Cape Light

by Thomas Kinkade

  As for her hair, she wasn’t sure what to do. She could tell Sam liked it down; she remembered how he’d looked at her the other day. She started brushing it out, intending to wear it down to please him. Then, just to be perverse, she twisted it back and pinned it up. She didn’t want Sam Morgan to think she cared what he liked, one way or the other. It was bad enough that she was actually going out with him. She didn’t have to dress to please him besides.

  She would see him just this once, Jessica told herself. It would be pleasant, fun. But that would be that. She wasn’t going to get herself entangled in something too complicated. Some men could just date you and date you, until . . . until forever, without it ever adding up to anything. Like Paul? she wondered.

  No, she was sure her dates with Paul were adding up to something meaningful, though she had only heard from him once, a brief e-mail when he arrived in Minneapolis. He left the phone number of his hotel, but Jessica didn’t want to call him first. He was probably swamped with work and the crisis out there. She would just have to wait to hear from him.

  Sam arrived promptly at seven. She opened the door and found him holding a beautiful bouquet—daisies, snapdragons, dusky pink lilies, chrysanthemums, and large lavender flowers with trumpet-shaped blossoms that she couldn’t identify.

  “These are for you,” he said.

  “Thanks, they’re lovely.” Jessica bent her head to catch the fragrance, and became more conscious instead of Sam’s aftershave, a pleasant spicy scent.

  “They’re so unusual. Did you get them in a flower shop?” she asked curiously. No “routine” pink roses, she noticed. Was that on purpose?

  “Uh, no. I drove up to the Potters’ orchard. Sophie helped me pick them out.”

  “They’re beautiful,” she said, wondering if he made a special trip to the orchard just for that purpose. “I’ll just put them in water before we go.”

  Sam followed her into the kitchen, watching as she took a vase from the cupboard. “How’s the garden coming?”

  “Pretty good; I worked on it all day.”

  He glanced out the kitchen window. “I can see,” he said, sounding impressed at her efforts. “Nice work. Maybe I’ll hire you to do some landscaping for me. If you ever get tired of your job at the bank, I mean.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Jessica said lightly. She set the vase on the table and arranged the flowers, feeling self-conscious as he watched her.

  “By the way, you look great. I love that dress.”

  She felt warmed by his compliment and the admiring look in his eyes. She smiled despite herself. “Thanks, you look nice, too.”

  Actually, Sam looked devastatingly handsome. He was wearing a black linen jacket with tan slacks. A slate-blue linen shirt and matching silk tie completed the outfit. She’d seen him dressed up before at church. But he looked different tonight, more . . . stylish or something. In fact, he looked so good she felt a little intimidated.

  His hair, still wet from a shower, was combed back against his head, emphasizing his strong features. She was reminded of the way he looked that afternoon they’d stood out in the rain. The afternoon when he kissed her . . .

  She caught herself staring at him, then looked away. She picked up the vase and carried it out to the living room, where she set it on the fireplace mantel.

  “Shall we go?” she asked.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Sam replied.

  She gathered up her purse and shawl and met him at the door. “How’s Elsie?” he said, glancing around for the cat.

  “She’s okay. Getting fatter and lazier by the day.”

  Sam laughed. “Sounds like you’re spoiling her rotten.”

  “I am not,” Jessica insisted, though when she caught his eye she had to smile. “Well, not that much.”

  They drove toward Hamilton, talking about the places they passed and how this part of the coast was changing. It was easy talking to Sam, Jessica realized. It had been that way since the first time they met. She felt as if she could say anything to him. But that was probably because she didn’t care so much what he thought, she reminded herself. He was just, well . . . Sam.

  They were about halfway there when Jessica noticed a car parked up ahead on the shoulder of the road, its hood raised.

  Sam frowned and slowed his truck. “Looks like Harry Reilly. I’d better stop. He must need help.”

  “Sure,” Jessica said, though she had a feeling that if they missed their reservation at this restaurant, they’d probably be turned away.

  Sam pulled up behind Harry’s truck. “Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Sam told her.

  Jessica soon saw Harry walk around the side of his vehicle. He definitely looked happy to see Sam. His hands were covered with grease, and so was the front of his T-shirt.

  The two spoke for a minute, then Sam returned to Jessica. “Nothing serious,” he reported. “Harry’s muffler is hanging and he can’t seem to tie it up. I’m just going to help him out. It won’t take long,” he promised as he slipped off his jacket and put it down carefully on the driver’s seat.

  Then he opened the buttons on his shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Jessica watched, knowing Sam would soon look like Harry no matter how carefully he rolled his sleeves.

  Sam leaned over and pulled out a toolbox from the narrow bench behind the front seats. He opened it and started rummaging inside.

  “Maybe we just should call a tow truck for him,” Jessica suggested. “I think there’s a gas station up ahead.”

  “No, that’s okay. It will take hours for a tow truck to get here. Especially on a Saturday night. Besides, Harry is hauling a load of fish down to the market in Boston as a favor to some buddy, and he’s got a ticket for the Sox tomorrow. He won’t wait around here all night; he’s got to get back on the road.”

  “Oh . . . I see,” Jessica said quietly.

  Sam glanced at his watch. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time,” he promised her.

  When Jessica didn’t answer, he said, “Listen, Jessica, some things are more important than a restaurant reservation. I’m not going to just leave him here. He’s my friend.”

  His stern tone surprised her. “Of course. I didn’t say you should,” Jessica said quickly, but she avoided his gaze. Although she hadn’t said to leave Harry, she had implied it, and they both knew that.

  Sam glanced at her again, his expression softening a bit. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” he said, and left again, this time holding some tools, a flashlight, and a spool of wire.

  Jessica watched him walk away, then got out of the truck and followed. The heels on her sandals made her steps wobbly in the gravel and soft dirt, but she soon made it to Harry’s truck. She saw only Sam’s legs and feet sticking out but noticed that Harry had spread out a blanket for Sam to lie on while he worked underneath the truck. Harry was crouched down, holding a flashlight for him. It was dusk and growing darker.

  Harry looked up and smiled at her, his Red Sox cap pushed back on his forehead. “Hey, Jessica. Thanks for stopping. I don’t know what I would have done if you folks hadn’t come along.”

  “That’s okay, Harry,” Jessica replied. She pulled her shawl around her bare shoulders. She guessed Harry didn’t have a cell phone. Not too many people seemed to have them out here.

  Sam called to Harry to hand him something, and Harry crouched down to hear him. “Oh, sure. I have one in back. I’ll go get it for you, Sam,” Harry said. Then he turned to Jessica. “Could you hold this light for Sam? I need to get him another pair of pliers.”

  “Sure,” Jessica said, taking the flashlight. She leaned over and tried to point the light to the right spot. “Is that okay?” she asked Sam.

  “Harry, I never noticed those great legs before,” Sam teased her. “Better step back a little. You’re distracting me.”

  “Just speed it up down there, will you?” she urged him with a laugh. He certainly sounded as if he was in a better mood, she thought. She was glad their tense mome
nt back in the car was over.

  “Don’t worry, it’s coming along,” Sam promised.

  Harry returned and handed Sam the pliers; then he took over with the light. A few moments later, Sam slid out from under the car, looking triumphant. “Got it, Harry. It should hold for a while. At least until you get to the city.”

  “Thanks, Sam. You’re a pal,” Harry said. He patted Sam on the back, unmindful of his grimy hands. Jessica nearly gasped when Harry took his hand away, leaving a complete print, with all five fingers distinctly outlined in black grime. She felt her hopes for the evening plummet.

  “I’ll tell you, even if I managed to get myself under there, I’m not sure I would have ever gotten out,” Harry admitted, patting his large, low stomach.

  “Drive safely. Better go slow,” Sam advised.

  “Always do,” Harry promised. “You two have a nice night out. And thanks again,” he repeated, glancing at Jessica this time.

  “That’s okay,” she said slowly. Though at the moment she felt anything but. Harry jumped in his truck and drove off.

