t fight with an evil killer like cancer.

  Nana seemed to be better with a routine as well. I took her to her hair appointment on Saturdays. We went to the grocery store on Wednesdays and church on Sundays. Ladies’ Circle was Monday evenings and we had dinner with Sue Carpenter on Thursdays. The outings and rituals kept Nana more focused, and her questions and comments about my grandfather seemed to diminish.

  I also spent time finding more gestures in the sign language book to teach Katie. She was learning fast, but thinking of the English vocabulary she needed to learn overwhelmed me. There were so many words I was convinced Katie knew, and I even added an element to our daily meetings of playing school, which included practicing spelling words that a six ye
ar old should know before first grade. I still kept things simple and we worked on phrases to help Katie communicate with the outside world.

  Jess had contacted the first grade teacher who agreed to learn the language as well, and told Jess about a special education teacher who could provide Katie instruction twice a week to help her keep up with first grade curriculum and the sign language to coordinate. Jess was hesitant to use the signs at first, but the first time Katie responded to Jess, a sense of relief seemed to wash over his body. He admitted that Katie was using the book at home to teach his mother signs as well. Katie would do the sign and her grandmother would repeat the word with the appropriate sign that Katie pointed to in the book. I had to order five extra books online since the library only had one. We needed a copy for the teacher, Katie’s grandmother, Katie, Jess, and me.

  Thankfully, my editor had been sympathetic of Nana’s situation and receptive to my working from up here, so amidst all of this, I had to write articles for Chicago Travels and submit them on my regular deadline for the late summer addition. The theme was small town festivals and Elk Rapids had one coming up in a few weeks. I was able to interview the mayor via phone, email the chairperson of the Elk Rapids Harbor Days, and speak with the librarian on the history of the festival, the events during the week, and the significance of the festival to the town. My editor was satisfied with the idea, even though I proposed only one town for the article with a supplemental list of other similar events in August. I had become a machine working on autopilot mode.

  I WAS CLEANING the garage late one afternoon when I came across a box of old cloth wires and tools that looked electrical in nature. I had no idea what any of these materials could be for, but I immediately thought of Jess and the radio. I put everything in a larger box and decided to walk to the shop for the second time that day. I enjoyed the brief time away from working so hard.

  It looked like rain. The sky was dark with clouds and the humidity hung heavy, but I thought I could make it there and back quickly. I took a lightweight rain jacket out of Nana’s closet and draped it over the box because it was too warm to put on. The box was more cumbersome than I thought and the mile walk was slow going. As I struggled, I felt occasional water-drops, then a drizzle, and finally a steady stream of rain coming down. By the time I reached the repair shop, I was soaked and the coat had a puddle of water on top of it as it protected the box of wires.

  Jess was holding the door open just like he had the first day I met him as if he knew I was coming and I quickly walked the last steps to stand under the small awning that protected the front entrance. In order to be under the overhang, I had to be close to Jess and for whatever reason, neither of us moved indoors. Jess leaned against the door, which was held in place by a stopper, and I held the box of electrical supplies between us.

  “What’s this?”

  “I have no idea, but I found all this in the garage at Nana’s. I thought it might help with the radio.”

  Jess pulled the coat off the box and water sprayed everywhere. I was already wet, but Jess apologized anyway. He rumbled through the box, saying, “Cool” and “Okay, good.” He was like a kid discovering buried treasure in the sand. I was shivering when he looked up at me, and he took both his hands to wipe water off of me from the top of my shoulders down to my elbows. I started to shake more, and it was not from the cool rain. I felt his warmth everywhere and I hated how my body kept responding to him. His rare moments of touch made my heart beat faster, and graphic images immediately popped into my head whenever I was on the receiving end of these intimate gestures. I was standing too close to him with only the box between us, and I was breathing heavily more from nerves than from the walk.

  Jess pushed my wet hair back next. First one side behind my ear, then the other, and let the back of his hand trace down my neck before his palm wiped my arm again. I was sure I let out an audible sigh. I needed to stop thinking about him, his touch, and where I wanted it to be. My breath was becoming shallow and I knew my chest was visibly moving up and down in my heightened awareness of him. I held his denim gaze, and I swallowed hard as my mouth watered with desire to kiss him.

  “Why don’t you two come inside?” A voice broke both of our trances. Tom Carter stood behind the counter, tool in one hand inserted into a gadget in the other. He was looking at both of us with a crooked smile.

