Dreams in Moonlight

Part 7

On Tuesday, around mid-day, Mallory stepped into the one and only bookshop in town, "Hello Amanda." She said quietly as she made her way with familiar clumsiness, toward the counter.

"Hey." Came the chirpy reply. "It's breezy out there." Amanda stated with a teasing smile.

Mallory chuckled and did not take umbrage. "I obviously look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards then." With that comment she rifled the fingers of one hand through her dark hair trying to blindly tease it back into some form of control. The curls she knew would do their own thing.

She should have pulled her hair into a pony-tail or casual knot, or even just jammed it under a hat to keep it under control. Instead she had left home with her hair loose and cascading down to her shoulders in a riot of curls. A riot that had turned into a full scale war by the time she had arrived at the shop, because of the near gale force winds outside.

As she got nearer to the serving counter, Mallory asked in hopeful anticipation, "Has it arrived?" She propped her walking stick against the counter, put her bag on the counter and then started to straighten her clothes. It wasn't cold outside, just windy. So she was just wearing a loose white cotton shirt and favourite jeans, with low heeled comfy sandals on her feet. She looked as casual as she felt. And relaxed.

Amanda nodded instantly and with a breezy smile added, "Yes, came in this morning. Hang on a second. I kept it in the office. I was going to give you a call later to tell you it had come in." But before Amanda left Mallory standing at the counter the door bell pealed again and she couldn't help the smile kicking up a gear when she saw who it was. "Greg." She welcomed him, her smile blossoming with open delight, "Won't be long. Just getting Mallory's book." With that she turned and headed for her office, leaving Mallory and Greg alone in the shop.

Mallory wanted to scream. For two reasons. First it was him. Second, his hair looked just fine, even though he too had braved the gales outside.

Greg hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he kept walking forward. If he'd known she was in here, he'd have stayed well away. Dealing with the storm outside was better than the storm brewing here.

Mallory's spine stiffened and watched with concern when he came forward. The last thing she needed was a conversation with him. Her heart was racing, her brain was fried, and she knew this meeting would reduce her diminishing confidence. 

He ended up standing at the counter with Mallory. Neither said a word for several seconds. The silence stretched uncomfortably. Mallory was sure she was going to start fidgeting with nerves any second now. She jammed her hands in her pockets to hid the fact she was trembling.

 His hands jammed into his pockets, his eyes looking anywhere but at her, "Are you on holiday?" He asked for something to say. What was it about this woman that upset his equilibrium? A decade on, and she managed to get beneath his skin, still managed to make him feel like a teenager on a first date. And he was here, to take Amanda on lunch date.

Mallory shook her head. The riot of curls bounced. "No." She bit her lip. Best to keep this conversation short.

"Oh." Then he looked at her. And wished he hadn't. For some stupid reason, just looking at her was enough to get his pulse racing. This was going to have to stop. He couldn't spend his life in this town dealing with an escalating pulse rate whenever he saw her. He was a grown man, not some hormonal schoolboy.

"I work part time." Mallory clarified quietly, wondering whether he was genuinely interested or just killing time as he waited for Amanda to return. Her hands were clammy. Her heart racing.

Even as a boy he had always been well-mannered. Not respectful, not exactly, just courteous. In fact the first time she had ever seen him fail to show courtesy was that evening at the party a few days ago, when he had not afforded her the same degree of consideration as the other women in her group.

"What is it that you do now?" He asked coolly. No point revealing he knew what she did. Instead he used the opportunity to take inventory, despite his brain telling him to look away. But his heart seemed to be the more powerful organ, and he looked his fill. Her large expressive brown eyes were still the windows to her soul. Her lips were still full and inviting. Her skin was flawless. Her hair was still that glorious riot of curls. She used to hate her curly hair, ruing the fact that it was not manageable. He loved her hair, loved toying with individual curls, wrapping them around his finger, threading his fingers through her hair had been like playing with silk. She wasn't as slim as she had been ten years ago. Then she was practically a reed. A few hints of curves, but no surplus flesh. Now, there was more to her. And she looked better for it. Sexier.

Mallory reminded herself to take her time speaking, to keep her tone well modulated, her voice calm, "I have a dance studio and I write about performance." She didn't tell him she had regular column in a national newspaper and had choreographed two very successful nationally acclaimed modern dance pieces. She doubted he'd be interested in anything that concerned her. How things had changed. As teenagers she'd shared everything. Told him everything. And he'd listened. Intently.

Greg knew what she did. Knew where she worked. He knew that she had choreographed a dance that had won awards. He'd read about one of the national events when she had collected an award. It was, he finally acknowledged, one of the reasons he had come back. Unfinished business. He knew he had to finish it if he was to have any chance of moving on. Really moving on. Not just pretending. He wanted a family, wanted children. But he had to ensure that the prospective woman in his life did not take second place to the ghost of the woman standing in front of him. 

This relationship needed closure. Something he thought he'd achieved ten years ago. Something he had taken seconds to realize was far from over, when he'd seen her again.