by Jo Leigh
It wasn’t just seeing her that had him wishing he could freeze time. Knowing she was going so far out of her way to be there for him was downright intoxicating. Yeah, he’d let her get a little nuts at the BX, but he knew she was determined to make this place feel like a home instead of a prison. Unfortunately, every moment spent was another memory sure to torment him.
Whatever else he was, Sam was not naive about what was happening here. Their history was against them, and their future had no chance. That left casual friends.
No way. No way he could pull that off without going insane.
Dammit, he didn’t want to lose her. Not after just finding her. Knowing she lived in the same town, worked on the same base, was going to be as difficult as listening to the jets he couldn’t fly take off and land every day.
Why on earth had he signed up for another ten years? Maybe there was a way to get out, some kind of mental health clause that would still leave him a shred of dignity.
She turned, surprised he hadn’t finished making their sandwiches yet. “Everything okay?”
He nodded, went back to work. He thought about telling her to leave, that he appreciated what she’d done. He wouldn’t, though. He wasn’t strong enough for that. No, he’d savor every second he had with her, try not to make things uncomfortable and let her go with great reluctance. What the hell, right? His fate had been sealed the minute he’d answered her call.
He put her sandwich on a napkin and then handed it to her. He didn’t bother to ask if she wanted to quit working to eat since he already knew the answer. She’d only taken her second bite when he polished off his turkey and Swiss. Man, he’d been hungry. He wouldn’t make a second one, though. He would get back to work so they could relax with that bottle of wine later. Just the thought got a reaction from his body. Sad. Very sad.
Standing in the middle of his ugly living room, he looked at the opened boxes, at the bags from the BX. He should be used to moving by now. He’d done it so often, but this time...this time was the worst. Probably because there was nothing to look forward to. “Hey, remember that house John and I rented in Texas?” he said, watching her over the counter that separated the two spaces.
“I do,” she said as she put the dishcloth down, then checked each of the newly stocked cupboards. “I remember how you screamed like a little girl the first time you saw a flying cockroach.”
“Nice,” he said as he lifted the box that held the tabletop fountain she’d bought. “Very nice. I was going to mention that great mural you made for us, and how terrific it looked, but now I’m not going to.”
“Ah, that’s sweet. It was good, though, wasn’t it?”
He snorted at her, wondering whether she’d just replace the fountain if he slipped and dropped it. It probably wouldn’t even break landing on the carpet. Throwing it against the wall would work.
Her laughter got louder as she joined him in the living room. She’d obviously already figured out where to put the albums because she went straight to a pot shelf that looked as if it would hold his whole collection. And the stereo system would fit well on the broad ledge that ran next to it. He had to do some thinking about where he’d put his speakers, though.
Emma was on the floor, cross-legged, and he got stuck, staring. He’d been thinking a lot about her hair. What it would feel like between his fingers. Soft, he’d bet. Soft as her skin. His gaze moved to her knees. It was hot outside. Would have been nice if she’d worn a sundress or a pair of shorts or something. But he could picture what was under those jeans. He’d seen her plenty of times in her bathing suit, in cutoffs. One time, he’d caught her wearing one of Danny’s shirts, unbuttoned halfway and barely covering pink panties.
Not on purpose. It had been over in a flash with a high-pitched squeal and a dash back to her bedroom. But he’d remembered her thighs. The flat plane of her tummy. Then he’d felt like shit for having those kinds of feelings for his best friend’s wife.
He went to work on the stereo, keeping his eyes forward, focused. He heard her as she shuffled the records, the distinctive swish of cardboard against cardboard. It didn’t take him long. He could have done it blindfolded. But then he got the stepladder he’d borrowed from maintenance and used special adhesive hooks to hang all four wireless speakers around the room.
He finished before she did and plucked the record from her hand as she was about to put it away. He should have looked first. It was Physical Graffiti.
“‘Kashmir,’” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, quietly. Danny’s favorite song from his favorite album. All Sam had wanted to do was test the sound levels.
She closed her eyes, and he thought about putting the album away, changing the subject, but when she looked up from her perch on the carpet she said, “Go ahead. Play it.”
“You sure?”
Emma nodded as she turned back to the albums on the pot shelf. “You still keep the make-out music separated? Use them much?”
He put the vinyl on the turntable and when it started with “Houses of the Holy” the sound was pristine, as if he was playing it for the first time. “Not for a while,” he said. “I seem to be the last of a dying breed. Most of my friends are married or with someone. I’m thinking John might be the next one to fall.”
“You’re against marriage?”
“No. I can see myself getting hitched someday. Having a couple of kids.” He listened for a minute, wishing he could think of a slick way to change the subject. He tried to see if the speakers were balanced well, but his distraction levels were off the charts.
As he crossed over to the box that held the DVD player, she said, “I can’t believe we haven’t discussed this before. Or am I just not remembering?”
