Page 9 of Connected By Souls

“You’re not some serial killer, are you? Pretending to be a handyman?”

“No, I promise I’m not.” I laugh. “I’m actually your neighbor. I live in the house on the hill.”

Her eyes light up. “You do? That’s my favorite house in town. I bet you get the most amazing views up that high.”

“It was definitely a selling point for me. A complete fixer-upper, but I love working with my hands and making something beautiful again. I couldn’t be happier with the way it turned out.”

“Well, you did an amazing job. If I could design a perfect house, that would be it.” She smiles at me.

Feeling like my heart might jump out of my chest at the memory of us doing exactly that to our little house on the hill, I run a hand through my damp hair, trying to get a grip on my emotions. “Thank you. The design came to me in a dream I had."

“That must’ve been some detailed dream.”

“You have no idea.” I barely get the words out as emotions rise. “So,” I clear my throat and look around, “what did you have in mind as far as repairs? When I came in, I noticed that the front porch needs a coat of paint, and a few loose railings need to be fixed.”

“Yes, I have those on my list. I’m okay with painting the porch myself. I also like to work with my hands and put my own touch on a place. I do need help with the railing, though, and what paint to get for the porch and what sander to buy and primer…” Laughing, she nervously runs a hand through her hair. “Ok, I need a lot of help, but I do want to get my hands dirty. It’ll keep me busy when I’m not working and helps me keep my mind off of things.”

A sad look briefly crosses her face, and the urge to pull her into my arms and take it away is almost too much for me to bear. Fisting my hands at my side, I stop myself from going to her and probably scaring the shit out of her because wetechnicallyjust met—I mean, in this lifetime, we just met. “Ok, no problem. I’ll make sure before I leave to write down all the things you’ll need. I have a sander at my house that you can borrow, and I kept all the painting supplies from when I did my house. You’re welcome to them.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you. I learned a lot from my dad, but I’ve never tackled a whole house before.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad someone can get some use out of them.” I smile and hold eye contact with her. I see her nervously clasp her hands together like she doesn’t know what to do with them. I make her nervous. I feel relief that she’s feeling something between us.

“Let me show you what else I have in mind.” She breaks eye contact, and I follow her as she shows me what needs to be done.

She points out the repairs and what she has envisioned for the place. I take in my surroundings, trying to get a feel of who Emma is. I still don’t know if she has a boyfriend, but I don’t see any pictures of another man except her and what seems to be her parents smiling on various vacations and birthdays. Some photos have another woman in them, who must be a friend of hers, and another male is in a few of them. He seems to be in a relationship with her friend because there’s a photo with their arms wrapped around one another. I notice she likes to read as I take in all the books on either side of the fireplace.

Walking out of the master bath, I notice my book on her nightstand. Not being able to help myself, I walk over and pick it up. “Do you like to read?”

Her face lights up at the mention of books. “I love to read. I start work at the library on Monday just so I can be surrounded by them.” She nods her head at my book in my hand. “That’s my favorite author. I’ve read all five of her books. Some more than once,” she laughs nervously.

Her? She thinks Beck Hunter is a female. I guess I never thought my readers would think I’m a girl. Beck could be a girl’s name, I suppose, or short for Rebecca or Becky. Since I want to remain anonymous, I was very vague in my bio. Before I can stop myself, I ask, “What do you love about them?”

“Well, it’s hard to explain, but the way she writes about these characters, I deeply feel what they feel. Their stories pull me in just like they’re my own. It’s like they’re familiar to me somehow, but I don’t know why. I know it sounds stupid. It’s only a book.”

They’re familiar to her. She remembers, or at least her subconscious does. I so badly want to blurt it all out and tell her everything I know. Tell her they’re familiar because she lived them.Welived them. Something tells me to wait, though. I have a feeling she’s been through a lot recently, and I don't want to scare her off. I want her to trust me first before I say anything. Looking her in the eyes, she seems so doubtful of herself. Has someone hurt her? Possessiveness and the need to protect overcome me. “It’s not stupid. If it means something to you, it's never stupid.”

“I guess,” she whispers softly. She looks away and hugs her arms to her chest.

Putting the book down, I follow her back into the kitchen. I write down the supplies she needs on a notepad I found on the counter. “Here’s the list of things you’ll need to get at the hardware store for the little things you want to do yourself. If you can grab the faucets and lights for the bathroom tomorrow, I can change them out on Monday if that works. I’ll check the hardware store this week to see if I can find matching rails for your porch.”

“Monday’s my first day at the library, but I’m only working half a day, so I’ll be off at two. I can run to the hardware store tomorrow. I need to get a few things anyway.”

“Perfect. Two works for me. I can be over when you get off work. Just text me when you get home, and I’ll come by.”

“Ok, sounds good,” she says, walking me to the door. “Thank you for all the help, Noah. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. If you need anything else, just text me or bang on my door no matter what time.” I grin at her wanting to see that smile again.

“Let’s hope I don’t have a repair big enough to have me banging on your door in the middle of the night,” she laughs.

God, I love her laugh. I’m going to make sure she does more of it. She does a good job hiding the pain, but I see it. I feel it. “I’ll see you on Monday, then.” I don’t want to leave her. I just found her. I force myself to turn toward the door before I do something stupid like reach for her.

“See you on Monday, Noah.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. I glance back at her one last time, searching her eyes for what she’s feeling. She holds my gaze as I see her put her hand on her chest like she’s trying to steady her heart. Tearing my eyes away, I walk down the porch and head home. I turn and see her watching me through the window before she ducks behind the curtain. Is she feeling what I’m feeling? Did she feel our connection, a pull that is so strong that all you want to do is be as close as possible to one another? It’s like two powerful magnets wanting so desperately to connect.

I walk back to my house in a daze. Sitting down on the front steps, I try to control my emotions. I can’t believe I found her. I run my hands over my face and bow my head. She’s real. I’m not insane. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’s my fucking neighbor. How’s that for the Universe bringing her straight to me. She may not remember us like I do, but she feels something. I can see it in her eyes and how she acts around me. I make her nervous, but I also see the pain and hurt in her eyes. Someone or something happened to dim those beautiful eyes, and I’m going to bring back that light. I’ll have to take things slow, which is going to be very hard to do. It took everything in me tonight not to kiss her, needing to feel and taste her again. I need to gain her trust first, though, because what she doesn’t know is that I’ve been waiting for her my whole life, and now that I’ve found her, I’m not ever letting her go.

ChapterSix

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