Into the Fire

                     (From Breath of Life, Chapter Seventeen)

     Who the hell was that kissing my girl? Oh, God. I’m not supposed to say that anymore. Her positive anticipation greeted me and smoothed over my possessive streak for the moment. I clasped her hand, and we walked into Tully’s.
     “I’m glad you called.” I told her when we were seated.
     “I couldn’t resist.” Her smile welcomed me.
     “You’ve made my morning. I know what I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I remembered.
     “What?” she asked, the cutest and most serious expression focused on me.
     “Did you quit smoking?”
     The full redness beamed through her latent tan. “I only smoke occasionally. It’s strange. Most people can’t manage it without addiction, I’m told. It’s only when I’m extremely nervous. Then I take a break and have a cigarette, and I find it . . . relaxing somehow.”
     She seemed embarrassed by it.
“I have a confession to make,” I decided, my mouth drying suddenly. Moments of truth seemed to have that effect on me.
     Worry crossed over those grey eyes.
     “The first time I saw you leaning against the building smoking was quite awhile before I actually got the opportunity to speak to you the day we met.”
     “Really?”
     “Yeah. I, well . . . just before I passed you that day, I was trying to figure out a way to introduce myself but wasn’t getting anywhere with the possibilities.” Fear began to feel its way up my spine, and I shivered unconsciously and I hoped unnoticed.
     “You wanted to meet me?”
     “Yeah, I did, Shaylen. You’re the first and only woman since I’ve been divorced who even inspired the notion. You . . . you’d become important to me.” I didn’t know if she could hear me—my voice seemed to disappear at the disclosure. I cleared my throat. “Even then I knew you were different than what I’d become used to. I knew you were unique.” I was having no success with volume.
     “I never saw you before that day.” Her look was pensive.
     “Did I do the wrong thing by not telling you sooner? I hope you don’t think I was stalking you or something. I didn’t know who you were—I’ve never been in your building. In fact, if I hadn’t stopped in front of that boutique place, I wouldn’t have even known what they sold.” I was babbling like a kid in trouble, making excuses.
     Her slow smile gave eventual comfort. “I’m glad we met, Michael.”
     “It wasn’t a coincidence. I’ve come to that conclusion.” That was my best allusion to God’s involvement in our romance.
     “I would agree.”
     “Who was the guy?” I blurted as I remembered seeing his lips on Shaylen’s face.
     She laughed, no doubt recognizing my tone. “David Rochester, owner and proprietor of David’s Boutique. My main supplier, as you might’ve guessed.”
     “Not a past . . .” I fumbled for an appropriate word.
     “David is a friend of mine, Michael.” She reached across the table with her right hand and touched mine. That’s when I saw her empty pinkie finger, and my heart jolted at the realization. I chose not to comment then, and the exhilaration I felt was difficult not to demonstrate, but I switched gears in order not to address her past love.
     “You have any ideas for Saturday yet?”
     “Is there anything else you want to ask me about David?”
     She sat calm and there was a smile on those delicious lips.
     “Alright. I got a little bent outa shape when I saw him reach over and kiss you.”
     “David is affectionate. We went out to dinner once. He saw that I was, well, different than he anticipated, and we both knew we weren’t suited for anything other than friendship.”
     “I get it. He had a passionate evening planned and when he discovered you were a no go, he didn’t pursue the relationship.” What was with my mouth?!
     “Something like that,” she admitted. “Except it was far more respectful than you made it sound. That’s why he’s still a friend,” she explained.
     “I’m sorry. That was rude.” This was not turning out at all like I’d hoped.
     “Don’t you trust me, Michael?” There was obvious hurt.
     How could one man be such a continuous jerk? My whole life—that’s all I’d ever really been. “I do, Shaylen. I’ve got some growing up to do, I guess. I’m just a screw-up.” I started to stand, wanting out of there, needing to get outside my skin because being within it wore ugly, and I hated it there.
     She stood with me, and to my surprise took my hand and asked me to wait a moment before we walked out of the shop. We walked in silence, her carrying a drink for her assistant, and my remorse ate me up. The precious few minutes I was able to spend with her, and I end up making her uncomfortable and basically insulting her. Way to go, Mike, you idiot.
     To my additional stupefaction, when we arrived at the revolving door to her building, she pulled me inside with her, the two of us close as we short- stepped around together and out into the lobby. I willingly went with her to the elevator and waited while it opened. Once inside she looked up at me with those silky eyes and reached up for a kiss that would etch itself upon my brain and body for days. It lasted past the doors opening and closing again and just before the doors reopened back at the lobby, she quietly pulled away. I struggled for control, reaching for my tie’s knot inexplicably thinking it must have reacted to the passion I was feeling and come loose.

     She pushed the button to close the elevator doors again only this time when they shut, she asked me if I wanted to meet her assistant. Of course I would’ve met her plumber and candlestick maker at that point, but as we walked out of the elevator, I could only hope my raging pulse and other things weren’t evident in my demeanor.

     The light-colored carpet was thick and comfy, and it was a quick walk across the alcove from the elevator to her office, an attractive gold script rendering her professional name written across the solid door, Suite 101 beneath it. She opened it, and we walked inside. I recognized the woman from the first time I saw Shaylen away from the white wall—she’d been Shaylen’s companion. She stood when we entered.
     “Mildred Devons, I’d like you to meet Michael Jamison. Mildred is my friend, my mentor in faith, and the best assistant a person could ever hope to have,” Shay presented, setting Mildred’s drink on her desk.
     “Mr. Jamison,” the woman said, extending her hand to me. “Shay is too kind.”
     “Please, call me Michael, and may I call you Mildred?” I asked, the professional part of me taking over finally.
     “Of course, I’d prefer it, Michael.” She was gracious and genteel. She reminded me of Miss Moneypenny. Still a very attractive woman. “Shay, Rick called. You can call him back at your convenience.”
     Her face lit up at the message. I’d been gone awhile. I needed to get back.
     “Shaylen, I better get back to the office,” I reported.
     “Alright, Michael. Just come see my portion of our little domain,” she said, tugging gently on my hand.
     I noticed the door was heavy as she closed it behind me, and before I got a good look at the neat surroundings, she put her arms around my neck and kissed me again. Never one to ignore something so wonderful, I participated fully, pulling her close. My past rushed to my present as I considered what I wanted to do. I stopped and let go of her.
     “I—I’m not good at—" My brain was nearly disengaged. The other body parts were fully functioning and taking over my conscious intentions, and I couldn’t even gather a clear thought for a few moments. “I’m sorry, Shaylen. It’s been awhile, and—I mean, I’ve never been in this situation. Uhh . . .” I raked my hair with my hand and took in a deep breath, looking out the windows of her office. “I need to go.”
     Her face became saddened, and she looked away. “I just wanted to let you know that it’s you I love.”
     “I love you, too, Shaylen. More than words can say. I have to be careful with you,” I tried to explain.
     “I understand,” she conceded, but I sensed disappointment, and that confused me. I wasn’t coherent enough to discuss it now, and I really did have to return to work.
     She mustered a smile and gently pushed me toward the door. “It’s alright. Go.”

Lord, apart from you I can do nothing. You provide every inspiration, story, character, and words. I'm always thanking you knowing it can never be enough. I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.