“Sarah, slow down.”
I grabbed for the plate back. “What? I’m only trying to get this done. Now please, Sam.”
He held tight to it. “You don’t think I’m naïve to what’s been going on, do you?”
“What? What’s been going on?”
“You’ve been avoiding me, Sarah. Ever since that night, in my office.” He stood back, raking his hair, and placed the dish on the counter. “I get it. It was impulsive. What am I saying?” He pressed his eyes closed and shook his head. “I virtually attacked you.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t exactly suffer in the attack. I enjoyed the attack.” What was I saying?
“Yeah, well, it’s made things a bit uneasy now. I mean, you can’t even come clean and tell me you have a date tonight.”
“I don’t have a date.” Not technically. I was just going over to Andrew’s house.
“Whatever. Then he’s swinging with my daughter?”
“Now that’s a little blown up. He was there…and…on the swing. Okay, he was swinging.” But it sounded so wrong the way he said it.
“It’s fine, Sarah. I know, I’m too old for you. Of course, he looks like he just graduated high school, but I’ve got my life set already. I even have a child. You’re looking for bungee jumpers, hang gliders, soccer players. I’ve done all that. I’m focused now on Sophie, and my business. That isn’t to say I won’t jump from a plane, provided I’m wearing a parachute…or travel to Italy just to see if their spaghetti is better than America’s. Hell, we’re flying to New York Friday to see a play. I’m not stuffy, Sarah. I’m hip.” He smirked after he said it.
Feeling defensive, I straightened my posture and took a deep breath before delivering closing arguments. For the defense. “Sam, I know you’re hip. And you’re right, you are set. You have it all. A house, a career, a child. I think anyone who gets you is extremely fortunate.”
His head tilted back, letting out a sigh. “But…go on and say it, Sarah.”
“I just think we’re a little too convenient for each other. I mean, I live right down the hall. And don’t forget you’re reeling from a horrible breakup. It’s only natural that—”
“You are not the rebound girl, Sarah.”
I took a deep breath. “Trust me, Sam. I’ve been around the breakup track more times than you.”
“Okay, fine.”
He didn’t sound convinced. He was just saying it to shut me up.
“If you have other plans for this weekend, just let me know, okay? I’ll be fine with canceling New York. I mean, I still have to go for business, but you can stay here and take care of Sophie if you want.”
“And break her heart about not seeing a Broadway play, and getting all dressed up? I don’t think so. And we’re going to have a great time. I promise.”
“Okay.” He shook his head slowly, staring at his feet. “Now get on out of here. I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure? He’s not expecting me for another hour.”
“I’m sure. Now go.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Sophie you’re on your way up.”
I walked out and felt as if I’d just massacred a baby kitty he held dear to his heart. Why was timing so cruel?
I checked my text message again: 33 Fairfield Avenue. I looked at the house numbers. Yep, that was it. A beautiful colonial with hanging baskets of spider ferns on the porch. There were even snapdragons planted on the walkway that led to the gingerbread house. I had no idea Andrew was so domesticated, and so much of a homeowner. On a policeman’s salary?
I stood at the front door and stared at the lit doorbell. This was a little too good to be true. The guy worked a decent job, shared the same decade as my birthday, was single as far as I knew, and now had a house? Even the architect I dated lived in a loft the size of a litterbox. It didn’t matter it was in the downtown district. I couldn’t breathe naturally in that cubicle.
I waited for Andrew with a smile plastered on my face. My smile faded when I saw who stood at the door. A beautiful, yet worn-out looking woman. Okay, so it was too good to be true.
“I’m sorry, I’m at the wrong place.” I backed up and looked at the numbers again.
“You must be looking for Andy.” Stray hairs were caught in her mouth and she blew hard to get them out.
“Ah, yes. If that’s Andrew, who is a policeman. About this tall.” I held out my hand a little higher than what I stood.
“Andy,” she turned her head and yelled out.
A little boy with a dirty face came and stood behind her legs, spying on me. She rubbed his head without looking down. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.”
She stepped back and I entered the foyer. There must’ve been ten different sets of shoes thrown everywhere. There were even cans of vegetables beside some flip-flops. I noticed a baby crawling our way. A steady stream of drool dripped from his mouth.
“Shirley, get Thomas up. The cat just threw up. I didn’t want him to mess in it.” She rolled her eyes and looked at me. “Andy should be up in a sec. I have to go and clean up something.”
“Sure.” I clasped my hands and stayed put.
Andrew pushed open a door in the hallway that connected the foyer to the kitchen. He smiled and motioned for me to follow him. I stepped over some untied sneakers and a doll carriage, almost falling apart. He caught me and guided me down the mystery stairs from where he appeared.
“I see you found your way.”
I looked around. Totes of clothes with labels filled one wall, a washer and dryer banged somewhere in the middle, and then there was a bed and a couch where I supposed he lived.
“Yeah, that car of Sam’s has a wicked navigation system.”
I loved that car.
“That thing probably cost more than the first house I buy.”
“Which is what I thought I pulled up to. So you live with…” I kept it open for him to finish my sentence.
