A Dream to Cling To

by Sally Goldenbaum

  She slipped out of her coat, hung it on the oak rack just inside the back door, and walked through the hall into the warm, spacious living room.

  Although the family called it a cabin, the house on the edge of the woods was nearly the size of a small inn, with tastefully decorated bedroom suites on the second floor, an enormous stone fireplace in the living room, and a roomy kitchen with a polished pine floor and every modern convenience. From her earliest moments of memory, this had been her favorite place on earth. It was warm, peaceful, and secure.

  She turned on the stereo. The soft strains of a classical guitar piece filtered into the room, and she curled up on the oversized leather couch. She closed her eyes, seeping herself in the piny smells of the room and the comfort of childhood memories. She’d had little sleep the night before, but just being up here, comforted by the wind whistling through the massive pine trees outside, calmed her body into restfulness. She’d make a fire, she mused sleepily. In just another minute …

  Sam’s knock an hour later went unheard.

  He stepped back off the porch and walked around to the side of the house. There was no mistaking the Petpals van parked beside a clump of stately pine trees on the circular drive. Brittany was here—somewhere. The simple thought of seeing her washed away his tiredness from being lost on the narrow backroads of the Maine hills for the last couple of hours, and he smiled as he pulled his pipe from the pocket of his thick parka.

  What a great place this was! He breathed in the fresh air and stretched his stiff arms, rotating the fatigue out of his shoulders. He’d tried to imagine the cabin on the way up, the kind of place that would draw Brittany to it when her soul needed soothing. Next to coming to him, he couldn’t imagine a better place for her to go. He again walked up the wide porch steps to the front door.

  He should have brought his camera, he thought. This was one of those tiny spots on earth worth recording. The tall pines protecting the house seemed to bend in agreement as the wind bowed their slender tops. He watched the slow motion for a moment longer, then knocked once more on the door. When there was still no answer, he turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  She was curled up at one end of a large couch. The only sound in the room was the soft music that mixed sweetly with the wind outside, and Brittany’s gentle breathing while she slept. He slipped out of his jacket and sat down on the other end of the couch, not for a moment taking his eyes off her.

  It must be a nice dream, he mused, noticing the peaceful lines of her face.

  Her soft flannel shirt had ridden up her body, exposing a V of pale, creamy skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Her legs were bent, and her stockinged feet barely touched his knees. But he felt them just the same, like a soft, pillowy caress. She moved once, and one foot slipped up onto his thigh and stayed there, light and still. He leaned back and drew gently on his pipe. He felt he could sit there forever, the soft leather of the couch supporting his body, and the wonderful feel of Brittany next to him supporting everything else.

  He wanted to touch her, just for a moment, to feel the warmth that radiated from her, to trace the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, to find out if her skin felt as silky as it looked. Slowly, gently, he cupped her foot in one hand.

  “Oh, Dunkin, go away,” she mumbled in response to his sensuous gesture.

  He slid his hand away.

  “Are you hungry, boy?” One arm covered her eyes as the blurred words eased from beneath the woolly sleeve.

  “Mmm,” he grumbled, setting his pipe on the oak coffee table in front of him.

  “I thought so,” Brittany murmured, her arm falling away as she tugged her eyelids open.

  There was a moment of silence. Then she bolted upright. “Sam!”

  “In the flesh,” he answered with a crooked smile.

  As she scurried back toward the end of the couch, Brittany pulled a plump comforter to her chest. She felt naked, exposed somehow. “You—you’re here.…”

  He nodded. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “You should have!”

  “Why?”

  “Because you should have. You shouldn’t have watched me sleep. Sleep is private.” She was rambling, her thoughts running in and out of the wonderful dream she had been pulled from, a dream filled with the hunk of man sitting at the other end of her couch. Had he somehow pried into them?

  “You looked too happy to wake up. I believe we all deserve a romp through dreams now and then.”

  Romp? Why had he said that? She blushed furiously. “I wasn’t dreaming, just sleeping soundly.”

