I set the skillet back on the burner and took the plate and slid it in front of him. His eyes searched mine. Trying to read my response. All I was thinking at that moment was how I’d spent the last five years lying by omission of exposing the truth to him about having Rose. He was right, lying was definitely bad. But necessary in some instances.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I cleaned up the snippets of pepper and plastic from the cheese. While running water in the skillet, I saw a pair of earrings on the sill of the window. They were pearl. A bit old-fashioned to be something Sophie would wear. Did she have pierced ears? Goodness, I missed out on so much.
“So when are you going back?” His voice jarred me. It was so quiet in the house—all I could focus on was the hum from the refrigerator and a few clanks from the freezer when it chunked out some ice.
“Tomorrow, I suppose. I want to do a little shopping and walk around. I’m in no rush.”
“I haven’t asked what you do for a living. Is it something with cooking? This omelet is amazing.” He wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
I smiled. “No, I’m a school counselor.”
His eyes grew wide. “A counselor? Really?”
“Yep. I got my certificate and I’ve been doing it for a few years now. It’s so rewarding. The kids are great, and sometimes I feel like I really make a difference.”
“Wow. That’s wonderful to hear.”
I looked back at the earrings. No, they couldn’t be Sophie’s. Kids her age wouldn’t be caught dead in something like those. Sam must’ve seen me.
“They belong to a friend.”
I feigned ignorance. “What?”
“The earrings…on the windowsill. The ones you keep staring at. They belong to a friend of mine.”
“I was looking outside at the oak tree. It’s gotten taller.”
“Oh, I was sure you were looking at the sill.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“The tree?”
“No, smarty. The earrings. The ears they go to. Is she your girlfriend?” I straightened my posture, regretting immediately I’d asked. “I think that’s great, if she is. You know, for Sophie. I’m glad she has a female to lean on for girl things. That is, of course, if she’s involved in Sophie’s life. Which, leaving earrings in a kitchen window would imply she uses the kitchen.” I felt the hole I was digging grow deeper.
“I wouldn’t classify her as a girlfriend. We spend time together when she’s in town. She travels a lot for work.”
“Oh.” I wiped off the counter with the sponge I found beside the sink. “I’m sorry. I think that could be construed as prying. Just ignore me.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind telling you anything. I’m an open book. All the skeletons have been exorcised out of all the closets. No more secrets.”
Oh boy.
“How about you?”
I jumped. What? What did he ask? Secrets? Did I have any? I didn’t say anything.
“Earth to Sarah.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Do you have a boyfriend? I’d have imagined you married by now. Even had a baby or two walking by now. You were always so good with Sophie.”
“Um, no. No boyfriend.”
“I can’t believe that. You?”
My skin felt tingly. As though I needed to get on hallow ground. This place…here with Sam…being asked specific questions. And all I could do was sputter and lie like a defective politician.
I looked at my watch. “Sam, I had no idea the time. I’ve got to get going. It’s going to be near impossible to find a parking place on King Street this time of day.”
He jumped off the stool. “Don’t go. Not yet, I mean. You’ve got to see the picture. It’s of you and Sophie—the one I told you she had up in her room. I didn’t have the pictures back from the wedding photographer by the time you left. It’s a great one. You and her are hugging. I miss her being that small.”
My heart fell ten stories down. Sophie had a picture up of me? It’s true; I never did get to see the wedding pictures. The dumb photographer kept giving us excuses why they weren’t done. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see it. I’d put that day, along with all the other memories, on a shelf, and seldom loitered around it. I made it tall—taller than me, so I wouldn’t be tempted to linger and replay memories.
“Come on. It’ll only take a sec. You’re going to love it. And there’s one of her now. You can see what she looks like.” He reached out and touched my arm to guide me upstairs. My feet took baby steps, reluctant to commit to a stride. My mind was still wagering whether to yell out, “No, I can’t.” Mainly because he’d ask why, and I wasn’t sure myself.
