Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(41)

The tissue was soaked, so I reached for another as I re-read her note. What are you talking about, Nanna? The thought of her being gone closed my throat — the pain was still so fresh and raw — but her letter was a balm. The words she'd written reminded me that we'd be together again, someday. That gave me a small measure of comfort, as if she were hugging my heart. The note captivated my curiosity, but I needed to finish packing her room. I tucked the book safely in my purse and boxed up the remaining ones to be carried to my house — the house Nanna had left to me. The final drawer I checked held Nanna's few items of jewelry she insisted remain with her. Among them was a pearl teardrop necklace she’d worn often when I was a child. With care, I picked it up and placed it over my head and around my neck, fastening the clasp. I held it out in front of me and caressed the luminescent pearl. Carefully, I took it off and placed it back in its box and packed up the other treasures.

When I finished, I took a deep breath to still the hiccupping sobs controlling me. I closed my eyes, inhaling the familiar scent that still hung in the air. The once decorated walls now glared back a sterile white, daring anyone to claim that life had been present only a short time ago. The front desk clerk gave me a sympathetic smile as I turned in the keys and signed my name.

I carried the last box to my car and drove home, exhausted. I skipped dinner and trudged up the stairs. Each step I took seemed heavy, as if I had lead weights in my shoes. Tomorrow I'd settle everything else and organize her belongings, but tonight I wanted to lose myself in the sweet abandon of sleep.

****



I glided into the ballroom, searching. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but my heart pounded with urgency. The soft swish of my sage colored silk gown seemed oddly loud compared to the din of voices resounding in the ballroom. People nodded to me, and I nodded back reflexively as I walked by. No one seemed to think of me as out of place. Strangely enough, I didn't feel out of place either.

I drank in the beauty of my surroundings — the gilded molding surrounding the ceiling, the brocaded draperies over tall windows. The people were milling about, dancing and flirting. The crowd parted and offered me a glimpse of a man in a fitted black suit. But before I could fully see his face, another man walked in front of me, blocking my view. Excusing myself, I walked around him. Quickly I searched the room, but only a moment later, I felt a warm, gloved hand cover my eyes. My breath caught in my throat.

"Surprise, Jocelyn." The distinctly masculine voice melted in my ears like warm honey.

I spun around and gazed into the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak.



****



Beep, beep, beep.

The alarm startled me from my dream, a dream I didn’t want to end. The annoying sound needed to be turned off, so I rolled over and reached out, fumbling till I hit the right buttons. Once it was silenced, I burrowed deeper into the blankets and pulled a pillow over my head. Sleep seemed much more promising than the day I had ahead of me, especially with dreams such as that one. As I closed my eyes, I recalled his face, his smile, the texture of his voice, deep and alluring. Wow.

Beep, beep, beep.

Ugh, I must have only hit the snooze button.

"I'm getting up, I'm getting up," I mumbled as I got out of bed and correctly turned off the annoying alarm.

The prospect of facing a day without visiting Nanna still stung. Over the last few years I'd been finishing my college courses during the day and spending time with Nanna each evening. That left little time for friends, not that I had made them easily before. High school was an experience I'd rather not repeat, or remember for that matter. College would have been easier in the social department if I had put more effort into it, but Nanna had come first, leaving little time to simply "hang out." But I wouldn't have changed anything. The time I'd spent with my grandmother was worth it. Now, with my degree finished, I could continue searching for a job in marketing. Thankfully she had left me with a large inheritance that would give me time to search for the perfect position.

With a sigh, I trudged over to my closet and selected an old Bulldogs shirt and a pair of jeans. With all the sorting of Nanna’s clothes and such, I’d just be getting sweaty and dirty carrying things to the attic or to the donation center. Nothing about the day enticed me. I'd only set my alarm for motivational purposes in dragging my rump from bed. The path to the bathroom was treacherous. I had stacked boxes in the hall when the living room filled and now I was skirting past teetering pillars of books, magazines and cardboard. My pink slipper caught the edge of a stack of magazines and sent the pile scattering. With a frustrated groan, I ignored the mess and stepped over the final box and into the bathroom.

Once safely there I studied myself in the mirror. My thick honey-blonde hair was a tangled mess that ran down my shoulders and to my mid-back. With ruthless tugs, I ran my brush through and proceeded to pull it back into a ponytail. I brushed my teeth and then glared at my makeup on the counter. All the crying from yesterday had given me puffy eyes, and no amount of makeup would hide them. After a quick mental debate I grabbed my mascara, applied it and nodded at my reflection when finished. Not my best, but better than nothing. Carefully, I stepped into the hall.

As I went down the stairs, I instinctively skipped the second step, which creaked loudly, and headed to the kitchen. After coffee—blissful coffee —I grabbed a bagel and went into the living room to sort.