Where Love Finds You (The Unspoken Series) Read online

  Copyright

  WINSLET PRESS

  Where Love Finds You

  Copyright © 2013 by Marilyn Grey

  To learn more about Marilyn Grey, visit her Web site:

  www.marilyn-grey.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or bay any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, etc.—except for quotations in reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Contact the publisher at: [email protected]

  ISBN-10: 0985723505

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9857235-0-7

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Cover & Interior Design by Tekeme Studios

  Dedication

  To: 1224

  For: Everything

  Ch. 1 | Ella

  Nine years ago, on a quaint corner of town, I met my husband and hadn’t seen him since. Everyone said to move on, I’d never see him again, but I couldn’t. If I did, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

  “Did you get that?” A tall, blue-eyed man said.

  “I’m sorry. You would like a soy latte?” I glanced around. Every day I glanced around, hoping he would walk through the door and into my heart.

  “Yes, please.”

  Another day, another normal day of life without him.

  “There you go again,” Dee, my dearest employee and most eccentric friend, said as she handed the man his latte. “Come on, Ella. Thinking about Mr. Right again, are we? I say this in love, but really, you have to realize that this is ridiculous.”

  I leaned against the counter and surveyed the happy couples in the coffee shop, some rings, some bare fingers, all smiles. “I’m getting older Dee. Nearing thirty. Being single isn’t what I had in mind for my twenties, much less my thirties.”

  “Look at you.” She waved her hand in front of me. “You own your own successful coffee shop without a college degree, you are beautiful inside and out, and you have accomplished more in life than most people I’ve ever met, regardless of age. You are quite the catch if you ask me, and do you know how many men walk through this door and give you that look? It’s not like you have no options.”

  “I know.” I doodled on the notepad in front of me. “All of this, the coffee shop, the stuff I do which really isn’t as special as you seem to think, it’s not something I take for granted at all. I know there are men who have been interested, but they aren’t him. I have to wait for him as long as it takes.”

  “You, my friend, are about as idealistic as it gets. What if this guy is married now?”

  “He can’t be.”

  “You really believe in soul-mates, huh?”

  “Not really. I just believe that he is the one for me and if he is married to someone else now, well, I can’t get married to someone else until I know that for sure.”

  After the last happy couple left Chances, my little coffee shop, I cleaned up and turned the lights down. Another day over and a new one to look forward to. I locked the door and a blur of white, carried by the wind, landed near my feet. There, on the crumpled receipt, one person’s treasure became someone else’s trash. Just like it happened for me.

  I picked up the receipt and looked for a phone number, but saw only memories. Soft, flowing strands of ink curled into my phone number. My name is Ella. Call me sometime? 610-555-2949. All those years I told myself he couldn’t have found the receipt, someone else picked it up and threw it away, but sometimes I doubted myself and the years of waiting. I started to believe I was as crazy as everyone else thought. Perhaps he got the receipt, threw it in the trash himself, and laughed with his friends about girl number five-hundred and eighty who tried to become his girlfriend.

  Eighteen. Only eighteen at the time.

  I walked away from the shop and looked into the eyes of others as they passed me. So many people, so many chances to find love, why did I have to believe in only one person?

  My phone rang.

  I hit silent without pulling the phone from my purse, then sat on a bench overlooking a small park in the middle of the city. The trees caressed the air with their fingers, as I brushed my hair from my eyes and considered giving another man a chance.

  “You’ll grow out of it,” Mom said.

  “Once you hit thirty,” Derek, my brother, said, “still single, you’ll regret all of this nonsense,”

  Only one person believed in me. My dear friend Sarah. Best friends since elementary school. We used to dress up and pretend to get married to our stuffed animals. She is the complete opposite of me in every way, but the one thing we always had in common is our love for love. We wanted to find love, stay in love, and evolve with love, and we’d wait forever to find the one person who would make that journey the best adventure it could possibly be.

  When I finally walked up the steps to my apartment a soft melody interrupted my typical thoughts. I followed the tune and saw an open window. Second floor, beautiful historic apartment building with white curtains blowing in the summer breeze. The piano melody matched the tempo of my life. Subdued, but dramatic. The curtains swayed with the song.

  White draping fabric, like the dress I longed to wear. Yes, there were times I considered that years of waiting could eventually escort me down the aisle to a life of singleness.

  I considered it. Many times.

  The piano notes resonated with me again. Deeper, still soft and slow. I closed my eyes and imagined my violin in my arms, moving with me, with the piano across the street.

  Back and forth, back and forth.

  I stood up and opened the door to my apartment building. It’s time, I thought. I need to consider moving on from the man I may never know.

