P
enn hustled through his last two patients at the free clinic where he spent part of each Wednesday. He couldn’t help out as much as he wanted to due to his own overbooked practice, but he enjoyed helping the patients who couldn’t get to an office like his, let alone pay.
As he checked and stretched the last patient’s shoulder, all he could think about was getting to yoga. He’d spent the last two weeks dreaming of Ellen Temple.
He’d looked her up, and she had at least friended him on Facebook, which he considered a minor victory. He wanted her to know he was a harmless man – albeit one that was crazy for her.
He rushed into the yoga studio and peeked into the room to make sure she was there for class. No Ellen. He dropped his head and went into the men’s locker room to change from his work clothes and into shorts for the much needed workout. He decided in the time it took him to change and store his stuff that he’d use the class time to clear his head, but as he walked into the studio, there she stood.
Penn’s breath hitched as Ellen smiled at him. He was elated to see her face. He’d stared at her photos online so many times in the last week that she almost didn’t look real to him.
He took his place closer to the front. He didn’t want Ellen to think he was eyeing her great ass, and he didn’t trust himself. He
knew
he’d be eyeing her great ass.
During class they both tried to focus on their own energy, but as they caught each other’s glances throughout the hour, it was clear, even to the instructor, that they were making more than just a connection with their own bodies and minds. They were completely into each other.
As yoga ended, Penn picked up his bag and walked to Ellen as casually as he was capable. He’d never been the kind of guy who was good at hiding his feelings and Ellen made him smile uncontrollably. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow with a towel. “How are you?”
“Look,” he hesitated. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing. I just want to get to know you and I was wondering if you might want to get together sometime. I mean outside of yoga. I mean outside of
after
yoga.”
Ellen blushed and looked away to pick up her bag. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You could say, ‘Sure Penn. I’d love to.’”
She laughed and gave her shoulders a slight shrug. “I think you’re a really nice guy, Penn. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Are you using the ole,
it’s not you it’s me
line?”
“The reality is that it
is
me. It’s
not
you.”
“You can’t fault me for trying, right?”
“I can’t fault you at all,” she smiled sweetly.
“How about a smoothie? Just between friends. I know a place just down the street.”
Ellen took a deep breath. She knew herself well – well enough to know she liked Penn. He was sweet, strong and handsome. He just wasn’t her late husband. But no one ever would be.
“Sure,” Ellen agreed. “Lead the way.”
Penn took the bag from her shoulder and placed it over his. “I know you like to carry your own stuff, but just for tonight, let me.”
She nodded and for the first time since becoming a widow, Ellen Temple allowed someone else to carry her heavy load.
“How’s the design business these days?” Penn asked, keeping up the conversation.
“It’s been busy. I’ve been working with Mike on the side, and that’s been taking up some of my time. A little Valentine’s Day project.”
“Something for a client?”
“Not really.”
“Should I even ask?”
Ellen shook her head and Penn didn’t pry. But since she’d brought up the subject of Valentine’s Day, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity to slip away.
“Valentine’s Day.”
“Yes,” she replied as they stepped into the Jamba Juice. “That useless holiday made up by greeting card companies, florists and candy makers.”
“Wow, a cynic,” Penn laughed.
“No. Just a realist.”
“What? Don’t you believe in love?”
“I believe in love, but I’m not
looking
for love.”
“Just because you’re not looking doesn’t mean it won’t find you.”
Penn watched her shoulders shrug and sensed her uneasiness, but didn’t want to let the subject go. “You need to open up your fourth chakra,” he smiled, trying to make a joke as he ordered two protein berry workout smoothies from the menu.
“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Didn’t you want to ask me what kind of smoothie I wanted?”
“I’m a mind reader. Was I right?”
“Yes.”
Penn smiled, thinking of the Facebook post from six months ago where Ellen sang the praises of the exact smoothie he’d ordered. Tonight his stalking was paying off.
“C’mon. Let’s get your smoothie and then you can tell me all about the marketing cynicism surrounding Valentine’s Day. And I’ll tell you why it’s a wonderful day.”