  “Or I could just leave you two alone. I might suggest removing the box between you, though,” he laughed.

  Now I was blushing deeply. Jess stayed calm and rolled his eyes. He offered to take the box from me and continued to hold the door open as he gestured with his head for me to walk inside.

  “Well, what do we have here? Cookies?” Tom asked as Jess walked through the swing door in the counter.

  “No, I found this box of stuff in the garage and I thought it might help with repairing the radio for my grandmother.”

  Tom looked around at the shelves of wires, tools, and gadgets they had behind the work stations.

  “Just what we need. More stuff,” he said, rolling his eyes. He walked back out of sight to what I assumed was an office area and Jess started pulling items out of the box, placing them on his work bench. He seemed lost in a moment of electrical bliss.

  “I guess I’ll see you later,” I finally offered after a few moments of silence. Jess looked up as if he’d forgotten I was there.

  “No, you can come on back here for a moment.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t have a man-card or anything. Not the right equipment for this place.”

  Jess stared at me for a moment. Again with the flirting, I thought. What am I thinking? But Jess just smiled a slow crooked smile. I rarely saw him smile, and the half turn of his lips made a dimple appear and his eyes sparkled with playful danger.

  “Thank goodness you don’t have the plumbing. I’d be a little worried right now.”

  I tried not to read meaning into that and walked through the swing door to his workstation. As I approached the bench, my shoes squeaked across the tile floor. Jess’ eyes roamed up and down my soaked body.

  “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.”

  He returned in a moment with a black sweatshirt in his hands.

  “It might be a bit large, but it’s clean and warm. There’s a washroom in the back if you want to take your shirt off.” As Jess said the words we both froze. I started to laugh nervously.

  “Well,” he mumbled, “you know what I mean.”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said as I pulled the sweatshirt over the wet t-shirt. After a moment, I thought about how soaked the sweatshirt would get and I did that trick all woman can do where I slipped my arms into the sweatshirt to take off the undergarment, pulling it out the neckline of the shirt. I did it so nonchalantly that I was not aware of Jess’ attention on me when I spoke.

  “I was thinking that if these wires don’t work for Nana’s radio, maybe you could rig it or something, with, like, an iPod.”

  Jess watched my lips as I rambled, and I suddenly felt self-conscious.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook his head slowly. “Nothing,” he replied, but he lips twitched upward again.

  “I know you were an engineer, so I am sure you can be creative, right?” I spoke without thinking and Jess stopped his working hands in mid-air. He did not look up at me this time, but continued to stare down at the bench.

  “I’m sorry. I just meant…”

  “It’s okay,” Jess said. “I knew you knew.”

  “How?”

  “The night at the bar a few weeks ago. I followed you outside to apologize for acting like an ass, but George Carpenter beat me out there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” Jess said. “I heard him tell you the whole story of my pathetic life.”

  “Jess, I don’t think it’s pathetic.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t. Don’t do this. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  He clenched his jaw in agi
tation.

  “And don’t do that either,” I started. “I know when you clench your jaw you’re getting angry or you’re concentrating. Although at this moment, I bet it’s angry, and you’re getting ready to insult me. Just don’t.” My voice squeaked like I was about to cry. Damn it. The emotional rollercoaster with this man was draining me and I was so tired as it was. In the past five minutes, I had gone from desire, to laughter, to flirting, to frustration.

  Jess put the tool down next to the wires. “Well, you’re very observant.”

  I didn’t know how to respond.

  “I’m sorry,” Jess said.

  “For what?” I sighed.

  “For my words at the bar, for eavesdropping, for trying to put words into your mouth.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He paused. “You looked pretty cozy there with old George, by the way.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am.” And I could tell that he just might mean it.

  “You’re joking, right?” I laughed once.

  “No. He had his arm around you, stroking your shoulder. And then he walked you home with your arm wrapped in his.”

  “Are you serious?” I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted.

  “I told you. I am.”

  “Are you jealous?” I didn’t know where that came from.

  “No.”

  “Of course not,” I sneered. “Look. It stopped raining and I think I better get back to Nana. I was hoping you could use those things in the box. If not, would you mind throwing them out?” I could feel the stupid tears coming again. The moment was falling apart, and I headed for the washroom he’d pointed out earlier.

  “Where are you going?” Jess demanded.

  “I need to put my shirt on and give you back your sweatshirt.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Keep the sweatshirt on. I’ll drive you home.”