THE THING ABOUT LOVE
Golden afternoon sunlight flooded the car as Karen drove down the road. The canopy of vivid red, yellow and orange leaves made it feel as if she were travelling through a fiery tunnel. One arm hung out the window, her hand gliding through the warm air of an Indian summer, her goldenrod-colored hair flying about her head. Everything was bright, warm, and cozy, and it acted as a mirror to the warmth she felt in her own soul.
Karen was in love.
To use such a bold and serious term as "love" both frightened and excited her. At times her inner voice called her silly, an overgrown school girl swooning over the dashing, dark-haired stranger. Except he wasn't a stranger; not any more. Nearly a month of dating had seen to that.
Karen had first met Lucas, not as a potential soul mate, but as a patient. He was a geologist, and had been stationed at an American base down in Antarctica over the previous summer. But something had gone wrong, some sort of accident. There were rumors of cabin fever, that the men had murdered each other. The base had burned down, leaving Lucas, the only survivor, out in the cold, alone. But someone must have called in an S.O.S.; a rescue helicopter found Lucas sitting on top of a mountainous snow drift nearly a mile away from the burnt wreckage, apparently in shock. From there he had been flown back to the military hospital in the U.S. where Karen worked as a nurse.
For over a week he had drifted in and out of consciousness, requiring constant supervision and intravenous nutrients. Karen was at his side the entire time, caring for him, nursing him back to health. She was an educated woman; she had heard of Nightingale syndrome, where a nurse falls in love with her patient for complicated psychological reasons. Maybe it had happened to her, but Karen didn't care. It wasn't just that Lucas was someone who needed her care, her nurturing. True, he had been extremely vulnerable for the first few weeks of their relationship. At times he seemed almost like a child, or a puppy; confused, uncertain about what he should do or how he should act in certain situations. But as he recovered his true personality quickly shone through, and Karen found that he was a charming, intelligent, and compassionate man. He always listened and always said the right things. He didn't pressure her for sex. In fact, they hadn't done much more than kiss. But that was alright. Karen knew that some things just needed to be taken slowly. At least this way she could be confident that he liked her for more than her body.
But it didn't hurt that he was very handsome. Dark hair, deep blue eyes, with rugged features and a dazzling smile. At times he had a sense of mystery about him, as though he knew a secret he wasn't sharing. Occasionally Karen would catch him watching her with a small, knowing, almost smug smile. When questioned he would simply laugh and shrug enigmatically.
Lucas could be such a tease.
The car rounded a bend and she entered the small town of Grenfield. The population was about 10,000, but Karen didn't mind. She thought it was a good number; not so small that the place seemed deserted, but small enough that everyone knew each other. She turned onto Main Street and entered the town proper, passing colonial white-washed buildings. It was all so quaint; there was even a barber shop with the stripy pole. She passed the town square, where children were helping set up pumpkins and scarecrows in anticipation of Halloween. A German shepherd was running about and barking at the scarecrows, making the children shriek with laughter. The sight made her smile; this would be a lovely place to start a family.
At the corner of Main and 7th Street she saw the coffee shop and pulled into a parking space next to a familiar sky-blue Ford truck. Her heart leapt a beat: Lucas was already here. After briefly checking her hair in the rear-view mirror she stepped out of her own car and entered the shop, a small bell tinkling as she pushed the door open. The interior of the coffee shop was just as charming and cozy as the rest of the town: the floor tiles a pleasant terra-cotta red, with small round tables with curving iron-work legs dotted around the room, and a record player in a corner softly playing jazz. The air was thick with the smell of coffee beans and various baked pastries. The old man in white behind the counter gave her a cheery wave and toothy smile, which she returned.
