Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love)

by Jennifer Gracen

  He needed an escape. He had no plans for the day, nothing at all. Usually, he savored having a commitment-free Saturday. Today, it felt like a prison sentence.

  Sam put on his shoes, shoved his wallet into the pocket of his jeans, pulled his navy pea coat on over his sweater. He put his cell phone in the inside coat pocket, and his iPod in the outside pocket. He left his apartment, not knowing where he'd go or what he'd do, but knowing he needed to be out.

  ***

  Lydia was exhausted. Chasing Andy around his friend's birthday party for two hours had left her sweaty, tired, and mildly aggravated. Some people may have enjoyed taking their children to birthday parties, but Lydia wasn't one of them. Shadowing her son to make sure that he was understood by others, that he wouldn't get frustrated and act out, hurting another child, was emotionally and physically draining to her, every single time.

  “Emmo? Emmo?” Andy asked her, pointing up to his DVDs on the shelf.

  “Sure,” she said, giving in without a thought of complaint. She took down an Elmo's World DVD and put it on. Andy curled up on his bean bag chair to watch it.

  Three episodes on a DVD gives me about fifty minutes, Lydia calculated. She wanted to call Sam, but she was so tired… she lay down on the couch. Andy sat only a foot away from her. “Mama,” he smiled at her from his big blue bean bag.

  “I'm right here, baby,” she smiled back. Her eyes slid shut.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was because Andy was climbing on her. The closing credits were rolling on the television. “Mama, mama,” Andy was giggling as he moved up to sit on her shoulder.

  Lydia yawned, realizing she'd fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the couch. She checked her watch; indeed, she'd been out cold for almost an hour. It was almost three o'clock already. She cradled Andy and brought him down for a hug. They snuggled for a few minutes before she asked him, “Are you hungry? You want some lunch?”

  “Yah!” Andy cried. “Eat!”

  Lydia stared at him. The word “eat” had only entered his vocabulary two days before; one week at his new school, and he already had a new word. “Yes, you want to eat. Good talking! Mommy will make you lunch. Go play with your toys, I'll make you something to eat.”

  “Yah yah yah,” Andy smiled. He snuggled her and gave her cheek a big, smacking kiss, then disentangled himself from her to run to his bedroom.

  As Lydia made a turkey and American cheese sandwich for Andy, her mind went to Sam. She swore under her breath as she remembered she hadn't called him back yet.

  “Andy,” she called as she brought his lunch to the dining room table. “Come have lunch, come eat.”

  Andy bounded in a few seconds later, smiling as he climbed up into his booster seat. Lydia pushed the sandwich closer to him, got him a sippy cup of milk, and kissed his forehead.

  “Mmmm,” Andy hummed happily as he chewed.

  Lydia smiled at him. “It's yummy?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Good. You eat.” She went to the refrigerator and got out two Gala apples, sliced them both up quickly and efficiently, and put the pieces into two small bowls. She placed one before her son, and put the other at her own chair. She picked up the phone in her other hand and brought it to the table. Sitting next to Andy, she gave him another smile and finally dialed Sam's cell number.

  “Hello,” he answered. She could tell he was outside.

  “Hi, it’s me,” she said. “I'm sorry it took me so long to call you back.”

  “Yeah. Well. I’m walking through the park,” Sam said. “It’s windy out. If the call breaks up, that’s why.”

  “Okay. Well, I meant to call sooner. But after I brought Andy home from the party, I literally passed out on the couch. I was asleep for about an hour. We're having some lunch now.”

  “What's going on with you?” Sam asked abruptly. He sounded tense and angry. She hadn't heard him use a tone like that with her before. It made her uneasy in two seconds flat.

  “What do you mean?” she asked with caution.

  “I mean, you leave me this cryptic text message last night,” he said, “telling me something's wrong, giving me no hint as to what it could be, and asking me not to call you on top of it. You didn't contact me at all this morning; then, when we did speak, you said you'd fill me in later… but it's late already.” Sam sounded exasperated. “I just… I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say.”

