Northern Moonlight (3 page)

Cara had never left the country and secretly envied Sabrina’s jet setting lifestyle. A studious young woman, Cara was a third year law student in Manhattan but swore her graduation gift to herself would be a getaway to someplace sunny and exotic.

Stifling a yawn, Sabrina said, “Paris was wonderful, Cara.  I’m so grateful to have spent the holidays there.  And I was able to take hundreds of photos for the magazine.”

“Enough about that, Sabrina!  I don’t want to hear about your work.  Tell me about France…and the French men.”

“Cara, I told you that Paris was wonderful.  As for the men, some twit on the plane kept me from reading by trying to flirt and asking me all sorts of inappropriate personal questions, even though he was catching a connecting flight for a business meeting in Seattle.  See, French men are no different from any other men…especially when it comes to going after what they want.
Now I promise to tell you everything else once I’ve gotten some sleep.” Sabrina rubbed her temples in a circular motion, attempting to ease the mounting stress and fatigue caused by entering another time zone.

“Sabrina, you’re like an old lady.  I mean, first you move out of New York City.  New York City!  The most thrilling place in the world…”

“I beg to differ.” Sabrina sniffed.

“Oh, well I suppose you’d know from all the places you’ve been to.” Cara wrinkled her nose with obvious envy. “But to choose country bumpkin land.  Don’t you ever miss that Big juicy Apple?” She implored passionately.

“I miss Mom and Dad…and sometimes even you, Cara, shocking as that may sound.  But I love living in Vermont.  Think about it.  New York is the Empire State, and Vermont is the Green Mountain State.  New York has countless skyscrapers while Vermont has gorgeous mountains. Some people prefer a landscape of buildings, but I prefer one of mountains.”

Cara interrupted, “You should work for their tourism bureau with that sales pitch.  So Vermont has mountains, but what about men?”

“Don’t you ever think of anything other than men, Cara?”

“Sabrina, you’re twenty-seven.  Mom and Dad are worried about you all alone living in the middle of nowhere.”

“Burlington is not the middle of nowhere!  It’s the most populous city in the state.” She said, hedging Cara’s references to her single status.  “What about you, Cara?  There’s no ring on your finger either.”

“No, Sabrina, but I’m two years younger than you and still in school.  Plus I think Bruce is getting closer to proposing every day.”

Bruce and Cara had met and begun dating in their first year of law school.  After nearly three years together, Mr. and Mrs. Montrouge were becoming impatient for him to make a more solid commitment to their daughter.

“Really?  Well, I hope he does.  I’d be very happy for you, Cara.”  With that, Sabrina shut her eyes and drowned out her sister’s prattling.  Soon she was asleep and did not awaken until they arrived in Vermont.

With Cara lugging her suitcase, Sabrina walked into the house to find her cat, Softy, furiously meowing for that magical combination of attention and food.  “Oh, poor kitty.  I missed you!”  She obligingly pet the pure white cat just as a knock sounded at the door.  Frowning, knowing instantly it was her nosy neighbor/house sitter, Mrs. Benjamin, she opened the door a crack. 

“
Bonjour
, Sabrina!  Or is it
bonsoir
?  Yes, it’s after dark now.  Welcome home and hello to you Cara!” The pudgy old woman said in a screeching faux French accent that made Sabrina cringe.  “Did you meet any French
amours
?  I guess you haven’t developed your pictures yet, or did you take Polaroids?  Tell me everything!”

“Mrs. Benjamin, I’m a little jet lagged, so I hope you don’t mind if I retire to bed.   I do appreciate your watching the house this past week…”

“Anytime dearie,” the woman interrupted.  “I also watered your plants…and I hope you don’t mind, but I took a look inside that refrigerator of yours.  Really, young lady, I mean ginger ale and pound cake?  How can anyone live off of that?  I left you some of my famous macaroni and cheese with ham chunks.”

Sabrina resisted the urge to gag at the mention of ham chunks. She also refrained from explaining that she would have had more food in her house had she not been on another continent for over a week.

Instead, Sabrina was characteristically tactful. “How kind of you, Mrs. Benjamin.  Thank you so much.”

