Tempted by Evil (5 page)

"When they disappeared, I felt as though I'd lost them all over again."

"No, Aspen," he said, repositioning me so that I was sitting directly across from him on the bed, though he was still holding my hand. "Don't you see? It's just the opposite."

"I don't understand." I shook my head, completely bewildered by his statement.

"You didn't lose them tonight," he clarified, sounding so certain that my heart wanted nothing more than to believe him. "You finally
found
them."

Staring down at our hands, it took a minute for me to comprehend how Julian's words might be true, but when it finally happened, my whole world seemed different. No longer was I the little orphan girl who'd never seen her parents. I would never again wonder about the unspoken words in my father's eyes or the feeling of comfort that only a mother could offer. And, more important to me than anything else in the world, I knew how much they loved me.

Blinking back the swelling tears, I looked up at Julian with pure gratitude. "Thank you . . . for helping me to see."

"I will always be here to help you," he whispered as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. Pushing himself up off the bed, he walked over to the door and turned back to face me with his boyishly handsome grin. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Julian." I couldn't help but giggle in response.

I reached over to the nightstand to turn off the light, pulled the covers up over my shoulders, and closed my tired eyes. With a deep breath and a silent prayer of thanks, I drifted to sleep, truly grateful my personal savior had come along outside the café.

Pouring a second cup of coffee for one of the regulars who was perusing
The Free Press
before work, I mused at how I had come to enjoy the routine of the morning shift. The early-risers had threatened to boycott when they discovered that their beloved scone server and baker was going back into the kitchen full-time and that I would be replacing her behind the counter. Most had warmed up to me instantly though, and one of the older couples, the Davenports, seemed to want to adopt me as one of their honorary grandchildren. The concept, though foreign, warmed my soul. I'd always wanted a family.

Sister Mary Constance had been like a mother to me growing up. It pained me to leave the convent, knowing I would feel the void that not having her around would leave, but I knew that I wasn't going to follow in her path and become a novitiate. The constraints of convent life were many, and I knew that once I was eighteen, I would strike out on my own. I felt compelled to find my own way―my higher purpose. God had a plan for all His children, so I put my faith in Him and left.

Since then, my life had completely changed, and my mind worked hard to keep up with it all. I loved the sense of normalcy a job provided to me. I was still serving and felt a strong connection to that, even if it was a most literal interpretation of the word. And, perhaps more surprisingly, being on my own never frightened me like I thought it would. My blind faith in God allowed me to push aside any brief moments of weakness and forge ahead, accepting His help when he provided it. The Caseys, my home, my job, even the Davenports, were all His blessings, and I accepted them without question.

As I walked back around the counter and returned the round coffee pot to its metal base, I realized that it had been a couple of days since the Davenports had come in for their morning 'treat,' as Mrs. Davenport enjoyed calling it. Hearing the bells over the door of the café chime, I spun toward the sound, expecting to see my honorary grandparents entering the café.

The girl poised before me was definitely not Mrs. Davenport.

Stick-straight golden blonde hair, illuminated by the morning sun streaming through the window behind her, fell a few inches past her shoulders and framed her stunning face. She was dressed in a black top worn off the shoulder and skinny jeans with black stiletto shoes. She looked as though she’d stepped right out of one of those fashion magazines that I'd seen so many girls reading at the café. I had never felt more frumpy and homely in my life, wearing my purple henley, worn-out jeans, and essential ponytail. Studying her made me intensely aware of all the things I was lacking. Young, polished, and beautiful, she reminded me of the heroine in the many stories I had read.

Until she spoke.

"Is Julian here?" she inquired without looking at me, her eyes lazily scanning the café. "I stopped by his place, but he wasn't home."

"No," I replied stoically, though internally I was more than a little curious about her identity and her interest in Julian. "He doesn't usually come in this early."

"Julian does what suits him," she said with a smug smile and a gleam in her eye. "He always has."

I stood speechless, fidgeting with a long stray string on my apron while I pondered the depth of her relationship with Julian that allowed her to speak of him with such familiarity. Then her words interrupted my thoughts.

"You're new," she stated matter-of-factly, her blue eyes finally raking over me in disdain. "How nice for you."

"Um, yes," I stammered while my hands nervously attempted to smooth my unruly ponytail. "I'm Aspen."

"Right . . . " She shrugged off my words with a smirk and a slight nod of her head.

Clueless as to the proper way to make conversation with this girl, my eyes darted around the café, looking for something to save me from myself. The awkward silence and weight of her impatient stare reminded me that we were indeed engaged in some sort of dialogue, and, apparently, it was my turn to speak.

"So, who did you say you were?" I managed to stutter under her scrutiny, struggling to predict my reaction should the word
girlfriend
escape her perfect pink lips.

"I've known Julian a long time," she revealed with a slow smile, though she offered no details.

"Oh" was the entire retort I could summon in the moment. Her response had left me with more questions than answers.

"I like your top," she remarked, though her disingenuous demeanor belied her words.

Stunned by her behavior and yet driven by the need to be polite, I bit my lower lip and responded with a slightly confused "Thank you."

"Tell Julian I stopped by," she tossed over her shoulder with her long blonde hair as her black stilettos headed out the door.

I was straightening my apron and attempting to determine exactly who the mystery girl might be when her words finally sank in.

"Wait!" I called out after her before she was out the door. "Tell him
who
stopped by?"

She made no indication that she heard me, and the door closed with my unanswered question still hanging in the air.