Sophie’s room had changed. The canopy was no longer up. Instead, it was just four posters. Her bedspread was purple and all the little dolls that attended her tea parties were hidden away. There were shag pillows on the spread and I saw a couple Barbies on the shelf, along with books—chapter books.
“Yeah, she loves to read now.” He must’ve seen the trail my eyes were taking around her room. “I had to buy her one of those electronic devices that she can download books to. She was buying up all the books in the bookstores, and I was running out of shelves for her to store them.”
“That’s awesome. Ro—” I caught myself and nearly choked, clearing my throat. Heat crashed to my cheeks. I almost said Rose liked books, too. “Reading is a great pastime.”
He walked over to the mirror on Sophie’s chest. In front there was a silver frame. Inside it was a picture of us. Sam handed it to me. I was wearing my wedding dress, leaning in, giving her a hug. Her little hand held tight to her flower basket, and her perfect little teeth were showing. She was angelic. I remember feeling so overwhelmed with love in that moment. For her, for Sam, and for my dad. I closed my eyes and recalled him there. His hand was perspiring as it lay stretched over mine, walking me down the aisle. I looked over once at him. The smile on his face was infectious. I never felt more loved than right there at that moment. Dad was so happy, and we were finally getting a family I’d always dreamed of having.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I felt a tear on my cheek and quickly wiped it away. “Oh my goodness. You didn’t. I was just thinking back to that day, that’s all. I miss Dad.”
“He was so happy for you.”
“For us.”
Sam’s eyes fell to the ground. “Yeah, for us.”
I placed the picture on the dresser and walked slowly toward the door. “We just moved too fast. We shouldn’t have gotten married. Thinking back, it was crazy how quickly it all took place. Aunt Heidi even remarked, I thought about it for a split second, then—”
“I loved you, Sarah.” He interrupted my grocery list of whys to the demise of my life five years ago.
I didn’t want to look at him. His words lingered in the air like freshly sprayed cologne. I let it permeate me. Understanding and forgiving myself, because I loved Sam then, too. It was nice to know I didn’t imagine it. All those years, I didn’t imagine it.
I waited a second and gathered my wits. “I have to go, Sam.”
“Okay, I’ll walk you out.”
I picked up my gait and made it to the front door before losing my mind. Being in this house, surrounded by so many memories—the ones by the couch when Gennifer walked in and displaced me…the den where Sam pushed me against the wall and kissed me—it was as overwhelming as a Mac truck speeding over me. I reached for the door the same time he did. Our hands touched and it seemed as if millions of tiny jumping beans invaded my body. Some of them were doing cartwheels in my adrenaline channel. I tapped into my rational side and confirmed it was just physical contact. Coupled with memories, it was bound to create a few electrical shocks—aftershocks, not new and present shocks...aftershocks.
“I’m sorry I have to leave so suddenly.” I avoided the notion to look into his eyes. Instead, I stared somewhere toward the back of the room in
the general direction of his head.
“I wish you could stay. We could go for a walk later. Visit that little ice cream shop with that pistachio flavor you like. Remember? You’d always get it in a bowl because it’d get all over your hands in a cone?”
I pulled at my fingers, then I twisted them together, and then I got trapped in his eyes. They were unwavering…unforgiving to just look away. No, it was as if they were old friends, visiting and hoping to find a place to stay. I cleared my throat and reminded myself—not now. Not ever.
“Yes, I remember, but I’ve got to go, Sam. Stalking 101 prohibits any sort of cohorting. I shouldn’t have come inside. What am I going to tell my superiors—you know, the stalking police? I certainly can’t admit I came inside, made an omelet, and took a stroll down memory lane. What professional does that?” I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants and tried to control my rattling. “Please tell Sophie I really missed being able to see her.”
“Sarah…”
“Sam, I have to go. Really.” I stared hard at the door. Willing it to have some sort of vortex suction to assist in my getaway. Like an airplane emergency hatch when you’re going supersonic speeds through the air. Just suck me right through it, for goodness’ sakes.
