Sophie's Path

by Catherine Lanigan

  Jack sauntered along the sidewalk, never taking his eyes off Sophie. He noticed that she barely glanced at the dogs or the kids. She was watching him. Warily. But still, he’d take that.

  “I think they’re entranced,” Sophie said.

  So am I.

  “Yeah. It happens,” Jack said.

  Sophie ruffled the boy’s hair, smiled and walked down the steps toward Jack. She gestured behind her. “Frenchie likes Beau. Cute, huh? I’m, uh, babysitting the kids till their mom gets back. Annie and Timmy, by the way. They’re Sarah’s and Luke’s.”

  “But it’s your lunch hour.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean, I just saw Nate at the deli. I figured since he was taking a break—”

  “That I might be home?” she finished for him with a glimmer in her eye.

  “I wanted to thank you for giving her to me. Thinking of me. I mean, er, to be her dad.” Good grief! He was bungling this. Since when did Jack Carter get tongue-tied?

  Her face filled with pleasure. “I guess I just knew you’d be a natural.”

  She seemed overjoyed, as if he’d just handed her a diamond ring.

  Odd. He had no idea where that visual had come from. Why would he be thinking about diamond rings and Sophie? It didn’t make sense. Did it?

  “I don’t think anybody should be alone, especially helpless animals. She’s so darling, Jack. The kids love her already. You’ll have to bring her by again.”

  Jack felt something zing through his heart. Okay. That had never happened before. At least not that he could remember. Maybe in high school with Mary Beth Peterson, who was in his algebra class and always let him copy off her tests. But Jack hadn’t actually had a crush on Mary Beth. She was just a good friend. No, this feeling was new.

  “You were right that I’d need to bring Frenchie to work with me. She likes it. She greets my clients.” He nodded. “Yep, a real asset to the firm. Oh, and Owen has really taken a liking to her.”

  “Sounds like she’s made a difference in your life, Jack.”

  “Actually, it’s you who made the difference.”

  “Me?”

  He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. “A few days ago, I met Jeremy.”

  “You what?”

  “It was totally random. I still can’t quite believe it, frankly. It was at the gas station. He was ahead of me in line and after he walked out, he recognized Frenchie in the car. When he said her name, she knew him.”

  A lump of emotion cut off his words. For the first time, he understood the empathy that Sophie had for the addicts she worked with.

  “I just wanted to say thanks, and that I admire you, Sophie. For who you are. What you do.”

  “Jack...”

  He felt a burning in his chest where a new awareness of others was growing.

  At that moment, it was all he could do to fight the impulse to reach out, pull her to him and kiss her.

  He didn’t care that the kids were watching them from the porch. He didn’t care that any passing car could contain his clients or people who would gossip to them.

  “You’re amazing,” he whispered then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t ever stop being you.”

  She stared at him. Speechless.

  “Jack?”

  He shifted his weight awkwardly. “I gotta go. I’ll just get Frenchie.”

  He went up the steps, said goodbye to the kids and petted Beau. “See you two around.”

  “Bring Frenchie back anytime,” Annie said.

  Jack stroked his dog’s head. “Thanks for the invitation. I think we’ll be walking by quite often.”

  Jack went back to Sophie, who was still frozen in place. The afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of maple leaves overhead, dappling her shoulders. A slight breeze swept down the driveway and across the front yard. Sophie tucked a stray tendril of long hair behind her ear.

  “Jack,” she said, reaching out as he passed. Instead of petting Frenchie, which he’d expected, she touched his forearm. “Thanks.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to barge in on your afternoon gig.” He tilted his head toward the kids. They raced down the steps and to the backyard, Beau leading the way.

  “Not just for stopping by, but for, well, understanding.”

  Pursing his lips contritely, he leaned closer. “I’m trying to do more of that.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

  She felt warm, soft and tender. It was a kiss out of a dream. Jack felt the combustion all the way down to his toes. When she pulled back, he felt an odd sense of longing, as if he’d been abandoned. He didn’t know how that was possible, but it gave him renewed empathy for Frenchie.

