All I've Ever Wanted Chapters 1-4

Chapter One
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“Do you have a checkbook?” He asked, while lowering himself to the top stair, setting down his coffee and lighting a cigarette. He wants to know for his own selfish reasons. To make sure I didn’t spend any of his money without begging for his consent first. It was a power trip.

“No. Don’t worry.” Walking towards the car, I press the unlock button; if only to give my hands something to do while avoiding him.

“You still don’t know what you’re going to do?” The question holds a magnitude of meanings, but I don’t have the answer to any of them yet.
“No. See you Sunday.”

“Be good.” Typical.

“Yeah. Have fun.” I close the car door and turn the key in the ignition. I check to make sure that the cash I hid inside the card slots of my wallet is still there. It is. So are the checkbook and credit cards I’ve hidden under the driver’s seat.

It’s a warm, breezy day, and the end of June; I look down at what I’m wearing to confirm its appropriateness. Black Chaco sandals and my favorite jeans, fitted black t-shirt cut long and lean; all that is visible are my curves and my recently manicured, lacquered toenails. Absolutely perfect… perfect for the drive, perfect for a day of shopping and perfect for a spontaneous lunch somewhere along the way.
Before leaving the curb, I picture the contents in the hatchback. Toiletries, a black wool dress and open-toed Jimmy Choo heels, a shawl, my favorite ‘comfy’ jeans, black lace shirt, socks, running shoes, sweatshirt, and flannel pajamas, intended for when I crank the air conditioning in the hotel room, snuggle myself into a huge, soft bed and watch my favorite girl-flicks.

It will be wonderful and relaxing. A well-deserved vacation and I don’t plan on taking a single second of it for granted. I really need this time alone. My mind needs the break. No, my mind needs my undivided attention.

My chest fills and falls with deep breaths of relief as I turn the corner and the house is finally out of sight.

Him and her. The image of Jackson and Rebecka cloud my vision for the millionth time. Why? Why??? Why her?

I run my fingers through my thick beige-blonde hair distractingly, wondering how it has gotten so long. I haven’t let my hair grow this long since I was a kid. Guess I’ve been too busy concentrating on everyone else to do something as simple as visit a hair salon. Well, that is about to change- Yesterday.

After I adjust my sunglasses, I remove the ten pound weights from my left hand, hiding them in the ashtray without giving them a second thought.

I feel young and carefree, I feel beautiful.

Amazingly, with each mile the car inches outside the city limits, the tension also evaporates and I carelessly belt out the lyrics blaring from the stereo. I should have done this a long, long time ago- would've, could've, should've, if I had a penny for every time…

Merging onto Hwy 45, I consider the motivation behind my direction. Why am I headed north? Why not east towards Cedarburg? South towards Long Grove? These are some of my favorite places to go when I have no obligations or time restraints.

I am driving north… When exactly did I decide to spend my cherished alone time there? There was never a question in my mind, no premeditating; I don’t know why exactly, but I am about to spend my weekend in West Bend.


Chapter Two
~
Am I in another world?
Yes, a world all my own.
It took only thirty five minutes, yet feels light years away from where I started. My time is mine, and I can do with it as I please.

I plan to.

Maybe I should find a hotel and check in. No, I don’t feel like it.

There was a shopping center visible from the freeway; I’ll start there and take a look around; meanwhile, I need a bathroom break; and more coffee. Why was I up so late last night?

“Venti, Iced, quad White Chocolate Mocha, please, Nonfat, No Whip. Thanks. And where’s the bathroom?”


After I relieve and then refill myself with the deliciously sweet, cool espresso, I take a walk around the unfamiliar department store at the far end of the shopping center. My attention gravitates towards a dazzling glass jewelry kiosk.
As I scan the contents, my attention falls onto a locket. Madison would love that locket. She worships Annie, and wants a locket. It really is beautiful and intended for a child.

“Ma’am, may I see this set, please?” The sales woman reminds me of a retired secretary. Small and frail, but she gives the impression that she was witty and sharp in her day. I’m certain she has this job to get away from her aggravating, useless husband and self-centered children.

Ah, the golden years. You work your ass off so you can retire comfortably and finally accomplish the goals you set while still in your twenties- only to find that when the day finally arrives, you’re too old to take a trip and have too many aliments to journey any further from home than you have to.

She has a head full of blue-grey curls. Maybe I should ask her how she managed to get her hair so blue. It looks like its run out of blood supply.

As she unlocks the glass case and retrieves the necklace; I get an up-close-and-personal view of the top of her head. How in the world does she get her hair to stay so still? Aqua-Net… the staple of the ‘80’s.