“Okay. Well, thanks again for lunch.”
“Sure. You have a great weekend.” And just like that, I was safely on the sidewalk. Away from that house. Away from Sam. I wished I’d never gone. Now I was all conflicted. Memories were like the enemy—they came to kill, steal, and destroy. Onward to a wholesome birthday party! And nix to the tiny little projector in my brain, replaying the Sam feature for Saturday. That nosy Mr. Pfizer. I felt like letting the air out of his tires for calling Sam on me.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Robena said in amazement, looking at me. Her fork with bread pudding rested on the edge of her plate.
Everyone at the table was chattering with one another. It was a good crowd for the early hour. The birthday lady wore a rose-colored dress, and her hair was done especially for the party. I never remember Robena having such defined curls. They were usually stretched out and combed through.
“I can hardly believe it myself.”
“You haven’t written in four months. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Her pale-blue eyes seemed cloudy and less bright.
“I’ve been a little bit under water with drama. My friends are going through things, and then that gets on my plate, and then one thing leads to another, and I’m capsized. Completely engulfed, weighted down with cinder blocks, sweeping across the ocean’s bottom, unable to fit pen in hand and address a letter to my dear friend.” I was referring to Maggie and Michael. She still hadn’t called me. I’d have welcomed hate mail, at this point.
“Oh, dear.”
“And don’t even. I can’t remember the last time you wrote without me writing first. The postal carrier delivers both ways, my lady.”
“It’s my arthritis, dear. Just look at my hands. Why, I can barely knit a solid hour before I have to lay them out and give them peace to carry on.”
The past five years had not been good to Robena. Despite the little she does, her body looked as though it was giving up on her. Now she walked with assistance of a cane. And that ticklish cough she brought with her to dinner prohibited her from talking more than three sentences without interruption.
I leaned in close. “I love seeing you here with Jacob.”
A year ago, Jacob’s wife, Molly, died from Alzheimer’s. Robena mentioned she was keeping him company and seeing to his meals in the time of grief. It looked more serious than meals, though. He was wearing a bow tie and kept one eye on her throughout the dinner party.
She smiled and snuck in the bite of pudding that must’ve now been cold on her fork.
“And you didn’t tell me Carol was with someone.” I whispered loud enough for her to hear, and low enough for Carol not to.
“Oh, he’s new. ’Bout six months new. She said she met him at the diner. They go there every Thursday and one day he asked to join her because there were no more seats. The rest is history.”
Wow, even Carol can get it together. I felt behind the eight ball, looking around at her, at Robena, the other twenty random couples, and at Marta with her husband. Until now, I only imagined what he looked like. He was actually taller than I thought. He even had hair, not to mention was skinnier than I had painted in my mind. It was nice to see him dote on her. You could see the years of love instilled in every gesture. And Robena…she might be moving slower, but it was with grace and utter joy. The way she looked at Jacob was blissfully numbing. At least Josselyn didn’t let me down. She and I were the only single girls here. There was an older woman on the other side of Marta, but she didn’t count. I didn’t know her and she was too old to be considered either a black widow or a pitiful mess. Nope, just me and Nancy. She wore a white crocheted hat with depression-tinted gloss on her lips. Yep, just me and Nancy.
“You got a lot of nice things, Robena. What are you going to do with that negligee I bought you? I see you left it at home. Maybe didn’t want to give the wrong impression to all the others who got you money and lotion sets, huh? Oh, and I particularly loved the economy-sized hearing aid batteries. Now you’re sure never to miss a whisper from a block away. But back to the lingerie—did Jacob like the color? It wasn’t too red, was it? I thought about going black, but at eighty, it just might not feel right.’”
She smacked me on the arm. “Fiddle-faddle. I don’t know what you were thinking when you bought that contraption. Why, I’d be trying to get into that for days if I tried.”
