Her Perfect Proposal Read online

  She huffed out a breath, spitting more than a few cat hairs out in the process, and dragged the belligerent cat to Elke’s front door. Being that it was a lovely late-summer day, she only had to call through the screen door.

  “Elke? Can you let me in?”

  Surprising her, Gunnar appeared with bed hair, arm in that black sling, shirtless and wearing gray sweatpants. It was probably too hard to tackle putting on a shirt under the circumstances with the sling and all… She dragged her gaze away from his chest. “What’s up?” he asked just before noticing his loud protesting cat at the end of the leash.

  Not exactly the greeting she’d hoped for, but under the circumstances…

  “I thought you might like some company?” Had she done the right thing? Or was she completely out of her mind?

  He opened the screen door, his disbelieving expression nailing her, then shifting toward his cat. He shook his head and his features smoothed out until a smile stretched across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He squatted and petted his cat, who’d recognized his owner and exchanged his griping for walking back and forth so Gunnar could pet him, then rubbing against his legs. “Hey, buddy, I missed you. Were you worried about me?”

  So Lilly hadn’t been totally off her rocker with this bright idea after all.

  Gunnar shifted his gaze up toward her and bowled her over with his grin. “Thanks. This was really thoughtful of you.”

  She wanted to blurt out, Does this mean you forgive me? but checked herself. “No problem.”

  He stood, she handed him the leash, and the cat followed him inside. “Do you want to come in?”

  Yes, of course she did. She wanted to beg him to give her a second chance and spend the day with him, and help him in any way she could. Instinct told her to take it slow, to keep her distance, let him wonder what was going on since he broke up with her.

  “Actually, I have to take a trip into Portland today. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  “Elke’s got everything under control, thanks. I’ll text her and tell her to buy some cat food.”

  “Okay, good. You feeling any better?”

  “Still in a lot of pain, but I’m getting by.”

  Though wanting to throw her arms around him and take care of him and love him with all of her might, she kept her distance. “Well, don’t push yourself. Take it easy for a few days, okay?”

  He looked surprised, and maybe a little disappointed that she wasn’t sticking around, and that boosted her confidence a little. Without giving it a thought, Lilly went up on her tiptoes and kissed Gunnar’s cheek. “May I call you later?”

  “Sure.” He looked a little bewildered, but she could tell he liked it.

  She could have sworn he wanted to reach for her and give her a proper kiss, but she didn’t give him a chance. Elated with hope, her mind spinning, she turned and walked away, getting into her tuna-smelly car, and sat. Eew! Right in the stinky urine spot Wolverine had marked on her leather upholstery.

  Ugh. Now she’d have to go home and change clothes and clean her car before she drove to Portland.

  She pasted a smile on her face, though the cat’s sticky gift gave her the heebie-jeebies, waved at Gunnar, who still filled up the door frame, and drove off as if she did this sort of thing—kidnapping cats and delivering them to their owners—every day.

  The good news was, he hadn’t thrown her out.

  *

  Gunnar took the clean shirt Elke handed him and let her help him gingerly put his arm through the sleeve without the sling. Damn it hurt. Then quickly she reapplied the sling for support of his broken clavicle. A week of healing had made a big difference in the pain.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about something,” Elke said, “but with everything going on, I wasn’t sure when it was a good time.”

  “What’s up?” He buttoned the last of his shirt and followed his sister into the kitchen for lunch.

  “According to Lilly, the arsonist told her a lot of uncanny information that relates to our committee.” Elke handed him a plate with a sandwich.

  “And?”

  “She’s a journalist! She could blow all of our efforts to keep this pirate stuff quiet.”

  Gunnar sighed and sat, took a long drink of the lemonade she’d already put at his place. He hadn’t heard about the arsonist talking to Lilly before now. “When did he talk to her?”

  “The night you were in surgery. I played down his claims saying we had plenty of seafaring stories to tell our tourists for entertainment. But combine that with our mayor all but telling her we had some big news to share, and I think a smart reporter like Lilly can run with a big story.”

