Woman of Substance

by Bower, Annette

  “Maybe next year you’ll have a job somewhere and they can come and visit you.” He leaned forward as if her answer was important to him.

  “That’s true. I’m going to enjoy this year’s celebration as though it will be my last.” She leaned forward as well and tried to memorize every little line on Jake’s face, the shape of his brow, the length of his nose, the way his hair fell across his forehead, his straight jaw, his lips. She brought her glass to her mouth. He turned away as if twinkling lights and the fire reflected in the shiny balls was captivating his attention.

  He rose to his feet. “And I’ll enjoy it because it’ll be my first with you and your parents.” He stretched lazily. “I’m going to call it an early night. That way I’ll be refreshed and eager like a young boy waiting for Santa Claus.” He stepped close to her and put hands on the back of the sofa and bent over her and feathered a kiss on the right corner of her mouth then left. “See you in the morning, Robin.”

  Robbie remembered when he had told her that sometimes friendship was a cold place to be and now she understood because all she wanted was to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down on top of her. Was he being honorable or since he’d spent this time with her, was this all that he wanted from her? Thank goodness she hadn’t told him that she wanted so much more from him. He’d been calling her Robin all day. Robin, the name of his friend. Her heart sank. After tomorrow, Jake would be leaving and she wouldn’t see him when she woke up and went to bed. Still, Jake was right. Who knew what the future held?

  Chapter 19

  Christmas morning dawned bright and clear. Robbie was relieved that she had had practice disguising her eyes and accentuating her cheeks because she needed every bit of talent to cover the ravages of a restless night. Jake looked rested when he gave her a Merry Christmas hug. She touched her right cheek to his and then her left to his while making the smooching sound. If he could be content with a platonic friendship then she would be, too. She could do anything for a day.

  She locked the front door while he put her bags into the Mustang’s trunk.

  She looked up and saw Mrs. Mitchell’s curtain flip. “One minute please, Jake. Will you come with me to speak with my neighbor?” They crossed the street together and she rang the doorbell.

  Christmas carol music welcomed her on the stair while Mrs. Mitchell opened the chain. Mrs. Mitchell had on a sweatshirt with a decorated Christmas tree in the center.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mitchell.”

  “Thank you, Robbie. Where are you going?”

  “My friend, Jake, and I are going out to my parents for Christmas.”

  “I’ve watched that young man coming and going in that red sports car. I also saw the ambulance.” Mrs. Mitchell seemed curled into herself clutching the walker. “I sure wish someone would have told me what was going on. There is Mr. Bell’s invention, you know?”

  “I’m sorry. That was my fault. I had food poisoning but I’m all better now.” Robbie put her hand on her neighbor’s shoulder.

  “You sure have a lot of friends. I haven’t seen that bigger woman, you know the other friend of yours recently. I suppose she didn’t tell you to phone me.”

  “She did, Mrs. Mitchell. I just kept forgetting because I was studying.”

  “Well, no harm done, I suppose. How long is this friend staying?” She looked Jake up and down.

  “He stayed with me until I recovered. I’m well again, Mrs. Mitchell.” Robbie felt her shoulders slump.

  “You look like a nice young man.”

  “Jake Proctor. Pleased to meet you. Thank you for watching out for my friend, here.”

  “Neighbors have to look out for neighbors, young man.”

  “Yes, we do.” Jake replied.

  “Wish your folks Season Greetings, Robbie. I have to go in now. It’s cold with the door open,” she said, backing away.

  “I will. Can I come over for tea in the new year?”

  “As long as you drink Red Rose. I don’t keep anything in the house but Red Rose.”

  “Perfect. I’ll phone you next week.” Robbie leaned in and kissed Mrs. Mitchell on the cheek.

  “Go on now.”

  Robbie waved and they walked down the stairs and across the street.

  Jake held the door open until she slid into the passenger seat and fastened the lap belt. He drove with ease.

  She slid her hand on the wood grain dash. “Tell me about your car. I suspect there’s a story here.”

  “Frank and Mabel bought it for my mom when she turned sixteen. Frank drove it for awhile then he just parked it in the garage and I hung out in it until I was old enough to drive.”

  “Wow.”

  “You’re right, wow.” He drove to the corner. “I take it you haven’t visited with your neighbor very often.”

  “Since I met Frank, I’ve been thinking about elderly people on their own and possibly how alone they might be. Mrs. Mitchell has been my neighbor for as long as I’ve lived here and I haven’t even taken the time to get to know her. That is going to change.”

  “Your New Year’s resolution?”

  “Sort of, more like a Christmas gift.”

  A comforting silence fell and Jake turned on the radio. She sang along with songs on the radio, everything from “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer” to “Silent Night,” while he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. The traffic was steady along the four-lane highway.

  “I think you had your wish granted.” Jake turned slightly and smiled at Robbie.

  “Pardon me?” Her heart jumped in her chest.

  “The highway is clear, not a snowflake, not a patch of black ice.”

  At least one of my wishes came true. “I’m glad.”