“I live with my brother and his wife. It’s only temporary.” He must’ve seen the fear set on my face. “I just moved here from Boston, and I’m trying to save money for a down payment.”
Believable. Responsible. I was trying to keep my eye on the silver lining I knew was there about five hours ago.
“I get it. Look at me—I don’t even have a place of my own. Saving money is the right thing to do.”
He moved some clothes over on what looked like a couch I’d seen on That ’70s Show. “Have a seat.”
I sat down and looked around. The musty smell was an added bonus to the atmosphere. His uniform hung on a nail that was placed on a two-by-four. I spied a television the size of a small microwave, and a liquor box was turned upside down to support it.
“Hey, Jimmy, get out of here.” He threw a small Nerf ball toward the stairs. A little boy laughed and took off running.
“I’m sorry. We should’ve met someplace else. I just thought this would be more intimate for talking and getting to know each other.”
“Sure.” I kept my hands laced and on my lap.
“You don’t look very comfortable. Let me get you something. I have my own fridge down here. Wanna soda? A water? I might even have some grapes. No…wait a sec, I think I ate all of ’em.”
“No, I’m good.” I shook my head.
“So how is Sophie? She wasn’t tired from all the sliding, was she?”
“She is probably fast asleep by now.” I looked at my watch, suddenly thinking about Sam reading her a book before bed.
“Well, she’s a cutie.”
“Yeah, she is.” I pretended to stretch. “So how long have you lived in Charleston?”
“Almost a year now. I got the job and relocated in like three weeks. I really don’t know many people.”
“No?”
“Well, not really outside of work. Walter, that’s my partner you met…well, he isn’t the most social, if you know what I mean. He goes to work and goes home directly afterward. If I want t
o meet people, I hang out with my brother. And he’s only allowed out once a month.” He rolled his eyes.
“That’s why you’re on Match?”
“Sort of. I work such crazy shift hours, so it’s easier to meet online. Plus I’m ready to settle down. You know?” He tilted his head with a bit of a question on his face. “I want the house with the picket fence and a girl to stand beside me in life.”
Hmm…
“What about you? What are you searching for on the Internet? I’ve seen you in a few places, by the way. Do you really fly model airplanes?”
“Oh my.” I buried my head in my hands. “I really need to remove my profile from that site. I forgot all about datingdudesandchicks.com.”
He laughed. “Do you really like to do all those things?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, me and a few buddies and their girlfriends are going skydiving in two weeks. I can add someone if I want. Are you interested?”
My stomach flipped. Plummeting to the earth with a backpack strapped to your back, and praying it floats you safely to an open space where there are no tigers or sharks to eat you—let alone jagged rocks or a patch of land with millions of thistles—how can one be certain? Whatever. I could get down with it.
“I don’t know.”
“I see. Not a committer.”
I threw my head back. “You have no idea the irony of that statement.”
“Uh-huh.” He side glanced me. “So you like commitment?”
“I want to marry commitment. I’m so tired of doing this Internet searching. It’s like being trapped in a washer and having the rinse cycle repeated…repeatedly.”
“I hear ya. I’ve only encountered girls who are looking for a free dinner, or they want to mess with my head and once I get involved, they decide to date the next guy who’s texting them. Things are so different than when my parents dated.”
“Don’t I know it. My mom and dad dated in high school and married after they graduated. If Dad had to depend on the Internet, he would’ve been a recluse.”
“That sounds like mine, but they met after college. Dad’s car hit her from behind at a green light. Go figure.”
“I love stories like that,” I said.
“They’re still happy, thirty-two years later.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“So what kind of music do you like, Sarah? Let’s listen to something to drown out my sister-in-law’s sheets washing and drying.”
And that’s how the evening went. I was thrown off by where I was with his conversation skills. He wanted to know all about me…what I liked, how many driving tickets I had—although I suspected he already looked up and knew that answer. He was a gentleman, a nice guy, and yet a bit hard to figure out. Why was he still single, and living in the basement of his brother’s? I felt he was waiting to move in with that special girl. Save on the moving van for double expenses. But from what I saw, the 70s couch might stay, and all he needed to move would fit on the back of a bicycle.
“Andrew, I had a great time talking to you. You’re a great guy.” I swayed and hit him on the arm.
“I hate that you’re leaving this weekend. I would love to pack a picnic and take you to the park. We could stare at the clouds and decipher the shapes of clouds as people and things.”
“I’ll be back on Sunday, I think. I’ll give you a call.”
He leaned against the railing on the front porch. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll be back on dayshift through Wednesday.”
He pushed off and came closer. I took a breath and bit my bottom lip. That’s when he leaned in and kissed my cheek. He backed up quickly and looked at me.
“I hope that wasn’t too forward. I would’ve kicked myself had I not kissed you somewhere before letting you go.”
I swallowed. “No, that’s perfectly fine.”
I slipped down the porch steps and turned one more time before I walked to my car. We returned waves and I got in my car and drove home, very confused.
