How tempting it would be to let him take care of her, and to lie to herself when she said it was merely his penance for leaving her and Justine. It frightened her how easily she could imagine it.
She pulled her hand away. “Thanks, but my family is here for me. Adapting the loft is help enough.”
He nodded, but she sensed his disappointment and prayed that he would never know how hard it had been to refuse his offer, and how essential it had been that she do so.
A week after their dinner together, Adam came to Megan’s house to pick up Robby. He came inside and chatted with her, but only for as long as it took Robby to tie his shoes, throw on the coat Megan insisted he wear, snatch up his football, and race out the door. “We’ll be back in a few hours,” Adam said, grinning as Robby shouted for him to hurry.
When Megan shut the door, the house fell silent, and it occurred to her that she had a few hours to herself for the first time in ages. It had been so long since she had last had free time that for a moment she was at a loss for what to do. She considered reading some technical papers she had brought home from work but decided to brave the malls and go Christmas shopping instead.
Ordinarily Megan disliked shopping because she invariably had to cram two hours’ worth into twenty minutes between leaving work and rushing off to pick up Robby from his grandparents’. On this outing, she browsed through the stores at a leisurely pace, listening to Christmas carols, and soon found she was enjoying herself. After selecting gifts for her parents and picking up a few things from Robby’s list, she stopped by her local quilt shop, where she purchased a few fat quarters in Christmas prints to send to Donna. Afterward she stopped by her favorite bookstore and treated herself to a novel, which she began to read in the coffee shop over hot chocolate and shortbread, and continued later at home, as she soaked in a hot bath. She hadn’t felt so relaxed since quilt camp.
As the afternoon waned, an unexpected loneliness crept into the quiet house, so she started the beef barley vegetable soup that she planned to have for supper with the whole wheat bread she’d purchased at the bakery next door to the quilt shop. As the soup simmered, she sat at the kitchen table and read, glancing out the window at nearly every car that passed. When Adam’s car finally pulled into the driveway, she marked her place in the book and went to meet them at the door.
“Did you have fun?” she asked Robby as they came inside, red-cheeked and grinning. She hugged her son and took his football so he could unzip his jacket.
“I made a field goal from the ten-yard line,” Robby said.
“Did you?” Megan said, impressed. “That’s a record, isn’t it?”
“For me it is.” Robby grinned up at Adam. “Adam showed me a better way to kick to make it go farther.”
“He didn’t need much coaching from me,” Adam said. “He’s a natural.”
“Adam says he thinks I could make the middle school team when I’m older, if I practice.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Megan gave Adam a sidelong look, picturing enormous linebackers lumbering forward to crush her child. “Well, we’ll see.”
“That’s what she says when she means something’s too dangerous,” Robby said to Adam. “She thinks I’m still a baby.”
“That’s not true,” Megan protested as they laughed. “‘We’ll see’ means I’ll think about it.”
“Can Adam stay for supper? Please, Mom?”
Megan smiled, glad to be able to repay Adam for giving her the luxury of an entire afternoon to herself. “If he’d like to, he’s more than welcome. We’re having beef barley vegetable soup.”
“Not from a can,” Robby added. “Mom says that has too much sodium and preservatives.”
“Homemade soup?” Adam began to remove his coat. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
The soup was flavorful, the crusty bread warmed in the oven and light, perfect for a crisp early December day. Robby and Adam soon had her laughing with stories of their afternoon outdoors. She enjoyed herself so much that she was glad Robby had invited Adam to stay, and she wished she had thought of it herself. After supper, Robby helped Megan clear the table, and to her amusement, Adam began rinsing off bowls and stacking them in the dishwasher. He looked up from his work to see her stifling a laugh, and he grinned sheepishly. “It’s a habit,” he said, shaking water off his hands and stepping back from the sink. “Sorry.”
“No, no, that’s quite all right,” she said, and began to help. They chatted as they worked, and when Robby was out of earshot, Megan thanked Adam for spending the day with him.
“No need to thank me. I had a great time,” Adam said, but Megan wished she could do something more to show him how much she appreciated the way he had befriended her son. She wondered if he had any idea how her heart swelled with gladness to see Robby so happy.
The next Saturday, Adam and Robby went to the Books & Company bookstore in Dayton to meet J. K. Rowling, who was signing copies of the latest Harry Potter book. Megan enjoyed another relaxing afternoon on her own, finishing her Christmas shopping and working on her quilt block for the Challenge Quilt. Although she hadn’t completely accomplished her goal, Vinnie had reminded her that she was only required to try, and she had certainly done that. Keith had phoned Robby on Thanksgiving; Robby’s counselor said he was making progress, and he hadn’t had an outburst at school since the Halloween cookie fiasco; and he was getting along wonderfully with Adam. Until recently, Megan had feared she’d never be able to complete her block without breaking the rules of the challenge, but recently, with Adam’s help, she had begun to feel hope.
