“You make me forget my fears,” she says.
I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.
“You’re safe in my arms,” I say, sure that it’s true.
Although I wonder what she’s so afraid of. She looks relieved and leans her head against my chest. I don’t doubt she can hear my heart still pounding from our kiss.
I take her by the hand and slowly walk to the other side of the cottage, where the big glass sliding doors lead to the terrace.
Scarlette gazes at the view below us, as it gets darker in the early hours on a winter day. Whistler village, and mountains, along with their ski lifts are lit all around. We stand still for some time admiring the sight, quietly wrapped in each other’s arms.
“It’s getting dark outside,” she whispers. “I think we should head back before it gets too late.”
We drive down the Sea - t o -S ky highway under the night sky. I turn on the radio to my parents’ playlist, and Otis Redding’s voice to “These Arms of Mine” starts to croon softly through the
speakers. I feel a high from Scarlette today that I didn’t know exi sted.
I get the urge to feel her skin again, and I know exactly where to find her hand without searching. Reaching over to the edge of Scarlette’s seat, which she isn’t gripping as tightly as usual, I find the warmth of her hand.
It’s a perfect fit in mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of my parents singing along to “When a Man Loves a Woman” by Percy Sledge. How fitting
, I think. They must be dancing downstairs. Scarlette’s face immediately comes to mind. I’m still thinking about the taste of her lips against mine.
I jump out of bed and speed to my bedroom door. I swiftly turn the knob and run down the stairs. At the bottom, Lizzie is the first one I see. She is wiping the doors of the elevator clean and singing along to P ercy.
“Good morning, Lizzie,” I say chirpily, jumping off the last two s teps.
My obvious good mood catches her by surprise, and Lizzie’s face lights up with both excitement and confusion as she smiles back at me, eyes squin ting.
“Good morning, Elvis,” she says back, shaking her head.
I turn the corner towards our living room and stop to lean against the edge of the wall. In the middle of the room, my parents are dancing, of course, in each other’s arms, as well as Allison and Logan a few feet away from them, gracefully doing the same. I watch Logan mouth the lyrics to Allison, their eyes locked on each other. I can see my sister blushing. My mom and dad are in their own world: my father’s big arms wrapped around my mother’s petite figure with her head up against his chest and his cheek gently resting on top of her chestnut hair, both enjoying the moment. I wonder how long love like that can last.
Could Allison be right about soulmates? I am looking at four people before me whose love has not only lasted but keeps gro wing.
Allison notices me standing there, watching them. She smiles and waves at me, then turns back to Logan, who nods his head in a form of a h ello.
They started early this morning , I think as I step into the kitchen and walk past the island, straight to our French doors.
Looking out to the terrace, I stand and admire the view. It takes me into a daydream. I can’t stop thinking about Scarlette’s
tenderness, in every aspect. Her touch was tender, her appearance is tender, her kiss … I stop thinking for a few seconds—her kiss inhaled every breath of mine. There goes my heart beating, and she’s not even here.
My hands move to the handles, and as soon as the double doors swing open, I feel a refreshing breeze, and my memory of Scarlette’s scent comes to life. I want her in every way, but I have to remind myself that she’s fragile. At that moment, I can’t help but wonder what her story is. Scarlette stares out the window any chance she gets, whether it’s in the car or at a restaurant. Where does her mind travel? I never thought I would be this interested to know every little detail about a girl be fore.
But she’s different. She makes my heart feel things I didn’t know it c ould.
I take a step out onto the terrace and am pleased with the warmer temperature today. Leaning against the wrought -i ron railing, I stare directly at the middle of the mountains, dressed in countless trees, swaying side to side. I picture them dancing to the sound of the wind whistling through their branches like music, moving to the rhythm of their own beat. The edges of their branches only just meet each other, the leaves flapping up and down together as if even nature shares joy in touching. I imagine dancing with Scarlette in my arms, soft music playing in the background. Is it too soon to want to see her again? I turn around to make my way back in when a voice blurts out from behin d me.
“Tell me all about yesterday, E lvis.”
Allison stands there with her hands on her hips and a knowing smile, showing me her perfect teeth. I’m startled by her sudden appear ance.
“Allison, jeez! You don’t have to creep up on me like that,” I say, laug hing.
She chuckles. “Well, I’m waiting. How was your date in the mountains with Scarl ette?”
“I couldn’t stop looking at her, Alli. I’m so intrigued by this girl. I can’t help but sense that there’s a whole story to her.
And I want to know all abou t it.”
All of a sudden, I feel eager to do something I haven’t done in years, until yesterday. I move back from the railing and walk past Allison, making her wonder where I’m going without war ning.
I walk through the kitchen where my parents and Logan are sitting together around the middle island having breakfast, but I don’t feel hungry at all. I feel excitement running through my entire
body, alive with the knowledge that I have found what I’ve missed all this time.
“Elvis, sweetheart, are you joining us for breakfast?” I hear my mother as k me.
“I’m not hungry right now, Mom.” I tell her as I keep my feet moving towards the basement st airs.
I skip every other step down to the bottom. There’s someone lying down on the couch in the TV room, but I pay them no attention. My eyes focus on the black acoustic guitar, leaning against its stand. I take a seat on the piano bench with the guitar in hand and my fingers immediately begin to play. I don’t even know what song I’m playing, but my heart is dancing to the sound of the music in my head. I can feel it bounce off the walls around me.
My eyes are closed now, and I’m completely lost in the music. It has always been my escape. I feel my soul come to life. When the melody stops, the room becomes silent. Then I hear the sweet voice I have loved my entire life.
“I’ve never heard that melody before,” my mother says, her voice full of emo tion.
“Mom,” I say with a gasp.
I wonder how long she has been standing besid e me.
“I just heard it for the first time my self.”
She places her hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squ eeze.
“Elvis, where did this suddenly come from?”
How do I describe this feeling to anyone? All that comes to mind is Scarl ette.
“I missed the sound of your soul. Wherever this is coming from, it sounded beautiful,” she says looking down at me wa rmly.
“Hey, little bro, good to hear you’re back.” Adam appears behind her.