Friends--And Then Some

by Debbie Macomber

  After changing out of the red gown, Lily inspected her limited wardrobe, wondering what she’d wear first if the Texan asked her to dinner. Possibly the dress with the plunging neckline. No, she mentally argued with herself. That dress could give him the wrong impression. The lavender chiffon one she’d picked up at Repeaters, a secondhand store, looked good with her dark eyes and had a high neckline. Lily felt it would be best to start this relationship off right.

  She was sitting beside the old upright piano, sorting through Gram’s sheet music that was stored in the bench, when Jake returned. He let himself in, hung his jacket on the elephant tusks, and picked up a discarded Glenn Miller piece from the top of the pile.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” At least he sounded in a better mood than earlier. “It’d be just like Gram to have that song and not even know it.”

  “You’re determined to find it, aren’t you?” Jake asked with a faint smile.

  “I’ve got to find it,” Lily shot back. “Everything will be ruined if I don’t.” Her sharp words bounced back without penetrating his aloof composure. “He won’t be grateful if I can’t find that song.”

  Jake sat on the arm of the sofa and idly flipped through the stack she’d already sorted. He didn’t like the sound of this Texan. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Lily was determined to find herself a rich man and, knowing her persistence, Jake thought she probably would. When Lily wanted something, she went after it with unwavering resolve. In his life, there wasn’t anything he cared that much about. Sure, there were things he wanted, but nothing that was worth abandoning the easygoing existence he had now. Lily’s dark-brown eyes had sparkled with eager excitement when she’d told him about the Texan. He’d never seen anyone’s eyes light up that way.

  “Did you get a chance to do any writing today?”

  Jake straightened the tall stack of sheet music and sat upright. “I finished that short story I was telling you about and mailed it off.”

  Lily smiled up at him, her attention diverted for the moment. Jake had talent, but he wasted it on short stories that didn’t sell when he should be concentrating on a novel. That’s where the real money was. “Are you going to let me read this one?” He usually gave her his work to look over, mainly for grammar and spelling errors—Jake was a “creative” speller.

  “Later,” he hedged, not knowing why. He preferred it when Lily had a chance to correct his blatant errors, but there was something of himself in this story that he’d held in reserve, not wishing her to see. The interesting part of being a writer was that Jake didn’t always like the people inside him who appeared on paper. Some were light and witty, while others were dark and dangerous. None were like him and yet each one was a part of himself.

  “I know Gram’s got tons more sheet music than this,” Lily mumbled, thoughtfully chewing on her bottom lip. “Do you want to go to the attic with me?”

  “Sure.”

  He followed her up the creaky stairs to the second floor, then moved in front and opened the door that led to another staircase, this one narrower and steeper. Lily tucked her index finger into Jake’s belt loop as the light from the hallway dimmed. They were surrounded by the pitch-black dark, two steps into the attic.

  “Where’s the light?”

  An eerie sensation slowly crept up Lily’s arm and settled in her stomach. The air was still with a stagnant heaviness. “In the center someplace. Jake, I’ll do this tomorrow. It’s creepy up here.”

  “We’re here now,” he argued and half turned, bringing her to his side and loosely taking her by the hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” She tried to make light of her apprehensions, and managed to squelch the urge to turn back toward the dim hallway light. Involuntarily she shivered. “Gram’s got some weird stuff up here.”

  “It can’t be any worse than what’s downstairs,” he murmured, and chuckled softly as they edged their way into the black void. He took short steps as he swung his hand out in front of him to prevent a collision with some inanimate object.

  Gradually, Lily’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light. “I think I see the string—to your left there.” She pointed for his benefit and squeezed her eyes half closed for a better view. It didn’t look exactly right, but it could be the light.

  “That’s a hangman’s noose.”

  “Good grief, what’s Gram doing with that?” In some ways, she’d rather not know what treasures Gram had stored up here. The attic was Gram’s territory and Lily hadn’t paid it a visit in years. In truth, Lily didn’t really want to know what her sweet grandmother was doing with a hangman’s noose.

  “She told me once that her great-grandfather is said to have ridden with Jesse James. The noose might have something to do with that.” As he spoke, Jake’s foot collided with a box and he stumbled forward a few steps until he regained his balance.

  Lily let out a sharp gasp, then held her breath. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What was that?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Jake, let’s go back down. Please.” Her greatest fear was walking into a bat’s nest or something worse.

  “We already went over that. The light’s got to be around here someplace.”

  “Sure, and in the meantime we don’t know …”

  “Damn.”

  Lily’s hand tightened around his, her fingers clammy. “Now what’s wrong?”

  “My knee bumped into something.”

  “That does it. We’re going back.” Jake could stay up here if he wanted, but she was leaving. From the minute they’d stepped inside this tomb, Lily had felt uneasy.

  “Lily,” he argued.

  Jerking her hand free, she turned toward the stairs and the faint beam of light. It looked as though the attic door had eased shut, cutting off what little illumination there had been from the hall. Everything was terribly dark and spooky. “I’m getting out of here,” she declared, unable to keep the catch out of her voice. “This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.” More interested in making her escape than being cautious, Lily turned away and walked straight into a spiderweb. A disgusted sound slid from her throat as her hands flew up to free her face from the fine, sticky threads. A prickling fear shot up her spine as she felt something scamper across her foot.