  “I haven’t seen any stories in the paper other than reporting on the partial burning of the Maritime Museum.”

  “So far,” Elke said.

  “Your point is?” Gunnar had quickly lost his appetite.

  “I think it’s time the committee makes an announcement. Our town deserves to know what we’ve discovered.”

  “She saw the aerial views of the Chinook burial ground, too,” Gunnar said. “Even the heat images.” Elke’s eyes widened. He put his one good elbow on the table and leaned on it rather than take a bite of sandwich. “You’re right. She could put two and two together and run with it on the front page. That would sell a few extra newspapers.”

  “It would be better for us to come out first.” Elke leaned against the kitchen counter, playing with the ends of her long braid.

  “Agreed.”

  “Should I call a meeting to discuss how best to do it?”

  Gunnar nodded, trying to act nonchalant and lifting his sandwich as if his stomach wasn’t tied up in a baseball-size knot. Lilly stumbling onto bits and pieces of the evidence was enough for any hungry journalist to dive into a meaty story. The committee definitely needed to beat her to the punch in order to ward off some of the sting.

  It was going to be bad enough to tell the town their lovely little history lessons had all been wrong. Heartlandia had been discovered by a pirate who killed the natives and hoodwinked fisherman into working his ships. It was only after the first people, the Chinook, joined forces with the fed-up fisherman and their families that a major uprising occurred. Not to mention the sinking of Captain Prince’s ship and his subsequent murder. Then the pirates settled down, got sick and died, or moved on, leaving Heartlandia to the Chinook and the Scandinavian immigrants. Heartlandia’s history had only been recorded from that point on, whose idea that had been they’d never know.

  Elke made some calls finding Leif and the others. Then making sure Ben’s second-degree burns were healed enough for him to go out in public, she discovered his respiratory condition from smoke inhalation was the biggest problem. He wouldn’t be able to attend a meeting until okayed by his doctor, which meant the meeting couldn’t take place until early the next week. That left the weekend up for grabs at the Heartlandia Herald. The tight feeling in Gunnar’s chest wasn’t from the wound or broken bone. This time it was from the thought of Lilly blowing the whistle before they were ready.

  He shouldn’t have broken up with her. At least he could have kept better track of what she was doing that way, and picked her brain about what she knew. Like, where had she run off to today?

  He couldn’t exactly call and ask her to keep the lid on the story because he wasn’t sure if she’d connected all the dots and he didn’t want to tip her off more.

  But if she had put it all together, it was highly unethical to ask a journalist, looking for a way to make a name for herself, to sit on the biggest breaking news in the history of Heartlandia.

  Later that afternoon, a beautiful Japanese invitation arrived at Elke’s house exclusively for Gunnar, hand delivered by a local middle schooler.

  Under the circumstances, Lilly having him over the barrel with information, the fact she’d been incredibly sweet since he’d broken things off with her, and not to mention he still had feelings for her—big feelings—it w
as an invitation he couldn’t refuse.

  *

  Gunnar did as he was told, arriving at Leif Andersen’s residence around three on Sunday afternoon. He hadn’t been cleared to drive yet, but since his left arm was the issue, he felt confident to drive himself over using only his right arm, rather than feel like a teenager with his sister dropping him off.

  Leif was out of town, but the lock on the gate to the cottage had been left unlatched. He entered along the side of the guesthouse, overrun with ivy, purple potato vines and grape leaves pressing inward on the narrow pass. As Lilly had instructed in her note, he sat by the pool in a large wingback wicker chair she’d placed dead center on the interlocking pavement tiles. Since no other chair was around, he figured this one was meant for him.

  A mild breeze tickled a delicate rice-paper-and-shell wind chime dangling from the roof over the front porch. It made a light tinkling sound that felt calming and intimate. He rested his head against the wicker and, though he hadn’t had a pain pill since yesterday, felt as though he’d taken a tranquilizer as the sun warmed his face and tender shoulder. He closed his eyes and thought about what he intended to ask Lilly today. Are you planning to run with a patchwork story? Wouldn’t it be better to get the information straight before shouting it to the world? Would you be willing to wait a few days?