  Sam watched him go, then turned to Jessica. “I think we can still make it. Let’s go.”

  Jessica didn’t move. “Look at your shoulder. Harry left a handprint.”

  He turned to check out the smudge. “Oh, no! I just got this shirt this morning.”

  His admission was touching to her, dispelling her anger. Had he really gone out and bought new clothes for their date?

  “I’ll keep my jacket on. No one will ever know.”

  “Good idea,” she said, feeling agreeable again. She turned and started walking back to the truck beside him. “We can stop at a gas station and wash up. My hands are grimy, too,” she added, looking down at her hands.

  Suddenly Jessica’s feet flew out from under her. She felt herself falling.

  Sam reached out quickly and grabbed her by the shoulders. She held on to him and finally righted herself. Their faces were very close, and even in the falling darkness she could see a telltale flash of longing in his eyes. She swallowed hard and stepped away, but not before pressing her hands to his chest.

  “It’s hard to walk in these sandals on the stone,” she said. “I need to watch where I’m going.” Then she caught sight of his shirt, streaked with oily grime on the arms and front—everywhere she’d touched him. “Oh, Sam . . . look what I did to you. I’m so sorry.”

  She nearly reached out to touch the dirty spots, then realized she’d only make it worse. “I’ll have to buy you a new one.”

  “Oh . . . that’s okay.” Sam looked up at her, his gaze falling on her shawl. “It’s no worse than your shawl,” he said, and Jessica saw the black handprints on the white wool. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to fall down.”

  “I’m the one who grabbed you. . . . I even got some on your tie,” she noticed.

  “So you did,” he agreed. “Well, I hate wearing a tie, so please don’t get me another one,” he said, yanking it off cheerfully. “I do want to replace the shawl, though. It’s so pretty.”

  Jessica shook her head, laughing. “Listen, I ruined your shirt and tie. Let’s call it even.”

  He smiled at her, meeting her gaze and holding it. Then he leaned over quickly and, without touching her, dropped a soft kiss on her mouth.

  “It’s a deal,” he said. “Now, let’s go eat, I’m starved. I know the perfect place, too. It’s sort of relaxed. Nobody dresses up there and the lighting is so low, no one will notice our dirty clothes.”

  “Sounds charming,” Jessica replied wryly, taking his arm as they walked the rest of the way to the truck.

  Sam glanced at her and grinned, then helped her up into the truck again. “Trust me, you’re going to love this place.”

  She sighed and closed the door on him. She didn’t have an answer. The funny thing was, she did trust Sam Morgan. It wasn’t the evening she expected, but she had a feeling it would all turn out okay.

  They soon found a gas station where they both washed up, then drove a short time on the highway until Sam turned off onto a tree-lined road that led down to the water. Jessica spotted a secluded dock with a few weather-beaten, clapboard buildings.

  “Where are we?” she asked as they got out of the truck.

  “Spoon Harbor. You’ve never been here before?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve heard it’s nice.” It was a pretty place, quiet and peaceful—plain but welcoming.

  A small building close to the water had lights outside and umbrella tables on the nearby dock. Inside, they found a few more small tables and an open kitchen, emitting clouds of steam and appetizing smells. The walls were unfinished aged wood, decorated with fishing tackle and brass lanterns and colorful floats.

  They chose a table out on the dock and were quickly served their dinners and some cold beer. Sam persuaded Jessica to order lobster with him, and she finally agreed. Jessica didn’t like to order the most expensive item on the menu on a date, especially a first date. But Sam had somehow divined that she loved lobster and insisted. Besides, he pointed out, eating a whole lobster could be messy business, and they could hardly get any dirtier—so she really had nothing to lose.

  The night was clear and warm with a full moon hanging low over the water. The lobster was delicious, and Sam saved Jessica the work of cracking it open by reaching over and quickly doing the job with his strong hands.

  They talked about their pasts and got to know each other better. Jessica was curious about Sam’s family and asked him questions about growing up with so many sisters and brothers.