“God, you’re cheerful. It’s almost annoying how positive you are about everything.”
“Why suffer more than I have to? Sure, life sucks sometimes, but it’s never too late to live happily ever after.”
“What did you say?”
“I’m saying, I’m thankful for my life and the people in it. Like right now, I’m thankful for you.”
“Me?”
“What man wouldn’t be thankful for the company of a beautiful and intelligent woman?”
Ellen had never been the type of girl who fell for lines. Over the years, she’d finely honed her bullshit meter. The world was full of men with witty and flattering pick up’s, and there were plenty of men who’d fallen out of Ellen’s favor trying to use them – even if they were just friends. She trusted her instincts, and if she smelled bullshit, she was done.
She led the way to a tiny corner table and thought about everything Penn had just said. She felt he was sincere, but more than that, Ellen was disconcerted how easily he saw through her.
As they sat down, a homeless man approached them with a dirty, outstretched hand. “Can you spare some change so I can get something to eat?”
Penn immediately rose to his feet and put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you a sandwich,” he replied without missing a beat. “Ellen, I’ll be right back. Save my spot.”
Ellen studied Penn’s face closely, looking for flaws–looking for anything that might show her that he wasn’t real. But as he glanced over his shoulder while waiting in line and chatting up the hungry man, he met her gaze and gave her a huge smile. She knew in that moment he was authentic. A real man with a big heart.
He returned to the table with a grin and she smiled back at him with a new feeling she couldn’t place.
“That was very kind of you.”
“Everyone needs a leg up from time to time. Even if they don’t ask for it.”
“You just made his night,” she said softly as she looked Penn in the eye. What she really meant was,
you just made
my
night
.
M
ike had waited all week for this night. He’d barely been able to make it through the day knowing he was going to hear Sarah perform. He’d bought his ticket, a new suit and three dozen roses. The ticket was in the top pocket of his new Armani jacket, and the roses were being delivered precisely at 7:30 to her dressing room – one half hour before the performance. Mike had carefully researched the meanings of roses, and the purple sterling meant love at first sight. He couldn’t think of a better way to describe his feelings for the lovely Sarah Brooks.
He knew from the show’s billing that she would be playing Sérénade Mélancolique in B flat minor Op. 26. along with other Tchaikovsky selections. He’d found the pieces on iTunes and had listened to them incessantly. At one point he questioned his own obsession with her, but then told himself he obsessed equally over any other so-called project he undertook. When it came to Sarah, he could rationalize almost anything away.
When Sarah Brooks rushed into her dressing room, she was late as usual. She had a reputation for being a genius with her Stradivarius but a little spacey with her time management. As she tossed her coat and dress bag containing a black Gucci gown on the couch, she was overwhelmed by the display of purple roses gracing her dressing table. Three dozen, in fact. Lying alone with a single rose was a card.
I love you in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
There was no signature. No name.
Already late, she dressed quickly and applied red lipstick. Her long blonde hair had been carefully pinned into a french twist for the performance and her blue eyes were showcased by the long eyelashes she wore for stage.
Since her admirer didn’t have the balls to sign the card, she decided that if he were in the audience for the performance, she’d give him a little taste of his own medicine. Sarah Brooks was always game for a little fun, and the idea of taking charge of this clear advance made her smile.
In the wings she could hear the orchestra tuning. Sarah took the stage in her sweeping black gown as the maestro followed. Their entrance caused a roar of applause and Sarah took a bow, taking in the accolades. She quickly shook the hand of the concertmaster and maestro before acknowledging the audience yet again.
Sarah took her place front and center. In her hands she carried three things: her bow, her Stradivarius and a single purple rose, which she dropped at her feet.
Mike was undone. He felt dizzy as his eyes transfixed on Sarah and his rose on stage. She began to play and his soul opened up.
The first piece was amazingly expressive and beautiful and as her violin wept with the melancholy notes, Mike welled up and felt as if he might cry. He had no idea what was coming over him. She made him feel wild and out of control. Something Mike had never been. With each stroke of her bow, he fantasized Sarah was playing for him and him alone.