  He grinned his lopsided grin and angled himself so he faced her fully. She was crouched into the corner of the couch like a little girl, her knees tucked up under her chin and the colorful comforter falling over her and puddling around her feet. Her hair was charmingly mussed and her cheeks flushed. She was beautiful. “Brittany—” His breath caught unexpectedly in his throat. He cleared it and tried again. “Brittany, I needed to check some things with you for the game.”

  She nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “And your mother suggested I drive up, since you don’t have a phone.”

  “My mother?”

  “Well, she knew I needed the information today. And she said it was an easy drive.”

  Brittany glanced up at the old hand-carved clock that hung above the fireplace. It was nearly nightfall. “Mother gave you directions …” The first hint of a smile played across her lips. “And you got lost.”

  He nodded. “Well, a little. Your mother is very visual, which is great! But she’s not much on road names.”

  “Mother travels by feel, and it’s a foolproof method if she’s sitting there beside you. She never gets lost.”

  Brittany’s light laughter was music to Sam’s ears. He had intruded on her privacy, no matter what the excuse. She didn’t seem ecstatic to see him, but she wasn’t angry. “This copy doesn’t need much work, but we wanted you to check it before it went to the printer.”

  “I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I didn’t know you’d be working this weekend.”

  “Oh, we tend to work crazy hours. And I thought the drive was great. This is a wonderful hideaway you have up here.”

  She looked around the room and he caught the sadness in her eyes. “I love it here,” she said slowly. “But it’s up for sale, so I’m trying to enjoy it all I can.”

  “For sale?”

  She played with the edge of the comforter. “Yes, no one but me ever comes up here anymore. It’s kind of a long trip for Mom and Dad, and Sara never liked the bugs. Gordie never has time. So the only sensible thing to do is to sell it.”

  “That’s too bad.” He dropped one hand on her knee and rubbed it gently. Brittany fit in up here, in the natural, untouched beauty, the simpleness of it all. “It’s a perfect retreat.”

  “Yes …” She swung her legs over the edge of the couch, her mood changing suddenly to brusqueness. “Sam, it’s late. We ought to go over those things so you can get back to town at a decent hour.”

  He pulled himself up from the couch. For the first time he noticed how chilly it was in the large room, especially with the sun going down. “Brittany, you’re going to be very cold tonight.”

  “Oh, I was planning on bringing in some wood,” she said, brushing her unruly hair back from her face. “But I guess I slept instead.”

  He reached for his jacket. “I could use a cup of coffee. I’ll trade you that for logs. And then we’ll get right to work.”

  When he returned, Brittany had switched on some lamps, put cheese and crackers on the oak table, and the smell of coffee percolating drifted from the kitchen. Straight out of Norman Rockwell, he thought as he hunkered down in front of the fireplace. Domestic bliss. Who would have guessed? It didn’t feel bad at all, either. He scratched Dunkin behind the ears, surprised by the curious thought, and began to pile logs into the iron grate.

  Brittany appeared from around the corner
carrying two cups of coffee and sat down on the couch. “Sam, the radio announced an early-season snow tonight. I think we’d better hurry with whatever you need to show me. You don’t want to drive on those narrow roads alone in the snow.”

  He stared into the leaping flames and nodded. Right, he told himself. Show Brittany the copy, Lawrence, and leave. That’s the plan. He gave the logs a final stir, then stood up and joined her on the couch. “You’re right, Brittany. Here, this is the copy for the first set of game cards. If you’d just read them over …” He slipped several sheets of paper and a pencil out of his tan briefcase and laid them out on the table, then settled back with a mug of coffee warming his hands and watched her. It had taken effort not to touch her. There was no telling where a touch would go, with the air as heavily charged as it was.

  Brittany leaned forward, her brows lifted, and read.

  Gordon Winters volunteers for PTA clown; daughters in tears. Go back two spaces.

  Kathleen Hunter says “yes” while stuck on top of Ferris wheel. Machinery starts immediately. Collect $200.