  “It sounds like you're pissed at me,” Lydia said.

  Sam didn’t answer right away. Then he conceded, “Yeah, it does, doesn't it.”

  “Yeah, it does.” Her stomach did a nauseous little twist, and she felt the familiar, unwelcome sensation of her hands growing cold.

  “I didn't think I was. But now I'm realizing I might be, a little bit. Huh. Well.”

  Lydia felt a wave of coldness rush over her and tingle up her spine. “Well. Um… why don't you get back to me on that? I think I'm going to go finish lunch with Andy. You figure it out, and let me know.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “Maybe that's a good idea.”

  Lydia swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Okay. Bye.” She hung up and stared at the phone in her icy hand, incredulity washing through her.

  “Mama?”

  She looked up. Andy was watching her, his big blue eyes fastened to her face, obviously attuned to the vibe that something was wrong. “Mama?” He reached out and held her hand.

  Lydia's insides warmed at the boy's small, sweet gesture of affection. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “Mama's okay. I'm fine. Thank you, baby. I love you.”

  The phone rang. It made her jump; she was still holding it, and she hadn't expected it to vibrate in her hand. She looked at the caller ID. It was Sam. “Hello?” she answered warily.

  “I was totally wrong, that was a terrible idea.” Sam's voice was firm and repentant. “I can't believe I let you hang up like that, the way the conversation ended. I'm a jackass. I’m sorry. Can we try a do over on this?”

  Lydia's mouth curved in a soft smile. “Sure.”

  “Okay. Conversation, take two.” Sam exhaled a deep breath. “Hi babe, how's it going? Glad you called. I've been waiting to hear from you. I’ve been worried about you since your text last night, and it’s been eating at me.”

  She gave a short laugh at his attempt at levity, then sighed. "I'm so sorry you were worried, and that I left you waiting. I'm sorry about all of it. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate, but I can see, from your perspective, that I was."

  "Me too. I was pouting like a child. I just… I wanted you to come to me with it. To want to talk to me about whatever was bothering you.”

  Her heart squeezed. “I thought I was doing you a favor by not dumping on you.”

  “Dump on me, please. In the future. Alright?”

  God, I’m crazy about you, Sam Forrester. “Alright. Deal.”

  “Okay. So now, let's just forget it and move on.” Sam’s tone turned lighter, teasing. “Hey, did we just have our first fight?”

  Lydia laughed. “I wouldn't characterize that as a fight. Not even close. Maybe our first serious lack of communication, a case of crossed wires, missed signals.”

  “Okay, I'll buy that,” Sam said. “I went and saw a movie while you were at the party. It was okay. I'm in the park now, and it's goddamn freezing out here. But I couldn't go home yet, I couldn't take the waiting. Felt like the walls were closing in on me.”

  She winced. “Oh God, Sam—”

  “You know what? I did it to myself, it's my own fault. But at least I realized what was up with me.” Sam cleared his throat and admitted, “I was concerned about you, I was speculating on what happened to you, my mind ran away with it… and then I got a little bent that you didn't feel you could talk to me about whatever was bothering you. That, last night, you would rather have crawled into bed than talk to me. I wanted you to want to talk to me about it. So I was pouting.”

  Lydia fidgeted with a slice of apple. “Sam. That's real
ly sweet. And, as always, honest.”

  “Well, maybe we should talk about honesty for a second,” he said. “Look, I don't think you're perfect, or lead a perfect, rosy life. In fact, I know that's not the case; I knew that from the very first conversation we had. So you don't have to pretend that it is. You don't have to only tell me or show me the good stuff. That's… dishonest. It's not the real deal. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said quietly. “And you're right.”

  “Alright, good.” A sharp, brisk wind blew, she could hear it whistling through his phone. “From now on, when something's wrong, I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I hope you can try. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. Her heart expanded a size, maybe two.

