Home Is Where The Heart Is

Tracy looked out of the airplane window. Above the fluffy white clouds, the light on the wing flashed steadily, as regular as a heartbeat, taking her ever closer to her destination.  She peered into the murky depths below. She could see the faint outline of land. Occasionally she recognised the outline of a building and guessed that they must be flying over America by now. The plane had taken off from London six hours earlier and it was an eight hour flight to Boston. Butterflies coursed through Tracy’s midriff and she shivered with a mixture of anticipation, excitement and nerves. Somewhere down there Joel was wending his way towards her.

Joel! It had been magic since they had met on an Internet dating site six weeks earlier. She had been so lonely in England, despairing of ever meeting a boyfriend, but he had transformed her life. E-mails had flown between them like electric lightning, each one intensifying and deepening their level of communication as they discussed topics ranging from the everyday to the philosophical and shared thoughts, feelings and emotions.

He had appeared in her matches, and she had initially been drawn to his photograph and classic all-American good looks: his thick wavy black hair that tumbled down to nearly shoulder length, layered and cut in the ‘70s style she loved; his huge brown eyes and clean shaven square cut jaw with a slight dimple in it. But the real attraction had grown from the ingredients inside.

It had been mutual. Joel had told her he’d been drawn to Tracy’s long blonde hair and green eyes. But also to her intelligence, her education and the mind that matched his. .

Even the seven year age difference between them was perfect: she was 27 and Joel was 34. Tracy was sure it was fate they had met.

Her heart pounded and her eyes scanned the waiting room feverishly as she exited the Immigration and Customs area. And then she saw Joel striding towards her.

He was even more devastating in the flesh. His face was angular and faded jeans clung to his muscular thighs. He was wearing a grey sweater and a black leather jacket and matching woollen scarf thrown casually around his neck.

“Hi there, how was your flight?” he drawled.

Tracy was so overcome by his presence that she managed only an incoherent reply. But back at his waterfront cottage in Portsmouth, Rhode Island, after a couple of glasses of wine, she felt better – until reality hit.

“I’m really falling for you Joel, but I’m emigrating to Canada. I’d made all the arrangements before I even met you – it’s always been my dream. I’ve got to make a life in British Columbia, 3000 miles away.”

“Whatever your heart is telling you,” he replied, gazing into her eyes.

On the patio, the cold icy night air bit into Tracy’s skin as she peeled off her towel and followed Joel into his hot tub. The bubbling water enveloped her. She was intensely aware of their naked bodies so close to each other. She edged towards him and ran her fingers through his tousled locks, and their mouths met in a deep passionate kiss that seemed to go on and on. Then their bodies were joined. She felt him thrusting inside her, taking her to the edge of ecstasy and beyond….

In the early hours of the morning Tracy woke up in bed beside Joel and wondered where she was. She felt the unfamiliar and uncomfortable weight of two cats on top of her, then saw Joel sleeping peacefully beside her, his chest rising and falling evenly.

“Joel,” she whispered and stroked her hand down his muscled body from chest to thigh. He stirred and the passion flared between them again.

The next morning, when Tracy came out of the shower, Joel was in deep conversation on the phone and his words made her come down to earth with a bump.

“I was talking to my father,” he explained, looking worried. I was going to buy this cottage from him for $100,000, but he’s now raising the price to $150,000, which means I can no longer afford it. It’s a family heirloom though, it belonged to my grandmother and it has to stay in the family.”

The next few days of Tracy’s trip passed in a flurry of anxiety, rather than romance. She barely registered the red and golden leaves of the New England countryside or the crisp white snowy remains in places as they toured New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine. The whole focus of the trip was on Joel’s cottage and how to raise the funds to keep it. Joel tried to reason with his father, but the only explanation he could get was that his father “needed the money now”.

“We used to be close, but my father changed when he remarried,” Joel explained.

Tracy knew she had the answer to the problem, but she wasn’t sure whether she was ready to share her secret with Joel or give up her dream.

Three soul-searching weeks later she had decided that no conflict was too tough to keep her and Joel apart, and she was back on a plane to New England, her “secret” almost burning a hole in her pocket. Joel met her at the airport in Boston again and they drove in grim silence to the lawyer’s office for a business meeting with his father.

Later they toasted their victory on the hammock on Joel’s patio, gazing out to sea and lapping up the sound of the waves, seagulls, ducks and geese, that seemed to welcome Tracy back.

The £70,000 that Tracy’s own father had generously given her to buy a home in Canada had been converted into a $100,000 cheque and used to purchase the cottage, along with Joel’s own $50,000 savings.

She knew she had made the right decision. Home wasn’t England or Canada. It wasn’t a geographical location at all, it was where the heart was and lying in Joel’s arms, she knew she had found that place and was finally home.

Copyright Debbie Pittel

Read My Ideal Guy, Debbie Pittel’s submission to the assignment in the free module of The Guide to Writing Romantic Fiction.

Why not try the first module of The Guide to Writing Romance for free.