by JoAnn Durgin
Sarah shook her head as she added the chocolate and powder to the blender. “I think you’re fishing, and I’m not taking the bait.”
“Fine. Act like you don’t know he’s watching you right now.”
The whirring of the blender drowned out any more conversation, granting her a grace period of a minute. She took a quick survey of the customers in the diner, immensely thankful Sam wasn’t watching her at the moment. As usual, his head was bent over something inside that green file folder. One of these days, she’d ask him what was inside that folder if he didn’t first offer to show her. Mentioning it to Debbie would only bring another round of theories, so keeping it to herself was best. Then again, her friend’s speculation might prove entertaining.
A minute later, Sarah dropped a cherry on the top of the shake and set it front of Debbie.
“Looks great, as always. Thank you.”
“Welcome.” She grabbed a spoon and a straw and placed them on the counter. As she started to turn away, Debbie held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers.
With a small squeal, Sarah grabbed her hand. “You’re engaged! You stinker. You sat there this whole time without saying a word! Arnie finally proposed?”
Debbie laughed. “No, Sheriff Tommy did. Yes, my Arnie finally asked me to marry him!” She stared at her diamond ring with a huge smile.
Within a few seconds, Sarah skirted around the end of the counter and enveloped Debbie in a tight hug. “I’m so thrilled for you, Deb. Congratulations!” Grabbing her hand, she admired the heart-shaped diamond and gave her another hug. “What a gorgeous ring! So, tell me all about it.”
“He asked me after dinner last night. We were walking around the park, and he got down on one knee and everything. Now that he’s finally asked, we decided why wait? We’re having the Justice of the Peace marry us at City Hall. I’d like you to stand up with me and be my maid of honor. And, well, you know who Arnie’s best friend is.” Debbie lowered her gaze.
“I’m fine with Randy,” Sarah said quickly to reassure her. “I haven’t seen him much lately, and it’ll be good to catch up with him.”
Debbie giggled. “You’re not afraid he’ll grab the Justice and ask him to marry you two while you’re both in City Hall? He might see it as mighty convenient.”
Sarah laughed. “Just tell me what you want me to wear, the date and time, and whatever else you need me to do.”
“Friday, June 15th at three o’clock. I’ll have your bouquet as well as mine. Why don’t you wear that pretty light blue dress you bought for Easter last year? You look beautiful in it, and it highlights your brown eyes. Just meet us outside on the front steps about fifteen minutes beforehand. We’re going to hop in the car and start our honeymoon immediately after. You know how I’ve always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon, and Arnie wants to take me there.”
“That sounds fabulous, sweetie.” Sarah put a hand on Debbie’s shoulder and squeezed. The happiness radiating from her friend’s face swelled her heart.
“Just promise me you won’t wear your hairnet.” Debbie giggled. “I want to see all of that gorgeous blonde hair down around your shoulders for a change.”
“Promise. My break’s starting now, so I’m going to talk with Sam. Congratulations again. Holler if you need anything.”
As usual, Sam closed the green folder as soon as she headed his way. She was tempted to lift the cover and peek inside if he excused himself for even a minute. Problem was, he’d no doubt tuck that file folder under his arm and take it with him. Must be private bank business, so she needed to respect the privacy of both Sam and his account holders. She admired his dedication and integrity. For some reason, she couldn’t believe he’d bring his bank business into the diner on his break. Sure, Sam was dedicated to his work, but neither was he a slave to it.
“Arnie finally popped the question to Debbie.” Sarah slid into the corner booth opposite him.
“I heard. I couldn’t be more thrilled for them.” He smiled wide enough for those fascinating lines on either side of his mouth to appear. Not dimples, but they made the man even more attractive. More and more, she felt drawn to tracing them with her finger. She needed to shake that thought from her mind.
“When is this momentous occasion?”
“June 15th, but they’re not doing it in the church. City Hall at three o’clock.” She shrugged. “Since Debbie’s parents are both gone now, and Arnie’s more or less estranged from his folks, I guess they figure it’s the easiest thing.” She blew out a sigh. “They’re both Christians even though they’re not always in church.”