While she is busy placing the trinket on a black velvet cloth, the matching earrings in the side carousal catch my eye. Petite miniature hearts with a single pink crystal centered on each. Maddie’s been begging to get her ears pierced again.

“Can I see those, too?” I ask, pointing to the perfect little earrings.

Just as she hands me the tiny black box, everything inside me stills.

I’d know that voice anywhere; I would hear it in a crowded, deafening room.

I hear it in my dreams every night.

He’s right behind me. I can sense him. Okay, take a deep breath; that’s a good girl. Now, turn around. Come on, you can do it… turn around! What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not him? Yes, that’s the worst that can happen. Why didn’t I prepare myself for this possibility? How could I prepare myself?

As I turn, I see him. It’s him. The creature of my dreams. Ten feet away… only ten feet! He’s so close I can see the crease in his palm while holding a phone to his ear. The folds in his palm spark a memory of one perfect, early-morning day, more than fifteen years ago.

I can still smell the early morning dew on the grass; see his face soften, his eyes wide, while studying the fog that barely lingers above the ground. He whispers, almost to himself, “Don’t you love that?” Yes, I do- but not as much as I love you…
I’ll never forget the way he looked at that fog and then back at me, the way his intoxicating scent blended with the moist air, creating a harmony of contentment and happiness, making me beg for his touch.
I can still feel his hands on my waist, his warm palm, a gentle caress against my chilled skin, the weight of his body on top of me, the smell of his masculinity, the sweet, salty taste of his skin. I can still hear the waves come in, feel the soft blanket of sand beneath us…

He hasn’t changed much since I saw him last. He looks exactly the same, only better… more confident, more dangerous, impossibly handsome in sexy dark blue jeans and linen button down, a crisp white undershirt; casual, well-worn loafers… even his dark hair messily perfect.

He turns, feeling my intense stare. I’m sure he can hear my sharp intake of breath from the stifling air that seems to have run out of oxygen. Our eyes meet and hold; the questions in his dark almond eyes indisputable and continuous.

“I’ll call you back.” He speaks listlessly into the phone.

All I can do is watch as his arms drop to his sides and he looks at me unbelievingly. He takes long, definite strides towards me, in what seems like slow motion, until he is standing tall and perfect in front of me. I try to swallow but he is so close I can’t even think.

“James.” Is all I can conjure up to speak, not even sure if it is audible.
“Abbey,” he says, with more poise than I can summons.
“How… How are you?” I ask timidly, tempted to melt into a puddle at his feet.
“Good.” He asks; motioning towards the glass case. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping…”
“Okay…” He thinks I’m an idiot! I mean…”
“Sorry. I… I.” What are you doing? Spit it out! “I mean, I’m, um, I…”
The corner of his mouth turns up in that unmistakably familiar way it did when we were kids. It is so familiar it hurts.
“Miss?” The sales woman asks, interrupting our uncomfortable exchange.
“I’ll take them,” gesturing to the contents on the counter. “All of them.” I say hastily, turning back to him.
“Do you have a store charge, Miss? If not, you can save ten percent on all of your purchases today and…”
“No, no, thank you,” I reply impatiently before she can finish her irritating sales pitch.

Somehow, God only knows, I manage to collect myself and return to reality. After handing over my credit card, I realize that if I look at him, I might faint. Okay, fuss with your purse, “What’s up with you? How are your little ones?”

“Not so little anymore,” he chuckles, shifting in his shoes. “Twelve and six.”

My head jerks up, amazement on my face. “Wow, how did that happen?”

The blue haired clerk hands me back my credit card, and I sign the receipt.

“Time flies. What about yours? How old are they now?”

“Cole is eight and Madison six.”

“Man, can you believe it?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Nope. I just bought Maddie jewelry. Not a toy, not a stuffed animal...” I say, dramatically lifting my shopping bag. “Jewelry.”

He checks his watch in a smooth, fluid movement. His assertive voice suddenly wavering, he asks, “I have some time… Would you like to grab a coffee?”

I just stare at him, unable to move or speak. I’m certain my mouth is gaping open, tongue hanging out the side and all. My eyes feel like they are bulging out of their sockets… Get it together, woman!

“If you have time, I mean, I don’t… ” He nervously shoves his hands in his pockets. The unsure expression in his eyes as they dart around the store is undeniably adorable. It strangely puts me at ease.

“Absolutely,” I breathe and smile amiably in response.

He gives me an apprehensive tilt of his head and gently bites at his lower lip.
God is he sexy.

