Page 14 of The Second Ending
She gave him a huge smile. “No, it’s perfectly fine. It’s not like you’re opposing counsel or anything. We just happen to be involved on the same project, but there’s no conflict of interest. And I’m really pleased to meet someone with similar experiences.”
“Let me get this round of coffee. What would you like? I’m having a cappuccino and a brownie.”
That was gracious of him, letting her know that he wasn’t only willing to pay for something cheap.
“Thanks. I’ll have a chai latte and a vanilla scone, if they have them. I’ll get seconds.”
With a flash of white teeth, he was gone, returning a few minutes later with the promised treats.
“I assume you speak Spanish,” he said in that language.
“Por supuesto. Yes, of course.”
“Excellent. I speak it with my parents, but I seldom have the opportunity otherwise. My mom’s parents were Chilean, too, and she learned it at home. It’s strange, going back to Chile, you know. I speak the Spanish of the early 1980s, since that’s what my parents spoke. When I’m back there, people look at me like I’m strange, using dated slang and old-fashioned expressions.”
Ashleigh answered with a grin. “It’s a common phenomenon with children of immigrants. I knew someone whose parents were from Poland, who said the exact same thing when she went there to visit relatives. They all laughed at her, even though she spoke fluently.”
“Did you learn as a child?” They were still chatting in Spanish. Did he think her accent was bad?
“No. I took a class at university, and then when I went to Santiago for a summer—or winter—class, I learned more. Of course, once I began working with the communities, I had to really work on it.”
He bowed his head. “Then I must congratulate you. Other than a bit of an accent, and not much of one, your Spanish is excellent. Where is this community? Is it somewhere I know?”
Their first round of drinks soon became a second, and their short chat went on and on, until they moved to the Indian restaurant a few doors down to continue over dinner. It wasnine o’clock when, at last, they said their goodbyes for now, with plans to get together again on the weekend, after the choir’s first concert of the season.
Ashleigh almost floated home, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by her creaky front door, for a moment she didn’t know who it was. Those rosy cheeks and bright eyes hadn’t adorned her face in years, and the sight of them both shocked and pleased her.
Maybe there was still life left in this old girl, after all!
Marcus glaredat his computer screen. The soulless columns of his spreadsheet taunted him, the numbers and formulas they contained were cryptic runes his brain just wasn’t able to comprehend right now. It was Tuesday afternoon, and he’d got precisely nothing done all week. And all weekend. Nothing since Friday morning when they’d all gone to see the land where the development would be.
No matter how he tried to distract himself, Ashleigh wheedled her way into every thought, every action, every dream. He’d gone to a baseball game with his brother on the weekend, hoping to get pulled into the noise and carnival atmosphere in the stadium, but every woman with light brown hair seemed to have her face. The cries of “Let’s go, Blue Jays!” faded to the sound of her tales of South America, her wonderful story about the music program she’d help start there.
Then he’d tried to lose himself in his work, sorting out suppliers and schedules. They had a contract with an engineering firm, and he needed to sort out details, and consult with the architect on some matters that hadn’t quite been resolved. But all his plans dissolved into mist, as the sound ofher voice rang in his ears like the echoes of forgotten lyrics to a once-loved song, taunting and teasing.
But the worst was the memory of her face in the sunlit fields last Friday. The golden light became her, picking out caramel streaks in her light brown hair, bringing sparks into her alluring green eyes. Although they hadn't walked far or too quickly, the trek across the fields had brought colour to her too-pale complexion, until it almost glowed in the freshness of the morning. Her eyes once more had that spark which had first drawn him to her, and that was even before the incident with that annoying toddler.
Okay, he chastised himself, that wasn’t fair. The child was too young to know what he was doing, and the mother… yes, she should have been paying attention, but he knew from his brother’s kids that it only took half a second for toddlers to, well, toddle. He also recalled his brother and sister-in-law after their second child was born, barely able to keep their eyes open, stretched between the needs of a tiny and helpless infant and a demanding three-year-old. It was too easy to get distracted for that half a moment.
Ash, of course, had tried to brush off her quick thinking as a trifle, but geez, she might really have saved that kid’s life. Toddlers and running water are not a good combination. He shuddered to think what might have happened if she hadn’t been there, hadn’t acted.
In a way, she was right: anyone would have done the same thing if they’d seen it, but they hadn’t. The rest of the group had all been so focused on fields and measurements and security, that they hadn’t paid attention to what was going on around them. They’d seen the glittering beer cans but had then put them out of their minds. Had Marcus heard the kid as he approached? It was hard to remember clearly, but he now thought he had, andhad dismissed the sound as quickly as the sight of the leftover rubbish at the side of the stream.
But Ash was different. Special. Ash had seen the glinting, sparkling cans, heard the kid, and had acted quickly. It wasn’t a feat of strength or speed to head the kid off and pull him back, but it was a test of quick thinking, of paying attention. And that was the Ash he’d known and loved: alert, caring, helping. That part of her was still there, concealed beneath her present drab exterior, like camouflage. She might be quick to brush off the attention, but her essence couldn’t be hidden, and damn it all, he missed her so freaking much, it hurt.
Fine. He’d admitted it. He missed her. Had missed her every day since her bloody family… He cursed and spun his chair around, but the unwanted thoughts raced on.
Because then, on top of everything else, was that man. Sebastian Whatshisname, from the city. Whose stupid idea was it to drag him into this, anyway? Marcus had the permits. The planning department had had its say. Sebastian Whoever had no business being there, and now he was all over Ash, praising her, gazing at her like that, like she was the sun and moon, being so solicitous of her, driving her home. It hadn’t just been that, either. Shelley, just this morning, had mentioned that she’d seen the two of them together at the coffee shop near the office only yesterday afternoon, laughing and chatting away in Spanish, and looking like they were having the best time ever.
Damned Sebastian.
Contempt turned to anger, which quickly resolved to jealousy.
Yes, fine, he was jealous. He loved Ashleigh Lynch. Despite her horrible family, despite what they’d done to him, and despite her actions all those years ago, he still loved her.
Why hadn’t she called, way back then? Why hadn’t she tried harder to get in touch with him? She’d only left those fewmessages and a couple of emails, which he had been too angry to answer. And then…
And then she’d thought he wanted nothing more to do with her, and had given up. Oh, double damn. Maybe she had done enough. Maybe he was the one to blame for not answering her calls. Was this all his fault?
