Notes on His Pillow

by Diana Currie

  Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin I get up to clear the table and for once Adam doesn't jump up to help me. I feel his eyes watching my back as I fill the sink with soapy water and it unnerves me. I hate that I have such a strong response to Adam. Again I wonder if he has any idea how I feel about him. How do I feel about him exactly?

  The room is silent but for the sounds of water slopping around in the sink and the scratching of my Brillo pad against the plates. After I've placed a few clean dishes into the drying rack I hear Adam's chair creak as he stands and moves to my side. His hand reaches for the dishtowel and begins wiping down one of the dinner plates.

  "You don't have to-"

  "Stop it, Amanda. Honestly," he chuckles. "How many times do I have to tell you not to treat me like a guest here? Is that really how you still see me?"

  I glance up to look into his eyes and see his expression is serious. He wants a real answer. "No, Adam. You are much more than a guest to me now," I say sincerely. Let him make what he will of that.

  My answer appears to please him because he smiles happily and reaches for another plate to dry. We continue washing and drying until the sink is empty. I'm still going over our brief exchange in my mind when he tosses the dishtowel on the countertop and sighs.

  "So your ex has the kids again tonight, huh?" he says.

  "Um, yeah. I hate not having them at home two nights in a row but Saturday is Tommy’s usual night with them," I explain shrugging.

  "It's too quiet at home without them, right?" he guesses, oddly hitting the mark exactly.

  "Way too quiet," I agree.

  He smiles and I wonder what he's thinking. "So stay here with me for a while. It's too quiet here too. Let's have a glass of wine with your pie."

  I giggle, not able to control myself. "Pie," I repeat. "Are you sure I didn't drink enough last night? I think I can still feel it in my bloodstream."

  "Amanda, I am a doctor. I assure you there's no alcohol left in your blood," he teases rolling his eyes. "But come, we can fix that."

  He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls a new bottle off the top. Where is he getting all these bottles? Like a magnet I feel him pull me out of the kitchen and across the hall to the living room. This is definitely becoming routine for us and I don't know if having an after dinner ritual with Adam pleases me or terrifies me. Probably a little of both.

  Adam puts his boy scout skills to work again getting a fire started in just a few minutes. I know how to open the wine bottle after having watched him do it a number of times so while he's working on the fireplace I pour each of us a large glass. We sit in our respective wingback chairs watching the flames lick the firewood and listening to the crackling and popping sounds.

  "You never told me why work was so stressful today," I say as a means of getting him talking. The silence is cozy but it makes me feel things I have no business feeling for my new friend. I need a distraction from the warm feeling inside me that has nothing to do with the blazing fire.

  Adam sighs and then takes a long drink from his glass. "My father has a very specific way of running the office. His system is old fashioned and I find it very frustrating. He doesn't want to even consider my suggestions. We had a little argument over computer technology and he reminded me whose medical practice we were in. And since I can't see patients he's still doing it all himself. I can see why he needs another doctor in the office. He's under a lot of stress."

  "Dr. Brickman is a wonderful physician; so attentive and thorough," I say trying to think of something positive to offer him about his father.

  "Yes, he is. But unfortunately his devotion to each patient is what makes him always run behind schedule. And his archaic computer system doesn't help when updating patient charts. As if all that isn't enough to deal with, one of the nurses keeps coming on to me."

  My eyes widen in surprise. The idea of one of Adam's nurses finding him attractive is not at all hard to believe. I'm sure Adam has been the subject of water cooler discussion since he first arrived, maybe even before then. What surprises me is that Adam seems so put off by it.

  "What's the matter? Is it Eleanor?" I tease. Eleanor is the oldest nurse at Dr. Brickman's office, easily pushing seventy.

  Adam laughs and then finishes the wine in his glass. Damn, he's drinking quickly this evening. I think I've barely had two sips. I let more of the liquid flow down my throat to catch up with him and also to loosen myself up.

  "It's not Ellie," Adam replies. "It's this young nurse named Kim. She's always placing her hand on my shoulder or leaning in too close. And she stares at me from across the room like she's trying to undress me with her eyes."

