Remembering You

by Stella MacLean

  “I do actually need your advice.” he said. “Robert's coming over this evening, and I want to talk about Phillip. I don't know how to approach my son. Robert doesn’t believe there’s a problem with Phillip. My son was slow to read and still reads very little. He thinks I’m overreacting, and trying to prove that he’s not responding to Phillip's needs.” He turned the wineglass gently in his hands. “Maybe he’s right. When Robert was in school, he always tuned me out when I talked about his poor grades, and now I’m afraid he'll tune me out again. Only this time an innocent little boy will lose out.”

  My eyes met Sam's and the uncertainty in his gaze created a bond between us. Susan Ellison, widow, mother, grandmother, teacher, volunteer and so-so bridge player was genuinely needed here. I placed my wineglass on the table. “You know what I'd do if I were you?” I asked.

  “Tell me. I need all the advice you can offer.”

  “I'd encourage Robert to find someone to help Phillip with his reading. Someone who has the time to spend with him, encouraging him to overcome his problem. You could start now and continue until he’s assessed for any underlying issue that might be affecting, his ability to read.”

  “Are you volunteering?”

  Was I? Amy had suggested that I should. If I did, I'd be around Sam a lot more often, and I wasn’t quite ready for that—at least not yet. “I’m not sure, but I'll help you get his assessment organized in the meantime.”

  “You know what, Susan? You don’t give yourself near enough credit.”

  I glanced at him, at the man who a few weeks ago was way down on my list of the people I wanted to spend time with. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you're a very smart woman, and Graham was a very lucky man. In fact, he told me so on a number of occasions.”

  His words flustered me. But the sincerity his eyes made me feel valued...special. I could really get to like this man, and if we were going to be spending hours in each other’s company, that wasn't a bad idea. I thought of the impending dance lesson.

  Later, as I walked back across the yard toward my own house, I recalled the lunch we’d shared, the delicious gazpacho soup he’d served. I smiled at the way we'd laughed at the same silly jokes, gossiped about the neighborhood, but most of all, how nice it felt to be appreciated.

  Chapter Eleven

  Back in the house, I was struck with the need to read another of Graham’s letters. Was it because of my encounter with Sam? Was I feeling guilty? Right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was my urgent need to connect with my husband.

  I reached the office and settled into the chair.

  * * *

  Dearest Susan,

  I'm sitting here staring at the bouquet of May flowers you picked along the edge of the ravine the other day.

  I know you've probably heard enough about how sorry I am for the affair. But I need to tell you something. That night in the limo—the way we stood together while the police questioned us was the final turning point for me. No matter what situation I had to face, I'd rather have you beside me than anyone else in the world.

  Jennifer Sargent meant nothing to me and never had. My insecurities were the reason for that relationship, and you faced the consequences of my actions without flinching. I was completely panicked by the idea that if you'd refused to see me that night, or had found someone else, my life would never be the same.

  I decided as we stood by the limousine that if we had a second chance, you'd never again have to worry about anything that was within my power to influence. Your life with me would always be one of love and security. I would be there for you.

  When we first got back together, I realized you were waiting for me to tell you what I’ve just written, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

  I let pride stand in the way.

  Without your courage, your willingness to try again, I don’t know what would have happened. I want you to understand that I regret my stupidity, and never more than in the last few months.

  Thanks, my love.

  And now I need to get back to the veranda to work on the crossword puzzle in today’s paper. I don’t feel like doing much these days. I see in your eyes and the way you give me small chores like shelling peas for dinner, that you’re trying to keep me from feeling useless.

  I can no longer deny that my body is growing weaker, and the bouts of nausea have become more frequent. I can imagine your words when you read this, how you’ll be upset that I didn’t tell you more about what I was feeling.

  But I promised myself that I’d protect you and give you the best I had to offer while I could. There’s nothing I can do to stop the inevitable, but I will do what I can to ease your worry.

  Susan, I want you to remember how much I have always needed you in my life, how loving you has made me complete.

  Love always,

  Graham

  * * *

  Driven by emotions I couldn’t control, I reread the letter. His need to protect me after we got back together became so much a part of our relationship, from the way he took over around the house, arranging appointments to have repairs done, to the way he looked after all our financial matters and paying the bills.

  He took me on a date every weekend, often simple trips like going to the zoo or for a long walk in the woods, dates that were the best of our time together as a couple. Feeling the need for air and space away from my memories, I went out the back door and into the light of late afternoon.

  Relief whistled through me at the sight of Sam in his yard, digging up the hedge in preparation for the new fence. Without a sideways glance, I charged across the lawn. “Oh, I’m so glad you're out here,” I said.

  He stopped shoveling, his eyes searching my face.

  “Susan, what is it?”

  “I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I've been reading letters Graham wrote me before he died.”

  He sighed, and a slow, sad smile crept over his face. “You're finally able to read his letters.”

  “I just found them in his desk drawer. Did you know about them?”

