Falling in Love Pt. 01

"Can't Help Falling in Love"

"Wise men say / Only fools rush in.

But I can't help falling in love with you.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you?

"Like a river flows / Surely to the sea,

Darling, so it goes / Some things are meant to be.

Take my hand / Take my whole life, too.

For I can't help falling in love with you..."

Sung by Elvis Presley in "Blue Hawaii"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is ironic how sometimes you have to nearly die to discover life. Such was the case with me and here is my story about Devyn, the angel who brought me back.

My name is Bradly Sherman, and I can remember driving my Mercedes-Benz E-Class one sunny early morning when all hell, literally and figuratively, broke loose. There was an unbelievable screeching of tires that was followed instantly by a horrendous explosion of metal, glass, and airbag. I was violently tossed and teetered on the edge of blacking out as incredible agony rocketed through me. Shit, I was dying...

That is until I heard a frantic feminine voice calling me back. "Mister! Mister, are you okay?" I felt hands tugging at me or more so my seatbelt, and then a sudden release of chest pressure. A new tsunami of pain crashed on me and I felt myself sinking again.

"Hey, stay with me!" rang in my ear, wrenching me back again into reality. I don't know how I managed to crack open my closed eyes, but there before me was an Asian 'angel,' looking intently at me. "Can you move?" was the urgent question that jarred my dazed brain into greater awareness. "Oh, damn it! I've got to get you out! Your car is smoking...oh, fuck...it's on fire!"

I felt myself being frantically jostled and tugged. "You've got to move, damn it! Come on! Give me your damn hand! Help me get you out!" Suddenly I felt myself swerving in my seat before vaguely hearing a cry of sudden pain, "Owww! Damn it! Shit, I'm cut and bleeding!" The next thing I was taken by the hands and yanked, tumbling free of my car to land on the hard asphalt before drifting in and out of consciousness.

A panicky yanking on my coat and me was oddly accompanied by shrill girlish grunts of frustration. "Uhhh! God, you're so goddamn heavy...uhhh...come on you bastard... uhhh...gotta get you..." Then suddenly there was a thunderous whoosh and surge of searing heat that was surprisingly cut off by something being pressed over me.

I must have passed out for the next thing I knew was a bright light shining in my eye. "I've got him...he's back with us," said a relieved masculine voice, "but we best get him as quickly as possible to the hospital."

Then another male voice added, "It was a good thing you were there, Miss. If you hadn't dragged him out of his wrecked car, he would be heading to the morgue instead of the ER. From the looks of you, you paid the price for doing so. You've got lacerations to your hands and forearms from the broken glass...and the one on your forehead from the twisted car frame is nasty. You've got burns on the back of your clothing and hair.

"Yes, I know that you don't want an ambulance ride or hospital visit because you don't have any health insurance. However, your head laceration will require stitches and possibly more if I can't staunch the bleeding. Just lay back and try to relax.

"Save your energy because the police will want to interview you once you're cleared. As I understand it, you were the only person to witness the accident. This guy can count his lucky stars that you just happened to be where you were..."

Although I was restrained by a neck brace, I somehow swiveled my eyes to see who had rescued me. Maybe it was coincidence or fate but my savior turned at the same time to meet my gaze. I was taken aback by a bloodied yet pretty young Asian teenager with large warm almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, a cute button nose, and straight dark brown that framed her lovely face.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" slipped from her delicate lips that had curled into a genuine smile of reassurance and caring.

"You saved my life," I managed to croak, "Thank you..." It was then that I realized just how petite she was and immediately wondered how she had managed to drag me out of and then away from my car.

"I am Brad...Brad Sherman. Don't worry about your ambulance or hospital expenses... I'll cover you...and take care of you..."

"Oh, thanks! I'm Devyn...Devyn Toma. My foster parents will breathe a sigh of relief when they hear that."

"See me before you check out of the hospital...promise?"

"Okay, okay...now, lay back and relax..." And with that, I drifted gratefully back into unconsciousness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Oh, boss, am I glad you're awake."