I follow him down the middle corridor; we’re walking out of the store… together… Incredible!

I force myself to think not much has changed. Yes, the initial conversation was a little awkward, but I expect our exchange over coffee to be delightful and comfortable. Just like old times. James and I could always pick up where we left off… Then again, that was over ten years ago. Shit. I hope this is tolerable.

“What did you have in mind?” I inquire casually on our short walk towards my car.

“Actually, I didn’t…” Speaking to the ground, and then lifting his head. I smile gently, understanding perfectly.

Tolerable indeed.

“This is it.” I motion towards my silver Outback, recalling just how much life has changed. Now, I drive a “mom” car. Five-star crash rating. I smile at my thoughts and turn to him. “I know where,” nodding towards the door, “get in.”


Chapter Three
~
“St. Somewhere Café- My mom worked here a long time ago. I love it.” I say, suddenly shy at my candor. Lifting my gaze from the floor to the chalkboard menu, I continue, a little quieter, “for a lot of reasons.”

Right after my mom left this job, the original owner, Susan, moved to Hawaii. Not bad for a small town girl. She was a wonderful, adoring woman, a great friend to my mom and a remarkably imaginative business owner. The beautiful shop still screams signs of her devoted presence.

The walls and accents are all done in deep orange, olive and chocolate, with unexpected splashes of reds and yellows throughout. It was the type of place one came to not only for its eccentric and delicious menu, but also for its old-world charm and comfort. The front room tables are large game boards- checkers, chess, etc… the middle room is filled with large couches with deep cushions and tables filled with newspapers and magazines.

They hosted the occasional live band and a diversity you’d expect to see on the streets of New Orleans. But it all worked. Every single thing, from the flowers to the coffee mugs; the hand-blown glass hanging from the ceiling to the dark bamboo floors, and tiki style coffee bar… everything flowed from one thing to the next. It was invigorating and bold, yet at the same time, soothing and inviting. I loved it here.

“They have the best concoctions… Black Forest Mocha please, nonfat, no whip.”

“What is your coffee of the day?”

“The St. Somewhere blend.”

“Large please, cream, no sugar.” No sweets, I made a mental note, and then kicked myself for it. What would I need to know that kind of information for?

“Want to go out back?” I ask swinging my elbow into his side, hoping it veils my thoughts.

“Yeah; I didn’t realize there was one.” Tilting his head again, his eyes softening in impressed wonder- I haven’t lived here in two decades, my familiarity shocks even me at times.

As we make our way from the side entrance towards the back of the café, I can feel his eyes burning a hole in my jeans.

Thankfully, when we reach the concrete patio, it’s abandoned.

We happily situate ourselves into one of the bistro sets next to the water and one, I assume, that is generally the prime spot. Everything is delightfully quaint. The rod iron bistro chairs are exceptionally spacious; boasting large, feathery cushions, ottomans large enough for two to share. It was exactly what I was longing for earlier. I could sit here for hours, lost in my thoughts. It’s better than I remember. The river is quiet and clean; the view breath taking. All of the little shops and walking bridges that line the river’s shore give it an old-fashioned, eclectic feel.

As I take in a visual tour of our surroundings, my gaze falls onto one bench in particular; an old wood one leaning on the brick of the old movie theatre. I remember that bench well; I remember never wanting to leave that spot as long as I lived. It is one of my favorite buildings; one that holds a lot of dear memories.

The theatre accommodates two screens, one on each floor. The theatre on the second floor, my personal favorite, features stadium style seating dating back decades, the seats are upholstered in traditional red velvet fabric.

The memories cloud my senses, and the realities of two decades ago present themselves as reality.