“I don’t think we ever did,” he said. “Not seriously. You tried to fix me up so often that I figured you hated that I was single. I didn’t want to encourage you.”
“That wasn’t meant to get you married. It was to help you have better taste in women. Jeez, you and John both needed someone to set you straight. After a while, the women became interchangeable. I never did understand that.”
“It was for fun. We were highly motivated testosterone machines all during our twenties.” What he couldn’t tell her was that there was only one woman he’d cared all that much about, and she was taken. “Danny was the odd man out.” His regret was instant. “No offense meant.”
“Plenty taken, but do go on.”
He smiled at how easy she made it. “You guys got hitched before he’d even finished the Academy. It was a radical move.”
She turned to look at him. “Did you think it was a mistake?”
“No. No, God, we thought it was great. But you guys were young, and there was so much we all didn’t know about our future. It was a tough road you chose. But in the end...”
“What?”
He sighed, wishing they were talking about anything other than Danny. “Turned out, you made him...better.”
She stood, leaving the second box of albums untouched. “What do you mean?”
He couldn’t look at her. So he fiddled with the inputs and outputs and the HD hookups. “The longer you were together, the more grounded he became. There were some things to worry about with him. He was prone to reckless behavior.”
“More than you were?”
“Really?” He frowned at her, shocked to see that yeah, she seemed completely serious. “I was into danger sports, but I was pretty safety conscious. Okay, not always, but mostly. But Danny...he took some radical chances.”
“Like...?”
“Illegal base jumping. Skiing in the backcountry, fresh slopes that could have had any kind of hazard under the powder. That kind of thing.”
“I thought all three of you did that stuff.”
“John and I tailed him for the most part. To make sure
he didn’t— Shit, Emma, I’m sorry. I don’t think we should be talking about this—”
“It’s okay,” she said, and he had to look at her again, just to make sure that light tone wasn’t feigned. “Danny’s not a forbidden topic. I still think about him, just not as often. It’s been three years, and I’ve finally gotten used to the idea that he’s really dead. It took longer than I’d expected.”
“It’s hard when there’s no reason. When there’s no one to blame.”
“Sometimes I feel guilty for not thinking of him more.” She ducked her head. “Even though I’ve built my life around staying busy. I’ve got students I tutor, web-only classes, I help out with the drama department. I go running with a friend a couple of times a week.”
“At Holloman?”
“Nope. At one of the local high schools. With a friend,” she repeated as she walked past him to the kitchen, but she slowed her step before she hit the linoleum. “His name’s Gary. He teaches mathematics at the college.”
“Oh?” Sam’s gut twisted. He shouldn’t care. She was free to see anyone she chose. In fact, he should be glad for her, but... “You said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
“I’m not. He’s a colleague.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’ve never been out on a date. We don’t... It’s not like that.”
“But you’re thinking about it?” he asked, then immediately cursed himself for being an idiot.
She sighed. “You want a beer?”
Sam nodded. Yep, and maybe some duct tape for my big mouth.
She disappeared into the kitchen and he heard the fridge open and close. A few seconds later her voice carried over the music. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she said. “What the heck is this doing here?”
“Shit,” he muttered, knowing exactly what she’d found. He should have put the stupid thing in the trunk of his car instead of trying to hide it. Moving into her line of sight, he said, “I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.”
She held the thing up. “It’s a mug with boobs, Sam.”
“It’s nothing. Hey, it’s not that bad, and I don’t use it in mixed company.”
“Why do you even have it?”
“It was a gift.”
“From the boob fairy?”
“From Danny, actually. He got me one, and John one.”
“Huh. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that he bought one for himself, as well.”
Sam nodded. “I think John has it.”
“A mug with boobs, Sam. It’s a mug. With boobs.”
“I’m a terrible person. I know that,” he said. “But, well, I’m gonna keep lugging that stupid thing around because it meant something to us.”
“That you’ve never left puberty?”
He laughed, but he’d never been more glad to have that ridiculous mug. Now all he had to do was keep things light until after dinner.
* * *
“OKAY, IF WE DON’T STOP and eat soon, it won’t be pretty.”
Emma grinned. It was so good to hear the humor in Sam’s voice, the ease with which they’d been working together had erased her earlier misgivings. “I gather you’re hungry.”
“You’re not?”
“I could eat.”
He dropped an empty box on the pile that had been accumulating since they got home. The living room was nearly finished, thankfully, although there were still things to be done in the bedroom and the bathroom. “Still like veggie pizza?”
She stopped fussing with the throw she’d picked up for the couch. “I know we said pizza, but would you be horribly offended if we had sandwiches again? I’d like to keep our momentum going. I can’t stay all that late, so you’d better use me while you can.”
His frown suggested he had his heart set on pizza, and she was about to give in when he shrugged. “You know what? Whatever you’d like is fine with me. But you need to promise me that I can take you out for a real dinner. Whenever it’s convenient.”