  I'm guilty of that particular offense too, not that I'd ever admit it. Adam notices my lack of response and of course calls me out on it. "What?" he asks expectantly.

  "Nothing. It's just, well... can you really blame her? Have you seen yourself?"

  Crap, what's the matter with me! I gulp the remaining wine in my glass. Adam laughs softly and I can actually detect a little blush in his cheeks. It's freaking adorable. He has no words and we just sit there, looking at the fire, not speaking. After a minute I can't take the crushing tension any longer.

  "The Kim in your office is Kim Delaney, right? I went to high school with her. She was very popular; used to getting any boy she went after."

  "Great," Adam replies sarcastically reaching for the bottle of Chardonnay.

  I hold out my glass for him and he fills it before doing the same to his own. "Thank you, kind sir," I say playfully.

  "You're very welcome, my dear," he plays along.

  "So, what do you have planned for tomorrow? The office is closed Sundays, right?"

  "It is so no work tomorrow. I have a meeting at Harper & Roach at ten thirty and then I need to do a little research on building a house. Andrew's going to handle the bulk of the work, all the construction, inspections, and things of that nature but I want to get some idea of what I'm getting myself into."

  "I still can't get over you wanting to build on that land. How long will the whole project take?"

  "Six months or more. Why, am I wearing out my welcome already?" he teases. "Don't worry, I won't be here that whole time."

  "You won't? Why not?" I reply quickly unable to hide the disappointment in my voice. It makes him smile.

  "I can't afford Mr. Thatcher's nightly rate for that long a time. My mother's looking into finding a house or an apartment where I can do a short term lease."

  Ugh, I am still dying to know why he doesn’t just stay at Caroline and Gregory’s house. But regardless, I don't like this new development at all. And it isn't only because the only apartment complex in town is where my soon to be ex husband currently resides. I'm not ready for Adam to leave here yet.

  "After the summer season is over our occupancy really drops off. We haven't been booked solid after September in all the years we've been open. I can talk to Mr. Thatcher for you; maybe get you a reduced rate for an extended stay. If you'd be interested in that, I mean. I don't mean to be presumptuous."

  "You really think he would go for that? Honestly, I hate the idea of having to move somewhere else temporarily," he says while picking at a piece of lint on his jeans. "And I like seeing you every day. It makes me feel less alone," he admits.

  Pain in my lower lip makes me realize how hard I'm biting down on it. My eyes flicker over to Adam and I find him watching me intently. "I like seeing you every day too," I say softly.

  He looks relieved by my admission. This is the closest we've come to declaring any kind of feelings for each other, however innocent or friendly in nature they may be. A hundred thoughts are invading my mind making it hard to form coherent thoughts. Adam is still staring at me, his green eyes burning brighter than the fire in front of us. The phone rings and I nearly jump out of my skin. Adam chuckles nervously and leans back in his chair. I hadn't even realized we'd been inching close to one another until he pulls back.

  I run for the phone, catc
hing it just before going to voicemail. "Hello? Thatcher Bed and Breakfast. This is Amanda speaking."

  "Mommy?" a tiny little voice says in my ear.

  "Gabby. Hi sweetheart. Is everything okay?" I ask turning my back on Adam.

  "Daddy told me I had to ask you to watch his movie."

  "What movie, baby?"

  "Mommy, I'm not a baby!" Gabby moans.

  "Sorry, Gabrielle. Mommy forgets you don't like being called a baby anymore. You're right; you're a big girl now."

  I hear Adam laugh behind me and I turn sideways so I can see his face. He's looking at me with a strange expression, that same one he got when we first met. He's trying to figure me out again.

  "Can I watch it, Mommy?"

  "Watch what?"

  "Alien," Gabby answers.

  "No, Gabby. You cannot watch any of the Alien movies! Can you put daddy on the phone please?"

  I look over at Adam and mouth 'sorry' to him. He shakes his head and smiles, mouthing back 'it's okay.'

  I hear shuffling on the other end of the phone and finally Tommy's voice. "I told her no already. She insisted on asking you anyway," he defends.

  "It's okay; just please find something else to put on. I think that movie's rated R," I say sternly.

