“Well, you’d blush even more if I hadn’t paraphrased what I was thinking and had repeated it verbatim.”
“Now you have to tell me,” he insisted.
“It’s better this way. Trust me. Just know that I think everything about you looks good, including your hands.” Mercy, did I ever. “My turn. Best and worst date ever?”
"Do you mean that one date had to be both good and bad in the same date? Or do you mean which date was the best and then which separate date was the worst? And do I have to vote one of our dates as the best or you’ll get all bent out of shape and not talk to me the whole weekend? Or do I…Oh, would you look at that. We're here," James announced.
My heart rate kicked into high gear as we pulled up in front of the Anderson's home. Then my eyes narrowed. “You cheater. You stalled on purpose with those meaningless find out questions so you didn’t have to answer the question.”
James chuckled. “You can’t know that for sure.”
He reached for the door handle but paused a moment before opening his door and looked at me. My face must have registered my panic because he grinned. "Did you know..." I began almost against my will.
James quickly leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my slightly parted lips. "Soph, it's going to be fine. You'll see." I exhaled a deep breath I didn't know I was holding and touched my fingers to my tingling lips. Shock from that kiss left me speechless. Perhaps that was his intention. I sucked in a breath and wondered what a real kiss from him would feel like. I opened the door and took James' outstretched hand.
"Mom, Dad? We're here," James called as we stepped into the tiled entry. I glanced around. Pictures adorned the walls and a baby grand piano sat sleek and silent in the immaculate great room.
"Dad's probably out in his shop," James speculated, heading for the kitchen.
I paused in the hall and touched the frame holding a picture of a younger James hanging on the wall. The once skinny teen had been replaced by a more physically defined, more mature man. He had been cute even as a teen, but that's not what held my interest. The eyes staring back at me from the photo were happy, carefree, and filled with excitement and determination for an unknown, but anticipated future.
The eyes I had looked into everyday this past week and multiple days for weeks before that, the eyes of James Anderson- the man- held pain. Sure he had the beginnings of soft laugh lines that crinkled at the corners of his eyes and mouth when he smiled. They held that same determination and excitement when we ran together or he talked about his career as a devoted doctor to sick babies. I saw a maturity and wisdom in his eyes born of years of hard work, sleepless night shifts, and life experiences, but until I saw this high school picture, I'd never recognized the pain.
I had sensed hesitation mixed with a little fear just before he kissed me or right after Zeke or Andy teased him about our relationship. But up until this point, I hadn't known what hovered on the edges of his eyes and soul. Now that I knew, what did I do with that knowledge? I had a sinking feeling that whatever was behind the pain was linked directly to our disagreement a few weeks ago and he wasn't open to discussing that.
I was okay with that for now, but whatever was holding him back from fully opening his heart to me and our relationship, could hold his heart captive in chains so thick and unyielding that he'd never be free to entrust it to me. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and swallowed down the lump rising in my throat.
James
"Dad?" I called as I approached his open shop door. The sound of power tools met my ears and I knew he wouldn't be able to hear me even with his hearing aids in. I paused in the doorway and watched him working at his jigsaw. Other than a little more grey up top, he looked the same as the last time I visited.
I stepped farther into the room and my movement caught his attention. He lifted a hand in greeting and turned his saw off. "Son, you made it," his voice boomed across the shop to me. He made a show of looking around the shop. "Weren't you supposed to be bringing someone to meet us?"
"I think she got lost in the house. I'll go find her in a minute. I wanted to come say hello first. How have you been?"
"I'm great," he said, watching me closely. His eyes narrowed marginally and he asked, "How are you?"
"I'm good, Dad." I smiled and slapped him on the back.
"Well, you look good. Different, but good." His eyes narrowed further and he asked, "What's different?"
"What are you talking about? I could use a haircut..." I shrugged. "Hey," I protested and waved him off when he cuffed me on the back of my head.