It was a humid Friday night; I felt the excitement in the air. We purchased our admission from the old glass booth outside, the tickets shooting out from under the counter; I still smell the aroma of fresh popcorn lingering, feel the carpet squish under the soles of my feet as we climbed the stairs, hand in hand. We always sat in the middle of the last row. I can still hear the heavy velvet drapes swish open, the crackling reel of the film rolling and the sound of the hot light projecting from the smeared windowpane. I can still feel the wool squares on the walls, rough against my skin.
What I don’t remember though, is the title, let alone the details, of any movie I was theoretically supposed to be watching.
I remember the cold metal of the theatre seat against my thigh. Hear him take deep, calming breaths while sitting motionless next to me; feel his body’s penetrating warmth; smell his intoxicating scent, wishing the arm of the chair would just disappear, giving us unrestrained access to each other, my body tingling with anticipation for the lights to dim and his arm to reach around my shoulders in a strong, protective embrace, pulling me close to him. I remember feeling invigorated… whole, when he finally did, allowing my head to rest on his chest with unabated desire, the steel frame of the chair wedging so far into my ribs that I could clearly see the outline on my skin when I got home that night.
I tried to carve every moment into my memory.
It worked;
I remember;
Vividly.
The minute his hand moved down my face and grasp under my chin, I knew I would travel through the clouds for days. He would lightly nudge my chin upwards; his thumb stroking softly as he looked into my eyes, assuring me that the love and need we felt for each other was positively mutual. Then he’d part my lips with his in a reverence I would never forget; his mouth on mine, his balmy breath surrounding my senses, his hands tenderly, lovingly tracing my face, gliding down the side of my neck; his fingers soothingly combing through my hair, ever so gently, using that hand to press me closer into him. We could never get enough. We loved to kiss. Each one tantalizing, provoking, electrifying…

Oh shit. Tell me he can’t read my mind.
“So, what brings you back? I assume you still live in the city.”
He can’t. Thank God.
I feel flush after my vivid recollection. “Uh, umm...”

Just then a barista dressed in an outrageous outfit and chunky wood jewelry appropriate for the corner coffee shop spoke at us in a rushed tone, giving me just enough time to pull my thoughts together. “One nonfat, Black Forest Mocha and one St. Somewhere Brew; cream, no sugar. Can I get the two of you anything else?” I glance at James and he answers for us both, his eyes never leaving mine, never looking at the girl.

“No, we’re fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll leave your check here. Enjoy.” She shouts while rushing away.

“First, tell me about your kids.” He demands, while slyly picking up the black billfold.

“So, you still have a soft spot for the little ones? Do you remember the day we met at Decorah with my little cousins, Amie and Megan? They were so little, and you were so good with them…”

“Yes, I remember, they were good girls… Do you have a pen?”

“Because you were sweet with them… you were always great with kids. Why didn’t you do something with that?” I ask, while digging through my black hole.

“I did, I have two…”

“You know what I mean. You’d be a wonderful teacher… you could work with kids like you, ones that can’t seem to stay on the straight and narrow.” I added cynically.

“I never had a chance to… what about you? What are you doing now?”

“Nothing too exciting- what about you?”

“Are you going to avoid all of my questions?” he asks, with a scrutinizing glare.

“If I can help it, yes.” I respond innocently, handing him the pen. When he grabs it, it falls to the floor, and we both reach for it at the same time.

“Oww.”

“Sorry.” I say, mortified.

Rubbing the back of his head, he narrows his eyes, “Now, you have to tell me something… anything.”

I furrow my eyebrows and childishly lean into my chair, crossing my arms against my chest. “Don’t make think. I’m on vacation.”

“That’s a start… Are you going to tell me how you managed to come here of all places for your little holiday?”

“To sleep away my sorrows.”

“Sorrows?”

“You know, stress. Demanding children, expectations, cleaning, cooking, pets, neighbors, family and friends… life. Would you like me to continue?”

Taking a swig of his coffee, he asks pensively “Don’t you like your life?”

“Sometimes. But we all need a little break from it once in a while. At least I do.”

“Do you take these little breaks often?”

Shaking my head in response, “No, this is my first weekend excursion alone.”

Looking around and sighing, “It’s kind of nice. No kids, no husband. I may have to require these more often.”

“What made you choose West Bend? Don’t you like Milwaukee? Or Chicago?
Somewhere a little more, I don’t know, exotic, for lack of a better word?”

“Yes… yes, I love Milwaukee, but I wanted to get out of there, be somewhere there was no chance of running into anyone I know.” I add jokingly.

“Sorry to spoil your objective.” He winks at me in response.

“Not at all, this is a pleasant surprise. It’s been too long. Plus, Cole and Madison would never let me hear the end of it had I gone to Chicago without them. It’s their favorite city in the world.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

“I used to, when I was working. Now, I’m a mom, and I try to expose them to different places whenever possible. I want them to experience the culture of different cities, and when they’re older, different countries. They love to travel.”

“And your husband? Does he travel with you?”

“Jackson.” His face visibly winces at the sound of his name. “He used to…”

Okay, that’s my cue; time to turn the questions around. “What about you? What are you still doing here? I was convinced you’d be married with a house full of kids somewhere by now.”

“Nope, never married,” he says, tapping his left ring finger against his mug, “…guess I never found the right one.” I could feel his eyes bore into my forehead as I sipped my Mocha, his thoughts penetrating into that spot.