  “I'd like that. And you know what else was bothering me?” he said. “That I haven't seen you in over two weeks. And I won't until next weekend. I miss you. I really want to see you. I really just want to get in bed with you, and strip you naked, and make love to you, and lie there lazily with you, and talk and laugh and be with you. So there.”

  “That sounds amazing. I want that too.” Lydia gave a short chuckle. “You don't hold much back, that's for sure.”

  “I don't see why I should. I'm in this, Lydia. I'm in.” The wind whistled again, making a ruffling sound through the phone. But his voice came through strong and clear as he asked, “So how about you? Are you in?”

  “I'm in,” she said, with quiet resolution. “I'm absolutely in. Deeper than I thought I'd be at this point, truth be told. And I really miss you too, and I'd love to be in bed with you, and just to see you smile at me, and I can't wait to be with you too. There, how's that for openness and honesty?”

  “A valiant effort. It’s a start. Thatta girl.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LYDIA HAD HER FIRST group of the morning in her small classroom, her five fourth-graders, all with reading problems and developmental delays. They sat around her table in silence as they all slowly read the passage she’d assigned. Lydia took advantage of the quiet moment to steal a sip of her coffee.

  The intercom buzzed, making everyone in the room jump. Lydia smiled at the students as she pushed the button to answer. “Yes, Mrs. Garland?”

  “Mrs. Powell, you have something to pick up in the main office, as soon as you get a chance,” came the head secretary's voice through the speaker.

  “Oh.” Lydia looked at the children. “Okay, I'll be right there, thank you.”

  “Sure thing,” Mrs. Garland replied.

  “Okay guys,” Lydia said to the kids. “I'm going down to the office, I'll be back in two minutes. I know that I can trust you guys to finish reading and start answering your question sheets while I'm gone, right?”

  “Right,” chorused the students.

  “Great. Okay, be right back, then.” Lydia set her coffee on her desk and left the room, making her way down the hallway of Porter Elementary School as quickly as she could. She didn't like leaving students unattended in her classroom, but knew that nine-year-olds could handle it for a few short minutes.

  She breezed into the main office and was hit by the sight of a huge bouquet of colorful, exquisitely arranged flowers that sat on Mrs. Garland's desk. “Wow!” she said. “Those are absolutely gorgeous!”

  “Well, I'm so glad you like them,” Mrs. Garland smiled. “Because they just arrived for you.”

  Lydia's eyes widened. “What? You're kidding.”

  “Nope.” Mrs. Garland's smile turned into a teasing smirk. “Guess someone wants to make sure you're going to have a very happy birthday today.”

  Lydia stared at the bouquet of roses and gerbera daisies, in varying shades of purple and pink. The combination of colors was stunning. “Oh my God,” she laughed in astonishment. “Wow. Um, is there a card?”

  “It's in there somewhere,” Mrs. Garland said. She had a slightly quizzical look on her face as she looked at Lydia.

  Lydia could easily guess what the head secretary was thinking: Isn't she divorced? Who would send her such a tremendous bouquet of flowers? Lydia lightly pressed her lips together as she located a small card tucked in with the flora. She opened it and read:

  Happy Birthday, Lydia. Hope this makes you smile.

  Can't wait to see you tonight. Love, Sam

  Lydia felt her cheeks flush slightly as she replaced the card in its tiny envelope. The smile that spread across her face felt too bright to be contained. She felt for the base of the bouquet and picked it up. It was actually quite heavy. “Thank you so much,” she said simply to Mrs. Garland, and left the office. She could barely see around the flowers, but managed to make it down the hallway, back into her classroom, and to her desk, where she carefully placed her gift.

  “Woooow!” “Oooooh!” the students cried. “Look at that!” “Who sent you those?”

  “It's my birthday,” she told the children. “This was an unexpected surprise. Aren't they just beautiful?” She stood back to admire the arrangement once more. The bouquet was so big, she hoped she’d be able to get them into her car without damaging any of them. Warmth flowed through her, and a deep sense of delight. She couldn't remember ever receiving such gorgeous flowers in her life.

