Julie Ortolon - Almost Perfect

He looked up and saw Maddy walking toward him with a pack of girls. The sight of her throwing back her head and laughing stopped him in his tracks. He stood there bug-eyed as she continued past him, sucker punched by something that went beyond the normal adolescent-hormones-gone-haywire. One thought rang in his brain: I want. The wanting filled him with an intensity he rarely allowed. Couldn't afford to allow. But with Maddy, he'd dared more than want. He'd dared to have.

And he'd relearned one of life's cruelest lessons, that having and keeping are not the same thing.

He turned to his mother, who sat calmly watching him.

"I have one question," he finally said.

"Yes?"

"What is she doing here?"

"Maddy?" His mother blinked her blue eyes as if the question confused her. Which he knew it didn't. Not for a minute. "She's here to work as our new A and C coordinator."

"But why? It's been bugging me all afternoon. Considering the way she dumped me, I have a hard time believing that she came out here hoping to take up where we left off. And if that was what she wanted, why the job? Why not just contact me?"

His mother pursed her lips, considering. "And if she had called, what would you have said?"

"Nothing. I would have hung up." Then promptly had heart failure.

"Exactly. It's a little harder to hang up when she's here in person."

"Conflicting emotions clamped about his chest.

"Are you saying she does want to get back together?"

"I didn't 'say' that."

"Okay-" He ran a hand over his hair and tried to think. "Let's say she does, which blows my mind to even think about. Why the job? Why not come out here on the pretext of visiting you? Why would a thirty-two-year-old woman travel hundreds of miles to take a job at a summer camp? It can't be for the money. The job doesn't pay that much. So what is she doing here?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

Because that would involve talking to her.

Leaning forward, she patted his hand. "Ask her, Joe. Otherwise you're just going to drive yourself crazy wondering."

He dropped his head forward in defeat. "I hate it when you're right."

"Yes, I know." She rose and kissed the top -of his head.

After she left, he sat a long time-driving himself crazy.

Maddy returned to her apartment after a miserably awkward evening and checked her e-mail. Christine had finally chimed in on her earlier exchange with Amy.

Message: Come on, Mad, how bad can it be? So the man was startled to see you. He'll recover and things will be fine.

Maddy: I don't think so. We just spent three hours together at a hamburger cookout where we managed to not exchange one single word.

Christine, who was apparently online, responded right away: I take it the man's a brooder.

Maddy: Try World-Class Brooder. And he seems to have matured a lot over the years, but apparently that hasn't changed.

Christine: So what did you do in the past when he brooded?

Maddy stared at the screen, remembering so many things. A bittersweet ache settled in her chest as she typed her reply: I'd find a way to make him laugh. I don't think that's an option anymore. I feel like such an idiot for coming here. How can I make the next twelve weeks bearable for both of us?

Christine: Okay, I'll ignore the obvious wisecrack about sex and try my hand at some serious advice. Reread that xchapter in Jane's book about getting along with men in the workplace. It pains me to say this (since I'm still pissed about her using us), but I actually agree with her there. And remember that's ALL you have to do-get along with this guy. He's not the main reason you're there. Patching things up and having wild sex were just a potential side benefit. Your real goal is to get your work in a gallery. Don't lose sight of that. And don't forget that Amy and I think you're wonderful, no matter what some brooding male thinks.

Maddy: Thanks, C.

Christine: You're welcome. Now you go get some sleep. I'm off to save lives.

Closing the laptop, Maddy glanced at the glossy self-help book sitting on the end table next to her. She picked it up with a sigh. If nothing else, maybe reading would help her sleep.

If you want to succeed in the business world, learn to leave your emotions at home.

– How to Have a Perfect Life

After a restless night, Maddy rose early enough the following morning to watch the sunrise. She stood on her balcony sipping coffee as the light show played before her, starting with a blush and building to a blaze, like a symphony of color. Dawn had always been her favorite time of day, which was something she and Amy had in common.