  Ch. 2 | Matthew

  My fingers always knew where to go on the piano. It’s like they were connected to my heart when my mind couldn’t wrap around what I felt. I’m not one of those guys. I don’t sit around and process my thoughts all day long, analyzing every thing that goes in and out. Don’t get me wrong, I analyze life around me, just not my own life. It’s one of those things where I just don’t want to know. Okay, who am I kidding? Maybe I do think a little too much, but there’s something about the piano that helped me process my thoughts in a more peaceful way.

  So, I’d sit down in front of those keys and let my fingers tell me what I didn’t want to know. On that humid summer night, windows open, cross-breeze inspiring me to play, I sat down in the dining room of our apartment. In that little nook by the window, my piano waited for me, and every day I faithfully came and sat down for a little while. Today, I stared at the keys for a few minutes, then closed my eyes and let it come.

  Sometimes I’d find lyrics, other times not. Tonight I couldn’t find words, just knew I was lonely and tired of it.

  “Matt,” Gavin said from the other room. “What’s with the depressing song, man?”

  “It’s where I’m at right now.” My fingers continued to graze the keys, finding their place on the piano and my life. “Just where I’m at.”

  “Well, I hope it’s not where you’re going.”

  I laughed under my breath and switched the pace toLean on Me. “Better?”

  “Getting there. At least this song has a little hope somewhere in there.” Gavin appeared beside the piano and sang with me.

  We finished messing around and Gavin turned back into counselor. “S
eriously, Matt, you really need to stop dwelling in your mind and live a little. You have so much going for you. Great life, great business, a beautiful girlfriend who wants to marry you tomorrow. What more could you ask for?”

  “Yeah. It’s just that all my ducks aren’t in a neat line. They are running around in circles chasing their feathers.”

  He hit my back and walked away, then said from the bathroom, “Don’t think about life more than you live it. Be content already.”

  “Content?” I entered the bathroom as Gavin swished some Crest around in his mouth. “You’re thirty-one now. Let’s say you find a girl tomorrow, get married in the next year, then start having kids in two years, you will be in your forties with young kids, and that’s not counting some good old time with just you and the lady.”

  “Matt. Stop thinking so much and just live. You’re missing out on right now because you’re too busy thinking about tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” I walked away and stood in the hallway, looking around the bedroom I spent the last five years in. “It’s just this empty bed.”

  Gavin jumped onto the flimsy mattress. “Hey, I’ll sleep in here if you’re lonely.”

  “Get up, man.”

  He blew me a kiss and huddled under the covers.

  “Seriously. You always find a way to be annoying when I am the most annoyed at you being annoying.”

  “Isn’t that the point?” Gavin’s grin lit up the room. “Lighten up, Matt. Just lighten up, take a deep breath, and realize that everything will happen when it’s meant to.”

  “Do you ever wonder ‘what if?’”

  “No, but I remember the last time you talked about it.”

  “You mean you never wonder about the past and think to yourself, ‘What if? What if I could go back in time?’”

  “It will all work out. Everything will work out.”

  “You say that even when everything is falling apart.”

  “Perspective. It’s all perspective.” Gavin entered the hallway and disappeared around the corner. “Hey, you can borrow my glasses if you want.”

  Another dawn. Another day to think about the next day. Gavin is right, I thought. I needed to calm down and live for once.

  How could I be thinking like this before I even opened my eyes?

  My sun rose later than most people. Owning my own business made life easy in that sense. I scheduled all of my jobs for late morning, early afternoon, because I’m pretty much as nocturnal as it gets and I like to sleep in a little.

  Gavin likes to say I live two lives. One, as the guy who paints houses. And two, the guy who sits in his room all night and writes depressing songs for no one to hear but himself.

  I guess that’s true. Not that it’s intentional or anything. I write songs because it helps me process what I’m going through, and, well, there is one other person who hears them.

  Gavin’s a good friend, really. We met at a homecoming dance when our dates ditched us and even worked at a local coffee shop together after high school. We don’t have much in common, but that’s what’s great about our friendship. We really are brothers. I annoy him with my analytical thoughts about paper plates, and he annoys me with his joyful lightbulb that never goes out.

  He is the balloon in my life and I’m the weight that keeps him from flying off into the clouds. And in other ways he is the same for me. Sometimes I thought I’d need to find a woman like Gavin since he’s the only friend I’ve maintained for this many years, but at the same time, I’ve always wanted someone like me, someone to understand me like Gavin never will.

  After a quick shower and a bowl of Raisin Bran, I left for work.

  On the way, I passed that coffee shop again. The one I never go in. The one that took the place of the one Gavin and I used to work in. Chances. The new owner named it Chances.

  I looked at the clock in my truck. Some extra time.

  I pulled along the side of the road and checked out the interior of the shop. Eh, it’s a long shot, but why not? Turning the car off, I exhaled and opened the door.

  Why can’t I just be normal?