When she finished the last piece, she took a bow to a standing ovation.
Mike stood with the adoring crowd and shouted, “Brava!” as loud as he could, holding back the urge to rush the stage. He had worked hard for everything he’d ever had in his life. He wasn’t afraid of working just as hard to win Sarah’s love.
The adoring crowd refused to subside and Mike looked around him, realizing everyone was as in awe of her as he was. When she finally took her last bow, Sarah picked up the rose and tossed it into the audience to an even bigger roar of applause. An older woman, two rows ahead of Mike, intercepted the flower as it flew through the air. Mike thought it would’ve been damn poetic if he’d caught it.
Before she left the stage, he felt as if their eyes met briefly, but in the roar of the crowd it was hard to tell if she saw anyone.
Sarah was exhausted and flattered by the response she received from the symphony patrons. She took her last bow and blew a kiss to the audience, making her way off the stage.
She retired to her dressing room, barely having a moment to catch her breath before hearing the knock at her door. At first she thought it could be the man between the shadows and her soul. She gave the flowers a fleeting glance and casually replied, “The door’s open.”
“Great job tonight, Sis,” Tom cheered as he rushed into Sarah’s dressing room and closed the door to the stream of people walking the hall.
Although Sarah and Tom Brooks were siblings, they didn’t look alike in the least. Sarah favored their fair Germanic father, while Tom took after their Italian mom. They did however share the same quirky sense of humor, work ethic, and prodigious musical ability.
“Thanks,” she smiled, rising from her chair to give him a hug. “Did the parents send you tonight?”
“Um, no.”
“It’s okay, Tom. I know they wanted to be here. You, on the other hand,” she teased, poking him in the ribs, “probably had a kegger to attend and instead dressed up and came to watch your big sister play Tchaikovsky.”
“No kegger, but I did meet an amazing girl.”
“I need details,” she said as she gave him her undivided attention.
“Brown hair, brown eyes, double major, Comparative Literature and Journalism.”
“And?” Sarah urged him to continue.
“I dunno. There’s something about her. It’s like she makes me feel comfortable to just be me. She works at the Starbucks on Vine.”
“Really? That’s
my
Starbucks. Well, when I can get my butt out of bed in time to get coffee before rehearsal.” Sarah sank back into the chair at her dressing table, exhausted from the performance.
“Check her out next time you’re in there. Put in a good word for me. This girl is really something,” Tom smiled.
“I’ll tell her not to break my little brother’s heart.”
“What the hell is all this?” Tom asked, noticing the flowers on her dressing table.
“Ahhhh…” Sarah hesitated. “Those would be purple roses from a secret admirer.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Actually, I’m not,” she mumbled. “You can read the card if you like.”
“I love you in secret, between the shadow and the soul. Damned if I know what that means,” he smirked.
Sarah shrugged as if she didn’t know or care, but secretly she loved the idea of someone watching and loving her from afar.
“Wait. You took a rose on stage with you tonight. Do you think he was here?”
“I dunno,” Sarah quipped concealing a smile.
“You love this romantic shit.”
“So what if I do? You could learn a few things from this man.”
“Is having a secret admirer on your bucket list or something?”
“God, no. Anyway, I don’t have a bucket list,” Sarah admitted.
“Me neither. But I have a pretty extensive fuck it list.”
“Seriously, Tom?”
“What if he’s creepy, Sarah?” he asked, not wanting to address his last comment. “What if he’s dangerous?”
“You worry too much. This is just a nice person being nice to me.”
“This dude’s more than nice. He’s professing his love for you. Do you have any idea who it is?”
Sarah shook her head and looked away. The truth was, Sarah Brooks had never been in love. She could never get the hang of it. In her opinion, men needed to be stroked – and often. With a string of businessmen, musicians, composers and artists on her list – she could never get serious with anyone. Her career came first and her violin always won the battle for her attention. It was something even the most self-assured man had trouble reconciling in his head and ego.