Annie stepped back, glancing around the table. “Go ahead. Eat.” She excused herself and headed back to the kitchen.
They all grabbed their forks and took a bite. “I haven't had anything this good since I went on my honeymoon,” said Ellen. She took another bite and shook her head in appreciation. “And that was nineteen fifty-one.” The dressing was traditional, full of garlic, parmesan cheese, hints of lemon and strong overtones of anchovies. But the croutons were the highlight. Still warm, they partially melted the slivers of hard salty cheese, and the crusted outer layers were crunchy and tasted of garlic, salt and parmesan. The insides were soft, and exploded with the green earthy taste of olive oil.
For several minutes there was only the noise of silver hitting the ceramic dishes as morsel after morsel disappeared into their mouths. Except for Alder's plate, who said anchovies made him want to throw-up, there was not a lettuce leaf left. Seeing that everyone was finished, Tommy jumped from his place.
Lee moved to help, but he touched his hand to her shoulder. “I'll be the server tonight.” He gathered the plates and disappeared into the kitchen.
Alder whispered to Lee. “I think he's nice. Not at all like asshole.”
“Stop saying that word.” She looked at him and wrinkled her brow, trying to be stern. “I mean it.”
“Sorry.” He continued to whisper but it was loud enough Lee knew both Ellen and Verle could hear him. “Are you in love with him?”
Lee blushed. “Never mind.”
“I think you are.”
Lee ignored the chuckles of Ellen and Verle and spoke through clenched teeth. “Just be quiet.”
Alder threw up his hands. “Okay, okay.”
Lee brought her napkin to her mouth to hide her smile and glanced across the table at Ellen, who gazed at Alder, eyes glistening with what might be tears. She's thinking of her son, Lee thought. Heart constricting, she ruffled Alder's hair. “Are you excited for your mom to be a real chef at a fancy restaurant?”
“Yeah, except for one thing.” He looked at his plate. “What about me? She told me she'll be away more. Will I have to stay with you-know-who?”
Ellen shifted in her seat. “You can stay with me.”
Lee looked at her, surprised. “You?”
Ellen's gaze focused on Alder. “You like puppies and gardens?”
“You have a puppy?”
“My boy used to have one a long time ago. Been thinking I might get one again. That interest you?”
“You bet!”
“You'll have to help me with the dog. I'm an old lady.”
“Except for your wrinkles you don't seem old.”
Verle chuckled, and gazed at Ellen with his face in the palm of his hand. “I agree.”
Ellen smiled but Lee saw a glimmer of the sadness still in her eyes. “It's settled then. Your mom can help Lee and you'll help me.”
He grinned. “Lee, does that mean Mom has the job?”
Lee shushed him with a finger to her lips. “Let's announce it at dessert.”
Alder leapt from his chair, jumping up and down. “Yay.” He ran into the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind him. “Mom, Mom, Lee says you have the job and Ellen's getting a dog.”
Tommy and Annie brought the second course, penne with shrimp and morel mushrooms. “This is a simple white wine and cream sauce, flavored with hints of rosemary and garlic,” said Annie. “The morel mushrooms are cooked with the white wine and cream so they soak up the flavor of the sauce.” Alder was wriggling in his chair and swinging his feet until Annie gave him a look to be still. “The shrimp are simply sautéed in butter and garlic,” she said, filling the empty wine glasses. “We're serving a sauvignon blanc with this course, from a winery outside of town, that pairs nicely with shrimp.” She looked around the table at each face. “Thanks for allowing me to cook for you. It's great to be back in the kitchen.”
Verle held up his glass to Annie. “This is a real treat for a lonely old man.”
Tommy held up his glass. “Here's to the chef. Our compliments.”
Alder toasted with his milk. “To my mom, the greatest cook in the whole world.”
Everyone laughed as Annie slipped back to the kitchen.
Lee forked a shrimp, a piece of pasta and a mushroom and brought it up to her mouth. The morel mushrooms seeped cream and white wine, the penne was al dente, the shrimp tender and buttery. As she took another bite she noticed Alder's eyes were drooping and then his head flopped onto her shoulder. She shifted and guided his head to her lap. She felt him drift to sleep, his head resting there next to her baby.
Annie brought the next course. “This is a pork tenderloin with apples, dates and baby potatoes. The tenderloin is pan fried and then baked wrapped in bacon and spiced with cinnamon, cumin and garlic. I have two cabs for you to try with it, one from a winery in Woodinville Washington, the other from Walla Walla. Enjoy.” Lee looked down at her plate. Three pieces of pork were arranged on the middle of the plate, surrounded with a mess of potatoes, slices of white onion, quartered apples, a thick whole date, and a small amount of sauce speckled with the spice. She took the first taste; a perfect blend of bacon, onions, cumin and cinnamon mixed with the sweetness of the apples and dates.
Tommy caught her eye from across the table. “The girl can cook.”
“I'll say.” Verle took a swig of water and stuffed another big forkful of pork into his mouth.
Tommy sipped his wine, regarding Lee from across the candlelight. “You may just pull this thing off.”