Sam was, of course, asleep by the time I got home. That or in his room, far away from where I could check in before going to bed. Not that I was going to. In fact, I was wondering what I’d say if I got caught in the kitchen or on the stairs. I felt so conflicted. I barely got any sleep that night.
The next day after dropping Sophie off at daycare, I did a few errands, shopping for a dress as one of them. One for me and one for the tot. I thought about Sam while I rifled through the racks. I felt guilty for not thinking more about Andrew. Although I did think about him. I thought how just weeks ago nothing I saw in that house where he lived would’ve scared me. I would’ve appreciated the family life, the small corner he lived in, and all the openness he talked about relationships. But that was before living with Sam, and sharing conversations like goal setting. Not that Andrew didn’t have goals, but I dated Thomas for three months, sharing his bathroom with his other two sisters. He told me when I first went there that his place was coming through in a few weeks. By the twelfth week of having his little sister steal my hairspray and makeup, I realized there was no place that existed outside of his dreams.
After the dresses were purchased for our New York trip, I drove over to the yarn shop. I planned to walk in like a dog with its tail between its legs and beg not to be cast off the island of knittery. I had worked on Dad’s afghan, to be perfectly honest. It’s just that every time we had a meeting, something came up and I couldn’t go. I was certain Robena’s cats had at least two new litters by now, Josselyn had made five new sweaters, and Carol was still quiet. Heck, maybe she uttered five new words and I missed it.
“Hey, Marta,” I said, waving as if I held a white flag in my hand.
“Sarah! I’m so happy to see you. Are you ready for Thursday’s meeting? Did you get the email about bringing in a finger food? Seems Robena said we needed to liven it up for a couple new attendees. They’re transplants from the island yarn shop and swear every time they got together for their groups, they had a potluck. Although I have my doubts. It’s very difficult to hold needles and eat at the same time.”
I rested on the counter, waiting to get a word in edgewise. “So I’m still on the email list?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be? You are coming, aren’t you? You got the email? We’ve all been guessing what food you’ll bring. We know about that degree you’ve got. I’m thinking something small, so you can just pop in your mouth and easy, peasy, you can get back to knitting.” She smacked her hands together and grinned.
“I would love to come, and yes, I did get the email, but I’m afraid I can’t make it.”
“It figures.”
I thought I recognized that gruff voice that rang out like those warning sirens before impending destruction.
“Robena, how the heck are you? I see you’re still here. Exactly where I left you a couple weeks ago. Does Marta charge you rent yet?”
Marta rolled her eyes at me. I smirked at her before I strolled back to the large gathering table.
“No, she isn’t charging me rent, smarty pants. And where have you been? Tangled up with that no-good boy in the convertible? No wonder you have no time to knit. Your priorities lay in all the wrong places.”
Ah, Rob. Yeah, I remember him. The guy who got spooked by the mention of offspring. His car was the only thing I really missed about him.
“No, sorry to disappoint you, Robena, but Rob Hotrod is long gone. I do, however, have another guy you’d like. He carries weapons and wears a hat, and—”
“You dating a convict? Is he on the lam, or something? Is that why you can’t make it this week? Giving him a lift to the border, are you?”
“No, silly.” I hit her on the arm. “You do have an imagination, don’t you? He’s a cop.”
“It’s about time you start dating someone with a life.”
I hadn’t known the woman that long for her to be passing such harsh judgment. Or was it all the stories she remembers when I was trying to be the cool one of the group? But
look at the group—it didn’t take much to stand out in a group of Thursday night knitters. God love ’em.
“So is he a good cop?”
“Seems to be.”
“So is it serious?”
“Not yet.”
“So you’re in the early stages then?” She put down her needles and scratched her chin. “Don’t scare him off this time with a bunch of nonsense about freezing your eggs in case children aren’t what he wants at the moment. Nobody likes to hear about what’s inside ya, and freezing parts of it.”
“Really? You remembered that story?”
One guy I dated was on the fence about children. I read an article that the longer I waited to conceive, the less good eggs I would produce. Like they’d drop and be all shriveled or something. I’m not sure of the validity of the article. It came from a magazine that said the baby twin ate the other twin in gestation and now it had the brainpower of two. Anyway, I offered to freeze the good eggs to give him a chance to think about it.
“Yeah, I remembered that hogwash. No wonder you have no husband.”
“Gee, thanks, Robena.” I laced my fingers together and rested my chin on them, staring out into space. I could hear Marta go on with a customer about the difference in cotton and synthetic.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Robena asked, never looking up from her ginormous mound of stitches.
“I’m conflicted, Robena.”
“Conflicted about what exactly?”
I took a deep breath. “I sort of like a guy and then I sort of like another guy. But I don’t even know if I like first said guy. It could be total convenience, total security, total insanity.” I hit my head on the table. “Then the other guy, well, I don’t know if I want to live in a house with a picket fence, with twenty kids hanging around and having a relative live in the basement where I have to go down and wash clothes. And wonder if every time he leaves he’ll come back. Because someone might blow a hole through his chest.” I caught my breath.
“So you like the guy you’re living with.” She shook her head. “I saw that one coming a mile off.”
Searching For Sarah (The Sarah Series Book 1) Page 15