Crossing Boundaries (Cape Falls) (3 page)

“That reminds me,” he said. “Laura wants some extra help with her English over the summer and I’ve offered to give her a hand. If you have any problems with my helping her, I’ll call the whole thing off.”

Laura's mother shook her head. “Don’t worry about it and call me, Deirdre.”

Dean took the offered hand and continued on. Everywhere he went he noticed that women were giving him the nod and men were glaring at him. He didn’t want any of their wives. For the rest of his life he’d be happy to spend time alone.

When he was back in his car, he found himself staring toward the diner. Laura would make a good writer at least he hoped so. He didn’t want to be the one to tell her to give up her dream if it turned out that she was awful at creating.

Dean started up the engine and drove back home. He’d moved to Cape Falls after finding that being in his old house in the city had become unbearable. Dealing with the memories was too painful. This new house was supposed to be a new life and a new start. As always, he’d go and visit his wife and child at their grave sites.

The front door opened easily and he went straight to the kitchen to put away his purchases. After making a steaming cup of coffee, he walked to his study where his laptop and livelihood awaited. The blank screen was not a comforting sight. He sat down and leaned back in his chair. He then closed his eyes and waited for the muse to come back, the muse who’d abandoned him when he first moved in. Seconds trickled by and then a thought. Dean opened his eyes and began typing.

She’d blasted into his world from the unknown. No one knew her, nor could see her, but to him she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. To many, her brown hair might seem a dull shade. To him, the many tints of brown sparkled in the sun and glowed as if to bring warmth to a winter's day. He yearned to reach out and see if it was as silky smooth as it looked. Like many times, his hand moved and yet didn’t touch. Forever he’d be void of the pleasure.

He sat back and looked over the words. There was no clue as to what he was writing. The words didn’t sound right. They were a start and, according to his editor, either he lighten the tone or they’d have to reconsider his contract. Closing and rubbing his eyes, he went back to typing.

All summer he’d been alone and now this lightness had appeared. The other people in the village didn’t have the first clue as to what to make of her. They only saw a freak, a woman too perfect to understand. He saw passed the fear and the pain. For many years he’d fought worse demons and now was the opportunity to find peace.

“
What is your name?” he asked of her when he found her by the lake. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, merely staring out at the water.

“
I can’t tell you,” she whispered.

“
If you can’t tell me, what shall I call you?”

The mystery woman turned to him and smiled. “You shall have to give me a name until you’re ready to hear mine.”

Dean sat back and took a sip of coffee. His mind was working overtime. Was this piece a historical? A futuristic? A paranormal? He did not know. The words simply flowed out of him with ease, an ease he hadn’t felt in too many months. Had offering to help Laura opened the floodgates to his own writing?

Chapter Four

Dear Diary,

The most amazing thing happened today. Not only did I get to meet Dean and to talk to him, he offered to teach me all the details of writing my very own story. Do you know how wonderful that is?

Laura glanced up from her notebook to see Dean waiting for her outside the college grounds. He’d phoned the previous day and offered to pick her up from campus. Earlier in the day she’d been informed there would be only one week left of classes as the rest of the faculty members would be leaving for early vacation. She didn’t mind. More spare time for her and the job at the library in Cape Falls had finally opened.. After spending time with Dean, she intended to go to the library and apply for the position and then quit her waitress work at the diner.

“No," Dean responded. "I recycle and try to walk everywhere. I figure, providing we all do our bit, then we should be okay. Leave it to the scientists of this world to tell us what we’re doing wrong.”

Dean pulled up outside his house and they walked together through the main door. He stopped as they got to another door.

“I have to warn you. No human besides me has ever passed through this doorway. What you see is top secret and shouldn’t be told to anyone else,” he warned her.

“Cross my heart. I won’t tell another living soul about your place,” Laura assured him.

Dean waited and the waiting was killing her. She wanted to see where he wrote and the type of room he’d created in which to write his stories. She’d tried to search his name on the Internet, but nothing came up, only a backdated paper describing the accident with his wife and child. She hadn’t read any of the papers. She figured in time he’d tell her about it.

He finally opened the doors. The room was large with minimal furniture. A few bookcases lined the walls. A sofa was positioned in front of a fireplace and next to the large French windows sat a dark mahogany desk with his computer on top.

“Have I ruined any of your ideals about writers?” he asked her.

Laura shook her head. “It looks perfect to me. This is exactly what I’d have wanted for my office.” There were few distractions. “May I?” She pointed at the desk.

“It’s amazing.” She rubbed her hands along the edge of the desk. The computer was switched on and she saw a few documents he had left open.

“You wouldn’t find any titles because I use a pen name," he explained. "I’m not going to tell you my pen name yet. Did you bring those stories I asked?”

“Yes.” She grabbed her bag and pulled out a folder. In every aspect she had tried to be mature. There were a few explicit stories she’d written after watching a particularly raunchy film on a cable channel. She didn’t have a clue what she was writing. The words had just flowed from her heart, which she thought was a good thing.

“I’ll begin reading through some of these while you go and make us both a drink. I like mine with milk and two sugars.”

“I’m a glorified slave,” she moaned.

Dean chuckled. “No. You’re here for me to help you and nothing in this life comes free. Be careful or I’ll have you cleaning the walls.”