  Her heart rammed against her breast like a jackhammer as the terror gripped her and she let out a bloodcurdling cry. “Jake … Jake!”

  He was with her in seconds, roughly pulling her into his arms.

  She clung to him, frantically wrapping her arms around his neck. Her face was buried in his shoulder as she trembled. His arms around her waist half lifted her from the floor. “Lily, you’re all right,” he whispered. His hold, secure and warm, drove out the terror. “I’ve got you.”

  It took all the strength she could muster just to nod.

  Jake’s hand brushed the wispy curls from her temple. “Lily,” he repeated soothingly. “I told you I’d protect you.” His warm breath fanned her face, creating an entirely new set of sensations. His scent, a combination of sweat and man, was unbelievably intoxicating. For the first time, Lily became aware of how tightly pressed her body was to the rock hardness of his. Her grip slackened and she slid intimately down the length of him until her feet touched the floor. The hem of her blouse rode up, exposing her midriff so that her bare skin rubbed against the muscular wall of his chest. His hands found their place in the small of her back and seemed to hold her there, pressing her all the closer. Her breasts were flattened to his upper torso, and her nerves fired to life at the merest brush of his body.

  As if hypnotized, their eyes met and held in the faint light. It was as though they were seeing each other for the first time. Her pulse fluttered wildly at his look of curious surprise as his gaze lowered to her mouth.

  “Jake?” Her voice was the faintest whisper, wavering and unsure.

  His eyes darkened and
a thick frown formed on his face. Slowly, almost as if drawn by something other than his will, Jake lowered his mouth to hers. Warm lips met warm lips in an exploratory kiss that was as gentle as it was unhurried.

  “Lily.” His mouth left hers and sounded oddly raspy and unsure. Her eyes remained tightly closed.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.” Somehow she had found her voice. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Do you want an apology?”

  Her arms slid from around his neck and fell to her sides as he released her. “No …” she whispered. “I should be the one to apologize … I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You’re right about this place,” he admitted on a harsh note. “There is something spooky about it. Let’s get out of here.”

  By the time they’d returned to the living room, Lily had regained her equilibrium and could smile over the peculiar events in the attic.

  “What’s so amusing?” He didn’t sound the least bit pleased by their adventure, and stalked ahead of her, sitting in the fan-back bamboo chair usually reserved for Gram.

  “Honestly, Jake, can you imagine us kissing?”

  “We just did,” he reminded her soberly, his voice firm as his watchful eyes studied her. “And if we’re both smart, we’ll forget it ever happened.”

  Lily sat on the sofa, tucking her legs under her. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just that after being such good friends for the past year, it was a shock. Elaine would never forgive me.”

  “Would you lay off Elaine? I’ve told you a thousand times that it’s been over for months.” Jake grimaced at the sound of the other woman’s name. His relationship with Elaine Wittenberg had developed nicely in the beginning. She was impressed with his writing, encouraging even. Then bit by bit, with intrusive politeness, Elaine had started to reorganize his life. First came the suggestion that he change jobs. Driving a cab didn’t pay that well, and with his talents he could do anything. She started introducing him to her friends, making contacts for him. The problem was that Jake liked his life exactly the way it was. Elaine had been a close call—too close. Jake had come within inches of waking up one morning living in a three-bedroom house with a white picket fence and a new car parked in the garage—a house and a car with big monthly payments. True, Lily was just as eager for the same material possessions, but at least she was honest about it.

  “Well, you needn’t worry,” Lily told him, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “Just because we kissed, it doesn’t mean anything.”

  Her logic irritated him. “Let’s not talk about it, all right? It was a mistake and it’s over.”

  Lily arched a delicate brow and shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.” His attitude didn’t please her in the least. As far as she knew, Jake wasn’t one to sweep things under the carpet and forget they existed. If anything, he faced life head-on.

  Abruptly getting to his feet, Jake stalked to the other side of the living room. Confused, Lily watched the impatient, angry way he moved. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said on his way to the front door.

  “Okay.”

  The door closed and Lily didn’t move. What an incredibly strange night it had been. First, the golden opportunity to find that crazy song for the Texan. Then, wilder still was Jake’s kissing her in the attic. Even now she could feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, and the salty-sweet taste of him lingered on her lips. He’d held her close, his scent heightened by the stuffy air of the attic.

  But, Lily realized with a start, the kiss had been a moment out of time and was never meant to be. Jake was right. They should simply put it out of their minds and forget it had happened. A single kiss should be no threat to a year of solid friendship. They knew each other too well to get caught up in a romantic relationship. Lily had seen the type of woman Jake usually went for, and she wasn’t even close to it. Jake’s ideal woman was Mother Teresa, Angelina Jolie, and Betty Crocker all rolled into one perfect female specimen. Conversely, her ideal man was Daddy Warbucks, Bruce Willis and Mr. Goodwrench. No … Jake and she would always be friends; they’d make terrible lovers …

  * * *

  The next morning when Lily found her way into the kitchen, Gram was already up and about. Her bright red hair was tightly curled into a hundred ringlets and held in place with bobby pins.