  Jack was tempted to set the dog down, pull Sophie into his arms and hold her close. He needed at least a dozen more kisses to make certain that what he’d just felt was real.

  “I gotta go, too,” she said before he could give in. She hurried back up the steps, called for the kids and Beau, then went inside.

  It was Jack’s turn to freeze. He wasn’t sure his legs would ever move again. Just then, Frenchie licked his hand. “Sorry, girl.” He stroked her head. “Guess I got carried away.”

  Jack turned toward town. He needed to get back to work.

  He glanced back at Mrs. Beabots’s house. He needed to do a lot of things.

  But all he wanted to do was sit on that front porch with Sophie and spend the rest of the afternoon with her. If he did, would she kiss him again? Or was that just a one-time thing? Spur of the moment?

  Frenchie cocked her head and shot him an “are you kidding me?” look.

  Jack whistled all the way back to his office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SOPHIE INTRODUCED JEREMY to Mrs. Beabots, who stood ready for action with garden gloves, pruning shears and a pair of newly sharpened hedge clippers.

  “Jeremy, my garden is a source of delight and aggravation to me,” Mrs. Beabots explained as they walked past the boxwood hedges.

  “Why’s that, ma’am?”

  “Time was when both my husband and I kept these boxwoods and Japanese yews clipped in formal shapes. I’ve always loved the gardens in Paris. Have you ever been to Paris, Jeremy?” Mrs. Beabots asked as she bent over to yank a tall thistle weed away from her Princess Diana rosebush.

  “No, ma’am. I never thought about it,” Jeremy answered.

  “Well, you should, young man. You have all the world to see at your age,” Mrs. Beabots continued to ramble as they headed farther into the yard.

  Jeremy pointed at the thistle. “We had a lot of these in Phoenix. Considering my painful encounters with cactus spines and thorny mesquite trees, I think cleaning out your gardens won’t be such a chore.”

  “That’s good, Jeremy. I admire a person who jumps right into their job.”

  “I’ll need a tall ladder to trim that Mandeville. It looks like it’s taking over your garage. It’s bad for the siding, you know.”

  “That’s what Luke Bosworth told me,” she concurred. “But it’s not a garage, Jeremy. It’s a carriage house. This house, Jeremy, is one of the oldest on Maple Boulevard. It was built in the late 1800s and the carriage house originally served as a stable and housing for carriages.”

  “Did your family live here?” he asked.

  “No. My husband and I chose this town because we fell in love with the lake.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice.”

  “Is your family native to Arizona?”

  “No. They’re originally from New York. They hated the winters and moved to Phoenix.”

  “How interesting. I adore New York. When I was young, in the early sixties, it truly was the city that didn’t sleep. Come, let me show you the rest of my r
ose garden that needs weeding and spraying. You know, Jeremy, when I was in New York, I used to walk in Central Park all the time. Did you ever go there?”

  Sophie listened as Mrs. Beabots reminisced about her travels. This job, small as it was, could give Jeremy purpose. She hoped it would ease his depression and cut the number of phone calls he made to her. Mrs. Beabots continued talking, soliciting Jeremy’s thoughts and opinions.

  Sophie smiled to herself. The elderly woman was wily indeed. Sophie had voiced her concern about Jeremy’s depression and his inability to stay straight. Mrs. Beabots didn’t know much about counseling, but she clearly knew about giving hope and shoving life and all its joys under Jeremy’s chin.

  By the time they reached the gazebo, Mrs. Beabots had finished showing Jeremy what needed to be trimmed and weeded. They paused and went up the steps. There on an antique wicker table sat a pitcher of lemonade and three tall glasses with melting ice cubes.

  “I thought we should stop for refreshments,” Mrs. Beabots said.

  “But, ma’am. I haven’t done any work for you yet,” Jeremy countered.

  Mrs. Beabots chuckled and sat in a deeply cushioned wicker chair. “Of course you have, Jeremy. You and Sophie have kept me company.” She grinned as widely as a Cheshire cat and put a sprig of mint in each glass.

