by Ewens, Tracy
Sam ordered drinks with Grady, and they joined Peter at the table next to all of their parents. Peter pulled open his bow tie and Grady did the same. They were different in so many ways, but they shared a familiarity that only boys who grew up together possessed.
“Okay, the maid of honor is off limits,” Grady said.
“Married?” Sam asked, as Peter pulled out a chair for her.
“No, but I’m waiting for our drinks, and we start talking. She seems normal and has incredible legs; I’m off to a good start. She then proceeds to tell me that she loves the bride’s dress and her own wedding dress is quite similar.”
Peter and Sam both look puzzled.
“She’s engaged?”
“Nope, that’s where it turns. Not only is her wedding dress bought and paid for, but the shoes too, and she’s on the mailing list for all the most popular honeymoon spots, that’s what she says. Just waiting for the right guy, she says batting her eyelashes at me. Christ, I started to sweat.”
Peter and Sam laughed.
The wedding party was seated. A woman in a great Armani suit, who Sam assumed was the wedding planner, asked everyone else to take a seat for the speeches. The best man, a tall redhead with glasses, made a brief and funny speech. After the applause, Peter sensed he was on, took a deep breath, stood, clinked his glass and said: “Thank you all for coming tonight. It certainly is a happy time for our families and close friends to join Cynthia and Alan as they begin their lives together.”
Peter cleared his throat and willed his nerves away.
“Cyn, being here on Catalina brings back so many great memories. I can hardly believe, looking at you now, that you were that little blonde tagalong I rowed around this harbor. You’ve grown into such a beautiful and loving woman. You make our family proud every day. We love you.”
Cynthia blew him a kiss. Peter didn’t realize at first that he did it, but his hand went to his heart as he looked back at his sister. Their father used to do that. He would say his “heart ached with love.” Peter let the chill hit his spine and continued.
“Alan, first of all, who knew you had that passionate kiss in you? Wow, man, nicely done!”
Everyone laughed, and Alan blushed.
“But seriously, you are a good, honest man, and those are harder and harder to come by. You respect and love my sister and for that I thank you. To quote one of my favorite American poets, Nikki Giovanni, ‘We love because it’s the only true adventure.’ May you both cherish what makes the other unique and share a life built on love, trust, and that kiss.”
Laughs again and with that Peter raised his glass, and they all toasted the bride and groom. Cynthia dried her tears.
Following dinner, they ate cake and Mr. and Mrs. Ferrimore danced their first dance to “Awake” by Josh Groban. The sounds of the orchestra spilled out of the ballroom as Cynthia and Alan twirled around the dance floor. It was such a winsome image that Sam felt for a second like she was in a dream. They both looked so in sync and delighted with each other. If this evening represented marriage, everyone should be clamoring for the altar. The realist in her knew love was complicated and didn’t always work out, but for tonight she enjoyed the magic of two people finding each other and having the courage to start the adventure. It was a phenomenal wedding.
Peter led Sam onto the dance floor, placed his hand on her lower back to pull her close. Peter nestled into her neck and gently led her through a dance.
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all night. Have I told you you’re stunning, yet?”
“You’ve been busy with the wedding and the guests. Speaking of the wedding, my God, did you see the sunset right as the ceremony started?” Sam sighed.
“I love weddings, beginnings, but sunsets are my favorite time of day. Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“It makes perfect sense. You love it all, Sam.”
Her cheeks flushed in the night air and Peter tried to remember how to dance as his throat knotted. She was so free, open, and in spite of it all, in love with him. For an instant he wondered what he had done right in his life to deserve her again.
“Oh, and to answer your question, yes, you did tell me I looked stunning, right before the wedding started. You never fail to make me feel cherished these days.”
Peter took a deep breath.
“Making up for lost time.”
He squeezed her in closer.
“Let me know if I start slipping.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.”
They both laughed as he swept her past the orchestra. Peter looked into her eyes. They were still dancing as he cradled her face. He looked into her, hoping he was giving her whatever she needed to calm her heart and allow him to stay.
“I love you. I love you so much,” he said, hovering near her mouth.
He kissed her. A tender, pulling kiss that had most of the people at the wedding turning from the bride and groom for just a moment. Many of these people had watched them grow up together. Many now saw them in a different light. It was such a long time coming for Sam that she simply kissed him back. In that one dance, that one kiss, the past slipped farther away.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wrapped in a blanket and still in their wedding wear, Peter and Sam played Scrabble on his patio after the wedding. She played a word worth eighty-nine points, and then Peter stood, swept her into his arms, and took her to bed. Normally Sam would argue he was being a sore loser, but curled into his neck, she couldn’t care less.
Peter slowly took off Sam’s shoes and moved his way up her body. It wasn’t urgent or restless, but the slow, relaxed touch, caress, and ecstasy of two people letting each other into places no one had ever been. Peter took his time exploring every inch of her in the glow of moonlight. He held her face, stroked her hair, and kissed her slowly, deeply. Her entire body let go. Right when she thought she had given him everything, she gave him more. Their bodies melted together in perfect unison and then slipped over the edge.