  “Morning,” Lily mumbled and pulled out a kitchen chair, eager to speak to her grandmother.

  Gram didn’t acknowledge the greeting. Instead, the older woman concentrated on opening a variety of bottles, extracting her daily quota of pills.

  Lily waited until her grandmother had finished swallowing thirteen garlic tablets and a number of vitamins, and had chewed six blanched almonds. This daily ritual was Gram’s protection from cancer. The world could scoff, but at seventy-four, Gram was as fit as someone twenty years her junior.

  “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

  A smile played at the edges of Lily’s mouth. “I know. Gram, have you ever heard of the song ‘Santa Fe Gal of Mine’?”

  The older woman’s look was thoughtful and Lily nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. “It’s been a lotta years since I heard that ol’ song.”

  “You remember it?” Relief washed through Lily until she sagged against the back of the chair. Lily marveled again at her grandmother’s memory.

  “Play a few bars for me, girl.”

  Lily tensed and the silence stretched until her nerve endings screamed with it. “I don’t know the song, Gram. I thought you did.”

  “I do,” she insisted, shaking her bright red head. “I don’t remember it offhand, is all.”

  Is all, Lily repeated mentally in a panic. “When do you think you’ll remember it?”

  “I can’t rightly say. Give me a day or two.”

  A day or two! “Gram, I haven’t got that long. Our future could depend on ‘Santa Fe Gal of Mine.’ Think.”

  Stirring some peanut butter with a knife, Gram picked up a soda cracker and dabbed a layer of chunky-style spread across the top before popping it into her mouth.

  Lily wanted to scream that this wasn’t a time for food, but she pressed her lips tightly shut, forcing down the panic. Gram didn’t do well under pressure.

  “What do you want to know for?” Gram asked after a good five minutes had elapsed. Meanwhile, she’d eaten six soda crackers, each loaded with a thick layer of peanut butter.

  “A rich man requested that song last night. A very rich man who had a generous look about him,” Lily explained, doing her best to keep the excitement out of her voice. “If I can come up with that song, he’d probably be willing to show his appreciation.”

  “We could use a little appreciation, couldn’t we, girl?”

  “Oh, Gram, you know we could.”

  “If I can’t think of it, Gene Autry would know.” Gram often spoke as if famous personalities were her lifelong friends and all she had to do was pick up the phone and give them a jingle.

  “Did Gene Autry sing the original version?”

  “Now that you mention it, he might have been the one,” she said, scratching the side of her head.

  Lily perked up. Gram had a recording of every song Gene Autry had ever sung. “Then you have it.”

  “I must,” she agreed. “Someplace.”

  “Someplace” turned out to be in the furnace room in the basement five hours later. The next few hours were spent transposing the scratchy old record into notes Lily could play on the piano.

  When she sat at the grand piano at five that evening in the Wheaton lobby, “Santa Fe Gal of Mine” was forever embedded in her brain. Each note had been agonized over. There couldn’t be a worse way to memorize a song. Lily had never been able to play very well by ear.

  As it worked out, the timing had been tight and consequently Lily had been unable to pay the amount of attention she would have liked to her dress and makeup.

  The lobby was busy with people strolling in and out, registering for a wholesale managers’ c
onference. At the moment the only thing Lily was interested in was one Texan with a love for an ol’ Gene Autry number.

  During the evening, Lily twice played the song she had come to hate more than any of the others. Her only reward was a few disgruntled stares. The lively Western piece wasn’t the “elevator” style she’d been hired to play. The second go-around with “Santa Fe Gal” and Lily caught the manager’s disapproving stare. Instantly, Lily switched over to something he’d consider more appropriate: “Moon River.”

  As the evening progressed, Lily’s plastic smile became more and more forced. She’d gone to all this trouble for nothing. Her stomach felt as if it were weighted with a lead balloon. All the hassle she’d gone through, all the work, had been for nothing. Gram would be so disappointed. Heavens, Gram nothing, Lily felt like crying.

  As usual, Jake was waiting for her outside the hotel.

  “How’d it go?” he asked as she approached the cab. One look at her sorrowful dark eyes and Jake climbed out of the cab. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mr. Moneybags wasn’t the appreciative type?”

  She shook her head, half expecting Jake to scold her for being so incredibly naive. “No.”

  “What, then?”

  “He didn’t show.”

  Jake held open the taxi door for her. “Oh, Lily, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she returned loyally. “I was the stupid one. I can’t believe that I could have gotten so excited over an overweight Texan who wanted to hear a crummy song that’s older than I am.”

  “But he was a rich Texan.”

  “Into oil and maybe even gold.”

  “Maybe,” Jake repeated.

  He’d walked around the front of the taxi when the captain of the bellboys came hurrying out of the hotel. “Miss Lily!” he called, flagging her down. “Someone left a message for you.”