  A shadow quietly crossed before him. He cracked open his eyes. Lilly stood in front of the wicker chair, a soft and beautiful vision outlined by the clear powder-blue sky. Her hair was slicked back and she wore a morning-glory-blue kimono with a white sash making her look like a modern-day geisha. The sight rocked him to the core and nearly knocked him out of the chair. She smiled and Gunnar responded with a dumbfounded grin. Subtle warmth spread from his gut outward to his limbs as he could no longer deny that this crazy big-city sophisticated lady-gone-geisha was the woman he wanted in his life more than anyone.

  The vision of loveliness combined with the lazy-afternoon sedation he’d just slipped into caused him to react slowly and dreamily. Overwhelmed by her presence, he struggled to find his voice. “Hi,’ he said. It sounded harsh, breaking the peace that had settled between them. Completely out of character, Lilly bowed, her silence beckoning him back toward serenity.

  “I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispered, handing him a pair of white socks with a pocket for the large toe. “These are called tabi. Please put them on.”

  She wore similar “socks” but with wooden sandals and matching morning-glory-blue brocade thong straps. He had a picture hanging in his bedroom of a geisha and he knew the term for the shoes was zori. He liked them. A lot. “What’s up?”

  His mind reeled at the thought of spending an afternoon with a gorgeous geisha who happened to be his ex-girlfriend.

  She placed a long and delicate finger over her lips and waited patiently for him to remove his shoes and socks, which was awkward with one hand. When she saw him struggle, she came to his aid and removed the shoes. Her touch sent a flash flood of sensations through his body, wiping out the trance he’d just been in. What was she up to?

  “Please remove your watch,” she softly continued.

  It wasn’t like she was bossing him around or anything, but she’d made it known right off who was in charge. Honestly, he liked it, and under the circumstances, a beautiful woman giving all of her attention to him, he’d go along with the program. No problem.

  The watch was on his left wrist so he took it off and handed it to her. She directed Gunnar along the garden stepping stones toward the back porch where she had placed a large basin of water to wash his hands. He washed the right one, well, splashed it around in the warm water anyway, and she helped him with the one in the sling then handed him a small towel. He managed to dry both hands on his own.

  “What is all this?” he asked.

  “Please, no talking. Just follow me.”

  Gunnar liked the little fantasy his personal geisha was taking him on. He consciously stopped his mind from wandering in the direction it was leaning. But a quick glimpse of him in a huge tub with Lilly washing his back managed to sneak past his guard. With the fantasy pressed firmly in his mind, he smothered a smile and followed her inside to the back room of the cottage, enjoying every trickle of gooseflesh she unknowingly tossed over him just by wearing that getup.

  He stepped inside. Lilly had been busy transforming her guest cottage. A simple and unpretentious setting greeted him: a small ceramic fountain sat bubbling in the corner. Large pillows were carefully arranged on each side of a lowlying table with a single, near-perfect red camellia placed in a delicate porcelain vase at the center. Sandalwood incense wafted through the room. Koto music played softly and serenely in the background.

  A scroll hung on the wall with a haiku written out in calligraphy. It read: “Tonight I am coming to visit you in your dream, and none will see and question me—be sure to leave your door unlocked! Anonymous.”

  Gunnar’s skin prickled in response to the cryptic and ancient poem. He’d definitely be waiting for her tonight. No woman had ever come close to this display of, well, he wasn’t sure what this whole thing was about, but figured it might have something to do with their breaking up.

  He needed to stop thinking like a cop, just go with the flow, let Lilly take charge. Like the poem said, leave your door unlocked.

  A floodgate opened in his chest and it filled with a new sensation he wasn’t prepared to name out loud. How much time had they spent dancing around their feelings for each other the past six weeks? And when things got tough, Gunnar had snapped the budding relationship in two.

