Breathless Read online

  “It’s amazing,” I said to Chaseyn, taking his hand in mine as we walked up the long sidewalk to the front door. “We should have called first to let your mom know I was coming. It’s not really fair to surprise her like this.”

  “She won’t be surprised,” he said, shaking his head once slowly. “She’s been waiting for this.”

  Just then, the door opened, and a waiflike woman appeared on the front step. Like Chaseyn, she had raven-colored waves with a solitary grey streak above her brow. Her unnaturally pale skin was soft, flawless, with no hint of color. She was lean and sinewy, the muscles in her exposed upper arms illustrated how she was perfectly toned. I was sure the rest of her body would look the same. Her hair hung free to her waist, and her deep green eyes tore into me with shocking intensity. Her appearance was completely unique, but stunning. Much like her son. She took a light-footed step forward, her arms extended, ready to embrace. I was sure she was reaching for Chaseyn, so it took me completely off guard when she huddled in around me.

  “Cordelia,” she said with a British lilt that was similar to Chaseyn’s, only much more melodic. “It’s about time my son finally brought you to meet me.”

  I smiled and nodded. She was enchanting but something about her made me feel uneasy. A sudden chill ripped through my body, and I soon realized she was only wearing a short-sleeved blouse and jeans. Without a coat, she must be freezing.

  “Oh, dear, I forgot how this weather can affect people,” she said. “Let’s get you inside before you catch cold.”

  It seemed strange that she would be so concerned about my body temperature when I was cloaked in a massive down jacket that was so thick I could barely move my arms. She seemed unfazed, not a goose bump in sight any place on her frail frame. She escorted me through the large oak door to a cozy sitting room where an old-fashioned log fire was licking the brick mantle encasing it. She motioned for me to take the seat nearest the fire, so I did. Immediately, the aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls wafted into the room. Mina, as she had instructed me to call her, left the room, returning a brief moment later with two, steaming-hot cups of cocoa and warm rolls. Chaseyn and I devoured our homemade treats while Mina delighted in our enjoyment.

  “These are delicious,” I said between bites. “I don’t know how you have the willpower to refrain.”

  Mina just smiled and said that once I was her age I would understand how hard it is to keep fit. I had trouble believing she would ever have to worry about her weight. Despite the fact that I knew she was in her late thirties, she didn’t look a day older than 27.

  An overstuffed, chocolate-brown, leather couch—the kind with pewter rivets lining the edges, was positioned in front of the tiny bay window. Thick curtains in a rich gold tone blocked out the daylight, and the walls were painted a similar warm shade. An oriental rug in rich reds and greens partially covered the original wood floors, and large wingchairs sat facing the couch, slightly overlapping each side of the fireplace, which was centered on a long wall. A small piano lined the far wall; the only sign of clutter in the otherwise spotless room came in the form of sheet music sprawled on the velvet-covered bench. Though it was cozy, the living room was dimly lit. I struggled to make out the expressions on Mina’s face as she talked.

  In typical mom fashion, Mina asked all the right questions about my family, interests, and college prospects. All in all, I thought I provided a suitable answer to everything. She kept the conversation light so that I wouldn’t feel awkward or out of place. Still, among these two unusually attractive people, I felt strangely uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure why. Certainly, Chaseyn had never given me the impression I should feel inadequate, but in the presence of his incredible mother, I seemed unsuitable. I did my best to keep these feelings hidden from them. Mina was wonderfully hospitable, and I didn’t want her to think I was unappreciative. We sat talking for a long time before Mina left Chaseyn and I to tour the house alone.

  From the living room, we walked through an arched doorway to an equally shaded kitchen. The only light came from an antique stained-glass lamp standing in the far corner. Rich walnut paneling reached from the floor about mid-way up the walls; the cabinetry matched perfectly. Above that, the walls were painted a deep red. The only natural light in the room seeped in around the edges of the heavy curtains fringing the window above the sink. The kitchen opened into a formal dining room that was perfectly accessorized with unused dinnerware and fresh cut flowers. It was easy to see that this room was rarely, if ever, used. It looked as welcoming as a designer suite in a posh show home. I thought of my own kitchen at home and shuddered. What must Chaseyn think of the unkempt stack of mail and other knickknacks that constantly cluttered the tabletop?

  A short walk through a narrow hall brought us to a long stairwell leading to two large rooms on either side with a small closet in the center. In the room on the right, Chaseyn’s mother sat silently in a wooden rocking chair, her head buried in a book, toe tapping on the floor every other second, encouraging the back-and-forth motion of the antique lounger. She looked up quickly, her eyes flickering slightly in the dim glow of the reading light that was positioned several feet from where she was sitting. Her room was elegant and luxurious. The four-post, mahogany bed was draped with a fluffy white quilt and at least fifteen pillows in varying shapes and sizes. Lush, shag carpet spread from one pure-white wall to the next. An enormous chest of drawers was centered on the far wall, with the small sitting area, where Mina sat now, was to the right. An acoustic guitar was tucked in the corner beside her.