“You don’t need to—”
He held up a hand. “I’ve kept you busy all day. I’d never have gotten this far without you.”
“True, but it’s also my fault that we’re not done yet. If I hadn’t cornered you into buying half the BX...”
“I have no regrets.”
“Good. Then it’s a plan. I’ll take care of the sandwiches while you go make up your bed. Deal?”
“Deal. I think I’ll go all out and have ham and cheese with mustard this time. That goes with merlot, right?”
She grinned on her way to the kitchen. “A match made in heaven.”
Before he left, he turned over the Dave Grusin jazz album that had been their background music for the past half hour. Sam smiled at her as she passed. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he looked a little melancholy, but that didn’t make sense. They’d been talking away as they’d worked, and it had been almost like old times.
When he finally came back to the kitchen, she’d opened the wine to let it breathe—although she doubted ten minutes was going to do much—made three sandwiches, two for him, and had doled out some potato salad to go with it.
The atmosphere, when they both sat down on the floor by the coffee table, assured her that nothing was wrong. He scarfed like the starving man he was, and she wasn’t exactly a dainty flower herself. They’d worked hard, but they’d accomplished a lot. She could already feel the difference in the vibe of the place. It would take some time to feel lived-in, but it was better than the institutional ward look that had alarmed her this morning.
When Sam went to pour her another half glass of wine, she stopped him. “I’ve got to drive home, but thanks.”
He nodded, put the bottle down, but left it and their glasses as he cleared up the dishes and put them in the kitchen.
The last box in the living room was marked pictures and files, but given the state of some of his packing, she wouldn’t count on it. But when she opened it, she saw a pile of loose photographs. A quick look below showed a few had frames, and below that was a stack of folders.
There wasn’t time now, but maybe some day she’d bring over a couple of albums and put the mishmash in order. The top picture was a very young Sam in a too-large protective suit, a muddy helmet and gloves, standing next to a motocross bike.
The next was a grainy picture of him with his mother. She looked harried but happy. Even though Sam was probably eleven or twelve, he looked like a miniature version of the man in front of her.
“What’s next for me?”
“How about breaking down the boxes and putting them in the garage?”
She barely registered his nod, anxious to get back to sorting and straightening. And yes, she was enjoying the pictures, too. The next few had been taken at a park, but she didn’t recognize anyone, and then began the photos of his Academy years. Danny and John were central players, of course, but he must not have taken a lot of pics between first and second year. Then she showed up. Some were different angles taken at the same time as some of her own collection. A couple she’d never seen before.
She stopped, though, when she uncovered a photograph of her. Just her. She knew where they had been and remembered the day. They’d been celebrating John’s birthday. Emma hadn’t realized Sam had taken the picture in her hand, but somehow it didn’t surprise her. Not after she’d seen the stare that had been caught on film in her own album.
It must have been very uncomfortable for him. It certainly had been for her. And yet they’d both kept the snapshots.
She buried the portrait in the pile, and kept on going. Graduation, moving to Texas, getting their silver wings. Toward the bottom, just before the files, her breath caught as she saw a terrific five-by-seven of Sam in his flight suit, climbing down from the cockpit of his F-16. “Now, this is
a great picture,” she said.
The sudden silence after all the tearing of cardboard made her realize the music had stopped.
“What picture?”
She stood, taking the photo to him. “This is one you should definitely have framed.”
Sam glanced down, and the way his smile vanished and his expression tightened instantly clued her into her mistake.
She lowered the picture. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
He gave her a look that wrenched her heart. The sadness in his eyes seemed to go all the way through him. “Forget it. It’s fine.”
Emma caught his arm as he started to turn back to the pile of boxes at his feet. “Don’t,” she said. “Please. I’m so sorry I brought it up, but you don’t have to pretend. Not with me. I know what mourning is like, Sam.”
“I’m not mourning,” he said, but he fought against meeting her gaze. “I’ve had a year to adjust.”
“I get it. I do.” She moved closer to him, hoping he’d look at her. “The alarm used to ring and there would be a minute, sometimes two, where everything was great and I looked forward to the day, and then I’d remember, and it was like all the color got sucked out of the world.”
He did look at her, but then, just as she saw a hint of moisture gathering, he closed his eyes, tight. The muscles on his arm bunched and locked, his body grew rigid as he struggled to keep himself contained.
Her hand moved to his nape as she took that last step that closed the distance between them. When she tugged him down to meet her in the middle, he struggled. But not for long.
6
SAM KNEW he should turn around, stop this before it got started. The brush of her lips alone was enough to shake him to the core. He’d wanted her for so long. But even as he started to move away, she pressed up, her lips parting, her wine-scented breath filling his senses.
She pulled him closer, and hearing her soft whimper, his surrender was complete. Knowing there would be hell to pay, he took what she offered, brushing the small space between her lips with his tongue. She opened for him and when they tasted each other it was almost more than he could bear.