Trained To Kill by Emily Duncan

joy. She
never doubted that they deserved to suffer for what they had done
to her, and what was done was done. She couldn’t change it
now.
    The meditation was broken by these
thoughts, so she finished her bath. After washing her hair and
shaving all the necessary places, she got out and toweled off. She
blasted her hair dry, leaving it loose down her back, and went to
her closet. It was neatly organized by season and color. She went
to the winter section and rummaged through the blues until she
found her favorite old, navy blue, cashmere sweater with small
white hearts in the design and an old pair of Levis with a button
fly.
    Heading downstairs she called out the
Renée and told her where she was going.
    “ A date?” Renée was
confused. “You? With that good looking police man?”
    “ No, this is someone Dr.
Jannsen set me up with.”
    “ Oh? Well that’s wonderful
chère. Have a good time. You deserve it.” She said kissing her
cheek.
    Smiling at her, Isa shoved her arms
through her coat and left.
    She was ten minutes late due to a
small car accident that blocked the lane, so she hustled into the
restaurant and saw James stand up and wave. She waved back, turning
to let the maitre d’ take her coat.
    Walking over, she took the time to
study him. His dark brown hair was wavy, almost touching the collar
of his light blue sweater, with light streaks from the sun. His
eyes were turquoise-blue and they crinkled at the corners when he
smiled at her. He was 5’10 ½” she would say, and he was big. He
looked like he chopped wood for a living. His shoulders were round
and his biceps were cut, she could see it through his sweater. The
sleeves were pushed up and she could see his forearms were tanned
and chiseled, just like his face. He was extremely handsome, in a
woodsman sort of way.
    He held out his hand as she neared.
“Isa? Hi, I’m James.”
    “ Hi James,” Isa smiled
back and shook his hand lightly, sitting down in her chair. “I’m
sorry I’m late, there was an accident down the street.”
    “ No problem. I hope it
wasn’t bad. The snow’s been pretty steady all day. I thought about
calling and asking you if you wanted to reschedule, but life must
go on, even in the winter.”
    “ I’m glad you didn’t
cancel. I needed to get out the house.”
    “ Are you one of those
people that get winter madness?”
    “ I might be. I’m not used
to winter. I’m from New Orleans.”
    “ New Orleans? I’ve never
been. But you don’t sound southern exactly, what…?”
    “ My father is British and
my mother was Cajun.”
    “ Cajun? I’ve heard of
that, but what exactly does that mean?”
    “ Cajuns were originally
from Acadia and were exiled to Louisiana centuries ago. It’s a
French-Canadian accent.”
    He was smiling at her again, “I like
it.”
    Isa smiled back and checked her menu.
“So coffee or dinner?”
    “ I’m actually starving, so
if you don’t mind…?”
    “ No, that’s
fine.”
    The waiter stopped by and they ordered
dinner and after-dinner coffee drinks. Looking at his hands holding
the menu, Isa saw he used them often. They were rough around the
nail beds and had calluses.
    “ What do you do? You work
with your hands I can see, sometimes outdoors judging by your tan
lines.”
    “ Wow, you’re really good,”
he said laughing and looking down at his hands. “I’m a carpenter. I
make furniture and cabinets from the ground up.”
    “ So, you chop the wood and
sand it and nail it together?”
    “ Roughly speaking,
yes.”
    “ Now that’s something I
can say I don’t know anything about.”
    “ You know a lot about
everything else?” he grinned at her, teasing.
    “ That sounds like
bragging, but I do have varied interests and skills.”
    “ Like what?”
    “ Ah. Well, let’s see.
Computers, martial arts, travel, languages. Things of that
nature.”
    “ So you’re cultured.
That’s pretty groovy.” The waiter came and they sampled their wine,
approving, he poured