I briefly considered going after her until my mind began to register the disastrous consequences of that endeavor. In the end, my feet remained planted safely behind the counter in favor of self-preservation over morbid curiosity. Replaying the exchange in my head, I cringed as I heard myself practically grunting monosyllabic responses to her eloquent slights. Worse yet, I was still at a loss as to who she was and what she wanted with Julian.
Julian
.

Just thinking about his mischievous smile had my stomach doing somersaults. I couldn't imagine him wanting to spend time with a girl so blatantly offensive. Except she was stunning, and I was ordinary. Thoughts began to swirl, and I wondered if I had been fooling myself with the delusion that Julian had been interested in me as anything other than a charity case.

I suddenly realized I was pacing back and forth behind the counter, and when I stepped out from behind it, I was astonished to see the café was empty. Staring at the vacant chairs in disbelief, I attempted to discern how I’d managed to miss the exodus of the last three morning patrons. I knew that I had been engrossed in thoughts of Julian and my encounter with his rude friend. I mentally crossed myself as soon as I conceived the word, knowing that I shouldn't be unkind to someone I didn't even know.

Grabbing a plastic bin, I walked purposefully over to the table closest to me and picked up the empty coffee cup and matching pastry plate. I knew I had been entirely too focused on other
things
when I should have been attending to my customers; I decided not to think of it anymore until I saw Julian. I had absolutely no idea how to broach the topic with him, but I refused to dwell on that while I had a job to perform.

Gazing out the window as I cleared the tables, I saw that the sun was hidden behind a cover of gray clouds while the wind blew debris down the street and the trees swayed with restless abandon. I was hauling my small load of dishes back to the kitchen when the phone rang. With my heart beating wildly in my chest in anticipation, I ran to the spot behind the counter where the cordless phone rested on its base.

I answered with a breathless, "Holy Grounds, this is Aspen."

I held my breath until I heard a female voice on the other end of the line. My high hopes were dashed in an instant. I tried desperately to pay attention as one of my co-workers, Chloe, explained to me that she’d woken up with some sort of flu virus and couldn't get anyone to cover her night shift. My heart sank as she said that she had tried to contact Julian but had been unable to reach him. I offered to pick up the extra shift without giving it a second thought and hung up the phone, feeling more conflicted than before.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall to see that it was already almost eleven. Julian normally stopped into the café around ten each morning. He said he liked to check on things, but I always secretly hoped it was to see me. Perhaps he was telling the truth after all.
Stop!
I refused to think about it any longer while I was working, and my workday had just doubled.

Once I was able to refocus my attention on the tasks before me, the day flew by at a breakneck pace. The lunch crowd piled in shortly after Chloe called and continued straight into the after-school groups. I was thankful for the distraction the customers provided as I poured and chatted mindlessly. When evening finally came, people were shaking the rain from their umbrellas as they entered and popping them back up on their way out.

I felt exhaustion creeping up on me like a shadow at sunset. My long shift had at least yielded two discoveries about closing up the café on a Monday night: there were not a lot of tips to be had at the end of it, and I had quite a bit of free time on my hands to read.

Marie, the now full-time baker at the café whom I lovingly referred to as the Scone Nazi (in my mind or under my breath), had already shooed me out of her kitchen twice. I groaned internally at myself as I made a mental note to go to church this week. I'd been avoiding it, but calling someone such an uncharitable name, even if I didn't invent it, was definitely confession-worthy.
And twice in one day now?
I quickly pushed
that
unwanted thought out of my mind and refocused on the café.

Since I had already wiped down the counters and tables, mopped the floors, and shined the glass, I decided a little reading behind the counter would be a better use of my time than pacing and letting my thoughts drift back to unnecessary places. I made my way to the back and pulled my current literary obsession,
The Scarlet Letter,
out of my canvas bag. As I went to open it, I noticed something other than my bookmark sticking out from it.

With a frown, I flipped to the page where a fifty-dollar bill held my place. Tucked directly behind it was a note.

Aspen
,

I know that you were desperate to return this to me the other morning, but I just couldn't let you win that battle. Consider this an endowment for your education in fun. Feel free to spend it with reckless abandon on anything I would approve of. And NO approaching homeless men to give it to them! I meant what I said about that. I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you . . .

So, go buy all the chocolate you can find instead.

Julian

I stared down at Ulysses S. Grant, remembering the interaction with Julian when I’d returned his money (or so I had thought). He’d listened intently as I explained why I still had the fifty and what the vagrant had said when he approached me on the street. After I finished, he’d delicately reaffirmed that what had happened was the very reason why I shouldn't have done it in the first place. “Unpredictable,” he had said in reference to the mentally unstable man before he scooped me into a hug, asking me never to do such a dangerous thing again. His action had made me smile at the time, and as I was recalling it, my heart skipped a beat. Though I couldn't fathom why, Julian Casey cared about me. The thought made me beam from the inside out.

Then I remembered the cryptic blonde who had whisked in and out of the café earlier, and my heart went from skipping to stopping in a flash.

Not wanting to allow her to cloud my thoughts any more than she already had that day, I turned my attention back to my used bookstore find and to the chapter titled "Pearl" with more than a little satisfaction. My choice of reading material would be labeled deplorable, if not sinful, by Mother Superior and would likely feed the fire on cold night. Regardless, I was swept quickly into the fictional world of the curious child born to an adulterous woman until the tinkling of bells over the door alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone.