Love Always,

by Sonya Loveday

“They have a great summer program for children, and I like to help out from time to time.”

  He turned to look at me, his arms clasped behind his back. “Oh, are you going to donate?”

  “You could say that.” I giggled, fixing the blanket on my bed before checking under it.

  No shoe.

  He stood straight. “Mother gives to local charities sometimes.”

  “How noble of her,” I remarked, walking past him to check under the couch where I finally found the other shoe. I sat to put them on.

  I knew he didn’t mean it in any kind of way. He was just trying to relate to me, and that was the only reference he had. But it was a sobering reminder of just how differently we viewed the world, and just how many more eye-opening experiences I needed to squeeze in for him before our short time together came to an end.

  Grabbing my purse off the hook, I opened the door. It took him a second to realize I was closing up shop, but then he quick-footed out and I followed behind.

  The sun sat perfectly amongst the clouds like a pot of melted gold, pouring bright light down over us as a warm breeze blew off the North Atlantic.

  “I started a fundraiser a couple years ago for a local children’s hospital. I think, altogether, we’ve raised around two million,” he said, walking in step with me. His pride was genuine, not boastful… one of the many things I liked most about him.

  “That’s really awesome, Phillip, but I’m afraid the only thing I have to donate is my time,” I said with a small shrug.

  “That’s just as resourceful,” he said with a smile.

  “Yeah. I was taught that money doesn’t buy affection, which is what a lot of these children need. I mean, sure, it pays the bills and puts food in front of them, but it doesn’t buy a guiding hand. It doesn’t pay for love and support, which is why I actually do volunteer work from time to time. It was something my mother and I used to do together when I was younger.”

  I had to swallow past the painful thought of her.

  “Oh,” he said, opening the door to my Jeep for me. “I never—Mother never did anything like that with me. Just signed the checks.” He scowled, looking like he was stuck between a sad memory and a startling revelation.

  I turned the engine over and looked at him as he shut the passenger door behind him. “Which is why I totally understand if you don’t want to go. I know it’s not anything exciting—”

  “No,” he said quickly, placing his hand on top of mine on the gearshift. His deep brown eyes locked with mine, sincerity swimming within them. “I’m sure this experience will be just another to add to my amazing moments with Maggie.”

  I put my sunglasses on as quickly as possible to try to hide the roses blooming in my cheeks.

  “Besides,” he said, “I don’t have anything near as noble to do today, so why the hell not?”

  I laughed as I backed out of the parking lot and headed for the highway.

  “Why the hell not,” I repeated.

  A HALF HOUR LATER, I pulled in behind the community center where the parking lot was. Shutting the engine off, I turned to face him in my seat. “When we get inside, I just want you to prepare yourself. These kids are full of life and energy. I had planned on playing a game of volleyball followed up with some ice cream. Think you can handle that, Silver Spoon?”

  “Volleyball is a sport I’m surprisingly good at,” he said with a small smile.

  “Are you now?” I said, following his light laughter.

  “I am.” His chest was proudly stuck out.

  “Good.” I shifted in my seat. Put my hand on his arm. “Listen… before we go in, I just want you to know these kids… they crave role models. Volunteering is a rewarding experience because it’s not about what we do for them that matters; it’s who we can be for them. It’s these special moments that will stick with them through adulthood. That’s priceless.”

  He brushed his hand across my cheek, creating tingling sparks underneath my skin. “You never cease to amaze me, Hoops. I don’t—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as pure, crazy, and kindhearted as you are. Are you even human? Do you ever have any selfish moments?”

  “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” I said, losing my train of thought in his heady gaze. I knew I should have pretended not to notice the way his hand lingered against my skin. The way his eyes moved over my eyes and down to my lips, marking the subtle, nervous movements they made.

  Maybe I should have played it off. Played it safe. But I could feel the heat of his minty breath against my skin. See his matched anticipation as he licked his lips while his hand still cradled my face. He leaned in, every inch feeling like a millennium too long, and fireworks exploded in my nervous system as I thought about the way he had kissed me that night at the bar.

  As I willed him with everything in me to do it again.

  Everything froze the moment his lips barely grazed against mine. The distant sound of waves. The children laughing. The low hum of engines running. It all disappeared, like someone had pushed stop on a CD player, as his kiss centered us in the universe.

  “Maggie?” someone shouted from the back door.

  I turned away from Phillip, knowing that moment would be gone forever. Kicking myself for even allowing myself to so selfishly take it, when I knew we would be parting ways soon enough.

  Estella, the manager of the community center, was carrying out two bags of garbage. Phillip hurriedly got out of the Jeep and rushed over to her, taking the bags from her hands.

  I hopped out and met up with them, praying the color had died down in my cheeks.

  “Thank you,” Estella said animatedly, lifting the lid on the dumpster. “I swear we go through more garbage than even the raccoons can handle.”

  She brushed a silver strand of hair that had fallen against her cheek back up into her tight bun and opened her arms to me. Hugging her always made me think of my grammy. Of climbing up into her lap and feeling safe inside her plump arms.