"I'm not talking about a haircut, James. Give me a little credit."
"I don't know what you want me to say," I chuckled. "I'm still me." I patted myself all over my upper body as proof.
"Whatever it is, it looks good on you." He swatted at his pants in an effort to get the sawdust off. "How's the hospital?"
"Great," I replied enthusiastically. "A couple babies are on target to head home in the next few weeks. I'm really pleased with their progress. Sophie, the girl I brought with me," I gestured toward the house, "her nephew is one of the little guys slated for a discharge. The hospital is good."
Dad nodded. "Good to hear. How's rooming with that crazy cousin of yours going?"
I laughed and shook my head. "Andy is still Andy. But it hasn't been too bad. Gives me someone to come home to instead of an empty apartment."
I tried not to laugh as Dad's eyebrow rose at that statement. "I'm not sure he's the one I'd want to be coming home to every night, but that's just me. Personally, I love snuggling up with your mother at the end of the day. Be kind of hard to stomach getting that close to Andy." His eyes glazed over for a moment then he shook his head as if to clear the disturbing image from his mind. I laughed again.
"What are you working on this time?" I moved over to the saw he had been using before I interrupted.
He held up a partially cut piece of wood. "One more thing to cross off that list I mentioned during your last visit. Some of those craft projects your mother likes to paint and girly up with ribbons and such. It will say FAMILY when it is finished. After this one, I'll get started on an autumnal decoration- a sunflower, I think. It's all nonsense to me, but it keeps your mother happy. And if she's happy, I'm happy." He winked. "I think because it keeps us out of each other’s hair. But if it means the difference between cuddling or sleeping alone on the couch, I'll do it.
"Ah, there's a method to the madness," I chuckled, but I knew that all the slave driver talk was just that. He loved his power tools almost as much as he loved his children. Maybe more, I thought with a rueful shake of my head, remembering our conversation in this same shop a few months ago. "Speaking of the conversation we had a few months ago, can I ask you a question?"
Dad picked up a sheet of sandpaper and began sanding his project. "Sure.” He shrugged.
"How did you know? I mean I didn't even know what was bugging me on a conscious level."
He paused in his sanding and glanced up at me. "You said yourself that your sister was doing well. You are happier at work than any man has a right to be. What else was there?" He continued sanding.
"What else, indeed?" I chuckled and held my hand out to him. He grasped it firmly and pulled me into a one-armed hug.
When he stepped back, he appraised me. I could see when a light turned on and something clicked. "That's what is different about you." His eyebrows pulled together. "You fixed things." I kicked at a pile of sawdust on the floor. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He grinned when I refused to look at him.
"Well, your mother keeps pestering me to make her a frame that spells out GRANDKIDS with spots to put pictures, but I told her I wasn't going to make that until we had more grandchildren to fill the slots." He looked at me pointedly.
"Whoa. Don't look at me." I put up my hands to ward off any more discussion.
"Who else am I going to look at? Do you see any other children around here?
"You’re getting a little ahead of y
ourself. Anyway, that ship has sailed. If you are looking for more grandchildren, you need to take it up with Kaley."
"Speaking of Kaley, she said you are dating a pretty thing. She the one you dragged here with you and then left alone in my house to steal all the valuables?"
I snorted. "Yes, Dad. I picked her up from the prison on my way here. She was let out for good behavior, though, so you have nothing to worry about. Your valuables are safe for now.” I shook my head. “Good grief."
"It's the pretty ones you have to watch out for. They'll rob you blind while you sleep. I should know. Look at your mother."
"I'm telling mom you called her a petty thief.”
"Now don't go putting words in my mouth and getting me into trouble," he warned.
"Speaking of pretty little thieves, do you remember that song Grandpa used to sing about marrying an ugly woman? Andy and I were talking about that a few weeks ago."
"Of course I remember." He paused then a look of concern crossed his face. "What does this girl look like? Should I be planning for something?" He chuckled at the look of terror that crossed my face.