  * * *

  AMID SOPHIE’S GRANDMOTHER’S acres of amber, rust and lemon yellow sunflowers, Sophie surgically clipped the best blossoms for Katia’s wedding arrangements. Katia needed a large amount of flowers and ivy vines for the thick garlands she planned to tie up along the banisters of the massive circular staircase in the mansion. Olivia and Julia had given Sophie the final list that morning, and she was rather surprised to see that Katia had asked for twelve large crystal vase arrangements for the living room mantel, library tables and hunt boards and the dining room table. She needed flowers for four outdoor table centerpieces and smaller bouquets for the bar, bathrooms and lighted front hall art niches. The guest list was small, less than thirty people, so Sophie figured Katia was going luxe for her “day.”

  The florist had already prepared all the bases in Austin’s mother’s antique crystal and silver vases. Sophie was more than a little interested to see what she believed would be a spectacular result.

  “Nipotina,” Sophia Mattuchi called to her granddaughter affectionately.

  “La mia bella,” Sophie answered, walking over to the full plant of low-growing sunflowers her grandmother was working on. “I planted this one myself years ago. It’s done very well. These will be perfect for the mantel.”

  Sophie started clipping the blooms, while her grandmother pointed out the dark burgundy Moulin Rouge and the shorter stemmed Early Russian for variety amongst all the golden, butter and sun-colored blooms. Sophie had filled six plastic buckets with water and put them in an old garden wagon for transport. She carefully arranged her chosen stems in the buckets according to size, the shorter stems in front and the taller stems in the back, while her nonna assessed the flowers, pointing to her choices with a sharp snap of her arm, like the unquestionable authoritarian she knew she was. At ninety, her brain was sharp and her attitude even sharper.

  Sophie smiled to herself. There was so much about the Old World ways still embodied in her grandmother. Sophia, whom Sophie was named after, had never learned much English, though Sophie believed her grandmother understood a lot more than she let on. She walked a little slower these days, but she still did so without a cane. Once she was among her flowers, Sophia came to life. She titlted her face to the sun and hummed to the flowers as she caressed the petals and faces.

  “Bambino.” Sophia sighed heavily. Then she turned and touched Sophie’s cheek. “Io ti amo.”

  “I love you, too, Nonna.” Sophie placed her hand over her grandmother’s. “Thank you for sharing your precious ones with Katia. She’s becoming a good friend.”

  “Ah! Bella sposa!” Sophia nodded and then jammed a finger into Sophie’s sternum. She narrowed her eyes and frowned in that accusatory way that Sophie used to call “Grandma’s stink-eye.” “Tu sei la bella sposa.”

  Sophie grabbed her grandmother’s hand and kissed it. “No. No. It’s not my time to be a bride.”

  Her grandmother shrugged and went back to her clipping, but the words had no sooner escaped Sophie’s mouth when the sun slid out from behind a cloud, nearly blinding her. She blinked, the memory of Jack’s lips pressed against hers completely erasing the present.

  She’d seen Jack at Mrs. Beabots’s two days ago, yet her surprise had not abated. She still didn’t understand what he’d been doing there. It was as if he’d appeared out of nowhere. He’d said he’d seen Nate on his lunch break and figured she’d be off, too. Jack had come to see her. On purpose.

  And then he’d kissed her on the cheek, which she could chalk up to impulse or a friendly gesture. But he’d lingered too long and she sensed that there was something more behind it.

  She’d been quite purposeful when she’d kissed him.

  Kissing Jack was not like kissing any other guy. And Sophie had kissed plenty. None of them had ever haunted her thoughts two days later. In fact, often she could barely remember what they looked like. She’d always had a serious case of disconnect when it came to men.

  For a long time she thought she was noncommittal. Possibly scared of the whole relationship thing.

  But the truth was, she simply wasn’t interested. No one had lit that fire inside her that made her want to reach out. Touch and grab hold. With Jack, something was very, very different.