Within a few minutes time, Sabrina had hustled the inquisitive woman out the door.  Cara
was wide awake, so Sabrina left her in the living room to watch television.  She gratefully retreated to her soothing bedroom, bathed in soft pastel colors and decorated with breathtaking photographs that she had taken on various international assignments. With a murmur of relief, she plopped into bed, sliding under the luxuriant, cream-colored comforter.  Outside her window, just as she was drowsily drifting into an enveloping sleep, the distant sound of fire trucks blaring their horns startled her.  Quickly, she closed her eyes again, not bothering to unpack or disrobe, but instead letting the abyss of sleep claim her for the next ten hours.

That Same Night
…

Giovanni was laboring to the point of a drenching sweat inside his sixty-two pounds of fire gear, fighting desperately to extinguish a house fire before it raged out of control.  While he worked, he pushed flashbacks from his mind about the blackened rubble he had found all those years ago.  His mouth tightened as he determined not to let history repeat itself with this poor family’s abode. 

Hours later, Giovanni was back in his loft, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling happy that no one had perished or been seriously hurt in the fire, but curiously on edge.  It was a long time before sleep finally claimed him.

The next morning,
a
s the blinding winter sun streamed
through his
bedroom
windows, he felt a
surge of heat
.
 
Giovanni’s energy level was already, inexplicably, stoked, and he didn’t require
his usual
caffeine
injection
to launch
the
day.
 
It was a Saturday morning, one of the few weekends that he wasn’t scheduled to work, and he felt unusually restless.
 
He had no plans
for the day but
was overflowing with an odd,
nervous energy whose source was
unidentifiable.
 
Running a hand roughly through his short black hair, he blew out a heavy breath and proceeded to disrobe for a quick shower.
 

Hastily, Giovanni
ripped off his green tee-shirt and
peeled off gray pants and matching boxers, so he was standing nude on the col
d hardwood floor.
 
His body was
utter
ly male, from the thatch of hair over
sculpted chest to the imposing broad
ness of his shoulders
.
 
He
showered briskly, scrubbing every inch of his flesh with a lather of soap that smelled of cedar and citrus.
 
Emerging from the shower, Gio dressed quickly in a flannel shirt and khaki pants.  Running a comb through his close-cut hair, he tried to forget how much he needed a woman.

A Few Days Later…

Rubbing his exhausted eyes with one hand and steering his truck with the other, Giovanni pulled into the
Evergreen D
iner, hoping for a strong cup of black coffee to revive him.
 
He had spent the previous night
tackling a massive motel fire
.
 
R
escue efforts had been swift and successful, but the motel was not so fortunate.
 
Half the building
was
nothing but soot and ashes now.
 

Giovanni groaned as he briskly massaged the back of his neck while walking into the diner.
 
As he made his way to the counter, he did a visible double-take as a strikingly beautiful woman
leapt gracefully out of a vinyl swivel chair at the counter.  As the
jukebox in the corner drifted into a new song, she
passed quickly by with a brown
paper
bag in one hand,
jingling
car keys in the other.
 

Trying not to gape, Giovanni drank in the
bewitching
sight of cascading mahogany hair, sweet pink lips, a delicate but lushly formed body, accentuated by a winter-white sweater and tight dark blue denims
with brown suede boots zippered almost to her thighs
.
 
He felt his heart thudding madly as he watched the woman leave without so much as a glance in his direction.
 
Giovanni was still staring after her, bemused, as she hurried to her
silver sedan.

In a rush, Sabrina hopped into her car, opening the
brown bag to unveil an enormous
cranberry muffin. She picked
at
the muffin distractedly
while backing her car out of the d
iner’s parking lot.
 
It was 10:40
, and she was already
ten
minutes late for her
appointment with her photo editor.

*****

Giovanni left the diner that morning in a
haze
of bewilderment, wondering who that captivating, chestnut-haired woman was and where she was rushing off to.
 
As a boy, he had always been fascinated by mystery books, often sneaking a peek to the last page to see how the case would be resolved.
 
But this was one case he couldn’t so easily crack.
 
He deduced that she must live in town because no one but locals ever frequented the
rustic
Mom and Pop’s eatery.
 
Surely he had never seen her before because her face and voluptuous form were
already embedded in his memory. H
e felt her swimming in his subconscious and knew that he would dream of her.
 
That he wanted to dream of her.
 
But more than that, he wanted to see her again, hear her voice, undoubtedly sweet and lilting, oozing cream and sugar.