I heard Marsha Yim's voice and immediately knew that I was back in the world of the living. Marsha had been my long-time trusted Senior Executive Assistant from when I started to climb the bank's corporate ladder. Known as "Old Battle Axe" by those who tried to cross me (or her), Marsha was affectionately called "Mom" by those on her good side. I considered myself lucky to be considered part of her large family that included her longtime loving husband, Earl, and her brood of kids and grandchildren,

"Do you know that for a man who is in his early fifties, you live a charmed life," jabbered Marsha. "The police said a truck that crashed into your car, had just been stolen. Luckily the car thief swerved at the last moment...to avoid t-boning you...but pretty much tore off your Mercedes' front. He smashed your car's engine compartment and must have ruptured your fuel line before speeding off to escape the accident scene...and you.

"It was a good thing that cute teenage girl happened to be walking to the bus stop and saw the whole thing. I don't know how that little thing managed to drag your big-ass six-foot-two haole (Hawaiian word for white people) body out of your smoking car...much less drag you away before it exploded. Do you know that she shielded you from your car's explosion and flames with her tiny body?

"She got singed too...and suffered all kinds of cuts getting you out of your crushed car. That forehead laceration took five stitches to close and unfortunately will leave a scar. That Devyn...what an unusual but nice name...is a one-of-a-kind twelfth grader...you don't see that in young folks nowadays."

"Marsha, stop your yakking. Where's Devyn?"

"Why, she's gone. Come on, boss...you didn't really expect her...a seventeen-year-old...to hang around the hospital waiting for you to wake up? She mentioned that you promised to take care of her medical expense...like I would have expected you to do."

"When Devyn asked who you were, I told her that you were the CEO of one of the State's top banks. Do you know that all she said in a matter-of-fact tone was, 'Oh?'"

I was about to ask more about the whereabouts of Devyn but Marsha cut me off and said, "It was then that Devyn's cell phone rang...can you imagine she is renting a refurbished cell phone and paying for it from her part-time after-school jobs job? Her foster parents were worried because the hospital called to obtain treatment permission and medical insurance information, and about how they would handle the resulting expenses.

"I then took the phone from Devyn, introduced myself, explained who you were, and promised that I would immediately arrange it with the hospital representative to cover any bills Devyn incurred. That brought a sigh of relief from her foster parents and especially Devyn.

"Now, before you ask, sorry but for some strange reason Devyn wouldn't give me her mobile number. I, however, gave Devyn my business card and said she could contact me if her foster parents, school, or employer gave her any hassles.

"I hope you don't mind, boss, but I also gave Devyn your business card with your cell number written on the back. I told her that I knew you would like to meet her again once you were released, and made her promise to contact you. That pretty little thing said she would...thanked and hugged me...and left. I sure hope Devyn keeps her promise."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The days became weeks, and I had pretty much given up on seeing Devyn again. Then my cell phone rang late one Friday afternoon, and I was surprised to find an equally confused Aaron Kanoi, my Head of Security, on the other end.

"Mr. Sherman? Oh, wow! Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a young lady by the name of Devyn...Devyn Toma...who showed up at the security desk, asking to see you. When questioned, she pulled out Mom's business card and then yours, asking that I call the cell number on the back to verify her identity."

"Aaron, Devyn was the one who rescued me from my wrecked car and dragged me to safety at the risk of her own life. Please treat her with the utmost respect and credential her with an unrestricted visitor pass so she can visit the executive level anytime she wants. While you're doing that, I'll ask Mom to go down and escort Devyn up to meet with me. Thank you, Aaron."

Seemingly moments later, a chatty Marsha ushered an equally engaged Devyn from the executive elevator. Dressed in a tight midriff top, short shorts, and casual sandals, Devyn was a breath of fresh Spring air...so young and so full of life.

"God, now that I can see Devyn clearly, she is prettier than I remember," was what flashed between my ears.

Upon seeing me waiting for her, my Asian elf flashed me a brilliant smile that evaporated any further musings, Before I could say or do anything, Devyn rushed to me and hugged me. Pressing the side of her face against my beating chest, she murmured, "It's so good to see you standing and healthy. I was so worried."

"Hey, I'm okay for an old fart," I quipped to cover my embarrassment. "What about you? Come on, let me see you now that you're not covered in blood. Marsha said that you got pretty banged up saving me."

Devyn smiled again as she released me, and taking a step back, lifted the right-side bangs from her forehead. "The only memento that I have from our meeting is a 'Harry Potter scar'...neat, huh?"