More than once they'd watched the sunrise together. For Maddy, the start of a new day held infinite promise and excitement. For Amy, it was a time when yesterday's troubles still lay sleeping.

She remembered one morning when Amy confided in a hushed voice that when she was a child, she believed that if she was very quiet and still, the bad things of the world would forget to wake up. The theory had intrigued Maddy. Too bad she could never be quiet or still long enough to test it. Who could, though, when the world held so many wonderful things to do and see and experience?

This morning was a perfect example. How could she hold back the thrill of watching a new day begin? The mountain air felt crisp as the smell of coffee rose from the warm cup cradled in her hands. The sun climbed higher, gilding the tops of the peaks while the valley remained cloaked in blue shadow.

The sight brought the never-ending urge to capture it with color on canvas.

If she was quiet and still, maybe the tension with Joe would forget to wake up, but then, maybe the opportunities that lay before her would do the same. Christine had been right about taking Jane's advice. She was here to go after something she'd always wanted. If that meant living with Joe's brooding animosity, she would do so calmly, professionally, and unemotionally.

With that in mind, she started to go back inside, but a movement along the road caught her eye. She peered into the long blue shadows that lay across the road and saw Joe running up the hill, charging toward her at a fast, steady clip. Her heart skipped a beat.

Was something wrong?

Her mind bounced from one possibility to the next: Mama was having a heart attack, one of the girls was hurt, there was a forest fire heading over the mountain and they needed to evacuate. Or some new anger had set Joe off and he wanted to yell at her.

She braced herself, preparing to dash for her robe before he made it up the stairs to pound on her door. Yet when he reached level ground, he veered toward the head of the trail back down the mountain, which would have him jogging right past her balcony. Jogging! She nearly smacked her fore-head. He wasn't coming to see her. He was out for a morning jog.

And gifting her with an inspiring sight.

Her chilled skin heated as she watched the fluid grace of his powerful body. He wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off, showing off the sculpted muscles in his arms. She squinted at the armbands circling his big biceps. Were those tattoos? Her gaze drifted lower, past the shorts to his legs. The rhythm and strength behind each step made her heart pound in time.

Then she noticed the brace on his left knee, and how he moved with a slight limp. Was that where he'd been shot? In the knee? Thoughts of him in pain, of what he must have gone through, made her ache-until he moved past her and she blinked at the spectacular view he presented from behind.

The shorts fit just tight enough across his backside to let her see the flex of his gluts. She leaned forward for a better look.

Stop that! she scolded herself. You're ogling the man's butt.

Yes, but look at it! she argued back, bending out over the low wall. It's gorgeous! He's gorgeous!

He reached the top of the trail and started down, forcing her to bend farther out and over. She craned her neck, tipping her head.

A loud clanging exploded in the air. Crows flew up from the aspens on a rush of black wings. She jumped so hard she bobbled her coffee mug, then nearly tumbled off the balcony catching it. With her heart racing like a scared rabbit, she scurried back from the edge.

What the heck was that? She pressed the now-empty cup to her chest. Her gaze dropped to the camp in time to see Carol stepping away from the big bell mounted on a pole in the center of camp. Maddy let out an embarrassed laugh. Reveille. Rise and shine, campers. Time to greet the day.

Deciding to skip another stilted encounter with Joe, Maddy opted for a granola bar she'd unearthed from the depths of her purse. After polishing it off, she headed downstairs for her first good look at the arts and crafts room below her apartment. The door opened with a creak of hinges. Inside, fingers of sunlight strained past the solid wooden shutters that had been battened down through the winter. A flip of a switch next to the door brought a few bare bulbs to life overhead. Not a vast improvement for light, but enough to reveal several dust-covered folding tables and a stack of metal chairs in one corner.

She tried not to think of spiders and other crawly things.

Then her gaze fell on the floor-to-ceiling cabinets that filled the wall to her right. With her nose wrinkling at the grandmother's-attic scent, she headed in that direction and opened two of the doors with another squeak of hinges.