Champagne Kisses: A Timeless Love Story

by Krista Lakes

  Our last kiss was all I could think of. The way his lips felt soft against mine. The little patch of skin he had missed while shaving that tickled my cheek. His hands, the way the pressed me into him, the way his body held mine like we were made for one another. Imminent death made me think of losing him like I did so many years ago. The steering wheel lurched as we came out of the hydroplane and onto solid pavement again, sucking me out of my memory. I pulled off on the closest shoulder, my knuckles white around the steering wheel.

  "You okay?" Dean asked, putting a hand on my arm. I gave him a weak smile, still gripping the steering wheel like the car might fly off at any second. He gave me one of his perfect crooked grins, put on the parking break, and slid his hand down my arm. His skin was warm against mine, his hand infusing a calm energy into me. He carefully unpried my fingers from the steering wheel, wrapping his hand around mine. I realized I was shaking.

  "Are you okay?" I asked. I held onto his hand, afraid he might take it away. My heart was pounding in my ears, the adrenaline of almost crashing giving me a jittery high. His hand was the only thing keeping me grounded.

  "A little rain can't faze me," he answered. "You did a nice job back there."

  "Thanks. That was intense!" I gave a short laugh. A tendril of hair had escaped my bun again, and with my free hand, I pushed it behind my ear. "I think we'll just wait this out for a little bit. Robbie won't appreciate it if we never arrive because we're dead."

  Dean nodded and peered up through the windshield again. Seeing only the pounding rain, he unbuckled his seat-belt and settled into the chair. He kept my hand clasped firmly in his, as though he were afraid I would let go. Thunder rattled the glass, the storm raging around us. Rain pelted the car with angry drops, creating a metallic music on the roof; I couldn't see past the car windows, the world lost to misty grayness. We were in our own world, just the two of us. Nothing else existed past the swirling silver-streaked rain.

  "Why did you never write me?" The words came out unbidden. I had wanted to say them for months, but it never felt right. How do you tell someone that he broke your heart when you have to see him everyday after that?

  "What?" Shock filled his voice, with just a hint of confusion and anger. His blue eyes darkened in the gray light, but he didn't pull his hand away.

  "Why didn't you write me?" I repeated. My voice shook with the effort, but now that it had been asked, I had to finish.

  "I did write you. I wrote you so many letters. I went through two Bic pens, and those were hard to get out there. I stopped because you never wrote me. I waited for letters every day, and they never came." He searched my face, the gray light making his dark hair darker and his skin pale.

  I frowned, my brow crinkling and my lips tightening, righteous indignation swelling in my chest. I had been so angry at him for never writing for so long, I hadn't realized how much it had hurt. The idea that he thought he stopped because I had never written him was maddening. "I wrote you every day a month! I stopped writing because at the end of that month, the postman handed me back the entire stack of them with "UNDELIVERABLE" stamped on every one. I didn't have any other way to reach you because you never wrote me back."

  Dean's mouth opened, his eyes going wide, and he sat back in his seat. He slowly shook his head, trying to make sense of what I just said.

  "I looked for you when I came back. I went to the address you gave me, but no one there knew who you were. The woman in your apartment didn't know anything about any letters. I was sure you had given me the wrong address, or that you had found someone else," he said. He didn't look at me, his voice soft and low. The pain of heartache echoed through his words.

  "I didn't find someone else. I got this job with the Saunders and had to move to New York City, but I didn't have any way to tell you since my letters never made it. I checked with my landlord every week though, hoping something would come, and it never did." I didn't want to cry, but I could feel the tears threatening to escape from behind my eyes. I had cried so much over Dean that I thought I didn't have any more tears left, but apparently I did. "Sergeant Dean Sherman of the 101 Airborne Division. I still remember the address."

  "That's correct. It probably was just some stupid government secrecy bullshit," Dean said. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Yours was 1281 Simone Drive."