  About twenty minutes later, she and Jake surprised her parents at church when they squeezed in along the bench. She watched people file in front of them. Her heart slowed into a comfortable beat when she saw the familiar icons, banners, and the crèche. She thought of the young members of the congregation trying to quell their nervous tension before the big moment when they would carry the doll and lay it in the manger. Jake wrapped his arm around her. His down-filled parka nestled against her wool coat. She glanced up at Jake’s intense eyes searching her face. His hand reached for her hand on her lap.

  Her fingers splayed between his. She shouldn’t be thinking that she wanted his lips to cover hers. She wanted to feel his tongue tapping against her teeth, seeking entry to one of her most sensuous spaces and she shouldn’t be thinking that she’d let him in. Her thoughts were not appropriate for the time and place. She just wouldn’t look at him.

  After the service, Jake, watchful as always, stood with the Smiths in their circle of friends and neighbors. Robbie put a coffee cup into one of his hands and a cookie into the other. Finally, when he seemed to be more involved in observing rather than participating, she stepped on his toes, hard. “Earth to Jake.”

  “Sorry,” he said, his eyes still following the frills on a little girl’s dress disappearing under the tablecloth with her mother trying to retrieve her.

  “We need a little participation here. Not every gathering is research.” Robbie couldn’t help but smile. She’d learned that his work was his passion too.

  “Look who’s talking.” He tipped his head in the direction where she’d been observing the different generations of women filling plates with sandwiches and dessert slices while men carried coffee urns and filled teapots with water.

  “Okay. Guess we’re both guilty. Let’s go for a walk.”

  Robbie’s parents were in visiting mode and nothing was going to hurry them along.

  “Mom, Dad, we’ll meet you at home, okay?”

  “Fine. Lunch will be ready.” Her mother turned back to the group of women who surrounded her.

&n
bsp; She and Jake raced down the stairs, hand-in-hand. They laughed into the wind as they sauntered across the street, down the road under the poplar trees, and finally onto the riverbank. The grass was brown and hard, with skiffs of snow on the frozen river, but it had a peace of its own.

  “I feel as if this is a place Frank would whisper to his geese,” Robbie said.

  “Robin, you’re not telling me you think of my granddad as a goose whisperer?” Jake teased.

  “When I first met him, he told me his name and his nature were the same, Frank. So to me he was whispering to the geese and they listened. Don’t laugh.” She tugged his sleeve.

  His boots flew out from under him and he landed with a thud that seemed to shake the earth. She watched him fall, land on his rear, and finally on his back. She rushed to his side, breathless. “I think he’s dead, I think he’s dead,” she cried. “I’d better do CPR. C: tilt head, P: feel for a pulse.” She felt his heart thumping under her fingers as she continued to play. “R: put cheek to person’s nose and feel for breath, watch chest rise and fall.”

  His controlled breathing was warm against her cheek. His chest shuddered while he tried to control his laughter. She quickly pinched his nose and called out, “Two quick breaths.” When her mouth reached to cover his, he brought his arms around her and cradled her onto his chest. Their closed lips met. She put her hands under his head and angled her mouth and pressed her cold lips against his. His hands pressed into the small of her back. This closed-lip kiss was great for starters but she wanted more. She opened her lips and explored his lips with her tongue. When his lips parted, she slid her tongue along his teeth and darted into his warmth for a taste of him, like a humming bird flitting against a flower. Her body tingled from under her fuzzy warm hat right down to her toes in her winter boots. She wriggled and settled into his down jacket. He held her legs between his. When their lips met again, he slid his tongue against hers and they explored with long sensuous tongue thrusts. Puffs of steam rose against each other’s eyes, noses, lips, foreheads.

  Robbie rolled away from Jake when a dog barked at their heads.

  A woman yelled, “Unhand her, you, you, pervert.”

  Robbie looked up to see a woman standing with her cane raised, ready to strike Jake on the head.

  “No!” she screamed. “Mrs. Lefcowitz, it’s all right.”

  “Robin Smith, I thought you grew out of this tomfoolery.”

  Jake lifted up onto his elbows, eyebrow raised.

  Darn, she’d have to explain that one. “My neighbor and her dog are protecting my virtue.”

  “I’ll stay here and make certain that you both get up and act respectable. This is Christmas day, after all.”

  They both struggled to their feet. Jake kept his arm around Robbie, and his eye on the cane and the dog.

  “Now, you let go of her, and if she wants to run free, she can. I don’t always trust the first things out of people’s mouths.”

  The stocky woman, shielded from the cold, covered from head to foot in a green snowmobile suit, motioned with her hand. “That’s it, Robin. Take some steps away!”

  “It’s all right, honest,” Robbie continued. “Merry Christmas. Is this your new dog?”

  “Yes, this is Caesar. He’s an English Mastiff, you know, powerful jaws,” she said, keeping her eyes on Jake.

  “Now, you’re sure you don’t want to be getting on home, Robin?” she asked.

  “Actually, Jake and I are going home now. Thanks for calling our attention to our behavior and the time. We’re supposed to be home for lunch.”

