| Chapter Two: Flashbacks Come Haunting “So you two met over a car accident?” William asked snapping Hannah back to present day. “Yes … you act as though that’s odd.” She smiled softly, pouring another cup of coffee as they sat in the kitchen. “No, no, it’s perfectly normal.” William shook his head and chuckled, and then he quietly asked, “Do you still wear his necklace?” “No, I stopped five years ago. Hey how did you know about that?” She jumped onto the counter while he sat at the table. “I saw it on you when you used to still talk to him, you never took it off. I put two and two together.” He looked at her, his blue eyes curious, “Why did you stop wearing it?” “He stopped calling … I guess it was my way of letting him go.” She ran her hand over her neck, where the chain used to lay. William saw the pain etched in her eyes as she recalled some memory, old and faded, connected to that necklace. She wasn’t in the kitchen in London any more; she was in Scott’s arms surrounded by the warm stickiness of Tennessee heat. Her eyes always gave away the workings of her mind. “Well I’d better go,” William tugged her thoughts back to the kitchen, “I know you’ve got lessons to plan.” “Yeah, fun.” She smiled, albeit a little awkwardly. “Call if you need anything.” He said while retrieving his coat. What he really wanted to say was, call Scott and ask the idiot why he hasn’t bothered to call you in five years. But instead he slid into his tan sheepskin coat, bid farewell to his best friend, and let it go … for now. *** Later that evening Hannah sat on her bed, her lesson plans spread tortuously before her eyes beckoning her to finish them. Slipping on her elegant brown glasses she bent over the pages of her lesson plans. “Collect writing journals Tuesday, start rough drafts Friday, watch Jane Eyre most of next week…” She mumbled quietly. She was an English and Literature teacher at Autumn Halls, a private school for young ladies; it was a high-priced, elegant establishment founded by a kind, well-endowed British man. Or at least it looked that way on the outside. Inside it was just as chaotic and free-reigned as any other school in Europe. The only thing that set them apart was a dress code and an outward illusion of grace. She loved being a teacher, even though she’d only been employed as one for two years. She loved her best-friends; William who was a music and chore instructor, Sascha Lancõme that new sexy Russian ballet teacher, Amber Feldner the physiologist, Abby Hayden the famous artist turned teacher, Kandace Stevens the sociologist teacher, and Jesse Elliot who was a fellow English teacher. They were a rowdy bunch and probably shouldn’t teach a soul, but oh well. She finished her plans, turned out the light, and did her best to keep Scott out of her dreams. *** But Hannah wouldn’t succeed very well, she kept dreaming of their first kiss: They were sitting on her front porch drinking sodas and commenting about the lawn Scott had just mowed. Scott had voluntarily become Mr. O’Connell’s labor slave to repay him for the cover up scheme he had orchestrated with Scott’s father. “Regretting this slave labor thing yet?” Hannah asked kicking back and forth; her right leg now healed. In an attempt to keep the porch swing moving. “Nope.” Scott tilted his chair onto the back legs and smiled. “Well then, I think you missed a spot.” She grinned. “Where?” Scott jumped up, prepared to defend his handy-work. “Right there, by that weeping willow.” She pointed out. “I did not.” He squinted against the sun; “You’re hallucinating.” “Are you calling me crazy?” She glared at him, her hands poised on her delicious hips. “Well if the shoe fits.” He grinned. “Oh you didn’t…” She pressed herself against him, stood on her tiptoes, and she was still a foot shorter. “I’m still taller.” He teased. “You suck.” She gripped his upper-arms to shove him away, but she couldn’t let go. Her hands were trembling as they ran up and down the length of his well-defined muscles. “Do I?” He looked straight down into her eyes with stifling intensity. Her eyes were looking straight up at his beautiful, scarlet lips, wet and chapped from working under the sizzling Tennessee heat. But they were soft like silk when she touched them. His eyes, they were beautiful too. They were endless pools of liquid chocolate that she lost herself in. Floating inside them, happy and content, and warm. His hair, wet, sticking to his tan skin, ending just above his shoulders, she loved that too. The smell, the texture, the thin, fine feel of it between her fingers. His arms somehow wrapped around her, like steel and as tender as cotton all at once. His chest etched and hard, was soft and comforting as she felt the steady sensation of his pounding heart. “Can I kiss you?” He asked after far too long. “You don’t have to ask.” She whispered. “I know.” Carefully he touched his lips to hers still whispering the words. Her body stiffened, and then just as fast, she melted against him. Her head rested in his hands, his fingers weaving through her hair. He smiled internally when her arms wrapped around him. He kissed her slowly as she pushed herself back up to her toes. It was all he could do not to laugh, she was so cute. His hands cupped her face as he continued to move his lips softly over hers. Scott could feel her heart speed up, as the kiss became more intimate. Her head turned and he could smell the perfume on her neck, like roses. Her mouth felt so small as she kissed him, she felt small as he held her. Lord he was warm, she felt so precious, so cared for in his arms. He smelled wonderful like sweat, freshly mowed lawn, and some sharp men’s cologne. She wanted to just bottle the scent of his skin, the warmth of his lips, the gentleness in his fingertips, everything and take it out whenever she needed. To experience the feel, to taste him, see him; be near him all over again. “Hannah … I’ve stopped kissing you now.” He whispered as she leaned against him, her eyes still softly closed. “I know.” She said the words on a breath of sheer happiness. It would feel like that every time they kissed, the breathless ecstasy combined with slow, precious joy. Over the years it would remain just as fresh a memory but instead of presenting them with happiness and elation it would eat at them in their nighttime dreams. Forcing them to battle with something they never should’ve lost. *** The next morning she woke up and proceeded to get dressed. As she was rummaging through her jewelry drawer in search of her favorite silver ring, she saw Scott’s necklace. Slightly dusty and wrapped up in other fine chains she’d gotten. She untangled it from the rest and let it drape over the palm of her left hand, looking at it. She’d missed wearing it on her skin, comforting and warm, like he had been. Quietly she put it on, grabbed her things, and headed out the door. |