  Lilly motioned for Gunnar to sit. Once again, he forced his mind back into the moment. She brought him a bowl of tofu in broth, helped him hold it with one hand and drink from the traditional Japanese bowl. Next came a simple meal of fish, stir-fried vegetables and steamed rice. The scene felt surreal, his geisha serving him, no conversation required, any guy’s dream. Had all the pain meds he’d taken over the past few days come back to cause a hallucination? He smiled to himself. If so, she was one hell of a beautiful delusion.

  Lilly joined him at the table, her fresh lemony scent overtaking the food, and they ate in silence, her helping him whenever he had trouble, since chopsticks weren’t his forte. The atmosphere was perfect and he wanted to comment on it to be polite. But he also didn’t want to break the magic of the moment by speaking, plus she’d warned him not to, so he went against his impulse for etiquette and respected her desire.

  Lilly looked at him, smiled and, appearing far more humble than usual, she blushed. Enjoying her coy geisha persona, he grinned back. Wow, those dark eyes made him a little crazy in the head. He especially liked how the shells of her ears turned pink—her tell—to compliment her beautiful lips.

  What would make her go out of her way to do all of this just for him? Was it because he’d been shot? Because they’d broken up? All the nights they’d made love came rushing back into his thoughts. Or that?

  When the meal was done, she once again escorted him back outside to sit in the garden.

  Disappointment surged. “Is that all?”

  “Sit there. Wait for me.” She put her finger over those beautiful lips again, turned and left him. He wanted to ask if there was anything he could help out with, but was afraid this pleasant dream of an afternoon might disappear if he did. And she was in charge. For once in his life, he’d step back, let go and let Lilly do her thing. He sat in the waning sun wondering what would be next, excited by the possibilities.

  She appeared at the back door looking as beautiful as before, inviting him back inside. Once again, she led him to the table, which was set up for tea. He sat on the comfortable cushion and watched in silence as she placed the tea powder into a fine porcelain bowl, placed a dipper into a kettle of boiling water and filled it. Graceful and perfect in manner, she used a bamboo whisk to carefully whip the tea. Gunnar felt transported back in time, a regular shogun tea ceremony moment. Lilly bowed and presented to Gunnar the tea i
n a tiny, red-patterned ceramic cup.

  He made an amused bow in response and accepted the cup, taking one sip while fighting off the constant stream of chills circulating his skin. The tea tasted tart at first then surprisingly, sweetness lingered.

  Lilly reached for the cup and turned it slightly then handed it back for a second sip and, repeating the same ritual, then a third sip. Each movement was repeated exactly as the first. She’d studied her art of serving tea well, and he suspected her sobo’d had a lot to do with the tradition. Seeing this humbler side of Lilly went straight to his heart. What kind of a jerk would break up with her before completely getting to know her?

  A guy who’d thought she’d betrayed him, that’s who. At least, that was how he’d seen it, always thinking in black and white.

  Yet she’d sworn it wasn’t true.

  When she finished serving his tea, she offered and fed to him a small jellied sweet, which had a distinct apricot flavor.

  Lilly then wiped the rim of the cup with a white cloth before repeating the same tea-drinking practice herself. Gunnar watched the ceremony with admiration. It struck him that in this way they partook of their own personal communion and that unnamed feeling flying around in his chest grew stronger. Was this her way of apologizing, or was she trying to tell him that she loved him? Unsure of the particular message, the power of the endeavor was coming through loud and clear. He was special to her…as she was to him. But how had he shown it to her? By breaking up with her over a news article.

  The Koto music ended.

  They finished sipping their tea in silence. Every time Gunnar looked at her, her eyes danced away making it hard to read her game plan. Why was she lavishing all of this attention on him when he’d been rude and pigheaded and had broken things off in that coffee shop?

  She’d had him so dazed with her beauty and the sensations she’d conjured up, he’d forgotten the obvious reason for all of this. In her own humble way she was trying to rebuild his respect and trust. She’d shared the cup with him, wiping their troubles clean. At least that was how he’d interpreted it. Who knew what the real ceremony was supposed to represent? Maybe it was just about sharing tea with someone special.