  “The kids have been practically jumping out of their socks waiting for you to get here.” She let go of me and turned to Phillip. “And I see you’ve brought a friend along?” She leaned over to me, her hand shielding her mouth. “A handsome one at that.”

  It was Phillip’s turn to blush.

  “Phillip Andrews Warrington the Third, ma’am.” He stuck his hand out to her in formal introduction, but she shooed it away and pulled him into one of her famous hugs, laughing at his startled face.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Phillip,” she said when she finally let him go. She squeezed his biceps and then patted him on the cheek. “You’ll most definitely do for our Maggie.”

  “Oh, but we’re not—”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his wide-eyed gaze. “She’s only messing with you,” I said, patting him on the back as we followed her into the center.

  Laughter and skidded footsteps echoed off the high block walls of the gymnasium. The sound of basketballs bouncing and jump ropes slapping against the ground sang a song of childhood memories, taking me back to a time when I was young and my summer days were spent here alongside my mom.

  Estella walked us through to the main office where all the equipment was kept. We had to sign in and get a sticker with our names on it so the newer kids would know who we were, and the other employees wouldn’t question why we had a large group of children with us.

  “I spoke with the manager at Serendipity’s, and she said that she’d be happy to donate a few gallons of ice cream to us, so that will be here around three,” Estella said, unlocking the door to the storage room. “The ball is in here. There are only eighteen kiddies today, so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming for you.” She grabbed the ball and tossed it to Phillip.

  “These kids? They’re never overwhelming, Estella. They’re perfect little angels.”

  Hands on her wide hips, she gave me a questioning look.

  I laughed. “We’ll have them back and ready to eat by three,” I said, heading back to the gymnasium t
o round up the kids.

  After a bunch of cheers and a million or so questions about whether or not Phillip was my boyfriend and if we were going to get married and live happily ever after, we finally got them into a single-file line and headed out the back door toward the on-site beach where the volleyball net was.

  It was a perfect summer day for playing. The forget-me-not blue sky was dotted with clouds towed along by the warm, mid-afternoon breeze. The children, ranging from ages seven to thirteen, were already crowding around us, shouting out questions and things they wanted to share with me since the last time I saw them.

  After a good fifteen minutes of listening to what each of them had to say, and sharing my own stories I’d stocked up for them, Phillip volunteered to organize the teams by pitting boys against girls.

  The kids were thrilled at this prospect.

  Innocent taunting and teasing started up as we all picked our positions and began the epic, timeless game. In the end, the girls won, and we all made our way across the grounds of the rec center to the community pool, ready to cool off. After a short briefing of rules from the on-duty lifeguard, the kids raced each other in their best attempts at walking over to the slide.

  Phillip and I took to the lawn chairs, laughing and staring up at the sky.

  “I don’t think volleyball has ever been so fun,” he said as the kids scattered in front of us, bantering about what sort of water game they would play next.

  “Their luster for life is contagious,” I said, agreeing with him as water splashed us.

  One by one, the kids started swimming apart, looking defeated. They couldn’t settle on an idea for a short game until the ice cream showed up. Phillip got up and jogged over to the kids, pulling them into a circle the way a quarterback would. A few moments later, he jogged back over to me and sat down, resting his forearms on his knees.

  “What was that about?” I asked, watching as the kids spread out with one in the center.

  “I told them to play Marco Polo,” he said with a small shrug. “When I was little, it was one of my favorite games. I figured it’d keep them busy until Estella called for ice cream.”

  I lifted my eyes just a fraction. “There you go, surprising me again.”

  Smiling genuinely at him, I felt like I knew everything and nothing about him. I searched for that specific moment where we shifted from being strangers into what we had become, because I felt like I had missed it. Like that moment had slipped right by me and we were floating in an unexplainable in-between.

  He lay back down and looked up to the sky. “Airplane.” He was pointing to something in the sky.

  I searched the sky for it, and then realized he was talking about the clouds. “I’d say more of a giraffe from this angle.”

  “Want to hear a secret?” he asked, shifting up to his elbows.

  “Always.”

  He smiled at me as the kids screamed and giggled in front of us. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a pilot.”

  “A pilot?”

  He nodded. “On the day of my tenth birthday, Father took me up in our private helicopter. Even though Mother protested, even going as far as faking a fainting spell, he thought it was time I learned how to steer. Of course, I was scared at first, especially after Mother’s episode, but then, feeling the power of the motor and the shifting breeze under the belly of the copter, I felt like I was on top of the world.” He laughed at himself. “Well, I guess I sort of was if you think about it.”

  I tucked my legs underneath me and turned to face him better. “You’re telling me you know how to fly?”

  He took his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out a small card. I took it and my mouth nearly fell open.

  “You have a private pilot’s license? You? Really?”

  He chuckled, taking the license back and putting his wallet away. “There’s just something about flying. It’s more freeing than anything I think I’ve ever done in my life. Isn’t that odd? I mean, could you see me doing something as reckless as that? But I absolutely love it, and I go up whenever I can.” He looked over at me, his eyes searching mine. “Maybe I could take you for a ride one day.”

  A sailor and a pilot. Both wanting to travel. Both wanting to feel the wind blow by us.