“Of course she will.” Ellen wiped her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “She's done harder things than getting a little restaurant put together.”
Tommy gave his attention to Ellen. “Like what, for example?”
“Raised herself for one. Took care of her mother for two. Got accepted to college at seventeen with an art scholarship for three. Earned an MBA from Wharton for four. Should I continue?”
Lee watched Tommy swirl his wine, the dark purple liquid like a small wave, the droplets catching the light as they crept down the inside of the glass. “Ellen's exaggerating a little", she said, moving a mushroom around her plate.
Ellen's napkin snapped as she waved it in the air. “I am most certainly not. I didn't know what a mess Eleanor was until I came over here one day after Lee left for college to see her drunk at eleven in the morning.” She looked at Tommy. “Make no mistake, this is one tough, smart girl.”
Tommy peered over his wine glass at Lee. “I can see that for myself.”
Lee sipped primly from her water glass and pretended to dismiss their compliments. “You guys have had too much wine.”
Ellen giggled. “Oh my, I do feel a little light headed.”
Lee wiped the condensation off her water glass. “It won't matter one iota how clever or tough I am if this restaurant tanks.”
Tommy raised his glass. “You know what they say in my business, it's always good to follow a bad act.”
Ellen hiccupped and grinned. “Here's to second chances.”
“To second chances,” said Tommy as they all toasted.
“I'm naming the restaurant ‘Riversong,’” said Lee.
Verle pulled on his ear. “River what now?”
His eyes on Lee, Tommy said softly, “Riversong, Verle. She's calling the restaurant Riversong.”
Ellen raised her glass again. “Here's to you two kids. You're perfect together.”
Tommy smirked at Lee and raised his eyebrows. “And, why's that Ellen?”
“You're the only two people in southern Oregon who don't own a gun.”
They were all still laughing when Lee called Annie out to the table and gave her a glass of wine. Tommy stood and raised his glass. “Here's to the launch of a beautiful partnership. To Riversong.” They all raised their glasses and toasted. “To Riversong,” they all repeated.
Chapter Eighteen
Tommy rowed Lee across the river in his rowboat. His muscular arms pulled the pad
dles in a steady rhythm. A picnic lunch and a beach umbrella were at their feet. The water appeared like the surface of a green glass table, broken only by the ripples made from the paddles. It was early June and the river was full and clear of nature's debris, no sticks, algae, or dead leaves like there would be in late summer. She wondered if she would still be here then.
As Tommy rowed, Lee felt like someone from another time, as if she should be dressed in a long lace gown and carrying a frilly umbrella. She loved it; this way he had of making her feel taken care of, like a treasure. He opened doors for her. He handed her a towel when she came out of the shower. His hand rested on the small of her back when they walked together. Just now he'd helped her into the boat, holding her hand and guiding her onto the bench. So much for feminism, she'd thought. It was nice, after the difficulty of Dan, to let go, to let Tommy take care of things, even if it was just the simple act of rowing her across the water.
At the deepest part of the river Lee looked down into the ever darkening shades of green. There was no discernable bottom. Lee shivered despite the warm sun. They neared a large gray rock scattered with moss and the mineral deposits left from evaporated rain. It jutted from the surface of the water like the head of a hippopotamus.
After they reached the sandy side of the river and departed the boat, Lee stood ankle deep, feeling the fine sand sift between her toes and watched with apprehension as Tommy waded up to his waist. He turned to her, his wet shorts clinging to his lean frame. “You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.” He motioned for her to come deeper into the water.
She moved towards him, gasping a little at how cold it felt on her hot skin, wading in past her knees and then her waist. When she reached him he held both her hands in his.
“You alright?” he said.
She answered yes, thinking it was now or never, and let him gently guide her onto her back, closing her eyes to block out the bright light of the sun, ready for his instruction. One hand was under her legs, the other under her back, so that she was almost nestled against his stomach. She held her body stiff, her neck slightly bent and tense, ready to put her feet on the ground if he let go. “Just allow yourself to relax and pretend like you're a board,” he said. “I won't let go until you tell me you're ready.”
Her eyes were screwed shut as she tried to imagine herself as a relaxed board. But the harder she worked on it the more tense she became. She opened her eyes. “I can't do it.”
His brown eyes looked down at her. “You can. Think of a time when you were totally relaxed, totally happy. Picture yourself there again.”
She closed her eyes. Several weeks ago that would have been difficult but now she thought of the night before. After dinner, she and Tommy had watched the stars from his patio, laying side by side on the chaise lounge. It had been clear and warm, the fir and pine trees next to his house rustling in the slight breeze. She had a soft blanket wrapped around her legs, the fresh dry air touching her bare arms and face. The stars scattered across the sky dazzled so that they seemed close, like it was a high ceiling instead of light years away. Tommy reached over and took her hand in his and they stayed like that, gazing upward, for several minutes. She'd let herself have the moment without guilt or worry, had allowed herself to feel safe.
Thinking of it now, she felt her muscles unclench and she relaxed. She began to feel the water as a surface, like a soft cot, there to support and restore her. She felt Tommy's arms relax a little too. “You ready for me to move away?” he said.