  I nodded, and despite my efforts to refrain from crying, a tear found its way down my cheek. I turned and looked out the window so he wouldn't see it. "What did your letters say?"

  "What all letters say to someone you love."

  Happy heartache washed over me. He had loved me.

  "Dear Rachel," he read from memory. His voice carried gently over the pounding rain, lulling me with his words. His eyes closed as he recited the letter.

  "I know that I've only known you for a short time, but I feel as though I've known you my whole life. Every time you smile, my world brightens and it is that smile that is going to get me through the next few months. Our time together was far too short, but it was the happiest I've ever been."

  He paused for a moment, his voice cracking with emotion as he continued. "You showed me the beauty in the world. You showed me things worth living for. I went back and bought that painting. I've looked at it so many times, and when I see it, I see you. I see all the goodness and light that can come from the dark, and how everything can be beautiful. My world is a better place because of you.

  I hope this letter finds you happy and well. Know that I think of you always.

  I love you.

  Dean."

  The tears trickled out down my cheeks. I couldn't speak. Joy, love, despair, and hope all tangled and twisted inside of me. I'd never felt so happy and sad at the same time. I wished I could have had that letter when it was supposed to have been delivered. We would have been together if it had.

  Dean turned, his blue eyes bright. With a smooth motion, he reached for me, drawing me into a kiss. The gray world disappeared, replaced by a prism of colors. The shadows and light, the pounding rain, the fear and the heartache- they all faded. Only Dean's lips pressed to mine, his breath on my cheek, his warm hand on my skin were real. The world, and all its problems didn't matter anymore. Dean and this kiss was all that were real. I kissed him like it was the only thing I had ever wanted. I kissed him like I had wanted to kiss him every day since we said goodbye.

  I would have kissed him for forever, but a truck zoomed past, shaking the car and honking loudly. Dean and I were startled out of the kiss, noticing that sunlight was now filtering through the car windows. The rain had slowed from the torrential downpour back into a light mist. The sky was lighter and the thunder no longer made the ground shake. Our gray world of rain had dissolved, and we were back in the real world. Dean let go of my hand.

  "Dean, I-" I started, my hand touching my lips. I wanted to kiss him again, but now the world could see us.

  "I know. I know we can't have that... that this isn't going to work. But I had to kiss you again or my soul was going to break," he said simply. He gave me a halfhearted smile and reached for his seat-belt. His eyes shone with tears, and I knew my cheek was streaked with them. "We should get going."

  My heart was breaking again. To be so close to something I had wanted for so long, yet to be so far away, was maddening. He was right, though. Just because we had actually both sent letters, had actually both had feelings, didn't mean we were right for one another. Even if we didn't have the work complication, there was no guarantee we would be able to make it work again. We were both so different, and our feelings were still based on something that happened for a week twenty years ago. It didn't work then, and it wouldn't work now.

  I eased the car back out onto the highway, the rain still falling lightly as we headed for the small town in silence. Our kiss still tingled on my lips, my skin still warm from his touch. As we drove, I looked to the sky, praying for rain.

  Chapter 22

  Present Day

  I pulled into the parking lot attached to a
n old wooden building with small windows that looked exactly like a small town police station in the movies. Dean sat quietly for a moment, as if debating saying something. Inside the darkened glass door with white lettering, I could see a man in a grayish tan uniform sitting at a desk filling out paperwork.

  "I'll get the paperwork started while you're at the hospital. I'll call if we finish before you," Dean said. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something more, but instead changed his mind, pushing his lips together and opening the car door. I watched him walk into the station, his movements full of an unconscious deadly grace that can only come with years of practice. His hands opened the door, and I remembered how they had felt on my cheek. I took a deep breath. I couldn't think about that kiss right now, the way his hand cupped my jaw, the sweetness of his tongue... Stop it! You have work to do! I chided myself.

  The hospital was just a short drive down the main street of the small town. A large building with big windows welcomed patients in, looking more like a hotel than a hospital. It was a new building, and I suspected there was a wing with the Saunders' name on it, but I could never keep track of all the Saunders wings.