  “How do you feel about boats?”

  He quirked his eyebrow at me. “Boats?”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. “That’s what my dream is. To sail. Like all the greats. Like Joshua Slocum.”

  “You’re talking about the guy who sailed solo around the world?” he asked, looking at me as if my brain were leaking from my nose and ears.

  “Don’t you think it’s exciting? Seeing the world from the sea? Charting the waters that connect every place on this earth?”

  “It’s a romantic idea, for sure.”

  “Sounds like someone suffers from seasickness?” I probed.

  “No. I have pretty stable sea legs, but they’re severely out of use. And if I’m being honest, between the two, I’d much rather be soaring through the air.”

  “Shame,” I said, leaning back against the chair. “Phillip takes to the air, while I take to the sea.” I looked over at him. “I believe with all my heart that you could be and do whatever you put your mind to,” I said seriously. “Even if it’s being a pilot.”

  He sighed, leaning back as well. “Mother would never stand for it,” he said, dismissing the idea.

  “And? It’s not her life. It’s yours. You’re the one who has to wake up twenty years from now, be able to look in the mirror, and be satisfied with the choices you’ve made.”

  “If only it were that easy,” he said.

  My mouth opened to further protest, but a hand tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up.

  “Ice cream is here,” Estella said, smiling sweetly.

  “Great,” I said, getting out of the seat. It made me sad to know that flying would only be a dream for him. Even more that I knew there was nothing I could do to make him see any differently.

  People had two roles to play in life—those who chased their dreams, and those who let their dreams chase them.

  I only hoped Phillip would realize that, and not wake up with a shadow of a dream chasing him every day for the rest of his life.

  I LOOKED MYSELF OVER IN the mirror one last time, hoping the fresh glow of my skin would wear off before I made it to dinner. The last thing I wanted was for Sophia to think it was for her.

  The past two weeks with Maggie since our time on the docks had been fun. Adventurous. Eye-opening.

  I could feel myself opening up with her in a way I’d never experienced before. She made me see the world in a way I never would have, if not for her. Made me think that impossibilities weren’t so impossible.

  Each day, I waited impatiently until the time we’d escape to whatever we had going on for the day and sneak off like the teenagers we were meant to be. Yesterday, it was a picnic. Days before, it was volleyball on the beach.

  Unfortunately, those amazing times with her were constantly interrupted by my scheduled life. Duty called. Mother’s insistent expectations. Dinner with Sophia and the trap they’d so deviously snapped on me.

  Dinner with Sophia.

  I swallowed hard at the thought, feeling the need to run away as quickly and as far away as I could. Too bad that wasn’t an option.

  As I put my shoes on, there was a hard knock on my door.

  It had to be Mother.

  Standing, I slid my hands down the front of my dress slacks to make them fall correctly over my shoes, and then answered just after the next hard knock. “Hello, Mother,” I said, noticing the firm line of her lips as they pulled tightly across her teeth.

  “What is wrong with your face? You look sunburned,” Mother asked, pushing her finger into my cheek hard enough to leave a half moon-shaped nail mark behind.

  Leave it to Mother to not miss a thing. Even the faint hint of happiness I had left over from my time with Maggie. I stepped back, putting some mu
ch needed distance between us. “Perhaps it’s the new facial soap I used.”

  Her lips pulled into a pucker as if she’d tasted something sour. “Don’t use it again. It gives you an unpleasant peasant glow.”

  She turned on her heel, marching to the door, heavy purse swaying on her arm like a battering ram. “Come along. You need to be there before Sophia so you can order her favorite wine and have it chilling on the table before she gets there.

  “Her favorite wine? She’s not old enough to drink and neither am I, Mother,” I said, closing the door firmly behind me after making sure the keycard was safely tucked into my wallet.

  “It’s wine, Phillip. People of our standing are allowed such frivolities for special occasions,” she said, practically jabbing me in the side as she put her arm out for me to hold.

  “What sort of occasion?” I asked, not bothering to keep the angst in my voice from being heard.

  “The kind where people make a toast, and that’s all you need to know until then,” she answered, pulling me along like a nuisance puppy trying to slip its leash. The fleeting idea of biting her to release me crossed my mind, but I thought better of it. There was no need to get violent.

  At least, there wasn’t right then anyway.

  THE WINE WAS PERFECTLY CHILLED when Sophia slipped into the chair across from the table for two we’d been given. Around us, people gawked, staring as if something big would happen, and I fought wave upon wave of nervous bouts of sweat that seeped into my undershirt and flushed my face.

  Sophia glowed with the knowledge of a secret. I could see it in the way she battered her eyelashes provocatively at me.

  It set my teeth on edge, so I lashed out the only way I could. With indifference and a healthy dose of muted sarcasm when I asked her, “Do you have something in your eye? If so, you should head to the ladies room and deal with it.”

  She jerked slightly in her chair before relaxing into a smile that baited me as she leaned forward, gown gaping to show the curve of her unbound breasts.

  The dress she wore had caused quite the stir when she’d made her entrance and did little to cover her skin. What wasn’t material was either skin or a sheer fabric that exposed just as much, if not more, than a bikini.