Before I could say anything, Marsha who had been intently watching our strange interaction said, "Devin, here, would have called to check on you, but she had to give up her rented cell phone. She couldn't make the monthly payment given her upcoming graduation expenses." Marsha ended her comment with her classic lifted eyebrow and expectant tone of voice that screamed, 'So, what are you going to do, boss?'

"Ah, Marsha, who is the cell phone vendor provider in our lobby? T-Mobile? If it's okay with Devyn, would you be so kind as to call the vendor, and have the latest and greatest iPhone along with their best-unlimited service best plan brought up for Devyn to sign off on? I'd appreciate it if you could have it and the monthly fees charged to...hmmm, better not use my corporate account...have them bill it to my personal charge card for as long as Devyn wants to use the phone.

"Oh, and Marsha, could you also call Henry, the manager of the Mariposa Restaurant, to ask him to do me a favor by reserving my special table on the veranda for an early dinner...say about six when the sun is setting. That is assuming, Devyn, that you don't have anything to do and are open to dining with me."

"Aaah, I wouldn't mind having a bite to eat but I'm not exactly dressed for the Nieman-Marcus or the high-end Mariposa."

"No problem. We can get you something to wear for dinner at Nieman-Marcus. Marsha, what's the name of that women's stylist over there that we've used before when a corporate client's wife's luggage got lost in transit?"

Marsha gave me another raised eyebrow to ask what was happening before hesitantly mumbling, "Do you mean Marie Cashman?"

"Yes, that's her. Call her and have her pick out several dresses...light and carefree... with footwear for a young woman...with a petite frame...about five-feet-two. What size shoes do you wear? Five? Okay. Devyn, all you'll have to do is just pick from the selected dress and footwear...whatever catches your fancy. Don't worry about the cost...it's my treat. Then you'll put them on, and then we go to dinner. Any questions?"

The look on Devyn's face was what might be called "inscrutable" as she was clearly processing and weighing what was happening. "Brad," she finally said as she looked me straight in the eyes, "Are you trying to pick me up and become my Sugar Daddy?"

I was taken aback for I never stopped to consider how Devyn might misconstrue my actions. A quick glance at Marsha showed her utter delight at Devyn's bold question and her expression shouted, "Right on, girl! You go!"

Gulping at my dilemma, I quickly gathered my wits and replied, "I beg your pardon! Devyn, while you are attractive...in a 'diamond-in-the-rough' way...let me reassure you I am not in the habit of picking up and seducing underage girls.

"I am simply trying...and apparently failing miserably...to show my gratitude for you risking your life to save my sorry ass...and to express how happy I am to see you again. I apologize...please forgive me. I guess I got carried away trying to repay the debt I feel I owe you..."

"Oh, no, you don't need to repay me for what I did, Brad, or feel obligated to take care of me. If anything, I should be taking care of you."

When Devyn saw the puzzled look on Marsha's and my face, she went on to say, "As I understand it, there is an ancient Chinese proverb that says if you save another person's life, you are 'responsible' for the person you saved. Since I'm Okinawan and genetically part Chinese as well as Japanese, I believe in the saying.

"I know this may sound strange especially since I am much younger than you, dirt poor and needy, and without any means of support. But, Brad, I feel right about being responsible for your well-being and taking care of you."

I was clearly stunned at Devyn's unique perspective of obligation, but when I looked at Marsha, her face was one of subtle agreement. Finally, I proposed, "I don't know if I fully accept your take on relationship obligations, but how about we agree to take care of each other in our own way?"

Devyn scrunched her little face as she mulled over the compromise that I had just thrown out. She then shot a fleeting glance at Marsha who surprisingly gave her a slight nod of encouragement. "Okay, I'll give it a try. However, I've got to say this upfront....my acceptance of your caring doesn't include sex."

When she saw the look of shock on my face, Devyn playfully smirked and then zinged, "While you are interesting and handsome in a 'mature' kind of way, I'm an underaged high schooler...at least for the next month or so...and still a virgin, I intend to keep it that way until I fall in love with the right guy. Hmmph!"

Responding to the thrown gauntlet, I hastily stammered, "Well...I'm old enough to be your father....and I don't take women lightly regardless of their age... it's not in my nature. I am a widower...who hasn't had an intimate female relationship in quite a while. And for your information, I will remain celibate until I fall in love with the right woman. There!"

