Big Finish2

John had only been at the party for ten minutes, and already he was bored. He was there as a favor to his widowed aunt, who was no doubt trying to play matchmaker. When would she learn that none of these society women could interest him?

The cloying scent of perfume and the idle chatter of the other guests was getting to him, but it was too early in the evening to make a gracious exit. John decided to get some air on the balcony.

Closing the French doors behind him, he quickly realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d needed a refuge. Half-hidden in the shadows, a man and a woman were having what appeared to be an intimate moment.

Not wanting to interrupt, John turned to head back into the party as discreetly as he could, but when the man suddenly grabbed the woman’s arm, John stopped. Though he couldn’t quite make out the man’s words, John didn’t like the look he was giving his petite companion, or the menacing tone of his voice.

With a sigh at having to play the gentleman, John took a few steps towards the pair.“You have no right!” the woman was saying, obviously angry, and maybe even a little bit afraid. She shook off the man’s hand, and spun on her heel. Her eyes immediately met John’s—she had to realize he’d witnessed the exchange.

But John was not prepared for what happened next. Composing herself, the woman strolled over to his side, put her arm through his, and said loudly enough so that the other man could hear, “Darling, I’m so glad you’re here!”

*****

Tory paused, hands on keyboard as she reread her opening scene.  Nope.  Something about this scene didn’t work for, either.  She wanted to start her story with a touch of drama, and maybe even a hint of intrigue, but she wasn’t sure if she’d hit the right tone.  Maybe she should try something else.  

With a frustrated sigh born of months of struggling with the same words, Tory hit the backspace key.  “Lame, lame, lame,” she muttered.  Why couldn’t she make this work?  There wasn’t anything horrible with what she’d written, but it just didn’t say what she wanted to say.

“So how far did you get this time?”                                              

The masculine voice out of nowhere didn’t surprise her.  Glancing up from her laptop, she spared her neighbor, Nick, a look as he sank onto the deck chair next to her.  “I didn’t get past the first page.” 

She’d been struggling with this same problem for months.  She’d get an idea, think it was great, and once she started writing, nothing.  She’d never get published if she couldn’t get past the first page.

“Well, maybe you’re trying too hard.”

“Or maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”  Maybe that was the problem.  Other people wrote stories, wonderful, brilliant stories, and she couldn’t even get started.  Clearly there was something she was missing. 

Determined to keep writing, she stared at the blank screen, but her concentration was gone.  Although much of that could probably be blamed on Nick. Nick had moved in next door three months ago and he’d since become something of her collaborator.  He didn’t make fun of the fact that she was trying to write a romance, but often offered constructive criticism and refreshing insights.  It was a little weird to discuss romantic scenarios with a guy she’d secretly been lusting after, but Nick already had a wife.  Although Tory’s personal opinion was the woman didn’t appreciate him.  Tory could understand his wife needed to travel for her job, but she rarely bothered to come home.  And what kind of wife left a hunk like Nick alone?

“You know what I think you’re problem is?”  His smooth as honey voice whispered up her spine drawing her back to the present.  Without waiting for her reply, he said, “I think the problem is you’re lacking inspiration.”

As his statement triggered an inspiration of another kind, Tory instantly shoved her wayward thoughts aside.  He’s married, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. 

“And where am I supposed to find inspiration?” she asked, using the blinding the mid-day sun as an excuse to keep her eyes averted.

“Let me show you.”  Before she could respond, Nick lifted her laptop then tugged her to her feet. 

“Nick,” she protested as he propelled her across the lawn.  “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a maddening smile.  The kind of smile that made her heart race, and made her think of ridiculous things like happily ever after and dreams coming true.  Happily ever after with him was so not going to happen.  Married men were off limits, and she’d already wasted enough of her life longing for someone who would never belong to her.   She’d learned her lesson, or at least she thought she had, but with the way her heart was skipping in response to Nick’s hand in hers apparently she hadn’t learned the lesson well enough.

He had dragged her all the way across her yard and into his before she pulled up short.  “Nick, wait a minute.”  Determined to find out what this about before her hopes could rise any higher, she repeated, “Where are you taking me?”  Her tone was a tad harsher than she intended, but not only was she frustrated with her story, she was frustrated with herself for wanting Nick to be hers.  And he never would be. 

“I just wanted to show you something,” he said, the picture of innocence.

“Well, I doubt you’re wife will appreciate you dragging me over here.”  Tory had never met the woman, but the look in Nick’s eyes when he talked about her was enough.  He was a happily married man, and strictly off limits.  No matter what her stupid heart wanted her to believe.

He dropped his hand, his sigh similar to one Tory had released before she deleted her story for the umpteenth time.   “Tory, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.