  Brittany Ellsbeth arrives in middle of board meeting; proud father passes out hunks of stock to all present. Go ahead ten spaces.

  Brittany goes out on first date; father accompanies couple and date never returns from men’s room at the movie theater. Lose two turns.

  Great-uncle Jesse takes Gordon on balloon ride over New Jersey and for the first time in his life runs out of hot air. Go back three squares.

  Every now and then Brittany smiled in a way that made Sam, his gaze intent on her profile, smile back. She laid the first sheet down and half-turned to look at him, her eyes misty. “Sam, it’s wonderful. Really wonderful. There are so many moments captured here.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Oh, no, Sam. It’s everyone. Why, you’ve tracked down friends Dad hasn’t seen in years. This will mean so much to him.”

  “Then I’ve made a believer out of you?”

  She nodded slowly, her eyes refocusing on the sheets of paper. Sam had edged closer and his knee brushed her hip as she leaned toward the table. He was wonderfully close. It felt so good, so right.

  He slipped one hand around her back and rubbed his thumb teasingly up and down her side.

  Busily she picked up another paper and concentrated with all her might on the typed copy, correcting a spelling error here and there, or drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the table.

  But Sam’s hand wasn’t deterred. It slid around until it found the bottom edge of the shirt that had afforded him such a pleasing view earlier and slipped beneath, sending shivers of delight racing through her body.

  “Sam!” she breathed huskily. “I’m trying to work on this.”

  “Nothing great was ever achieved without passion, Brittany,” he murmured into her ear.

  With great strength she pulled away and calmed herself, then shuffled the papers neatly into a pile. “There, Sam, all done.”

  He settled back and pulled out his pipe.

  “You know, I’ve learned a lot about you through all this, Brittany Winters.”

  “The adventure story of the year!” she joked lightly.

  “You’ve had your share.”

  “No, Sam. I’m not adventurous at all.”

  “When you were four years old you got on a bus without being noticed and ended up in Rhode Island. And you never shed a tear. When your parents came to get you, you were doing Shirley Temple dances at the police station.”

  “Sam! How do you know that?”

  “I took Aunt Maggie Winters to tea the other day. She’s a wonderful lady with a memory as full and clear as the deep sea.” He drew on his pipe, his laughing eyes focused on Brittany. “It appears you’re her favorite niece and she seemed far more interested in talking about you than recollecting tales of her successful brother.” He leaned forward to cut off two hunks of cheese and handed one to Brittany. “Aunt Maggie liked me, and sees herself as a sort of self-appointed matchmaker.”

  Brittany laughed carelessly and tossed her head. “That’s Aunt Maggie. What else did she tell you?”

  “She said you went to Europe.”

  “I already told you that,” Brittany said a little too sharply.

  “Yes, you did. Aunt Maggie said you went off with a sparkle in your eye, an inflatable mattress under your arm, and ready to dance with life.” His voice dropped as he watched her closely. He was ready to back off at the slightest indication. But if she wanted to open up to him, he was there. “She said you came back without the mattress, the sparkle was gone, and you weren’t dancin’ at all.”

  Her eyes were focused on the flames and she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Outside, the wind was pushing tiny specks of white up against the windowpanes, but Sam stayed still beside her.

  She chose her words carefully. “Yes, I went to Europe as a carefree college girl. And I grew up while I was there.” She tilted her head to one side and chanced a look at him. “That happens, Sam. People grow up, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly.”

  His brown eyes wordlessly asked more questions, reading into her soul.

  She lowered her gaze and went on. “I had a brief, foolish fling in Europe. I met a dashing man who was out to grab the world by the tail. He was charming, fun-loving, a man with dreams that never ended. We shared his flat and lived the life of dreamers, and then he was off one day. Not thoughtlessly. He did care about me. But it was his way, and I knew that all along. He left me his flat, all paid for for six months, and even left his Fiat. We said good-bye the way we’d agreed on, happily, thanking each other for the fun we’d had. I guess he was that fond memory all of us has. A first love, that ‘being in love with love’ time of life.” Her voice died away, and she lifted her mug of coffee to her lips. When she started up again, her voice was more distant. “It was so long ago … when we waved good-bye …”

  “And it wasn’t quite as easy for you as it was for him?”