She began by selecting fabrics for her block and soon found a clear, rich blue floral print that complemented Vinnie’s autumn leaf fabric so well that she had to admit that maybe purple wasn’t so bad after all. Choosing a pattern proved to be much more difficult. The one-patch styles Megan preferred didn’t suit a sampler quilt, so she didn’t have a store of favorite blocks to call upon. She paged through several of her quilting books for ideas, but none of the designs or block names fit as a symbol of her accomplishment. As she finished looking through the third book, she realized that it had grown dark outside. She had lost track of time, but apparently so had Adam and Robby, for they had not yet returned.
She put her books away and hurried downstairs to start supper, but despite her late start, by the time Adam’s car pulled into the driveway, she had been keeping the meal warm in the oven for a good half hour. Relieved, she went to the door to greet them.
Adam began apologizing before she could even say hello. “The event went on longer than I expected,” he said. “I should have called. I didn’t think of it until we were on our way home.”
Robby was glowing with excitement. “We had to wait in line for hours,” he exclaimed, delighted rather than annoyed, as Megan herself might have been. “There were thousands of kids there.” Megan and Adam looked at him skeptically, and he quickly amended that to, “Maybe one thousand.”
“I’d say at least eight hundred,” Adam added, and with a single look to Megan over Robby’s head, he conveyed what it had been like to wait in line among so many excited kids and their beleaguered parents all afternoon.
Megan suppressed a laugh and said, “Supper’s ready if you’re hungry. Adam, will you stay?”
Adam agreed, and in a few moments they were sitting around the table, eating and listening as Robby told them what questions the audience had asked and how the author had responded. Robby reverently showed Megan the autograph on the title page. He raced off to read his book as soon as he finished eating, but Megan and Adam lingered, talking about work and the upcoming holiday.
Together they cleaned up the kitchen and then continued their conversation over coffee. Before she knew it, hours had passed, and it was Robby’s bedtime. Adam, who seemed as surprised by the late hour as she, hugged Robby and wished him good night. Megan walked Adam to the door and watched out the window as he drove away. Then she went upstairs to make sure Robby brushed his
teeth.
When Megan arrived at work Monday morning, she sent Adam an email note telling him that she had hardly seen Robby all weekend, so engrossed was he in his book. Adam wrote back before noon, and they sent messages back and forth throughout that day and the next. By Wednesday she expected to find a note from him whenever she checked her email, which she found herself doing more frequently than usual. On Thursday, Adam suggested that the three of them go out for pizza after he and Robby went to the movies that weekend. Pleased, Megan agreed, and the rest of the week dragged as she waited for Saturday afternoon.
But on Saturday morning, Adam phoned. “Megan, it’s Adam,” he said, his voice so weak and hoarse that Megan didn’t recognize it. “I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to cancel. I think I have the flu.”
“You sound terrible.”
“I feel terrible. Will you tell Robby I’m sorry?”
“Of course. He’ll understand.” She understood, too, and sympathized, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “I hope you feel better soon. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids, okay?”
He coughed and groaned. “Not if it means getting off the sofa.”
“I mean it. You have to take care of yourself.”
“Okay, doctor,” he said wearily. “I’ll try.”
She wouldn’t hang up until he promised he’d take her advice, but his promise came so halfheartedly that she doubted he’d keep it. Her hand still on the receiver, she considered calling him back, but then an idea came to her, and she phoned her mother instead.
Robby was in his room reading the last few chapters of his Harry Potter book. “I have some bad news,” she said, and waited for him to set down his book. “Adam has the flu. He can’t come today.” Before he could get too disappointed, she quickly added, “But I called your grandma and grandpa, and they’re going to take you to the movie instead.”
Robby brightened, but then he looked puzzled. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” Megan said, embarrassed. “I’m going to make sure Adam’s all right.”
Robby agreed that this was a good idea. Vinnie had given her Adam’s address months earlier, and Megan obtained directions to his house from an internet mapping site. Before long she had dropped off Robby at her parents’ house and was on her way to Cincinnati.
Adam’s house was a red-brick colonial with black shutters on a quiet street in the northern part of the city. Megan parked in the driveway and hesitated before knocking on the front door, wondering if she had made a mistake by coming there. She considered jumping back in the car and driving home, but Adam might have seen her from the window, and she didn’t know what she would tell Robby when he asked how his friend was doing, so she shoved her worries aside and knocked.
She waited, but there was no answer. She knocked again, louder, and then rang the doorbell. Finally she heard someone fumbling with a lock, and the door swung open to reveal Adam, unshaven and pale in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He looked even worse than he had sounded on the phone.
“Oh, no,” Megan said, appalled. “I should have let you sleep.”
Somehow Adam managed a bleary-eyed smile. “Megan,” he said, and he sounded glad to see her. “Didn’t you see the quarantine sign?”
“I’m sorry I got you up.”
“No, no, that’s okay.” He opened the door wider. “Come in, if you aren’t afraid of the plague.”
Megan entered the foyer, her face growing warm. “I thought I’d check in on you to make sure you don’t need anything.” She looked past him into the living room, where she saw a pillow and a quilt on the sofa, but nothing, not even an empty water glass on the end table, to indicate he had followed her directions. She folded her arms and regarded him with stern amusement. “Have you been taking fluids?”
“I was just going to get myself a glass of orange juice.”