“How do you feel about that?” Sam cocked his head to one side, surveying her.
“What?” Sarah shook her head, confused. “That they’re not always in church? I guess I need to understand their relationship with the Lord is their own business, not mine.”
“Sorry. I mean, would you be willing to do a City Hall marriage ceremony?”
His question surprised her. “Why?”
“Just curious. The fact that you felt the need to point out they’re not getting married in the church tipped me off.”
“I’d prefer a church wedding with the pastor officiating. Makes it more official, I suppose. I’d definitely want scripture and a hymn or two in addition to the usual parts of a traditional wedding ceremony. Those are givens. You?”
“I like your scenario better than City Hall, that’s for sure.”
“Sam, why are we talking about weddings?”
He stared out the front window before settling his gaze on her. “Since Debbie brought up the subject, more or less, I figured I might as well ask. The female species is a puzzle to me.”
“Well, right back at you with the male species. Since we’re talking about weddings, how do you feel about the whole cleaving thing?”
Sam had just taken a drink of his iced tea. At her question, he clamped a hand over his mouth and gulped down the rest. She leaned closer. Was it possible she’d made Sam blush? He coughed and cupped his fist over his mouth. “What on earth made you ask that?” He glanced out the window again, tapped his fingers on the tabletop, and appeared to be formulating his answer.
She followed his gaze. “What’s so interesting? Is someone out there cleaving?”
Stop it, Sarah. She bit the inside of her cheek not to laugh.
Sam shook his head, but she could tell he was also trying not to laugh. “What exactly do you want to know about the whole cleaving thing? I happen to think cleaving sounds pretty great, and I look forward to it. You?” His eyes bore into her and he held her gaze. If he thought she’d squirm, she was determined not to give him the satisfaction. With him looking at her like that, the idea of sticking like glue to Sam didn’t sound so bad.
“I got curious about the whole concept of cleaving a few years ago,” she said. The lesson was part of the whole series at church taught by Mrs. Bittenbottom in a coed class about the birds and the bees. “Funny thing about cleaving. Did you know the word cleave actually has two distinct meanings? It’s true,” she insisted, not giving him the opportunity to answer. “It can mean sticking like glue to something—or someone, of course, like in the scriptures—or it can mean to split or cut something apart with a sharp instrument. Don’t you find that interesting?”
“Quite the dichotomy,” Sam said with a wry grin. “I prefer the newer translation in a verse from the Book of Mark. Instead of the word cleave, it says a man shall leave his father and mother and be united to, joined to, or hold fast to, his wife.” He lifted his glass in a toast before taking another long drink.
“Thank you for not saying anything else before I swallowed,” he said as he put his glass back on the table. “Listen, before your break’s over, I wanted to run something by you.”
“I’m listening, Captain Lewis,” Sarah said, assuming a professional tone. “Talk to me, please.” Her pulse raced, and a sense of foreboding swept through her.
“I feel like I’m back in high school even talking abo
ut this.” Sam shifted on the seat. “Here’s the thing. Sylvie invited me to meet her parents. But then she said, ‘Only if you want. Absolutely no rush and no pressure from me.’”
Sarah was rendered momentarily speechless. Tears stung her eyes. How his words disappointed her. All she wanted was to run away and hide and ponder the reasons why later. For now, she needed to keep talking or she’d burst out in tears. Then she’d be the one acting like she was in high school. When Sam drummed his fingers on the tabletop again, she put her hand over his, stilling them.
This is what you encouraged him to do, you silly girl. You tossed out the name of every eligible woman in town and told him he should be dating. What did you expect?
“Meeting the parents is a big step,” she managed to say. Needing something to do with her hands, she grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and smoothed her fingers over the edges. “Sounds like you two are getting serious.”