“You will; you’re young.” I say, avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I look down at my hands, thinking how pathetic the pale indent on my finger looks without my rings. Okay, my attempt to change the subject wasn’t so successful.

Quietly, as I look around, I say, “I guess this will always be home to me.”

As we sit across the table from each other, I finally gather enough courage to return his stare. Silently, we ask each other a thousand different questions.

“This reminds me of our school days,” he says, bravely breaking the silence.

Absentmindedly, he stares into his cup, his fingers entwine around the hot, steaming mug.

“I don’t remember us drinking a lot of coffee.” I sarcastically counter, giving him the evil eye. I knew what he was getting at, but I also knew that we were about to tread into dangerous waters. “Where are your kids?”

“They are with their respective mothers for the weekend; Adam in Wauwatosa and Alicia up north.

“Wauwatosa? I live… whoa! Wait a minute! They have two different moms? You poor thing!”

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t even handle one man, let alone two.” The minute the words left my mouth, I wished I could retract them.

He must have sensed that somehow because he says, “No worries, every life has a story. Mine just happens to be long and dreadful.”

Our chuckles melt the tension away.

“Wanna compare battle wounds? I bet I win.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun game.”

“Kidding.” Tapping my foot, thinking out loud; “They say it’s not the destination, but the journey.”

“I just pray that there is big, bright rainbow waiting for me.”

“Faith, my friend, faith. Besides, every rainbow needs a little bit of rain.”

“Yeah, but there is guaranteed sunshine.”

“Good point.” Attempting, again, to change the subject, “So what do you have planned the rest of the day?”

“Not a damn thing. You?”

“Actually, it’s getting late, I better check into a hotel soon.”

“A hotel? You mean you don’t have one yet?”

“No, why? Do you think I’ll have a problem?”

“No, no. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You seem like the type of mom that would have your itinerary all mapped out and color coded before you even leave the house.”

“No way in hell. You’ve got the wrong girl pegged. How much fun would that be?! Besides, I’m off the clock. I’m no longer ‘mom’, I’m me. Abbey Fields.” I say cheerfully.

“Abbey Sommers.”

“What?” I ask breathlessly.

“Abbey Sommers… To me, you’ll always be Abbey Sommers.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Is that OK?”

“It’s fine, you’re just the one that surprised me this time, that’s all.” I quote.

He chuckles at the reference in my response.

“Come on,” he says as he swallows the rest of his coffee and stands up. “I know of a place I think you’ll like.”


Chapter Four
~
“Where to?” I ask casually, “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know. I want to. Do you mind?”

“No, actually, I appreciate it. I wasn’t sure where I was going to stay tonight.”

“You really don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Turn right here. Then left…”

As I turn right, the parking lot across the movie theatre catches my attention. I feel his eyes riveted to the same spot.

The scene reminds me of a song by Tim McGraw, “Don’t Take the Girl.”

Granted, we weren’t being held up by a stranger trying to rob us, but we were being robbed of our precious time together, robbed of our final goodnight kiss; by my mother, coming to pick me up after a Friday night movie.

We were dependent on each other; we needed to touch in order to live. While in the backseat of the car, I can feel his desperation, hear him praying to take the breath from him, the heart from his chest, just as long as she didn’t take me from him…

God, did we love each other.

“Do you want to go get your car first?” Dismissing the scene unfolding in both of our minds. “It’s getting late, and you’ll get a ticket.”

“No, it’ll be fine.”

“Why? Are you sleeping with the manager or something?”

“What?!” He asks, wide-eyed and visibly horrified, laughter begging to escape his throat.

“I’m just saying… if it were me and my car was sitting in a parking lot all day, it would have been towed the second the two hour time limit was up.”

“Would it, now?”

“Yes, it would. And I know a lot of people… What makes you so special?”

“I own it.” He says quietly, almost embarrassingly so.

“You own the parking lot?!”

“No! I don’t own the parking lot, you retard! That was adorable, by the way…”

“What do you own?”

“The shopping center.”

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down,” he says, looking around. “It’s no big deal…”

“What the hell… yes, it is a big deal…”

“No, it’s not. It fell into my lap, and was an offer I couldn’t refuse… Literally.”

“What do you mean, ‘It fell into your lap’?”

“Alright, I’ll tell you…” he says, looking at me wittingly. “Over dinner tonight.”

“Nice try. Tell me, damn you!”

“I will, I promise. Don’t you want to have dinner with me? Reminisce old times…”

“That would be nice. But, you don’t feel you have to baby sit me…”

“I don’t; I want to be with you. Turn right here.”