Her Thirties Part 43

johnjgeddes (75)in #writing • 6 years ago (edited)

Marilyn and I drove Ella home and by the time we got back to the bookshop, it was close to eleven.

“I’d have you up, Scott, but it’s late and besides, Ella tired me out. Oh, I know she says I tire her out, but that woman’s got more energy than me sometimes.”

“Reminds me of Harry Greenspan, a friend of mine, who’s her age—same deal—the guy’s amazing.”

“Gran told me at the door that we’re welcome to drop by tomorrow afternoon if it’s convenient.”

“Are you kidding? I’m dying to see inside that cedar chest and get a look at those photos.”

Marilyn frowned, “After learning about that poor girl's death back in the Thirties maybe you ought to alter that expression.”

“Oh, sorry—how about this—I’d be delighted to see inside that cedar chest.”

“Oh, puhlease,” she said, grabbing me by my coat collar and giving me the longest kiss yet.

It was so much like her dream kisses, I began shaking.

“Are you all right?” she said, looking concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that kiss—it reminded me of something.”

“Don’t you mean someone?” she said, looking at me darkly. I guessed her intent.

“No, I wasn’t thinking of Samantha. I was thinking of you—the first time I kissed you—in my dreams, that is.”

“That good, huh?”

“So good, I haven’t been able to think of anything else—until the way you kissed me just now.”

She shook her head softly and gave me a knowing smile.

“Maybe I’m moving out of your dreams and into your life. Did you ever think about that?”

“All the time. I’ve been praying for it—and I don’t pray much.”

She kissed me again, lightly this time, and pulled away just as I reached up to pull her closer.

“That’s all,” she said firmly, pushing me off. “Maybe now, you’ll pray harder next time.”

“I don’t think God answers those kind of prayers,” I laughed.

“Are you sure?” she asked pointedly. “ —I’m here aren’t I?”

Before I could answer, her lips lightly brushed mine and she was out of the car and up the sidewalk, turning the key in the door lock.

She looked back, smiled and gave me a small, half-wave.

But I didn’t think at all about Sam this time.

All I could think about was cold dark kisses, dreams and the mystery of a girl who was from the 1930’s but unaccountably part of my life in the present.

I had to force myself to start the motor and drive away—if I didn’t I’d probably do something dumb—like run after her and ask her a bunch of questions that neither of us could answer.

It was strangely ironic though—I spent my days teaching history and obsessing about the very time period that Marilyn somehow escaped.

And then it hit me. Not only was she somehow from the Thirties, but we shared a past back there too. That fact was indisputable, as were my memories of growing up in the 1980’s.

We were caught up in a mystery that was greater than us.

To be continued...

© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

Photo