  “Will you be heading upstairs,” Mina directed at Chaseyn but never took her eyes from mine.

  We had just walked up the stairs to the second floor, so I was thoroughly confused by her question.

  He flashed her a grin. Of course, I had no clue to the meaning, but there was certainly something between them in that instant.

  “Chaseyn really cares about you, Cordelia,” she smiled. “Be careful with his heart.”

  Chaseyn rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand. He pulled me toward the door on our left, which I could only presume was his room.

  It was every bit as spacious as Mina’s, and just as tidy. A full, wrought-iron bed was covered with a chocolate-brown duvet and accented in a variety of blue and brown cushions. I barely smoothed the blankets on my own bed each day, let alone fold perfect hospital corners and primp with decorative accessories.

  “Please tell me your mom makes your bed for you.”

  He laughed quietly and shook his head at me coyly.

  I wanted to pinch myself. He was too good to be true.

  Like the kitchen, walnut panels covered the bottom half of the walls; the top was painted in a pale blue. Rather than artwork, a massive flat screen television hung on the wall directly across from his bed. I hadn’t realized a jazz musician would earn enough to lead such a lavish lifestyle. I had deceived myself into thinking that Chaseyn was accustomed to my way of living. There was little else to look at in his immaculate space. Even Addie’s room didn’t seem as plush, and that was saying a lot.

  “I want to show you something,” he said taking my small hand in his. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

  At that moment, he opened the door to a tiny closet and reached up above his head to remove a square of wood from the ceiling. He proceeded to pull a small ladder down and instructed me to make my way up into the dark space above our heads. Now, I understood what Mina meant by upstairs. Up ladder was more like it. I looked at Chaseyn warily, and he took the lead instead, pulling the chain on a bright lamp as he neared the top rung.

  Inside the attic, Chaseyn had created a magical space to express his own creativity. A large window opened to a small balcony that overlooked the lake, but it was not nearly the most prominent feature in the room. Canvas squares littered the floors and walls, stacked one on top of the other in neat rows. Tube after tube of colorful oils and tubs of brushes—of all shapes and sizes—lay on a small wooden table next to a tall easel.
r />   “They’re beautiful,” I whispered, taking a seat on the paint-stained floor next to a row of vibrant images that perfectly recreated the natural phenomenon just outside the clear panes. Leafing through, I took in every aspect of the incredible images before me. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist. These are amazing.”

  “They’re nothing,” he said shyly. “Just something I do from time to time. I didn’t do anything new for a long time.”

  “Why not,” I asked with genuine curiosity.

  “I wasn’t inspired,” he shrugged.

  “And now?”

  Chaseyn bent down so his eyes met mine. He tilted my head upward gently with his left hand and brushed his lips against mine.

  “And now, I’ve found new inspiration.”

  I blushed.

  “Let me show you,” he said, pulling me to my feet. The room was crowded and small; it only took three steps for us to cross the floor. Chaseyn paused for a moment, and then removed a velvet panel that had been covering an easel. A perfect likeness of me was painted with extreme precision on the colorful canvas. My body stiffened, and when I tried to speak, my voice was weak.

  “I understand that you’re upset. I should have told you about it before—asked permission.”

  I shook my head and worked to clear my throat. Tears rushed to my eyes, and I bowed my head to hide my emotions.

  “I’m not upset. I’m speechless,” I finally managed to spill out.

  He started to cover it back up, but I grabbed his hands before he could finish. If I couldn’t say what I was feeling, at least I could show him. I wrapped both of my hands behind his neck and forcefully pulled him to me, kissing him deeply. Suddenly, I felt like there was so much I still needed to learn about Chaseyn.

  So very much more.

  Chapter 17 - Family

  For the next hour, I sat quietly watching Chaseyn while he painted. With my eyes staring intently at his every move, he was awkward and adorable. Every few seconds, his gaze would cross mine, and he would run his long fingers through his hair in a show of modesty. Unruly strands stuck out in a variety of directions, and he looked so inviting that I had trouble keeping my hands to myself. Eventually, he gave up trying to focus on the brush and the canvas. Instead, he took me in his arms, and we kissed for a while. Not long, but it was enough to suppress my indecent thoughts of him.

  “Cordelia,” he said with a start after looking at his watch. “We have to go.”

  I grabbed his wrist to glance at the time and realized he was right. My mom would be serving dinner any second. Kevin, my grandma, Addie—and possibly Rob—would all be waiting on us. We flew down the rickety ladder to find his mom. I wanted to say a proper goodbye and thank her for welcoming me into their home.

  “I certainly hope to see you again soon,” she said, wrapping her thin arms around me in a strong embrace. I nodded and smiled.

  We rushed hand-in-hand outside the door to his car and sped down the driveway in reverse.

  “You’re in a hurry,”’ I said, gripping the sides of my seat.