Sam lay on top of Peter, her head resting on his warm chest. She could barely hear his breath. His heart thumped quietly in concert.
“Sam.”
“Hmm . . .”
“Remember when I asked you if you’d ever thought about marriage?”
He could feel her body tense. When she didn’t respond, Peter gently rolled her next to him and pushed the hair off her face.
“What?”
“It’s so all of sudden, you know. I mean, a couple of months ago, I was trying to figure out how I was going to see you again without passing out and now . . . now we’re here. I’m with you, I love you, but I can’t help feeling like somewhere a shoe is going to drop and I’m going to be left picking up the pieces.”
Peter sighed and rolled on his back.
“I can’t help it. I mean, you still live in New York. I live and work in Pasadena. I heard you on the phone last week talking about finishing up your next play.”
Peter touched her and she sat up clutching the blanket to her chest.
“How is this going to work, Peter? Don’t feed me flowery words or questions about my thoughts on marriage. Tell me how we are going to move this forward, in real tangible ways. How am I not eventually going to be standing in some doorway or at some airport saying goodbye?”
“Sam, we just got back from a wedding. We’re naked. What do you want me to do, break out the yellow pad and start planning?”
She didn’t laugh, so he pulled her back down, and hovered over her. Sam closed her eyes.
“Hey,” he said, kissing her.
He could see a tear pooling.
“Hey, look at me.”
Sam opened her eyes.
“I don’t have a plan right now. I’m working and you’re working. We will figure it out. I’m here right now. Looking In hasn’t even opened yet. We will make a plan. I’m flying back and forth. We can continue to do that for a while.”
Sam went to
turn over and Peter held her.
“What do you want me to say? It’s working, we are working. Why can’t that be enough for now?”
Sam got out of bed and wrapped herself in a robe. She didn’t know why. She was happy, but when he asked her again if she’d ever thought about marriage, something snapped. What was she doing? Was this going to end in happily ever after? Did she even believe in that anymore? Sam was a ball of confusion. Rather than open her mouth just to sound pathetic and needy, she got dressed.
“What? Where are you going?” Peter asked, getting up, and putting his jeans on.
“I’m going to head back to my parents’ house. I’m sure I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. I’ve got some things to do.”
“Sam.”
She kept dressing, so he held her still.
“What’s going on, why are you doing this? Please talk to me.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“I need to take a break for a minute, okay.”
“Was it the marriage thing? I was only talking.”
“I know. We do a lot of that . . . talking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sam slipped into Peter’s sweatshirt and her flip-flops, grabbed her dress, and walked toward the door.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Peter. I just need some space tonight. Lots of emotions and we’ve been busy with the wedding.”
She kissed him and left before he could offer to drive her home. Peter sat on the bed. He knew she was pulling away, but he had no idea why. Terrific, he thought. A bunch of emotions and no explanation. This must be what if felt like for her when he left. He didn’t like it, but he would give her some space. He had no choice.
The next morning the wedding guests were on their own. Some of them rented boats or bikes. Others, including the bride and groom, slept in. Sam had barely closed her eyes. She finally gave up trying around seven o’clock. She pulled on her running shorts and laced up her shoes. She needed to sweat. Her mother and Henry were sitting at the dining room table with a laptop in front of them, when she came down the stairs. Henry was showing their mother something on YouTube. Probably a clip of a project he was working on, or some new filmmaker Henry was discovering. They both looked up, surprised to see Sam.
“Hey, didn’t know you were here,” Henry said, looking suspicious and concerned.
“Yeah, sorry. I got back late last night.”
Sam tried for carefree, relaxed.
“Late? Sam, you haven’t slept here since we got to the island. Why would you? What’s going on?”
“Sam, honey, come sit. Is everything all right?”
She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what was wrong, other than this uneasy feeling that she was losing herself, that she was being swallowed up again. Her eyes burned from last night’s tears, and Sam searched her mind for a way to explain as she stood next to her mother.
“I . . . I can’t sit right now. I need to go for a run. Too much wedding cake.”
She joked, but her mother and Henry still looked like they were waiting for an explanation.
“What? I felt like coming home last night. Is that no longer an option? Why are the two of you looking at me like that?”
Her mother stood up.
“Of course it’s an option, don’t be silly.”
She hugged Sam.
“Good morning. We were just surprised to see you.”
Her mother looked to Henry, unsure what to say.
“So, what gives? You and Peter have a fight?”
Henry cut right to the chase, and Sam began to move toward the door.
“No, not at all. I needed a little space, my own bed. You know? No . . . we’re fine.”
“Fine, huh?”
Henry took a sip of his coffee.
“Henry, stop. We’re good. I need to run, I’ll be back.”
She kissed them both on the cheek and left before she’d have to continue talking about something she couldn’t explain. Henry and her mother looked at each other. After a beat, he said: “Okay, well, that was weird.”
“She’s figuring things out. Leave her be, Henry.”
With that they both returned to the laptop.