“That’s the thing.” Sam’s tone sounded agitated. “We only had that one date for the dance at Harbison’s. I picked her up, we talked a little, ate a little, danced a little, and then I drove her home. End of story, as you’d say. Unless things have changed on the dating scene since I’ve been away, I think that’s moving way too fast.” He sat back in the booth, shaking his head. “What happened to old-fashioned courting?”
“No kiss on the doorstep?” She couldn’t look at him and didn’t know where she’d garnered the nerve to ask the question.
“What if I say yes?”
Sarah stopped fingering the edges of the napkin and resisted the urge to ball it in her hand and throw it at him.
“I’ve always heard a girl doesn’t invite a guy to meet her parents unless she thinks the relationship is going somewhere,” he said. “Why would Sylvie push for something like that so soon? And no, I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t even come close. Thanks for caring. I figured you could help me out here and lend the female perspective.”
“One date or not, it sounds to me like Sylvie wants the two of you to be exclusive,” she said slowly, her mind racing. “Her invitation confirms that. But this is the key as I see it: Sylvie doesn’t want you to think she’s being pushy or demanding.” Sarah ran her finger over the edge of the napkin, back and forth several times. Reaching for her, Sam covered her fingers until she stopped and put the napkin on the table.
They sat in silence as Sam appeared to consider her words. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re saying Sylvie wants to be serious, but she’s also giving me an ‘out’ of the relationship?” He shook his head. “It’s crazy to even call it a relationship. So, no matter what happens, she’s going to make it seem like it’s my idea?”
“You’re not as dense as you might believe, Captain Lewis. I didn’t think you paid attention to such things. However”—she smoothed the napkin on the table top, ruing how her voice wavered—“it would seem you actually catch on pretty quick.” The guy could fly a jet, but he couldn’t understand women. To be fair, he’d admitted as much. Well, they were even since she couldn’t understand men.
“I, um, need to get back to work now.” Tucking the napkin in her pocket, Sarah rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. Why did Sam’s words bother her so much?
Because you don’t want Sam dating Sylvie or anyone else, you fickle girl.
“Oh, be quiet,” she mumbled under her breath, hoping he hadn’t heard. Wonderful. Now she was talking to herself. Out loud.
“Sarah?”
She halted. What now? Turning around slowly, she pasted a smile on her face.
Sam rose to his feet and pulled out a piece of paper from the green folder. Her eyes widened as he handed it to her. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” She dared not look at what she held until he’d left the diner.
He stepped abreast of her and lightly rested his warm hand on her forearm. His touch electrified her, and she could barely breathe.
Leaning close, his lips next to her temple, he whispered for her ears only. “Something to show you that I pay attention.” With a quick tweak to her chin, Sam turned and strolled toward the front door without another word.
Frozen in place, Sarah couldn’t move until she heard the bell jingle. She waited until he walked past the front window before glancing at the paper. She stared at a drawing of her with Perry Sellers in the diner. Rendered in pencil, the likenesses were amazingly lifelike. The definition in the lines on the elderly man’s face, the shading of her hair, and the nuances in her facial features were exquisite.
Had Sam drawn this? He’d even added the heart-shaped mole on her neck. Her hand moved to her neck and, lost in thought, Sarah absently ran her finger over it. Even the faint scar over her left eyebrow—courtesy of a wayward softball many years ago—was visible in the drawing. She brought it even closer, inspecting it. In the right bottom corner were the initials, SJL. Yes, Sam must be the artist.
As if in a daze, Sarah collected Sam’s money from the table. She shook her head when she saw the large tip he’d left. More than his usual excess. This time, it was positively obscene.
Debbie had already left the diner, and Sarah walked slowly toward the front counter. Leaning against it, she studied the drawing some more. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at it but knew she needed to store it somewhere safe, away from food, steam, liquid and anything else that could possibly stain or hurt it. Maybe she should have asked Sam for the folder to protect it. At least this solved the mystery of that green folder. Never would she have guessed this was what Sam had been working on while he watched her.