  But what was this absorbing, consuming, magnetic attraction she was feeling for Jack?

  Strangest of all, when she’d kissed Jack, it wasn’t like any other kiss she’d given any other man. Instead, it was the sweetest, most endearing kiss she’d ever experienced, and it seared an indelible brand on her heart. She’d never forget it.

  But why would this happen with Jack, of all men? Their viewpoints were not just diametrically opposed, but they also carried guilt and resentment about that one tragic night.

  And there was another problem. Jack was a forever kind of guy. An insurance man would be all about calculating risks. He’d look long and hard before he leaped into love, but once he did, there’d be no going back.

  And that was absolutely the wrong kind of man for Sophie.

  Always had been.

  Sophie turned away from her grandmother and placed the armful of lush flowers in one of the buckets. “Nonna, I’m finished,” she called, straightening up. Her grandmother turned toward her with a wide smile.

  Sophie had spent her entire life surrounded by her parents and grandmother and immersed in her nursing work. She’d never explored the borders of her comfort zone, never broken down the gate and sprinted over to the other side of life. Never made many changes.

  Until this year.

  Now she was trudging through several uncharted territories simultaneously. She was astounded at how good she felt about her explorations...including these unfamiliar, somewhat frightening feelings for Jack.

  She just hoped they didn’t blow up in her face.

  * * *

  WHEN SOPHIE ENTERED the McCreary mansion on the day of Katia and Austin’s wedding, she was awestruck by the magic the florist had created with her grandmother’s flowers. The sunflower, ivy and yellow rose garland on the bannister was massive and tied with wide ivory satin bows at the newel posts.

  Sophie wore a cream lace sheath over a strapless crepe underdress she’d bought at Judee’s Dress Shop, along with gold high-heeled sandals and a matching clutch purse. Though she’d fretted over how to wear her hair—up, down, half up, braided—she finally gave up and simply brushed out her long dark hair, swirling it over her shoulders and clipping it behind her right ear with one of her grandmother’s antique rhinestone-studded combs. She wasn’t sure
she’d see Jack at the wedding, though she assumed that because he worked so closely with Katia, he’d be there. Just the thought of Jack caused her fingers to tremble as she fastened long gold-and-rhinestone bars into her pierced ears.

  In an alcove in the front hall sat a man playing a Spanish guitar and a woman violinist. Sophie recognized Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.”

  Before Sophie had a chance to inspect the other florals, she was bombarded with greetings and hugs from Sarah, Maddie, Olivia and even Annie and Timmy.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?” Maddie exclaimed, squeezing Sophie quickly and then backing away so Sarah could do the same. “Katia has such great taste.”

  “Oh, like you don’t.” Sarah grimaced affectionately, giving Maddie a slight hip bump.

  “Look who’s talking, design diva,” Liz said coming up from the hallway that led to the kitchen.

  Liz wore a long, yellow-gold satin gown that tied under the bodice with a huge bow in back. The folds of the skirt billowed around her as she walked, and though she was eight months pregnant, she glowed with health. With her honey-blond hair streaming down her back and her matching antique Art Deco earrings and necklace, Liz was a vision of an elegant Madonna.

  “Liz,” Sophie gushed, “you’re absolutely radiant.”

  “Thanks, Sophie.” Liz beamed at her then bent in closer. “Wait till you see the bride. She’s stunning.”

  “She always has been,” Sophie added, and the women smiled in agreement.

  “I’ve got to go back upstairs to see Katia,” Liz said with obvious delight. “It won’t be long now.”

  Sophie glanced up the stairs.

  No Jack.

  Maddie took Sophie’s hand. “C’mon. You sit with Nate and me. Since Rafe is the best man, Olivia will sit with us, too.”

  Sophie looked at Maddie quizzically. “Olivia and Rafe?”

  Maddie winked at her. “They’ve practically been inseparable since she moved back from Louisville after the Kentucky Derby.”

  “I didn’t know. He’s really a nice guy.”

  “I couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law. Except for Gabe and Mica, of course.”