“Days? Robena, it slips over your head. I didn’t go with the one that had the spiked collar. I figured Jacob would be reminded of animals, then that would kill the mood, because you know—”
She pushed me with those boney fingers again. This time they hurt. “Now you stop that. Someone will hear that hogwash. I’m not into that sort of thing.”
I took a sip of my water and smiled sheepishly. The secret to getting older is that you laugh about it. Yeah, I got her a silky red nightgown, but wrapped underneath it was ten skeins of yarn, a bottle of her favorite cologne and twenty bucks to keep tucked in her bra. She loved money tucked places on her. I didn’t ask; I just gave to the foundation.
“And you? Did you have any reason to pick you up some of that godforsaken sleepwear? Tell me you and Carter have moved past the phony friendship phase.”
“Carter? Excuse me?” I palmed my chest. “Are you serious? I’ve never even mentioned Carter in that capacity to you.”
“Sure you have.”
“No I haven’t. I think you need to re-read my letters, clean out the earwax, or better yet, have Jacob take a flashlight and see if there’s something missing in that brain. I don’t like Carter. Not in that way.”
She slipped another bite in and shook her head. “Mmm hmmm.”
“Na, uh.”
“Dear, I’ve lived eighty good and bad years on this planet. I’ve run from the truth, been tortured by the truth, and finally succumbed to the truth. He’s sitting right next to me.” She motioned toward Jacob. He was yammering on to Marta’s husband about differences in Yorkies and Yorkie Poos.
“Robena—”
“No, you just shut your mouth. I only see you once every blue moon, not to mention it’s my birthday, so I’ve got the floor.”
I settled back in my chair and folded my arms.
“I’ve heard you talk about this guy and that guy. Even from the time I met you. And Lord knows that it seemed to me you were poring through losers. Then—and I realize you took years off focusing on men to raise Rose—but I can hear it when you talk about Carter. The way you say he makes you laugh, and how easy it is to talk to him and be around him. Not once did you say you had a thing for him.”
“My point exactly. Thank you very much. Defense rests.”
“No, because you didn’t have to. Everything you said told me you do. It’s those sneaky friends
hips you really have to watch.”
“You’re simply crazy, Robena.” I piled my napkin and used utensils on my empty dinner plate.
“Nope, I’m simply right.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I put up my hand. “Not that there was even an inch of truth in what you just blabbered on about, but he’s back with his wife.”
“Fiddle-faddle.”
“You really like saying that, don’t you?”
“It’s hogwash. What in the world is he thinking about doing that for? That woman left him. Tell me I’m wrong, Sarah. Am I remembering correctly when I’m thinking that she went off with another man? Just like Sam went back with Gennifer.”
“Yes, you’re right, and you don’t want to know about that. About Sam.”
“What?” She reared back.
“He’s not with Gennifer. She left years ago and went back to Texas.” I adjusted my posture, trying to back out of that rabbit hole I just darted into by mentioning Sam. “Okay, so yes, Paige did leave Carter.”
“My point—she’ll never stay.”
“They’re out house shopping.” I pushed her arm. “Stop making me think about that silly stuff, Robena. Only you can get me on to something that was never there. Carter was never there. Not in that way.”
“Sam isn’t either.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
She pushed her fork onto the linen cloth. “I see what you’re doing with that information on Sam.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re processing it.”
“Is that a crime?”
“It is if you’re processing it in a way that’ll get you in trouble.”
“How could my little ol’ thoughts, in my little ol’ head, possibly get me into trouble?” I tapped a finger to my temple.
“Oh, they can, my dear. You just remember—you have something, or someone rather, that Sam doesn’t know about. And him finding out would be ten times worse than you finding out about Gennifer. Rose is his, Sarah. And someone doesn’t forgive not being told about a child they have.”
“I couldn’t, Robena. You know that. I didn’t want her anywhere near that toxic woman. Sam had a family. I only had Rose. I only still have Rose. And I’m complete with that.”
Pursuing Sarah (Sarah Series Book 2) Page 15