A few minutes later, Tess slid onto a counter seat. “What do you have there?” When she stretched out her hand, Sarah handed it over. She was somewhat in shock, not sure what to think about the beautiful drawing. Without a doubt, she’d treasure it.
“My, my. This is really good. Who’s the talented artist?”
Sarah met her sister’s eyes. “Sam.”
Tess visibly blanched. “Sam Lewis?”
When she gave her a look, Tess lowered the drawing onto the countertop. “Come to think of it, he did take art classes in school. I just don’t remember ever seeing his work before, though.” She shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “Seems Sam has some hidden talents, huh? Who knew?”
Sarah certainly hadn’t known. Guilt stung her conscience. Was she supposed to read something into the reasons he’d made this drawing? Sam’s words came back to her. To show you that I pay attention. Maybe he’d made a drawing of Tess, too. Or any number of girls in town.
No, Sarah, he probably hasn’t.
She snapped to attention when the bell on the front door rang and some of the high school kids walked inside the diner. A glance at the clock confirmed it was already three o’clock. Where had the day gone? “Want a chocolate shake?”
“No more shakes.” Tess shook her head. “I need to shed a few pounds. Just give me a cup of black coffee, if it’s fresh.”
“It is. Myrna made it ten minutes ago.” She pulled a mug from the rack on the wall and poured the steaming brew before carefully placing the cup in front of Tess. After storing the drawing carefully beneath the counter, Sarah turned back around, not bothering to hide her frown. “Tess, I think Sam’s mad at me.”
“Why would that be?” Tess lifted her coffee cup and took a tentative sip.
“I have no idea.”
Tess shrugged. “Maybe he had a disagreement with Sylvie or something.”
“Or something,” Sarah murmured.
Tess leveled her gaze on Sarah as she took a longer sip of her coffee. “Like I said before, military service changes a man. We can’t know what he’s done, what he’s seen.”
Sarah swallowed. “What are you saying?”
Tess lowered her cup. “I’m not saying anything.”
“Do you know something?” Sarah parked one hand on her hip.
“No, no.” Tess said, waving her hand. “Nothing like that.”
“Sam’s o
ne of the strongest Christians I know.” Sarah leaned across the counter so as not to be overheard by any big ears around them. “We’ve never heard rumors about him the way we have about other boys in town.”
“True enough, Sarah, but Sam Lewis is quite obviously. . .no longer a boy.” Tess arched a brow, and her expression was full of meaning. “Men have passions, desires. Even strong Christian men.”
Sarah’s spine stiffened. “If that’s the case, then he needs to get married, sooner rather than later.” Do some cleaving of his own. That thought shot straight to her heart.
Tess smiled and her gaze lingered on the drawing. “Oh, I think he’s working toward that end, little sister.”
Chapter 21
♥
Wednesday Afternoon—May 30, 1962
The moment he walked into Perry’s, Sam sensed something was wrong with Sarah. At the very least, she was bothered. If it wasn’t her creased forehead or the way she moved as if in a trance, the way she asked him to repeat his lunch order was a dead giveaway. The spark wasn’t in those lovely brown eyes, and he missed it. She didn’t call out greetings to the customers the way she always did when she moved among tables. Even old Perry Sellers followed her with his eyes, his shoulders slumped.
Sam caught her hand as Sarah finally worked her way back to his table. “What’s wrong?”
She stared at their joined hands for a moment before slowly withdrawing from his grasp. “Nothing.” Sarah wasn’t the type of person to say that particular word. Nothing was a non-answer if ever he’d heard one.
“I don’t believe you.”
She visibly tensed. “Fine. Then don’t believe me. What would you like to order today?” After nodding when he gave her his order of a cup of white chili and a chicken fried steak sandwich, Sarah departed, leaving him to stare after her. The remainder of his meal, she only came near his table when necessary—to refill his iced tea, to ask if he wanted a slice of pie, to give him his ticket. Pushing the issue wouldn’t help. He’d have to wait it out. He only hoped she understood he wanted to help her if he could.