  "I know, I know. Um, Mandy… we tried calling you at home first but got no answer. What are you still doing at work?"

  I look at the clock and see that it's after seven o'clock. I've been chatting with Adam for over two hours. I can’t believe so much time has passed so quickly. “Oh, I ah, was taking advantage of the kids not being here to get some chores done and I lost track of time.”

  “Alright, we’ll don’t work too hard. And don’t worry about us, we’ll find a nice G-rated movie to watch.”

  “Thank you. Good night Tommy. Tells the kids I love them.”

  “I will. Goodnight, Mandy.”

  I hang up the phone and place it gently back in the cradle. Talking to Tommy has thrown a wet blanket on the fire that was raging between Adam and me a moment ago. I’m thankful for the interruption. It gives me time to reign in the feelings I’d been allowing myself to indulge in. My heart flutters around this man in a way I’ve never experienced before. I felt a spark; and I don’t think it was entirely one sided. But something about this just doesn’t feel right.

  I still cannot bring myself to really believe Adam has any kind of romantic or sexual attraction to me. Is it possible that Adam does like me? The way Kevin like liked Winnie Cooper? And even if he actually does, I don't know that I could handle his affection right now. Dealing with the kids, my job, and the divorce, I feel like my plate is full. I’m still convinced this emotional connection I feel is all in my head because I can’t even begin to consider the alternative.

  I sigh. What am I doing drinking wine with him here all alone? I need to get out of here. “I need to go home,” I say aloud as I walk back into the living room.

  “Is something the matter with the kids?” Adam asks with genuine concern marring his beautiful face.

  “No. No, they’re just fine. I need to go home. To my house. Because that’s where I live,” I ramble.

  I’m acting strange and I know it. My heartbeat is picking up and I just need some air. Adam looks sad that I’m leaving and that just makes me feel even more nervous. He follows me into the hall where I pick up my purse and keys.

  “You shouldn’t drive, even if it’s only a couple blocks, Amanda,” Adam says.

  “Yes, you’re right. I think I’ll walk. I could use the air. I’ll see you in the morning, Adam. Good night!” I call out over my shoulder as I quickly escape through the front door. Once I am outside in the cool damp air I can finally breathe again.

  I’ve started feeling that vibe from him. The same one I felt from Tommy once upon a time, and the same one that Brett gives off when his guard is down. The way I feel about Adam after just a few short weeks tells me dating him could never be just some casual thing. I don’t even want to think about these feelings that Adam may or may not have for me until Tommy signs those papers and that chapter of my life is closed.

  Chapter Nine: Turning Point

  The kids and I don't get to the B&B until around nine o'clock on Sunday. It makes for a later than usual breakfast for my guests but I purposely wanted to miss Adam's morning run. My heart and my hormones couldn't take seeing him shirtless and glistening with sweat today. He hasn't worn a shirt on his runs since that first morning when I was in the kitchen upon his return. I feel bad for dodging him, and for running out so fast last night but I really needed to put some space between us. The sexual tension I was feeling was unbearable. This crush is really doing a number on me.

  The timing actually worked out well this morning. I made a big breakfast of eggs, sausage, and hash browns for the three merry fishermen and Adam. John, Dave, and Larry checked out about an hour ago and I sent them off with wrapped up pieces of apple pie for the road. I was getting used to the sounds of their laughter in the house as they told stories about one another and bantered back and forth. They were fun and friendly and I was sad to see them go. John promised to be back next season and I said I was going to hold him to that. Mr. Thatcher would be thrilled to have three return bookings next spring.

  I continue to miss my fishermen friends until I walk into Larry's fishy smelling room and see the pile of laundry waiting for me. I actually use the expression ‘Egads!’ when I find the same size mound in John's room upstairs. I can hear Adam chuckling at me through the wall as I put my hands on my hips. This is not funny; I am up to my eyeballs in dirty foul smelling towels and linens.

  I bang on the wall separating us a few times. "Hey you, cut out the chortling over there at my expense!" He laughs harder. I'm about to yell through the wall again when I see Adam standing in the doorway to the yellow room.

  "Look at this place!" I say exasperated.