  “Keep reading,” she told the students as she reached for her cell phone. She quickly dialed Sam’s number as she went to the far corner of the room, turning her back to the children.

  “Sam Forrester,” came his voice.

  “You are amazing,” she purred quietly.

  “Aha,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You got them?”

  “You didn't have to do that,” she said, trying to keep her voice low.

  “But you're glad I did,” he teased.

  She laughed. “Are you kidding? The flowers are beyond beautiful, easily the prettiest ones I've ever gotten. That was so sweet, thank you so much.”

  “You're very welcome. I wanted to surprise you. I'm glad you like them,” he said in a velvety tone. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

  She felt her insides warm at his tender words. “Thank you.”

  “Listen,” he told her. “I’m answering a few emails, then I'm going straight to the airport. I should land at JFK around three-thirty. So text me if you need to reach me from, say, eleven o'clock on.”

  “Okay,” Lydia said, still trying to speak quietly. “Jane's holding Andy for me from after school on, like I told you. So I'll be home, all by my lonesome, just waiting for you to call and tell me you've landed and are on your way.”

  “I like the sound of that,” he said, his tone turning slightly wicked as he added, “Will you be naked as you wait by your lonesome? That'd be a great mental image to get me through the rest of the day.”

  She giggled. “I still don't understand why you won't let me pick you up at the airport.”

  “I told you,” he said. “It's my first time setting foot on Long Island, I want to see the lay of the land. It gives you a little time to unwind and relax when you get home from work, instead of having to rush to the airport to get me. Hey, I'm still thrilled you're even letting me come to your apartment, much less letting me stay there tonight—remind me to thank Jane when I meet her, I owe her one.”

  “I will,” she whispered.

  “Why are you so quiet?” he asked. “I feel like this chat is some sort of covert operation.”

  “Because I'm in my classroom,” she murmured pointedly. “And I have five fourth-graders sitting here, trying to eavesdrop on my conversation. I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

  Sam released a loud laugh. “I love it! Okay, I'll let you go, then. Have a great day, okay birthday girl?”

  “I will. Have a safe flight. And thank you again.”

  “My pleasure. See you soon.”

  Lydia snapped her phone shut and turned around. Sure enough, the students were all watching her, with grins on their little faces.

  “Who were you talking to?” one of the boys asked.

  “None o
f your business,” Lydia said very sweetly. “Now get back to work.”

  ***

  Lydia looked around and gave her apartment one final sweeping inspection. Everything looked clean, nice, and presentable. She couldn't believe that she was nervous about Sam coming to her apartment for the first time. But she wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted him to like it, to like her taste—his being an artist, a visual artist, made her feel slightly unsettled by what he might think. She felt flustered, expectant, excited, giddy… she finally shook her head and released a good, caustic laugh. “Get a grip!” she reprimanded herself aloud.

  The buzzer from the lobby went off, and her heartbeat started to accelerate. She went to the wall and pressed the button that would unlock the main door in the lobby, then rushed to the bathroom. She checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. She grabbed a paper cup and took a sip of water, ran her fingers through her hair to fix it again, and headed for the door. Just as she opened it and looked down the hallway, the elevator door slid open and Sam came out, rolling a small black suitcase along behind him.

  “Hey, handsome,” she said, so he'd know which way to go.

  He turned her way, saw her, and instantly a wide, radiant smile lit his face. That smile was like pure sunshine to her, warm and bright. She couldn't help but smile back just as broadly as he approached.

  “Hey,” he purred when he reached her. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly several times before releasing her. “Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks,” she smiled. “It's great to see you.”

  “It's great to see you too.”

  “You got here okay?”

  “Yeah, everything was fine,” he said easily, caressing her cheek. “The car service was right there waiting for me, we didn't hit much traffic. I didn't realize you lived relatively close to JFK. I guess I expected a longer trip from the airport to here.”