  She shook her head. “No, I overestimated myself. It wasn’t easy at all. But only slightly because of him. Choices like that—relationships—have consequences. And that’s what wasn’t easy for me.”

  He wanted to pull her close and soothe the sadness in her eyes away. Wanted to shake the dreamer in her past for daring to hurt this woman. Wanted to make everything better. But he knew he couldn’t. Brittany needed to let that sadness out in her own way, to release it. So instead, he waited patiently, his hand gently rubbing the tenseness out of the small of her back. Her eyes told him there was more, but after a moment she turned and forced a smile to her lips. “You’ve played your tricks on me again. I don’t like to talk about myself.”

  “Maybe you should talk about yourself more often,” he said. “Sometimes real demons are exorcised through words.”

  She shook her head. “No demons, Sam. Nothing more to say. Except—Oh, my Lord, Sam. Look!” She set her mug down with a thud and pointed toward the window, her eyes wide.

  The darkness beyond the window was now a flurry of dancing white flakes, flattening into a soft unbroken blanket against the windowpane.

  He smiled calmly. “First snowfall. That’s good luck, you know.”

  Brittany was off the couch and moving toward the window. “You’ll have to drive in this …” She turned back to him, her brows drawing together. “What do you mean, good luck?”

  “If one is in the company of a beautiful woman during the first snowfall, one’s year will be blessed with much joy.” He was right beside her now, his hand resting on her shoulder as he watched the whirling mass of snowflakes beyond the pane.

  “I have a suspicion you made that up, Sam. But I do hope it brings you good luck on your way home.…” She didn’t want him to leave, she realized suddenly. For once she didn’t want the solitude, the meditative silence, the time to think. But she knew she couldn’t ask him to stay, either. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t talked so much, you would have left long ago.”

  “Not a chance.” He
rubbed her shoulders and continued to look out into the darkness. She had opened up a little, like a flower beginning to blossom. And he knew he couldn’t force the opening any more than he could with a flower. But there’d been a start …

  “Brittany.” He gently turned her toward him. “I guess I had better go. I know you came out here to get away.”

  She looked up at him and said nothing.

  He smiled, then walked back to the couch and slipped the papers into his briefcase. “I do appreciate your doing this—”

  With her back to the window, she watched him move purposefully around the room, putting on his jacket, preparing to leave.

  “Maybe a cup of coffee to go with you …?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

  He shook his head. “Nope. I wouldn’t mind a safe-driving kiss, though. They say it brings good luck.”

  Laughing, she walked over to him. She kissed him on the lips, then pulled away quickly. “Drive carefully, Sam.” On these winding unknown roads, a little voice in her head said, in the dark, and with the snow settling on his windows … “Oh, Sam.”

  “Yes, Brittany?” He had his hand on the door, his fingers turning the knob.

  “You can’t go,” she said quietly.

  Sam studied her face, trying to sort out the tangled emotions he saw there. Concern … desire … fear … But it was the concern, he knew, that made her ask him to stay. “I’ll be all right.”

  “But I’d worry all night—and there’s no way you can call me to tell me you’ve arrived safely.” She was at his side now, her hand resting on his arm.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. There are four bedrooms upstairs, for heaven’s sake. And we’re certainly adults.”

  “Certainly.” He slipped out of his jacket and flung it over the back of the chair. “Not only that, but I’ve proof of honor.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted a card from it. “Here. You can keep this under your pillow.”

  She took the thin card from him and looked at it carefully, then burst into laughter. “Sam Lawrence, an eagle scout?”

  “Yes, ma’am. At your service.” He saluted, then took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the room. “But first things first, madame. I’m about to fall over from hunger. Lead me to the kitchen and I shall make you a feast most people only dream about.”