“A likely story.” She spun him around and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the sofa. “Go lie down. I’ll bring you some.”
Adam nodded meekly and shuffled off, and as Megan found the kitchen, she heard him groan as he returned to the sofa. She opened the refrigerator door and sighed at what she found there—or rather, what she didn’t find. There was a half-empty gallon bottle of milk, some condiments, two Chinese takeout containers—no orange juice, and nothing she could use to make him something nutritious to eat. “Don’t you buy groceries?” she called to him, and received a weak apology in return.
Megan found a tea bag in a cupboard, but no kettle, so she boiled water in a saucepan and poured it into a mug. As the tea steeped, she took inventory of the kitchen and made a shopping list. When the tea was ready, she carried it to him and said, “I’m going to run to the grocery store. Is there anything you need?”
“A new set of lungs and some sinuses would be nice.” He took a drink of the tea. “Thank you. This is great.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Wait,” he called after her. “The front door locks automatically. There’s a spare key in the drawer of that table in the entry.”
“I found it,” Megan called back after a brief search. “Drink your tea and try to rest. I’ll be back soon.”
She tucked the key into her purse and drove to a grocery store she had passed on her way to the house, where she bought more milk, some tea and honey, a quart of orange juice, crackers, and the ingredients for chicken noodle soup. When she returned to Adam’s home, she let herself in with the key as quietly as possible, left the grocery bags in the kitchen, and tiptoed into the living room to check on him. He was asleep, the empty mug on the floor beside the sofa.
Megan decided sleep was probably better for him than a glass of orange juice, so she carried the mug into the kitchen and left Adam alone while she prepared the soup. She checked in on him from time to time while the soup simmered, but with the exception of a few fits of coughing, he slept peacefully. She remembered seeing a newspaper on the front porch and went outside for it, then pulled up a stool and read it at the kitchen counter, pausing every so often to check the pot on the stove. Just as she decided the soup was finished, the phone rang, startling her with its abrupt shattering of the silence.
She snatched up the receiver, hoping the noise hadn’t woken Adam. “Hello, Wagner residence.” There was a pause, and then a dial tone.
As Megan hung up, she heard Adam call to her from the other room. When she joined him, he was sitting up weakly. “Who was it?”
“A wrong number, I guess. They hung up. Was it all right that I answered? I was hoping you’d sleep through it, but maybe I confused them.”
“That’s fine, thanks. I’ve been getting a lot of hang-up calls lately, mostly on my answering machine. I think something’s wrong with my line.” He paused. “What is that wonderful smell?”
“Chicken noodle soup. Are you hungry?”
“I didn’t think I would be, but I am.” He started to get up, but Megan ordered him to stay where he was, and she brought him a bowl of soup, some crackers, and a cup of tea. When she returned with soup and tea for herself, Adam had settled back against the sofa cushions, eyes closed. At first she thought he had fallen asleep again, but then he opened his eyes and said, “This is without a doubt the best soup I’ve ever tasted.”
Pleased, Megan settled herself on the floor beside him. “Thanks. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat soup from a can again.”
“That’s my mission in life, to remind people of how food tastes when it’s not made in a factory.”
He laughed, but the laugh turned into a cough, and he fumbled for the box of tissues on the end table. “How’s Robby doing?” he asked when he was able to talk again.
“He’s almost finished with the book you bought him last weekend. Which reminds me, I need to pay you back for that.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He nodded at his bowl, now nearly empty. “After all this?”
“How about if I
leave you the leftovers, and we’ll call it even?”
Adam agreed, then finished his soup and set the bowl on the end table. Still weak, he lay down on the sofa again, then watched her as she finished her meal and placed her empty bowl beside his. “Do you want any more?” she asked.
“Not now.” His eyes were still red-rimmed, but he looked more comfortable and rested. “How do you do it?”
“How do I do what?”
“How do you do everything you do so well? You’re a rocket scientist, a real one, you’re a wonderful mother, you’re beautiful, and you make home-made soup. It’s hard to believe you’re real.”
“I think we should take your temperature. You’re delirious.”
“I mean it.” He watched her so steadily that she wanted to look away, but found herself unable to. “I would really like to kiss you right now, but I don’t want to give you the plague.”
Megan’s heart jumped, but she said lightly, “I don’t think you have the plague.”
“Whatever it is, it’s killing me, because otherwise I could be kissing you.” He considered. “Of course, without this fever, I probably wouldn’t have started this conversation.”
“Probably not,” Megan said gently.
“I still wish I could kiss you, though.”
Her eyes locked on his, Megan slowly kissed her fingertips and pressed them to his cheek. He raised his hand and held it over hers, then clasped it and brought it to his lips and then to his heart. Then, slowly, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep again.
Megan eased her hand free, then returned to the kitchen, where she stored the leftovers and washed their dishes. When she finished, she poured Adam a glass of orange juice, placed it on the end table, and sat down on the sofa beside him. She woke him by touching him lightly on the shoulder and telling him she had to go.
“I wish you could stay,” he murmured.
“So do I,” she said. “But Robby’s waiting.”
“Would you tell him I’ll see him next week?”
An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler Page 83