Making the drinks was easier said than done. Every draw and cupboard needed to be opened to find what she was looking for. When she glanced at the clock, she couldn’t believe twenty minutes had already passed. She needed to go back in and give him his drink. Would he hate her writing? More nervous than she liked, Laura walked back into his study.

Her folder was open and Dean was bent over reading her words. She placed the cup on his desk and turned away to sit on the sofa. The silence was unbearable. Laura tried to think of all the words she’d written over the past five years when she had started writing.

Her rubbed her hands together and the clock suddenly sounded very loud in the small space. She felt open as he perused her work. After some time she heard him close her folder. There was no way he’d read everything. The folder was thick with sheets of paper and all in order with the very first story she’d ever written at the back. She glanced his way and saw him staring at her.

“Are they awful?” she asked.

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty.” She bit into her bottom lip. What would she do if he said they were crap? Shit, doing this was a mistake. She should have kept her writing dreams a secret.

“Okay. Your work is great. Brilliant for your age, but I can sort of tell that you don’t have a lot of experience with this stuff. There’s a lot of head hopping and mistakes that a publisher or editor will catch you out on.” He spent the rest of the afternoon showing her mistakes and giving her advice on writing.

“Right, how about you starting a fresh story? We can work on these at a later date. College is almost out and I think we can have a summer project. You write a story in any genre you want, romance, crime, whatever. You decide and I’ll help you work through it and by the end of the summer I expect a fully completed manuscript.”

Every word he spoke sounded like a dream come true.

“Deal.”

“But, I’ll expect you to work around the house and explore every avenue. By working and trying out new words will help develop your writing skills.”

“Double deal. I agree with all the terms. I promise that you won’t be disappointed.” She walked over and shook his hand to confirm the deal. She also tried to ignore the tingle as he touched her and his fingers wrapped around hers.

“Bring your laptop and I’ll set up a desk and new portal for you,” he told her.

Laura nodded her consent and as Dean drove her home, her future looked brighter already. She’d be spending most of the summer with the man she loved. No better way to pass the time.

* * * *

Dean made sure she got home safely before pulling away. He then drove for three hours straight until he pulled up outside the cemetery. The wedding band still lay on his finger and he got out of the car. His wife and son lay together under a tree. He hadn’t brought any flowers with this visit. All he wanted to do was see them and to let them know he would never forget them. Other people were visiting a relative or loved one. He ignored the others and attended to the graves of his own loved ones. The dead flowers from his last visit were removed.

“I’m sorry, Carla. I didn’t bring any fresh ones for you to look at.” He spoke to the stones often. “I’ve been a little busy. You wouldn’t believe what I’m doing. I’m tutoring a young girl, well, a woman. She reminds me a little of you, filled with dreams, but scared to unleash them. You’d like her.”

He ran his hand over the grass. The tears holding firmly in check as he thought of Laura. “I don’t know what I’m doing, to be truthful. Her writing is so innocent and honest. I get the sense she’s quite raw and needy. Being in Cape Falls doesn’t do well for her self-esteem. She’s constantly being overlooked by everyone. I think she’ll make a good writer.”

Dean poured out more of his thoughts.

“I miss you and I think to help myself, I need to stop coming here as often as I do. Carla, I loved you more than anything. It hurts being here and knowing I can’t have you.”

He didn’t say anything more. Instead, he stood and laid a kiss to each of their stones before leaving. His friends and family told him to start moving on. Carla would have hated to see him torn up this way. He would take their advice and stay away for a little while. At least having Laura's company would help him to deal with the loss. He drove back home with a heavy heart.

When he walked through his door he went straight to his computer. After a quick glance over the words and a few changes, he was off.

“
I’m here to help you,” the mystery woman said.

“
How can you help me?” he asked. All he wanted to do was listen to the woman talk. Her voice teased him in every way possible. She placed a hand over his heart. The contact sent a bolt of electricity up his arm.

“
You’ve experienced pain and I’m here to help you through it. To see how wonderful living your life can be. I’m here to be everything you’ve ever wanted.”

He listened to her sweet tempting words and he found himself drowning, drowning in helplessness and hope. The need to hold her and thank her was strong within him. By being in her company for a few moments had helped him to regain some balance within his life. He didn’t want her to go, ever. For so long he’d been alone and now an angel had taken pity on him.

“
I’m no angel,” she warned him as if she could read his thoughts.

“
You are to me.” He took her hand and together they walked inside his house. Whatever was about to happen he was ready for. His heart filled with the wonder of the future. For too long had he been filled with doubt and despair. A small ray of sunshine, so thin and fragile that it could be mistaken as a trick of light, had entered his life. He wasn’t prepared to let it go. His life and heart were open for the adventure that was about to happen.

Chapter Five

Dear Diary,

He loved my work. Dean loved my work. I took my laptop with me and I’ve started my project, it's a romance. I couldn’t resist. He didn’t laugh though. A smile played on his lips for merely a second, but that was all. No mockery or disgust. He still hasn’t told me his pen name. Pouting. I’d love to read something he’s written. As always, he reads my stuff and criticizes it. What I love most is that he’s able to keep writing even with me typing away in the spare space he’s set up for me.