"Let's just say that if I was following the advice from the song, I couldn't marry Sophie. She and ugly are on opposite ends of the spectrum. But again, nothing to worry about."
"You can't help your taste in women. You inherited that from me." He slapped me on the back. "Go on and find that girl before she robs me blind. And tell your mother that I will be in in a while." I turned toward the house and smiled when I heard him whistling a familiar song as the saw started up again.
Sophie
"Oh." The surprised voice behind me made me jump and I swiped quickly at my eyes before turning around. "I didn't know you had arrived yet. You must be Sophie. I'm Caroline Anderson, James' mom." A sophisticated woman in her late fifties approached me with a smile. Her trim body and dark hair belied her age, but I would have known her anywhere the minute I looked into her eyes. When I did, I saw James staring back at me. I held out my hand to her, but grinned when she pulled me into a hug. Her arms were warm and inviting like a mother's should be. I liked her instantly.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson." I released her and stepped back. "James is around here somewhere. I think he mentioned something about his dad and a shop out back. I got distracted by these photos."
"Please call me Caroline. I just finished up some work in the office and was going to start on some lunch. Have you two eaten?" She talked over her shoulder as she moved into the kitchen.
I touched the picture frame one last time and turned to follow James’ mom into the kitchen. "No, but he and I can grab something later. You don't need to go to any trouble."
I wasn't vomiting at the mouth yet, but if we stayed for lunch, gathered around an intimate table setting, I may not be able to control myself. Especially if the attention should happen to focus on me for any length of time. Best to avoid that situation. As much as I immediately liked and felt comfortable with James' mom, I couldn’t' trust myself to not stick my foot in my mouth.
"Please stay. We'd love to have you. I want to catch up with James. You can help me make it if it will help you feel better."
How could I keep her son from her? "Sounds good. Tell me where you want me." I leaned against the granite topped island as she opened the refrigerator and began pulling out chicken and vegetables.
"You can cut up and cook this chicken while I work my magic on the croissants and secret sauce." I laughed lightly. It was nice to be around a mother again. I couldn't wait for my own mother's return.
"Sophie?" Mrs. Anderson and I both turned at the sound of James coming in the back door. "Thought I lost you." He smiled and walked to stand beside me at the counter. "She put you to work already, huh?"
"Oh, get over here and give me a hug." I watched as Caroline wiped her hands and met James halfway, pulling him into a big hug. "It's been too long," she scolded even though it had only been a couple of weeks. "How are you?" She pulled back and looked at him. I mean really looked. What was she looking for? What did she see? It must have pleased her, whatever it was, because she glanced over at me and then back at James, a speculative look crossing her face. "You look good, happy," she told him and he glanced my way. "That makes me happy." She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek for a moment and smiled.
Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, he shrugged out from under her hand and put his hands in his back pockets, turning toward me again. "What do we have here?" he asked, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder as he leaned over to look into the pan in the silence that followed.
"Chicken salad sandwiches," his mother answered and continued to cut vegetables. "Go tell your father that lunch will be ready in twenty minutes."
James turned his face slightly to whisper, "You okay if I leave again for a minute?" His warm breath made me shiver and I felt him smile against my ear. I pulled back to look into his eyes and returned his smile.
"I’m perfect," I said softly.
His gaze slowly wandered down to my lips and back up to my eyes. His expression intensified and I read desire there. I felt his mother's gaze and glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. James suddenly straightened as if just remembering she stood five feet away, gave me a side hug, and strolled over to the back door. I watched him go, admiring his swagger, and turned back to the stove to stir the chicken.
"Kaley told me you have a nanny position in Portland," Caroline said conversationally.
"Well, that's partly correct. My brother and sister-in-law just had a baby born with a congenital heart defect. I came for a few months to help them out with my other nephew, Jeran. That's how I met James. He's Dylan's doctor."