  “I don’t need to give your grandma any more reason to dislike me,” he said. “It will leave a terrible impression if we don’t make it home in time for appetizers.”

  “What makes you think she doesn’t like you,” I asked confused. Chaseyn was charming and adorable; there was no possible reason for my grandma to be anything but happy that I had met such a wonderful boy. She was always saying that chivalry is dead, but Chaseyn had proved otherwise. “I thought things went really well.”

  He just shrugged and said, “We’ll see.”

  “Now, your mom…,” I started to say.

  “She just spends so much time in the public eye when she’s performing that prefers to keep to herself at home. It’s nothing personal,” he cut me off. “She loved you. I mean, she really thought you were great.”

  He seemed so confident in his words that it was hard to believe he could be wrong, but I had the impression his mom was impartial. She was very nice, but something just didn’t seem quite right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she seemed uncomfortable having me there.

  Between shifting gears, Chaseyn grabbed my hand and kissed each knuckle softly. It was already dark outside when we finally pulled to a stop in front of my house. It was only a fifteen minute drive, but the sun had set during that time. Dinner would be served in less than half an hour, and despite how I wanted my grandma to feel about Chaseyn, I knew she would hold it against him if we were late.

  “We better get inside,” he said, hopping out of the vehicle at a hare’s pace. “They’re waiting on us.”

  He was right.

  “Where have you guys been,” Addie stated the obvious, while jumping up from the couch to anchor herself at my side. “I’m starving.”

  Addie had been a regular fixture at my house for half a dozen years or so, but without Rob at her side, I was sure she felt uncomfortable around Kevin and my grandma. She had only met each of them a handful of times, and they could be intimidating—maybe not Kevin so much as my grandma.

  I looped my arm through hers, and we walked toward the kitchen, Chaseyn tagging along behind us, head down, hands in his pockets. Presumably, he felt terrible about delaying everyone’s meal, but I was as much to blame.

  “I’m sorry,”’ I said sincerely. “’We just got caught up is all.”

  Chaseyn glanced at me with a look that said he would prefer I kept his artistic talents between the two of us. I nodded discretely and began wracking my brain for an alternate activity.

  “It’s my fault,” Chaseyn said casually. “We went to Morrison. I wanted to see the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, and it took longer than I had expected.”

  “That’s an interesting road trip,” my mom said skeptically. “It’s very beautiful, but I don’t know too many young people willing to drive all that way just to check it out when there is no performance scheduled.”

  “You’re forgetting, mom. Chaseyn’s mother is a musician. She’ll be performing there this summer,” I offered, adding credibility to the claim. Luckily, I had been there three or four times before, so it was easy for me to gush about different aspects of the structure’s unique atmosphere. My mom seemed appeased by that, cocking her head slightly to the side, her frown subsiding.

  “Humph,” she muttered, giving a shrug that suggested she thought it a reasonable excuse for being late to dinner.

  Turkey, cranberries, potatoes, carrots, stuffing, and much, much more awaited us as we approached the table. It looked delicious and smelled even better. Chaseyn and Kevin looked like they had found their little piece of heaven as they began scooping heaping helpings of every item onto their plates.

  Addie and I caught up about the weekend’s events in our own private conversation. I felt badly for leaving Chaseyn to be grilled by my grandma, but she was surprisingly quiet, issuing the odd comment at completely appropriate times. Mostly, she joined by mom and Kevin in idle chitchat. We had barely finished gorging ourselves on pie and whipped cream, when Chaseyn announced that he would be leaving early. He had an assignment due in the morning, and he needed to put on the finishing touches. My mom smiled so big, I thought her head would burst. She was delighted that Chaseyn was so incredibly responsible. From the moment they had met, he had charmed her to the core. Me, too. Under the table, Chaseyn squeezed my hand affectionately and stood to leave. I escorted him to the door. He hadn’t mentioned the assignment before, and I wanted to be sure everything was alright.

  “What’s up,” I said when we were out of earshot of everyone in the kitchen. “Why are you leaving? Don’t leave.”

  “I really should,” he said. “I do have homework, but more than that, you’ve been spending so much time with me that I think it would be nice for you to be with your family alone.”

  “But Addie’s staying,” I pleaded.

  “Cordelia, she is your family.”

  “So are you, now.”

  “Not like that. Not yet,�
�� he said looking down as he traced a pattern in the carpet with the toe of his left foot. “One day, Cordelia. But, not yet.”

  He kissed my cheek and walked out the door to his car.

  “Come, Lia. Join us. We’re going to play crib,” my mom yelled from the other room.

  My eyes rolled back in my head, and I walked sluggishly toward the kitchen, dragging my heals as I went.

  “Can you believe Kevin has never played before,” she continued.

  I could, actually. What I couldn’t believe is that I did know how to play. And worse, that my mom had forced Addie to play with us after so many Sunday night dinners as kids that she was nearly better than any of us. It was tradition when grandma came to stay, so I decided to buck up and join the fun.