”A hot whisper of August breeze stirred the humid air.   The patch of grass beneath their feet was lush with vivid green grass, and Nick’s lawn was surprisingly weed free.  Unlike Tory’s lawn which was dotted with dandelions and twigs from last week’s rain storm.  Lawn maintenance wasn’t exactly her strong suit.  She preferred to put her creative urges into her writing, but even that hadn’t been working lately.

Suspicious of his tone, and even more suspicious of his attitude, she raised her chin a notch.  “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not married,” he said, the lift of his shoulders speaking of love gone wrong, and dreams gone awry.Tory blinked.  “Wait a minute.  One of the first things you told me after you moved here was to not let my trash blow into your yard because your wife wouldn’t like it.”

“I just said that because I thought you would be more considerate of another woman’s wishes than mine.  But the truth was I just didn’t want to have to pick up the trash myself.”

He had to be joking.

“So you pretended to be married so I would keep my trash off your lawn?”  Tory’s eyebrows rose.  She’d assumed there was some kind of twisted logic in his statement somewhere but she wasn’t sure she had the inclination to sort it out. 

“No, of course not.”  Nick hung his head, his slightly too long bangs falling forward.  His hair gone awry look always tugged at Tory on some hidden level.  She would so love to be the one to give him that just climbed out of bed look.

Wait a minute.  What was she thinking?

Shaking her head, she put up her hands.  She wasn’t going to get her hopes up over a man who belonged to another woman.  Not again.  “Whatever.  I don’t have time for this.”

That’s it, Tory, just walk away.  Nick may be blessed with the kind of body usually only seen on runways in New York, but she knew when she was being buffaloed. 

“Tory.”  He again grabbed her hand.  “Please give me a chance to explain.”

Her heart being the traitor that it was insisted she pause.  August heat seeped through her clothes despite the fact she was wearing shorts, tank top, and sandals.  She couldn’t have been wearing less and still be decent to be seen in public.  Well, she could, but Tory wasn’t blessed with the kind of legs that did a lot justice to skimpy bathing suits.

“Here’s the thing,” Nick said, looking remarkably cool despite the heat and the tension simmering between them, “my wife left last year.  My family had always said I’d never be able to make a marriage work because,” he paused, waving a hand in a never mind gesture, “well, that’s another story.  Anyway I didn’t want to admit they were right so I never told anyone I’m divorced.”

“So why are you telling me now?”  Tory crossed her arms.  She may not have great legs, but she did have a great chest, and once in a while she liked using it her advantage.  Like now.  With her arms crossed it gave Nick a great view of what he’d been missing.  And she was in the mood to rub it in, just a little.

“Because I like you.”  His eyes mingled with hers, his simple statement delivered with simple honesty triggering a different kind of emotion.  Mostly confusion.  And some trepidation.  Not to mention an all too familiar sense of déjà vu. 

“You don’t believe me,” he said, his head tipping in resignation.

“I don’t know what to believe.”  Tory swatted at a fly that had landed on her arm.  “But I do know I don’t have time for this.” 

her head, she summoned her best woman who wasn’t interested in being jerked around look.  “I have a story to write.”

Then turning her back on him, she walked away.

*****

Watching Tory walk away was not the highlight of Nick’s afternoon.  Apparently he’d handled that all wrong, but that was the story of his life.  He always said the wrong things, revealed personal information at the wrong moments, and always fell in the love with the wrong woman.  Why hadn’t he leveled with her from the beginning?  Well, he knew why.  It was simpler to pretend his life was just fine than admit he screwed up, again.  He probably should have gone after Tory but he decided to give her some space.  Maybe in a few days he’d have a better clue how to this situation.

Or at the very least some time to rehearse a better speech.

Three days later Nick had no clearer idea of how to make things right.  In the past whenever he looked out his kitchen window late in the afternoon, he would see her sitting on her back deck, laptop fired up with her fingers tapping at the keyboard.  Due to the late summer heat she often changed into shorts and t-shirts despite the fact that she felt a bit self-conscious about her legs.  Personally he had no problems with her legs.  They weren’t model long, nor centerfold magazine perfect but he liked their curvier shape, and more than once he’d imagined them wrapped around him.  

Over the past few months he’d watched her struggle as she attempted to put her thoughts on paper.  Writing wasn’t something he was particularly excited about, but it was important to her.  And it was enjoyable to watch her eyes sparkled when she discussed a particular plot, or when she explained how writers handled different writing situations.  He suspected he fallen in love with her during one of their brainstorming sessions.  Tory’s enthusiasm was infectious and he admired her ability to keep going no matter how difficult the process became.   

He suspected the largest part of her problem was confidence.  Tory often described writing as working in a vacuum with nothing to guide you but your own instincts, and it wasn’t always easy to trust those instincts. 

