Magnetism

Emma

I throw my hand in the general direction of my phone to shut off the alarm, but I miss several times before I manage to hit the thing. By now, the increasing volume of the obnoxious buzzing–why did I choose that ringtone?–has jolted me all the way into reality. 

It was a late night with all the commotion about the missing boy. Once the sheriff had arrived, I’d brewed a pot of coffee, knowing that half the town would be there anyway. 

So much for closing time. 

Now I have to go right back into work, though I’ve barely had four hours of sleep, so I dial the shower up to scalding to get the rest of my blood pumping. Hopefully, I won’t be a complete zombie all day.

Walking up the street, the brisk morning air energizes me more, and I finally feel alive. I live a few blocks from the shop, but I always walk to work anyway so that I can get outside and inhale the crisp scent of cedar and Douglas fir. 

I suppose I’m just weird, but I can always distinguish the subtle scents of the forest. Even as a kid, I had this sensitivity. As I got older, it was like my senses sharpened even more. 

Yes, that’s right. 

I’m weird.

There’s something else making me feel good this morning, and that’s the exhilarating range of emotions I experienced while helping that kid last night. It was incredible. I mean, here were some kids–well, not all kids since some of them were close to my age–just talking about something they were scared about, and I was able to step in and help them. 

It feels great. 

They finally found the kid at about midnight, but it still took a couple of hours for the group of people in the shop to break up and get home, so yes, it was a late night. I saw the kid after his parents came to get him, and luckily, he didn’t seem worse for wear. He must have been just lost, which is scary in these woods at night. 

He looked like he was definitely in trouble, though, and boy, were those parents mad. 

Anyway, I’m glad I could help. 

Mom is already here when I unlock the glass door up front and step in, locking it behind me because it’s way too early to open the shop yet. 

“You didn’t have to come in,” she says in her Mom voice. “You were up way too late last night, and you need your rest.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I insist. “And I’m not going to let you handle those heavy bags of flour that I know you’re about to lift all by yourself.”

“I’m not an invalid, you know,” she says, her tone annoyed. 

“I’m not saying you are,” I reply. “But it’s not going to help your bad back get better if you keep irritating it.”

“Who’s the mother here?” she asks, feigning anger while being completely unable to keep the corners of her mouth from creeping up.

“I think at this point, we just watch out for each other,” I say. “So, let me help.”

“Alright,” she agrees, holding up her hands and laughing. “And I’ve got some great recipes from your grandmother for today’s bakery day.”

Bakery day is part of the multitasking efforts we need to do to stay in business in a small town like this. Once a week, Mom bakes fresh batches of cookies or pies or cakes–it’s always a surprise–and they always sell out, no matter what she makes. 

“I wish I’d known her,” I say, repositioning a large flour sack so it’ll be easier to lift.

“So do I, dear,” she says. “Your grandmother would have loved you so much. But at least I can give you a taste of her recipes.”

I nod, and we dive into work.

***

“Hey, Brianna,” I say. 

It’s a few hours later, and it’s time for Brianna’s shift. She comes in every day after her kid’s daycare opens and covers the shift with Mom until after lunch to give me a break, then I come back later in the day.

On the way out the door, I head over to a table by the window to talk to the kid who’d been missing last night. I guess he’s out of school or something because he came into the shop for a donut a while ago, and then lingered here as if he’s trying to hide from someone.

“You’re not skipping school, are you?” I ask him.

He startles when I speak. “Um… no,” he replies. 

I put my hands on my hips. “You sure? Because we don’t allow that in here,” I tell him firmly. I feel sorry for him since everyone must be pretty mad at him right now, but I’m not going to let our shop become a hangout for truants.

“Promise,” he says softly. “I have to go see someone. Just wanted some of your donuts first.”

“Go see who?” I ask, but the tail end of my last word is cut off by the gentle ringing of the bell on the front door.

I catch the scent first, like a bed of fresh pine needles impossibly mixed with coconut and strawberry. Weird, I know, but it’s like all three of my favorite scents have rushed in on a cool breeze and now dance around my olfactory senses. 

Then I look up and see him, Mr. Mysterious, the blond who always stays just outside the door. Our eyes meet, and our gaze lingers as his jewel-like eyes seem to look deep into my soul. It’s impossible to pull away from it, and I think I forget to even breathe for a moment. My heart starts pounding, and it feels like a magnet is pulling me toward this total stranger.

I swear I can feel him having the same pull toward me.

How strange. 

The hypnotic moment breaks off suddenly when he finally turns to the kid I was talking to. “Let’s go,” he tells him. 

Those are the first two words I’ve ever heard from his mouth, and I swear they sound like a song to me, deep and throaty, and I’m drawn to the sound as much as I am to the man himself. Who is this guy? And what is he doing to me?

The boy gets up from the booth instantly as though he just has to obey this man–I kinda know the feeling–and he nods at me as he walks out the door. 

The blond guy gives me another look. I swear he licks his lips, but maybe I’m just imagining it, then he turns and walks out the door. 

My feet move without any permission from my brain, and I’m outside in a split second, watching them–well, watching him–walk down the street. The further away he gets, the more the hypnotic feeling starts to fade, but it never goes away completely. 

After they round the corner and I can’t see them anymore, I swear I can still feel him. I can still inhale his lingering scent, and it gives me the most overwhelming sense of calm I’ve ever experienced. 

Well, that was different.