  He appeared to have only happy memories of his childhood, and she felt wistfully envious. After dinner they walked on a nearby beach. Jessica took off her shoes. The damp sand felt cool, and Sam put his arm around her shoulders when she shivered. They walked for a while, talking a bit, but mainly enjoying the comfortable silence.

  Sam stopped and turned to her, circling her loosely with his arms. “I’m sorry about tonight. I was really planning on a special night out. I didn’t mean to stick you out on a dock with paper plates,” he said regretfully.

  “I know it wasn’t what you planned,” she replied. “But it was special anyway. I loved eating out here. Honestly.”

  “You’re being a good sport.” He smiled and she felt pleased to see him cheered up. “It was fun,” he agreed. “But I will take you to that place in Hamilton next time.”

  Jessica was caught off guard. Would there be a next time? She met his gaze, then looked out at the water. A cool breeze blew in from the sea, but Sam’s body sheltered her. Without thinking, she turned her cheek against his broad shoulder.

  Of course there would be a next time. Who was she kidding? He was the sweetest, loveliest, most caring man she had met in a long time. The very reason she shouldn’t encourage anything serious, perhaps. But standing here like this, in the warm circle of his arms, it was hard to be so reasonable.

  It was hard to think at all, really. So she didn’t even try. The wind grew stronger, and they walked back to Sam’s truck.

  An hour later, when they reached the outskirts of Cape Light, Sam suggested they stop at the Beanery for coffee.

  “Sounds good,” Jessica agreed. It wasn’t that late, and she wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

  They took a table near the door and were soon served their coffee. Jessica noticed Lucy Bates sitting at a back table with Felicity Bean. “Look, there’s Lucy,” she mentioned to Sam. “I wonder what she’s doing here. I heard Charlie Bates hates this place.”

  “Looks as if she’s filling out some forms. Maybe she got tired of working for Charlie and is trying to get a job here,” he joked.

  “Who could blame her?” Jessica replied.

  Then the door opened and Sam’s gaze was suddenly fixed on the woman walking in. Jessica turned. At first she didn’t recognize the woman, who was carrying a long metal tray covered with a sheet of plastic wrap. Beneath the plastic the tray held do
zens of muffins. Was this another one of Sam’s girlfriends? If she is, she looks as if she’s a better cook than I am, Jessica thought.

  “Hey, Molly, let me help you.” As Sam rose from his chair, Jessica recognized Molly, Sam’s younger sister.

  Molly hadn’t changed very much since high school. She still had curly dark hair like Sam’s and striking light hazel eyes. Although she was never slim as a teenager and had put on a bit of weight since then, Molly was still very attractive. Beautiful, in fact, Jessica concluded.

  Sam took the box and tray from Molly and set it on the counter. He brought Molly over to their table. “Jessica, this is my sister Molly,” he said, his hand resting lightly on Molly’s shoulder.

  “Hi, how are you?” Jessica smiled up at her.

  Molly didn’t smile. In fact, Jessica got the distinct impression that Molly was sizing her up. “Can’t complain,” Molly said at last. “So you two are out on the town tonight?”

  “We had dinner at Spoon Harbor, at the lobster-in-the-rough place,” Sam replied easily.

  “Sure. I know that place,” Molly said, still studying Jessica. “How did you like that, Jessica?” she asked.

  Jessica sensed a faint taunting edge in her tone, but ignored it. “It was great,” she answered.

  “Really? Something different for you, I guess,” Molly said. “Nice dress, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Jessica said, unsure of whether she was being complimented or mocked.

  Felicity Bean walked by and waved to Molly.

  “Looks like I need to take care of some business now,” Molly said.

  “Come back and have coffee with us when you’re done,” Sam suggested. Jessica smiled but secretly hoped Molly would refuse. Being with Sam was easy, but Molly made her uncomfortable.

  Molly glanced at both of them. “No, thanks. I’ve got my neighbor looking in on the girls. I just came by to make a delivery.” She gave Sam the trademark Morgan grin. “I may need to get a second oven. The one I have is going to be on all weekend.”

  “Don’t work too hard,” Sam said sympathetically. “I can pick up the girls tomorrow morning and take them to the beach, if that helps.”