"Well, he's in good hands then. How is the baby doing?"
"He's doing so much better," I answered with a smile. "James says if all goes well, Dylan will be able to go home soon."
"Does that mean you will be heading for home soon, too?” Was that merely curiosity in her voice? “Where is home?"
"I'm from San Antonio. I'm opening a sports therapy clinic there when I get back, so the sooner I can get back, the better."
Caroline's eyebrow rose at that information and a disappointed "Oh" came from her mouth. "How long have you and James been dating?"
"We've known each other for about eight weeks, but we've only been dating for about half that time. It's a pretty funny story, actually-"
"And one she isn't going to hear because you aren't going to tell it." James cut me off as he came in the back door.
I laughed and turned to find a warning look on his face. Clasping my hands together in front of me, I begged, "Oh, please? It's such a good story."
"A good story for who? It's humiliating."
"If it's going to humiliate my son, it's a story we've got to hear. Right, dear?" A big bear of a man followed behind James and slung an arm around his shoulder. James' father. I studied him only to find an older version of James looking back at me.
"Thanks, Dad," James said wryly.
"It's okay. If he won’t let you tell us, I can always get it out of Kaley," Caroline threatened. "She'd be more than happy-"
James' loud protests cut her off. "Kaley will butcher it. Fine.” He looked at me. “Tell your story. I'll go cry softly in the corner." But he took a stack of plates into the dining room and set them on the table instead.
"I'm Max, by the way." James' dad came forward and shook my hand. "It's good to meet you. Real good." I watched with furrowed brows as Max walked into the dining room. If I didn't know better, I'd think his eyes had gotten misty. When Caroline sniffed, I turned to look at her. She read the question in my eyes and came closer.
"It's good to have James back," she said quietly, patting me on the shoulder. Weird.
"How long has it been since he visited?" I wondered aloud. The way he talked on our drive here, it hadn't been but a few weeks since they'd seen each other.
"No, not physically, but emotionally. He's different. The only change in his life rec
ently has been you, so we have to think that you are the reason for the change. Thank you." She patted my shoulder again and followed her husband into the dining room with the chicken salad and croissants. I followed at a slower pace with the pitcher of lemonade, not exactly sure what just happened. I was happy that they were happy, but they gave me too much credit.
We sat around the table talking and laughing long after the food was gone. I felt as comfortable here as I did at my parents’ house with my own family. Max and Caroline laughed so hard when they heard that James thought I was married to my brother that tears rolled down their cheeks. James was a good sport.
After lunch was cleared, James gave his mom a kiss on the cheek and grabbed his keys off the counter. "I promised Sophie I would take her to the cheese factory and the beach. I'm not sure when we’ll be back, so don't wait up."
"Thank you for the delicious lunch. I've really enjoyed myself." I gave Caroline and Max a hug.
"Yeah, at my expense," James muttered under his breath.
I put my arm through his and looked up at him with mock hero worship. "Don't think of it that way. Think of it as being the life of the party. You made your parents so happy. You are such a good son," I cooed like I was talking to a child and reached up to pinch one of his cheeks.
"No seaweed wrap for you." He untangled his arm from mine and slung it around my shoulders. I laughed and wrapped both of my arms around his waist as we walked to his car.
"I don't know why you were worried," James said as we drove in the direction of the Tillamook Cheese Factory. "They love you, I think, more than they love me."
"What's not to love," I boasted. When James didn't respond, I looked over at him. "I was kidding," I told him.
"I know. I also agree."
I sucked in a breath. Was he saying what I think he was saying? Before I could question him about it, he asked, "What is your favorite type of cheese?"
What? Cheese? "Uh, I don't know. I thought they were all pretty much the same."
He glanced at me incredulously. "Must we have this discussion again, O Queen of Trivia? You honestly can't tell the difference between pepperjack and cheddar?"
Matters of the Heart Page 20