  I remembered Robbie saying something about it the last time I was in town with him. He kept one of his favorite racing yachts docked at the local marina because he liked the small town feel. The locals had gotten used to him, to the point where he was considered "one of them." It was a good thing too, because he had a tendency to ditch his security, but at least the town was small enough that anyone who didn't belong stuck out like a sore thumb. I had always thought it was a good place for Robbie.

  The woman at the main desk sent me up to the second floor to the inpatient unit. The halls were bright and cheery, the smell of fresh wood and paint still lingering in the hallways. It only took me a moment to find the open door into Samantha's room. I could see her sitting in bed reading, her dirty blonde hair up in a ponytail, a bandage on her head and an IV in her arm. I pulled my reading glasses out of their case and carefully centered them on my nose. I knew they made me look more professional, and I actually liked the way they looked. With a deep breath, I knocked and stepped inside.

  "Hi, Samantha. I don't know if you remember me, but I would like to talk to you about Robbie," I started, using my business voice. As much as I had liked her when she was a child, this was a business transaction. She gave me a warm smile.

  "You're Rachel. Of course I remember you. You would always let Robbie and me stop at the ice cream shop on our way home after sailing lessons. And you are one of the few people that always insisted on calling me Samantha instead of just Sam." She sat up taller in the bed, moving the pillows around to make her more comfortable. I moved to one of the red "leather" padded chairs next to the bed and sat down.

  "I'm glad you remember me. I need to talk to you about Robbie, and I'll need you to sign some paperwork." I pulled a folder out of my purse. She looked just like I remembered her. I didn't want to tell her she still looked twelve to me, but to my eyes, she looked exactly the same. Even the ponytail was the same.

  "I still can't believe he hit me. I mean, they told me he was drinking, but..." She stopped and shook her head before looking over at me.

  I set the folder on the rolling bed table over Samantha's lap, and took out the document inside. I had a computer file full of documents just like it, made up by the Saunders' lawyer for just these kind of situations. I hated that I even had it.

  "What happened to him, Rachel? I mean, why would he do that? It's just not like him." Samantha looked over at me, her big gray eyes searching my face. It was those gray eyes that got the two of them ice cream. They were impossible to say no to.

  "His dad is dying. He's having a hard time dealing with it. That's not an excuse or a justification, just the explanation. I'd like to ask you not to press charges," I said, indicating the paperwork. "The Saunders family would like to reimburse you for all medical expenses, including any future care you may need with regard to this injury, as well as a payment to cover any work-related expenses this injury may have incurred."

  Sam narrowed her eyes, tipping her chin slightly. "And if I said I still wanted to press charges, would I get all the shiny prizes?"

  I raised my eyebrows at her. She had always been too smart for her own good as a kid, but at least now it was paying off. I pushed my glasses up on my nose and nodded. "Yes. The Saunders family feels that they should make sure this accident does not end up changing your life. If you still feel the need to press charges and change Robbie's life, then that is purely your decision."

  The corner of her mouth twitched upward. "I never intended to press charges against him. Call me sentimental, but I still consider him a friend. I know that he must be going through something crazy hard if he broke his own rule. Besides, he saved me from drowning, so I would like to be able to thank him for that, even if he was the one who put me in the water."

  My shoulders dropped, the weight sliding off of them. I knew I had always liked Samantha. "Thank you. I really mean it too, not just as the Saunders' family representative, but as Robbie's friend. Thank you."

  "He's my friend. Or at least he was a long time ago. And friends help each other with mistakes. He got me out of trouble a couple of times too." Samantha gave me a grin, almost daring me to ask what kind of trouble. I didn't ask because I didn't want to know; Robbie and Sam were always getting into trouble. "Out of curiosity, how much is the payment?"