Sam ran down the three front steps of the house. It was a foggy morning. As the sea air hit her lungs, she woke up and took off running. By the time she reached Pebbly Beach Road, her lungs were burning. She stopped by the boat terminal to breathe. The sun was barely peeking through the marine layer, and Sam heard the horn of a boat leaving for the mainland. Sam remembered being a little girl and coming over on the same boat. She used be afraid any time there were rough seas. Henry would tease her that it felt like the boat was in trouble. He would lean over and whisper: “If I were you, I’d start locating your life vest.” Sam’s eyes would get huge, she’d hold on to his arm, and then he would laugh and tickle her. Preparing to head up Claressa Avenue, toward the Wrigley Memorial, Sam realized she had never taken the boat to Catalina by herself. She was always with family, never had to worry about rough seas on her own. What did that say about her? She wasn’t sure and she continued running.
Sam reached the entrance to the Wrigley Memorial and Botanic Garden. Her shirt was drenched and her breathing was steady. She felt energized and stronger. The thin gravel crunched beneath her feet, and the smell of blooms from the garden whispered in the morning air. A memorial to William Wrigley Jr., the chewing gum magnate and father of Catalina Island, loomed ahead. It was a massive structure created out of all of the materials that made up the island. Michael Cathner, Sam’s grandfather, helped Mrs. Wrigley plan the memorial and Sam thought of her grandparents every time she saw it. They’d had a great romance, but it was not without bumps in the road and trouble. Sam’s grandmother, Gwendolyn Ross, grew up during a time when women were only expected to be wives. She was spunky, graduated from Mount Holyoke, and seriously thought of becoming a doctor. Instead she modernized and expanded the island hospital. Sam remembered her grandmother always smelled like lavender, remembered she had an unbelievable laugh that took over her whole face. Sam’s grandfather had big hands and always hated wearing his reading glasses, so she would read to him. They must have been scared as well, when they fell into the desperation and need of love, she thought. Or maybe not, maybe it was easy for them. Was it supposed to be easy?
God, Sam wished she was still naive. She longed for the girl who willingly wrapped her arms around Peter and simply gave in. She would never have her back. She’d been hurt and that scar would stay. Sam knew it made her stronger and she knew she loved Peter, could trust him even, but she felt as if she had climbed back onto the diving board. She was scared again.
At the top of the memorial, Sam looked through the arch out to Avalon.
“Incredible what one person can accomplish,” Peter said from behind.
Sam spun around and saw him standing, hands in the pockets of his tan pants. He was wearing a jean button-up shirt, left out. He hadn’t shaved and he looked tired.
“What?”
She held her hand to her chest to ease the surprise.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I went by your house. Your mother said you went for a run. I knew you’d come here. I took the golf cart. Rough night, so I didn’t feel like running.”
His mouth curved just a little as he walked toward her.
“Yeah,” Sam took a deep breath.
“Sorry about the rough night.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
He stood behind her and gently ran his hands up her arms.
“I’m sweaty.”
“I can see that.”
He kissed the back of her neck.
“Do you want to talk about anything?”
“Sure, what’s your next play about?”
“Whoa, not what I expected.”
Sam smiled, and they both kept looking through the arch out to sea.
“I’m tired of talking about the past
, our past, people in the past. I want to look ahead. What’s coming up, instead of what’s already happened.”
“Okay. It’s a comedy.”
“Thank God!”
They both laughed.
“Yeah, I thought so too. I’m getting a little tired of myself. Too much introspection is not always a good thing.”
“I’m getting a little tired of you too.”
“Are you now?” he joked, turning her around for a kiss.
“Not completely, but you’re pushing it.”
Sam took his hand, and they started back toward the gardens.
“Tell me about it, where does it take place?”
“It’s about four men. They play chess at the Chinese Culture Center of San Francisco. Four different nationalities, four different backgrounds, and chess.”
“Doesn’t sound like a comedy.”
“Oh, it is. It’s funny, but of course there’s a message.”
“Of course. You wouldn’t be you, if there weren’t some sort of message or lesson.”
They walked through the vast collection of indigenous and imported trees and plants, then stopped for a while to marvel at the hundreds of different cacti that formed only a small part of the entire garden. Peter noticed he was again standing in a garden with Sam. They’d both always liked gardens, were both interested in collections and different regions. Maybe that came from growing up in California or maybe it was simply something else they shared. Sam seemed less agitated, more at ease, and Peter let their conversation from last night lie. He was sure she still had doubts or fears, but she was still with him, moving forward. She didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t push.
Peter gave Sam a ride back into town, and they talked about Looking In and the premiere, less than a month away. They would be flying back to Pasadena in the morning, and Peter would again fly back to New York later that week for meetings and to check in on the play there, as it had been picked up for six more weeks on Broadway. Sam decided to head back to her house. At the wedding reception, Henry had mentioned wanting to take her sailing before they left the island. She felt like taking him up on that offer. Peter was going to meet Grady at the country club before he left to head back to Los Angeles.