He hadn’t seen her since he confessed he wasn’t married.  He could blame the fact that she taken to writing inside on the unrelenting August heat, but he knew better.  Tory liked to write outside.  She once told him she felt less claustrophobic outside, and she found the sounds and smells inspiring.  She also once told him she found him inspiring, but now she obviously thought he was a jerk.  Someone who pretended to be married, or not married for his own advantage.  She didn’t need someone like him in her life, and he should have never convinced himself to believe otherwise.

But there was one thing he could do for her.  Walking away from the window where he felt Tory’s absence the strongest, he headed into his office.  He could still give her his inspiration.  It was the least he could do.

*****

“Nick, what is this?”  Standing on his porch with mosquitoes swarming, and the dim glow of a nearby streetlight, Tory held up a book.  “The Big Finish?  How can I have a big finish if I can’t even find the right beginning?”

“Did you read it?” he asked, stepping onto the porch.  He dropped the book off a few days ago with a note that he hoped she found this book as inspiring as he did.

“Some of it, but I don’t understand how this is supposed to help.  It’s not a book about writing.” 

“No, it isn’t.  It’s about life.”  Nick lifted the book out of her hands.  Under the garish glow of his porch light, he indicated the blurb on the back cover.  “It says here that many people live their life hoping to have their big finish, to find their moment where they can really shine.  But life isn’t about just about one big moment.  It’s about a lot of little moments.”

Tory flipped her long blond hair over one shoulder, her expression one of total confusion.  “I get that, but how is this my inspiration?”

“How far have you ever gotten on any of your stories?”

“I usually can’t get past the first few chapters,” she said, “but you already know that.”

He nodded.  “I think you’re problem isn’t what you’re writing.  I think it’s more that you want to write something that’s so larger than life that you can’t see what you do have.”  He lifted a hand to her cheek, thumbing a gentle touch across the smooth surface.  “Not all brilliant moments have to be prefect, nor do they have to be big, showy statements.  Sometimes the simplest statements are the ones that make the most impact.”

Something shifted in her eyes.  “You don’t have to have a fabulous journey to appreciate the end,” she said, comprehension dawning. 

“Yes.  A big finish is many things.  You just have to find the one that means the most to you.”

For a moment her gaze continued to mingle with his while the threat of rain scented the air. 

“Why did you give me this?”  She tapped the book.

“Because I don’t need it anymore.”  He dropped his hand, a soft smile curving his mouth.  “I bought this book after I got divorced.  I’d thought I’d never have a big finish, or any one moment that defined my life.  But talking with you these last few months has made me realized that one bad event doesn’t mean I won’t find what I need.  It’s when you give up because everything isn’t prefect that you lose what’s important.”

“You don’t need to have a perfect life to have a big finish.”  Tory smiled.

He nodded.  “I’m sorry I lied to you, Tory.  I felt like such a failure, but failure is a part of a life, and I should have realized that.”

“And what about us?” she asked, her gaze hesitant, the August heat amplifying Nick’s desire to generate a different kind of heat.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” he suggested.  “You know dating, talking on the phone for no other reason than to hear each other’s voice, and we’ll see where this leads.”  Her nearness increased his desire to feel her lips on hers.  The desire had been building for months, but he’d been too afraid to admit his marriage had failed.  But he liked the idea of starting over with Tory. 

“The beginning sounds like a good place to start.”  She smiled.  “Although can we wait a few days for that date?”

Slipping his hand around her waist, he asked, “And why do you want to wait?”

“I’m dying to work on my story,” she admitted, with a sheepish shrug.  “Now that I know it doesn’t have to be perfect I think I can get past chapter three.”

“Sure.  We can wait.”  He’d waited this long.  Another day or two wouldn’t matter.

Caution clouded Tory’s eyes.  “Nick, can I ask what happened to your marriage?”

“Truth is I thought we had too many problems to overcome, and I just gave up trying.”  Admitting that still tugged uncomfortably, but it wasn’t quite the gut wrenching jolt he normally felt when he thought about the demise of his marriage.  “Charlotte told me she wanted to try to make things work, but I wasn’t interested in trying.  I thought fixing our marriage would be more work than I wanted to cope with, so I let her walk away.”  He shrugged.  “I’m not proud of it, but I’m smarter now.  Or at least I hope am I,” he added, with a rueful smile.  “I’ve now realized that just because my marriage didn’t result in a ‘big finish’ doesn’t mean that every relationship I have will fail as well.”

“I guess we all have to learn lessons the hard way once in a while.”  Tory’s tone held an understanding tone.

Nick appreciated that she wasn’t judging him, but there were a lot of other things he’d rather discuss with her than his ex-wife.  “Can we talk about something else now?”

“Such as?”  The glint in her eye told him she knew what was on his mind.

“How about you kissing me?”

With a tender smile that did wonderful things to Nick’s heart, Tory’s arms crept around his neck then her mouth touched his.  Nick wasn’t sure if this kiss would lead to a big finish, but it was a promising place to start.