“I guess.”
He backed away a few inches and then removed his arms from under her. She was floating. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him. “Hey, I'm doing it.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she felt herself go under. She put her feet against the small stones and pebbles as she jerked out of the water. She coughed and sputtered, wiping her eyes with her hands.
Tommy grinned at her. “You did it.”
“For about a second.”
He instructed her to try again and this time to stay still until she felt him next to her again. She leaned back into the water but found her feet unwilling to leave the bottom. He scooped under her legs and held her until she indicated she was ready for him to let go. This time she floated for a long moment before he was next to her again. They practiced eight more times before he wrapped her legs around him and walked with her to the dry sand of the beach. They plopped down on beach towels next to one another, under his blue and white striped umbrella. “You did well,” he said. “I told you it wasn't so hard.”
She put on a straw beach hat and sunglasses, resting under the shade of the umbrella while he rummaged in the small ice chest. Handing her a bottle of water, he said, “Tomorrow I can show you how to blow bubbles.” Then he began to play with the left thigh string of her one piece bathing suit. His eyes half closed in that look she knew already from the week they spent together.
She scooted closer to him, putting her hand on his stomach. “So far swimming lessons are good,” she said.
“Told you.”
They couldn't keep their hands from one another. Every free moment they were together it was the pulling of clothes, grabbing and caressing of skin and hair. Sometimes they couldn't even get free of their clothes before they were intertwined, in every spot of Tommy's house, before breakfast, after lunch, before Tommy's gigs, in the middle of the night.
A week went by and then another. In between planning for the restaurant, she would think of him and hurry to finish the day's work to rush to his house. They developed a pattern where they worked during the days and met in the late afternoons at his house for her swimming lesson. After the lesson they would make dinner together and if he didn't have a gig to go to in the evenings, she stayed the night. After several weeks she brought a few clothing items over, going home every other day to check on the progress at her house. She knew she was getting involved too soon, and too deeply, but she couldn't make herself stop.
One afternoon on his couch he made her cry out twice before he let himself go. Afterwards, they lay together, half clothed, still flushed. He played with her hair. “Do you want to stay at your house sometime? We don't always have to be here.”
“I don't know. Maybe.” That afternoon she had stopped by to see the progress and was amazed to see Joshua up on a ladder painting the ceiling of the living room. Joshua had explained, gesturing with his wet paintbrush at the old floors. “Better to paint before I put the new floors down.” She'd chosen a soft yellow called, “Butter” for the living room and beige named, “Eggnog” for the foyer and stairwell and upstairs hallway. “Better on your walls than in your fridge,” she'd said to Joshua.
Now, she ran her finger along Tommy's lower lip, thinking how even with the cosmetic changes to the house, it was still stacked with memories better left covered. “Paint fumes are pretty strong. It's better to stay here.”
“Whatever you say.”
Weeks went by and Tommy taught her how to blow bubbles, rhythmic breathing and a basic flutter kick and paddle stroke. On the afternoon of her twentieth week of pregnancy, she sat on a beach towel under the umbrella working on a list of items still left to do before the grand opening of Riversong.
To do:
Negotiate terms with local produce farmers,
Developing a marketing plan
Meet with the local art group about the rotating shows
Hire staff
Just then she heard Tommy yell from the other side of the river and looked up to see him dive into the water and swim towards her. In less than a minute he stood at the edge of her blanket, shaking the water from his hair. He plopped beside her, looking like a child at the ice cream shop. “Did you see the doc?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Well, is it a boy or a girl?”
She closed her notebook, stretching her legs out on the blanket. “I didn't find out.”
His face changed in a way
she could decipher. “You didn't find out?”
“I couldn't decide if I wanted to or not. Then I was in the ultrasound and the doctor asked if I wanted to know and suddenly I didn't want to know.” She laughed. “It was the strangest thing.”
He looked away, made circles in the sand with a twig. “Everything okay, though?”
“Yeah. Everything's good.”
Tommy broke the twig in two, threw one piece into the water. “Measurements all on track? Weight gain good? Any signs of problems?”
“Nothing,” she said. “We going to have a lesson?”
He looked at her, his face blank. “What's that?”
“A lesson. A swimming lesson?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” He got up and waded into the water.
She followed him, calling out. “Tommy, is something wrong?”
“Not a thing.” His voice sounded tight, almost monotone.
“You have to work tonight?”
He shook his head, no. He turned away, picking up a rock from the river bottom and chucking it up the river.
She kept her voice light. “You never said whether you thought I should find out or not.”
He shrugged, staring across the river. “You never asked.”
She smiled, teasing. “That doesn't usually stop you from having an opinion.”
His eyes were hooded. “I don't get to have an opinion. I'm not the father. Isn't that right?”
“Tommy, I'm sorry.” She watched old grief play across his face. “I don't know what to say.”
“I know.”
He turned towards her then. “Lee, promise me that if you leave you'll let me know
Suddenly she felt a sensation in her lower stomach like butterflies. She reached for him. “Tommy, I think I just felt the baby for the first time.”
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