  “I knew Graham was writing you letters, but I had no idea where he left them.”

  “Why did he tell you?” I asked.

  Sam looked away. “Probably because we were close friends, and had been for years. And in those last months, Graham carried so much guilt about having an affair that he wanted to leave you something that was yours alone.”

  “Did he tell you what was in the letters?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me? If only he’d been willing to say these things to me, if only he hadn’t left those feelings for a letter...”

  “Look, this isn’t an easy topic for either of us, but you have to understand something. When Graham got involved with Jennifer Sargent, it had nothing to do with you.”

  “It had everything to do with me, and with our children,” I said angrily. I instantly regretted blurting out those words because for the first time since I’d known Sam, what he thought of me mattered.

  “I meant it had nothing to do with how good a wife and mother you were. None of it reflected badly on you, only on him. You were the love of his life.”

  Sam’s voice was gentle as he edged closer.

  I stepped back. “Go on.”

  “I doubt Graham ever talked much about how lonely he was over there without you.” Sam nodded in the direction of my house. “He would've given up everything he had to get you back. As I listened to him talk, I realized that a love like the one you and Graham shared was a precious gift. And no one had the right to get in the way of such love,” he whispered, his hand touching my shoulder.

  The heat of his body surrounded me. The smell of cedar and his sweat drew me to him. “I need to tell you something,” he said, his lips just inches from mine.

  Was he going to kiss me?

  “What?” I ask in a breathy tone I didn't recognize.

  “I've envied Graham and his second chance at love...with s
omeone like you,” he said, a look of naked vulnerability in his eyes.

  His words hung suspended between us. Could I let myself believe what he’d said? Could I trust him? “You’re not saying that because you feel sorry for me, are you?” It sounded absurd to my anxious ears, but Sam’s response had had that effect on me.

  “I definitely do not feel sorry for you,” he said, sliding his arms around me. Holding me close, he kissed me, a kiss that was tentative at first. Surprise and pleasure raced through me as I pressed my lips to his, opening my mouth in answer to the urgency of his kiss, the feel of his hands moving down my body. The world slipped sideways. Physical need swept through me as Sam held me in his arms.

  A car door slammed. The sound of feet smacking the pavement was followed by Amy’s voice, emanating shock and disbelief. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  We jumped apart, our joint embarrassment leaving us momentarily speechless. Sam looked down into my eyes, his voice tender. “Your mother and I were sharing a quiet moment together.”

  “I can see that,” Amy grumbled.

  “You don’t believe your mother’s entitled to moments like this one?” Sam asked, a smile crinkling the corners of his deeply blue eyes.

  I didn’t have to look to know that both Amy and Jonathan were staring at me. And I had to admit that, after the past few months, seeing me kissing a neighbor—this neighbor—would come as a shock. It was a bigger shock to me...but okay.

  “I’ll see you later,” I said to Sam before heading across the grass to where Amy and Jonathan were standing shoulder to shoulder.

  Feeling a little awkward, but not enough to regret kissing Sam, I went to the back door. “You decided to leave the baby home with his dad, did you?” I said, hoping to change the subject.

  They followed me into the kitchen, where Jonathan angled his arms out of his jacket, a sheepish look on his face, and Amy plunked her purse on the table.

  “Jonathan’s going to drive me back in a little while. I can’t stay long, but we wanted to talk to you, Mom.” Her glance moved past me to her brother. “And even more so after what we just witnessed.”

  “How so?” I asked, still feeling Sam’s kiss on my lips.

  They slid into chairs across from each other, which guaranteed that I'd be sitting between them at the end of the table. Neither said a word, but I knew from the way Jonathan shuffled his feet under the table that he was ill at ease.

  “Would either of you like some juice? Coffee?”

  “Orange juice,” Jonathan said, turning from me to Amy.

  “I'll have a glass of water,” Amy said, getting up and going to the sink.

  I tried to make eye contact with Jonathan, but he wouldn’t look at me. “So, let’s hear it,” I said, bringing him his juice. Suddenly I wanted to get the inevitable questions about my relationship with Sam out of the way.

  “Mom, what were you doing kissing Sam Bannister of all people? He was Dad’s friend, not yours. You don’t even like him.”

  “This has nothing to do with your father. Sam and I are friends who enjoy each other’s company.”

  “It looked like more than that to us,” Amy said, her eyes swerving to Jonathan. “Is this what happens when you live alone?” Amy asked.

  “I’ve lived alone for nearly two years, and I've kissed Sam Bannister once,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself to my children. But I was pretty certain the two of them had something else on their minds. With Amy back in her chair and sipping on her water, I decided to come straight to the point. “But that’s not why you came. You want to discuss how I should get on with my life.”

  Amy clasped her hands together. “It’s true we've been discussing your situation.” She exchanged glances with Jonathan. “We agree that you should sell this house.”

  “You what?” I choked. I was prepared to be told to “get a life” as they called it, but not this.

