An Innocent Obsession

“Keep looking,” I croak into the phone, returning to the bedroom to dress myself. Again, my nose is treated to the hints of magnolia in the air and I almost can’t bear the sweetness of it.

Where are you, angel?

If I have to search every street of New York, that’s what I’ll do. I put on a pair of jeans, throw on a T-shirt and shove my feet into boots. On the way out the door, I call the police commissioner and remind him of the donation I make every year, like clockwork. After giving them her description and being assured that every man in a badge will be on the lookout, I descend to the lobby in the elevator, anxious to start looking while simultaneously terrified that I’m never going to see her again.

I stride past the doorman, unwilling to wait for him to open the door for me, but his voice halts me before I can leave. “Mr. Carroway!”

Impatient, I stop and turn, my skull throbbing. “Yes?”

“That girl you came in here with last night…”

My pulse kicks. “What about her?”

His gray eyebrows furrow together. “Well, she looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her until now. Never seen her all fancied up like that.”

“You’ve seen Emery before?”

“Sure. Every time she’s cleaned your apartment for the last five years.”

Emery

I’m never getting out of this bed.

My body won’t work, except to cry. I’ve cried all morning and afternoon, and Karen is hovering around me like a mother hen, trying to feed me tea and toast, as if I’ll ever eat again. I know I did the right thing walking out of Clarke’s life, before he had to throw me out, but I didn’t expect this wrenching, horrible emptiness.

I curl up in the fetal position and wail into my pillow, scalding hot tears catching on the scratchy cotton material. Every time I open my eyes and I see one of the images of Clarke taped to my wall, my misery blooms anew, but I can’t bring myself to take them down. I’m never taking them down, especially now that I see them in a whole new light. Before he was just my dark, imaginary lover, and now I see the caring side of him. The passionate CEO who felt stuck in his mission to save the planet, despite his ample power. I see all of him.

There’s a loud crash downstairs in the orphanage and I jackknife in bed, trading a startled glance with Karen.

“Emery!”

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “It’s Clarke. It’s him.” My heart wings around the room like a deliriously happy bird, but utter horror takes the place of my euphoria within seconds. Eyes wide, I look around the room, my veritable shrine to Clarke Carroway. “Karen. Please. He can’t come in here. Stop him.”

Karen is already halfway out the door and I hear her muffled voice in the hallway outside my room, but her efforts are futile. Clarke bursts into the room looking haunted, his hair standing in every direction, sweat dampening the front of his T-shirt. “Angel, I found you. The cleaning agency had the address. I’m getting you out of this place. My Emery in an orphanage? Cleaning houses?” He moves toward me, so clearly ready to scoop me up and carry me off to a fairy tale, but the pictures on the wall cause a hitch in his stride. He turns in a circle, his expression giving nothing away, although he must be sick to his stomach. How could he not be? His stalker spent the night in his bed. “What is all this?”

I cram my knuckles up against my mouth and release a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His attention returns to me and still, I can read nothing on his gorgeous face. “Explain,” he commands, almost curiously.

A calmness settles over me. Okay, this is it. This is the last time I’ll ever be this close to the man I love. At least he’s giving me the chance to tell him how he’s affected me. The chance to tell him I love him. It’s more than I deserve and I won’t lose this opportunity to say the words written on my soul.

“My mother died when I was thirteen and my father…he was in too much debt to keep me. He wasn’t prepared to be a parent, especially alone. So he brought me here when I was fourteen.” In my periphery, I notice Karen slip from the room and close the door behind her. And there I sit, in the middle of my shrine, face stained from tears, facing the object of my not-so-innocent obsession. “I saw you in the paper that same year. At first, I just looked for you on television and sometimes on the internet when I could make it to the public library computers. There was just something about you. I can’t explain it. I know it was my imagination, but I swear…you were looking right at me.