  The coffee shop looked nice. Better than what it looked like when I worked there. Course that owner cared about money and money only, so he did everything as cheap as possible.

  The sweet smell of coffee woke me up a little more as I walked inside. Loved the photography and art on the walls. Reminded me a lot of Gavin’s work, only not as unique. Gavin fused reality with imagination. I stopped in front of a photograph of a brunette with long hair. Could only see the back of her, but I loved the way the sun hit her hair and shoulders, highlighting the beauty of a woman in such simplicity.

  The sound of clinging spoons and the smell of coffee led me to the register.

  “Can I help you?” A spunky tattooed girl said with a smile.

  “Yeah, let me see. Anything you recommend?”

  “Everything.” Her smile widened. “You like iced or hot? Sweet or something a little different?”

  “Hey, why not try something different today for once?”

  “Alright, how about a surprise?”

  “Sounds good. I could use a surprise right now.”

  “Okay, give me a few minutes.”

  I paid for my mystery drink and meandered about the shop again. Weird how many memories lived here. Felt like just yesterday.

  I sat down and looked at the name of the shop, written in cursive on the window. Saw the place turn into Chances just a year ago, but it never interested me. I wanted it to stay the same. The change reminded me of the end of a road, a road I should’ve traveled years ago.

  “Here you go, sir.” The young girl tapped the counter and smiled at the paper cup that hid my liquid secret.

  “Thank you.” I picked up the iced mixture and took a sip. “Wow. Different is good. So what is it?”

  “It’s a Vietnamese blend. Really unique. Sour, sweet, salty all in one.”

  “Yeah. Wow. Definitely different.”

  Her laughed filled the vacant coffee shop. “Glad you like.”

  A quick exchange of goodbyes and a few glances around the shop later, I walked back to my truck and thought maybe “the one” really didn’t exist. Maybe I should've proposed to Lydia and moved on with life.

  Ch. 3 | Ella

  A red truck pulled out from the parking spot in front of Chances. I pulled in behind it and jogged inside.

  “Everything alright this morning?” I said to Dee.

  “Just dandy. How about you?”

  “Good. Sorry I’m late. I need the checks to deposit, then I need to make a quick run to the bank and Target. I’ll be back after that.”

  She handed me the envelope of checks. “You know, it really is okay if you aren’t here all the time. I can handle it, the other guys can handle it. It’s okay to take a break sometimes.”

  “What’s a break?”

  “Really. Why not take the day off and go to a park or something? A museum? How will you ever meet someone if you stay in your coffee shop the rest of your life?”

  “You know why I do this.”

  “Ella, go somewhere. Get out and do something. Just today.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Dee worked there as much as I did, trying to save money for her own tattoo studio. I paid her well as my manager to help her out a little. I really love seeing people create their own businesses and do something they love.

  She helped me out a lot, too. Went above and beyond. And even listened to my personal rants about life and love. I couldn’t have asked for more.

  “I know, I know.” Tossing my purse on the counter, I smiled at Dee. “I really am starting to believe I’m crazy. I mean, I am pretty sure I’ve completely lost my mind at this point.”

  “You are just now tapping into reality, huh?”

  She laughed as I exhaled and made myself a coffee.

  The bells on the door interrupted my thoughts. I looked across the room and saw him. Just another not h
im. Another not him with a ring on his finger.

  After he ordered his coffee and sat down by the window I whispered so only Dee could hear me. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay, before you change your mind I will make this happen. But just so I know, what made you want to do this now?”

  “I’m crazy, Dee. I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m going to be thirty soon. My one goal in life . . . well, the only one I really cared about . . . was to get married, have children, snuggle up to my love and watch a movie. I’m running out of life. What are the chances of meeting the one?”

  “Well, according to you, the chances are slim, but worth the wait. Now you’re saying it’s not worth the wait?”

  “He’s never going to come, Dee.” The bells rang again. A happy couple walked in the door. Hand-in-hand, holding my dreams. “He’s never going to come.”

  “Alright.” She wiggled her fingers and brightened the room with her quirky smile. “You can call me Cupid. I am going to find you a husband.”

  “Sounds . . . promising.”

  Ch. 4 | Matthew

  This time I sat down at the piano and refused to play the way I felt. Instead, I played the way I wanted to feel and hoped it would become reality. Upbeat and fun, my hands moved across the piano as I pulled words out of my future and sang along as they came to me. Before I knew it, my song melted into Elton John’s I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues.

  The apartment door opened and closed. Footsteps complemented my song like quick taps on a snare drum. Gavin stood beside me, tapping his foot, singing along. “Laughing like children, living like lovers . . . .”

  I stopped playing and stood up. Gavin walked into the living room and I followed. Black-and-white photographs, framed and matted, reminded me of life beyond the petty things I worried about.