  Adam takes in the view, his eyes roaming from the pile of laundry on the floor to me, over to the pile of dirty dishes on the night stand and then back to me. I feel like his eyes are lingering on my hips, where my fists are still firmly clenched. I huff dramatically to blow a loose strand of hair out of my face.

  He smiles deliberately. "Yep, this room is trashed. And it smells like dead fish," he says. "I'd love to stick around to see what other funny sayings might come out of your mouth but I have to get over to Harper & Roach."

  "Right, your big meeting about the land purchase," I reply feeling myself calm down a little. This will be fine. I have all day to clean.

  "Yep, wish me luck. I'll be home for dinner."

  My heart leaps hearing him call this place home. "Good luck, Adam. And don't be late. I'm making Cornish hens and roasted red potatoes."

  "Wow, fancy dinner; I'll definitely be here," he comments.

  "We have new guests checking in. Once you've been here over a week I slack off and just serve meatloaves," I tease.

  Adam smiles. "Don't knock Nana's meatloaf," he warns with mock severity. "I really have to run; see you tonight."

  "Bye," I say with a sigh.

  I can hear Adam talking to Tyler and Gabby for a minute and then the front door opens and shuts.

  "Ty!" I shout down to my son. "Come help Mommy with these sheets and I'll give you a dollar!"

  With my two happy helpers I get all the dirty bed sheets and towels down to the basement in two trips. It costs me two bucks but is well worth it. I spend the rest of the morning doing dishes and Febreezing the three empty rooms like a madwoman. I might utter the phrase 'Aye carumba' when I look under Dave's bed and find a slew of dirty plates and candy wrappers. I laugh to myself and make sure to leave a little note on Adam's pillow.

  Aye Carumba, 11:56am, Dave’s room.

  He should get a kick out of that one.

  Luckily, my new guests don't arrive until after lunch so I only have to feed the kids and myself. Macaroni and cheese with hot dogs is served at noon and we're all relaxing in the living room by one o'clock. I still h
ave two loads of linens in the dryer but all in all, it's been a rather productive morning. We're watching a movie when Kelly Olsen arrives with her young daughter an hour later.

  "Hello! Welcome to the Thatcher Bed and Breakfast. I'm Amanda," I greet with a warm smile. We shake hands.

  "Hi, Amanda. I'm Kelly and this is my daughter, Leila."

  Kelly is attractive and well groomed, in her late twenties I'd guess with long brown hair. Her daughter, Leila, is six years old with pretty dark features to match her mother's. I go about getting them checked in while Leila wanders into the living room with the other kids. Gabby squeals with delight to see a potential playmate. She's a few years younger than Leila but I hope they will get along well.

  "Is your stay business or pleasure?" I ask while Kelly signs the check-in book.

  She looks up and smiles. "Both I suppose. I'm thinking of moving here so we've come to get a feel for the town, tour the school, and look at some houses. I'll need to see about finding a job too if we decide to relocate. I'm just so sick of city life."

  "Where do you live now?" I wonder, fascinated to learn about anyone who hails from a big city.

  "Atlanta. I want Leila to grow up in a small town. I love the idea of raising her in a place without all the concrete, where there's a real sense of community and everyone knows one another, you know?"

  "Well, you've come to the right place for that. As a lifelong resident here I'd be happy to answer any questions you have about Swainsboro," I say politely.

  I find it odd that some people seek out a town like Swainsboro, while I would like nothing more than to escape it. Adam's mother had the same romanticized notions of small town living when she convinced Adam's father to move here. He doesn't share his parents love for simplicity; I know he misses Chicago. I suppose that's one thing Adam and I have in common. We'd both prefer to live in the concrete jungle than this sleepy little town.

  Briefly, I wonder if there is a Mr. Olsen out there somewhere but have the decency not to ask. I do notice her ring finger is bare. It was a wise decision to assign them a room on the first floor, I decide. Though I don't know how long I'll be able to keep my sexy doctor hidden away upstairs. I hate that I'm even thinking these kinds of thoughts but there's no use denying them. Avoidance hasn't worked out too well; denial seems like an equally useless plan of action.