  "Our standard is twenty-five thousand dollars. If you don't think that is going to be enough, I can always speak with the Saunders' lawyer and come up with a more equitable figure." I really didn't want to do that though. The lawyer was good, but he was kind of a jerk.

  Samantha went pale and then flushed. "Twenty-five thousand dollars? No, that's fine. That amount is just fine. It's good."

  I straightened the paperwork on the table, hiding my smile from her. The amount was obviously more than she had expected. She was still nodding to herself and murmuring that it was fine. A slow look of relief was flooding her features. I wanted so badly to ask what had happened to her since I saw her last, but now was not the appropriate time. This was when I needed to put on my game face and have her sign the papers.

  "Excellent. I'm glad that's agreeable. If you'll just sign here... and here... and then fill out this section here, then I can have the medical bills taken care of and the sum wired to your account," I said, handing her a pen. She took it from me, carefully reading the document before she signed. I didn't hide my smile this time. The only other person I knew who read legal documents completely before signing them was Emma, and I was always impressed that she did.

  After perusing the document, Samantha signed her name with a flourish in the required areas. Her handwriting was small and neat, and she made sure everything was perfect before handing it back to me. I carefully put the document back in the folder, sliding it into my purse before standing.

  "Thank you, Samantha. Can I get you anything before I go?" I asked.

  "No thanks," she said, but then her brows tightened and she looked up and made eye contact. "Are you going to go see Robbie?"

  I nodded before carefully pocketed my glasses, stowing them in the hard case and slipping them into my purse.

  "When you see him, will you tell him I'm all right? And that I'm not angry? I'd really like it if he came and visited me. For old time's sake." She bit her lip. I had always suspected that the two of them had been on the verge of being more than just friends, but this confirmed my suspicions. I wondered for a second what Robbie's life would have been like if she hadn't moved.

  "You got it. I'm sure he'll want to see you." I gave her a warm smile, which she quickly returned. "Thank you again, Samantha. I hope I get to see you again soon, though preferably not in the hospital next time."

  Samantha laughed, and she settled back into her pillows and book as I left the room. I waved to the nurse at the front desk, humming softly as I walked across the damp asphalt of the parking l
ot. At least this part of my day was going better than expected.

  Chapter 23

  Present Day

  I parked carefully in front of the police station, making sure I was evenly between the two lines. Just because Dean said he knew the sheriff, I didn't want to push my luck. I just wanted to get Robbie out with as little fanfare as possible and get him home to see his father.

  The door chimed softly as I walked in. It was a small building, barely more than a room and an office, with two barred cells along the back wall. Sitting in one of them was a very dejected-looking Robbie. He glanced up as I came in, and then put his head back in his hands to stare at the floor. Dean was leaning up against the chest-high wooden monstrosity of a desk, talking with a man in a crisp tan uniform.

  "How were things at the hospital?" Dean asked, and all three men looked up to hear my answer.

  "Samantha's doing fine. She's agreed not to press charges," I stated. I heard a low sigh of relief come from the cell. "May I talk with Robbie?"

  "Yes, ma'am, you may. Dean and I here just have a few more things to fill out before you three can get on your way." The sheriff gave me a friendly smile. He stood up carefully from the stool behind the desk, limping as he walked to the back cage. As he fit the key into the lock, I glanced at his name tape. Grinswald. I wondered if it was the same Matt Grinswald that was on the beach with Dean and me. I almost asked, but I could wait until after talking to Robbie.

  "Hey, Robbie. You sober?" I sat down next to him on the hard wooden bench. He looked miserable. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too big with an oversized SWAT sweatshirt. His light brown hair was messy, and his green eyes were rimmed with red; I couldn't tell if it was from being hung over or from crying.

  "Sober. Unfortunately." He sounded absolutely wretched.

  "I saw Samantha. She's doing fine, and she wants me to tell you she isn't mad at you." I put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up briefly at my mention of Samantha's name, but his eyes went quickly back to the floor. "Robbie, what's going on? What are you doing?"