There was a pregnant pause as the two of us stared at each other in a test of wills. Then we broke down in silly giggles and chuckles at our comical posturing. Finally, I said, "Look, Devyn, I would like to express my gratitude to you for saving my butt. If you can, please have dinner with me...strictly on the up and up with no hidden agenda on my part. It doesn't have to be at the Mariposa, and can be any place of your choosing..."

"Well, to be honest with you, Brad, I've always wanted to try the Mariposa but could never afford it. If it means that I have to get dressed up to do so, then so be it. However, I don't know if I can take such clothing home with me. If I did, my foster parents would be highly suspicious of your intentions toward me. We don't want any rumors or negative publicity about us, do we?

"So, after dinner, I'll change back into my street clothes. Maybe you could hold my newly bought clothes for another time...please."

I was struggling to figure out what to say when Marsha spoke up. "Boss, bring Devyn's clothes and shoes back here. I'll hang them in your closet. Ha, Devyn, bet you didn't know that the boss' office has a hidden full bathroom, wet bar, closets, and wall bed for those nights when he sleeps over...something he's been doing much too much of...sigh! There's a lot to learn about this man...and with that said, you two should be going if you're going to meet with Marie and make dinner."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was seated at the bar, sipping on my single malt Scotch, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Turning, I was entranced by the vision of my little Asian angel. With her long dark hair casually pinned up, her sensuous eyes lightly shadowed, her eyebrows naturally lined, her high cheeks brushed slightly, and her delicate lips frosted with vibrant pink, Devyn had somehow been transformed into a mature-looking young woman.

Her selected dress was a simple silky halter top of warm light red and yellow tones that flowed freely and playfully over her modest body, ending high enough above her knees to match her youthfulness without appearing inappropriate. Devyn opted for a sassy pair of low wedges that were both dressy and casual and made her seem taller and more mature.

"You're stunning," slipped easily from my open mouth before I knew it. Then in keeping with our normal banter, I slipped in a teasing dig. "Are you sure you're seventeen?"

"I sure am. So, eat your heart out, you dirty old man, heh, heh, heh," was Devyn's lightning riposte. Then grinning at me being caught off guard (again), she giggled at my expense) and said, "Come on. Let's be seated at our table. I'm starving."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dinner with Devyn was insightful, delightful, and challenging at the same time. I learned that she had lost her parents in a tragic car accident and with no other family, had been in the State's foster care system for much of her young life. As such, she learned to do without, to be assertive when necessary, and to be accountable for her actions and their effect on others. Her demonstrated maturity and understanding were simply astonishing for one so young.

Devyn proved to be utterly delightful by amply displaying her good sense of humor, quick wit, and zany nature as evidenced by her knack for keeping me off-balance. I soon found myself enthralled with the constant stories of her life. When I asked why this was the case, she replied factually, "Do you know, Brad, that 'Devyn' means 'poet' or someone who can tell captivating tales? I can make you cry or make you laugh...but either way, you will be happy and want more from me."

But most of all, Devyn was challengingly different...someone whom I had never met before. It didn't matter to her that I was thirty-six years older than she was. It didn't matter to her that I was a powerful CEO of a large statewide bank. It didn't matter to her that I was wealthy, privileged, sought after by many, and feared by some. All that mattered was that I was Brad...someone for whom she was responsible for and obligated to safeguard. Her unique attitude toward me made me wonder about this seventeen-year-old.

"Okay, okay, so why don't you tell me about your plans for the future," I said in a desperate attempt to keep the focus of the conversation on her.

At this, Devyn sat back and joked, "Curse you, Lex Luther, you've found Supergirl's kryptonite. Nah, what I fear the most is a future that holds so many uncertainties beginning when I graduate from high school...by the way, you are invited to the ceremony in two weeks, Brad. Please come...it would mean a lot to me.

"After that, I am going to community college to major in business which I like the most of all of my classes. Why not go to the University? Well, for one I missed the application deadline...but...the real reason is that I can't afford the high tuition and fees. I scraped together enough last-minute financial aid for my community college experience, but after that, I don't know if I'll be able to get enough assistance for an upper-division degree.