  Jonathan and Amy watched me anxiously. “Mom, this is too much house for you to look after. Do you realize how many chores there are to be done around here? You can’t possibly do all this on your own,” Amy said, her accusing tone taking me by surprise.

  “I don’t see why not. Your father left me a list of who to call, and what to do,” I said indignantly, yet inside I was writhing against the hard weight of insecurity in my stomach. After our separation, Graham had taken over most of the responsibility and planning required to maintain the house until he was too ill to do it. While he was sick, I managed as best I could with Graham’s advice and input. But now I no longer felt capable because there was no one to help me, no one to talk to about the house. I couldn’t impose on Sam. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t responsible for me. Yet living alone was so difficult...so lonely at times.

  “Amy’s got a point, Mom. This is too much house for you.”

  “I can’t leave home...your home.”

  “But you’re alone, and if anything should happen...And that break-in last week, practically in your backyard. What if the burglars break in here next? Mom, I don’t mean to upset you, but you have to face reality. The neighborhood’s changing,” she said.

  “We’re just concerned for you, Mom,” Jonathan offered, his voice low, conciliatory.

  Amy placed her hand firmly on mine. “I've been on the Internet checking on condos. I’ve got the names of couple of Realtors we can talk to about listing the house.”

  “I've told you before, Amy. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I love this house, and I won’t listen to any more talk about leaving it,” I said stubbornly. But I had a right to be stubborn. I would prove them both wrong.

  Amy's cheeks flared pink. “You're not being fair. The three of us worry—”

  “Amy, I’m fine. In fact, I'm going to Chile with Connor in January.”

  “Going to Chile? Mom! Do you have any idea how long a flight that is?”

  “So it’s a long flight. I'll have Connor with me. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that Connor isn’t here when things go wrong. Connor just swings through, full of fun and without a care in the world. When he’s gone and you’re feeling lonely and missing Dad—” Her voice shook as tears pooled in her eyes.

  Jonathan reached across the table and folded Amy’s hands into his. “It’s okay, Amy. Mom and I understand.”

  And how well I understood. This child, who had the world at her feet and a full life ahead of her, was mourning the loss of the man who'd been her champion.

  It had been Amy who'd accused me of driving Graham out of their lives when I packed them up and went to Aunt Celia’s. It was Amy who’d insisted on sitting at the breakfast table next to her father every morning. It was Amy who'd once considered law school to please her dad.

  And now it was Amy’s heart being crushed by the loss.

  Tears slid down my cheeks, and I brushed them away. “Amy, honey. We need to talk about your dad.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” Amy continued to stare at her hands covered by Jonathan’s.

  “You're still missing him. And you will for a long, long time. He loved you very much.” Needing to offer comfort, I stroked her shoulder.

  “I wanted him to be here...when Graham was born,” she said just above a whisper, her voice shaking. “You can’t imagine what it feels like to give birth and know that your father will never see your baby.”

  I touched her cheek. “I wish I could do something.”

  She turned her tearstained face to me. “You can. Please, Mom. Please sell the house. Move somewhere safe; away from the memories so I don’t have to worry about you.”

  Before I could react, she pulled her hands free and was up and out the door.

  “I’ll take her home, Mom. I’ll be back later,” Jonathan said, rising from his chair and following Amy.

  I saw Jonathan drive carefully away, talking earnestly to his sister while Amy kept her head down.

  And all I wanted to do was go out into the sunlight away from the anguish stirri
ng in me.

  * * *

  Feeling confused and just a little hurt by my children’s attitude, I decided to weed the petunias. I was halfway across the yard to open the shed near the tree house when I spotted Sam coming toward me.

  “I heard Amy sobbing when she got into the car. Did my kissing you upset her that much?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

  I blushed like a schoolgirl; and felt ridiculous. “The kids don’t think I should be living here alone. They wanted to talk to me about selling the house.”

  And that kiss didn’t help, I wanted to add, but I wasn’t sure I could handle any discussion of our relationship or what it meant.

  “Why would they want you to sell?”

  “Lots of reasons in their minds,” I said, feeling misunderstood by both Amy and Jonathan. Yes, their concern was for my safety, but they didn’t seem to grasp the important role this house had played in my life all these years, and how much I needed to keep things the way they were.

  “Been there, done that…with Robert a few years ago.”

  “Really? What did you say to Robert?”

  “That it was none of his damned business.”

  “You did?” I breathed.

  “I did. He was irritated with me, but he got over it And your children will, too.”

  “They'd better, or else.” Brave words from a chicken-hearted woman, I mused to myself as I continued to watch this man who was rapidly becoming an essential part of my life.

  “Just remember, whatever enters our lives, we can always dance,” he said, gyrating as he grinned at me.

  I laughed and suddenly felt much better—about everything.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jonathan returned after taking Amy home in a much quieter mood. I asked him if he’d talked to Linda again, but he hadn’t. He didn’t say how he felt about being a father a second time, which was sad. He loved his children and should've been ecstatic.