  “Looked like you were eating each other up,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Mrs. Lefcowitz, any of your kids coming home this year?” Jake asked.

  She stared at him. “No, but how did you know I had kids?”

  “That badge on your lapel states you’re a proud grandma.”

  “I am proud.” She touched the badge. “But they’ll come home for Christmas on the Ukrainian Orthodox calendar, so I’ll have to save my gifts until then. Merry Christmas, Robin and . . .?” She raised her brows so they touched her hat.

  “Jake Proctor,” he said, offering his hand tentatively. “Caesar won’t jump me if I touch you, will he?”

  “Not unless I tell him to. We have a secret little signal.”

  “If I shake your hand, that’s not the signal, is it?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Then, Merry Christmas today and next week.”

  Robbie’s chest constricted and a wave of emotion rushed over her. She loved this man. She didn’t think her ribs could contain the bubbling cadence of her heart.

  “We need to go over there. It’s our backyard gate.” Robbie pointed toward a two-story brick house surrounded by a white fence. She and Jake simultaneously reached for each other’s gloved hands and held on as they headed toward the Smith’s backyard.

  “Do you know how close you came to having your skull crushed?” Robbie’s lips were surrounded by a cloud of mist.

  “How come the guy’s always the pervert and women never suspect their gender of being the instigator, Miss Smith?”

  “Because we’re innocent.”

  “Ha!”

  He pulled her and she pushed away and shrieked in fright as her feet slipped out from under her. Jake’s sturdy grip rescued her.

  Jake looked down into Robin’s dancing hazel eyes. A feeling of warmth, comfort, and love swept over him. His heart slowed as he felt the corners of his mouth pull up. “I don’t want to pretend any longer. I love you and I need to be your lifelong friend.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Thank you,” he said, as his mouth captured hers. Her arms parted his jacket and she snuggled into him as he folded her to him. He longed to open her coat, to feel her body pressed next to his. But when she shivered, he lifted her into his arms and carefully picked his way past the ice and up the last remaining steps into the warmth of the back porch. He turned the knob and the white steel door swung open.

  She clung to his neck, her legs dangled, her booted feet held inches away from his shins. But her thighs formed to him like a missing piece from a puzzle.

  He held onto her until her feet were firmly on the floor. His hands shook as he reached for her wonderful rosy face. She tilted her head to one side, a smile spreading across her mouth.

  “Robin, Robbie,” he whispered. He was afraid to move, afraid to break the tenuous contact. He heard pots clanging and the Christmas carol recording seemed to have increased in volume. Robbie grinned. “I love my parents. I think we’ve had the equivalent of the porch light flickering on and off.”

  They hung their coats and scarves onto the pegs and opened the door, which led into a cornucopia of aromas, cumin, cloves, nutmeg, and pine. Sheer curtains on the windows were held back by bright red bows.

  “I wondered when you’d unlock those lips. Mrs. Lefcowitz just phoned.”

  Megan Smith stepped forward and after wiping her hands on a Christmas towel, she shook his hand. “Thanks for taking care of Robbie.”

  “How was the trip, Mom?” Robbie sauntered around the kitchen with her hands behind her back as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Great. It was just what we needed.” Her mother gave her father a little smile while she placed an apron over his head, then tied a bow at the small of his back.

  Her dad stepped forward and gave Robbie a quick hug.

  Then he turned, his attention focused on Jake. “Welcome to our home.” Ron grasped Jake’s hand and looked straight into his eyes. Jake returned his firm handshake and nod with his own.

  Robbie asked, “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” her dad asked with a satisfied tone.

  “Communicate without words. I know y
ou two agreed on something.”

  Jake draped his arm across her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s a male thing. The practice comes from centuries of hunting to feed the family, so we wouldn’t scare the dinner before we captured it.”

  “Lunch is ready. The crepes are getting soggy.” Megan shooed everyone to the table adorned with a white linen cloth and Christmas dinner plates.

  “Jake, would you sit on the right side, please? Robbie, your place is on the left.”

  Her mother sat on one end and her father on the other.

  Jake shook out his napkin. “In the early days, the hunters kept silent and used their eyes to indicate the location of their prey. It’s suspected that this survival instinct became a genetic trait and is recognized in many of the best leaders.”

  “I suppose that you’re going to tell us that women couldn’t hunt because we need to talk,” Robbie said, passing the plate of crepes.

  “Not at all, all of the people in the hunting villages were needed to surround the animals.”

  “Nonverbal communication is my second language,” Robbie said with a gleam in her eye.

  “Robbie, keep your hands on the table and allow Jake to eat this wonderful meal. And you should eat, too.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Do you cook?” her father asked Jake.

  “I’ve had to learn my way around the kitchen.”

  “That’s good because these two women eat for energy, whereas to me food is an experience.” Her father spread his arms to include the food on the table.

  “If your recipes match your great taste in wines, I’d like to experience your cooking.”

  “You’re eating some right now.”

  “These delicate crepes?” Jake sampled another mouthful.

  Ron nodded. “And the chokecherry syrup.”