by Beth Hoffman
“But I hurt everywhere, Mama. How do I make it stop?”
She looked at me with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Only you can figure that out. But try to remember something, Teddi: Never tie your happiness to the tail of someone else’s kite.”
Mama gave my legs a pat, rose from the bed, and left the room.
And though that conversation took place a long time ago, tonight I felt just as hurt and confused as I did back then. I closed my eyes and remembered my mother’s touch, how gentle it had been. I even remembered the apron she was wearing—a pattern of tiny violets with green piping sewn on the tops of the pockets. That was the only time we’d ever talked about the tender places in a woman’s heart. I wondered what other words of wisdom she might have shared if we’d been closer, if I had reached out to her, if I had not been so independent and stubborn.
Right then I missed her so much I could hardly breathe. Knowing I was heading for a rapid spiral downward, I pushed myself up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. “C’mon, Eddie, let’s have a date, just you and me.” I clipped the leash onto his collar, and we headed out the door.
While walking down Queen Street, I thought about Sam. Was he sitting in his garden with a glass of wine, talking and laughing with another woman? It took all my willpower not to head toward his house, sneak down the alley, and try to get a glimpse over the back wall. But I’d never once spied on a man, and I’d be damned if I’d start at this stage of my life. I looked in the direction of Sam’s house and said aloud, “You can take your old car, all your boyish charm, and my telescope—and just go jump in a lake. I am so glad I never slept with you, Sam Poteet!”
Those words had barely left my lips when I realized that someone had been walking close behind me. In my periphery I saw a young man cross the street, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. Most likely he thought I was one of Charleston’s “colorful” characters, or worse.
At that moment I couldn’t have cared less.
My ramblings were of no concern to Eddie. He happily trotted at my side and enjoyed sniffing the cool air. We turned on Franklin Street, then left on Broad, passing mansion after mansion, most of them lit up and glowing from within. I walked slowly so I could peer into the windows, sometimes getting a glimpse of a stunning antique chandelier or an heirloom sideboard that had surely been waxed to within an inch of its life.
About halfway down the block, I heard someone thundering through a Rachmaninoff piano concerto. From the open windows of a grand old Greek Revival, I could see people gathered together in a large living room. It must have been a very special party, as the women were wearing gowns and the men were decked out in black tie.
I stopped outside the elaborate iron fence, unashamedly peering into the windows and admiring the salmon-striped wallpaper while I listened to the music. I had come upon an accidental kind of happiness, and I curled my fingers around the top of the fence and enjoyed the performance. When the concerto came to an end, applause and the clinking of glasses rolled in to the cool air. I stood on the sidewalk and clapped, too.
Uninterested in the music, Eddie let out an impatient bark, and we continued our walk. By the time we turned on Legare, I was growing tired, so we headed for home. As we approached the house, I laughed when Eddie sped up and yanked on the leash. “You think there’s a treat in your future? Well, you’re probably right.”
While opening the gate with one hand and trying to keep Eddie from bolting to the front door with the other, I caught my sweater on the latch. It took me a moment to pull it free, and when I turned, I saw someone sitting on my front steps. For a split second, I stood frozen in fear before I recognized who it was.
“Teddi,” he said, his voice soft and contrite. “Am I ever glad to see you.”
I didn’t know what to say, and I sure didn’t want to appear thrilled to see him, even though I was. I took my good old time walking toward him, and when Eddie reached the steps, Sam gave him a few ear scratches and patted his rump. Then he stood, and I gasped as the porch light illuminated the side of his face.
“What happened, Sam?”
He said nothing as he reached out and gathered me into his arms. For a long moment, he held me close, his face buried in my hair. “May I come in?” he murmured.
I unlocked the door, and Sam followed me inside. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Just water.”
He sat on the sofa while I walked into the kitchen and poured a tall glass.
“Were you in a car accident?” I asked, handing him the glass as I sat by his side.
“No. On Tuesday, my secretary came and got me out of a meeting. She told me that one of Tula Jane’s nurses had called and said there was an emergency and I should come home right away. I was annoyed by the interruption, but I cut the meeting short and went home. You should have seen it, Teddi. I don’t think a bunch of drunks at a frat party could have done more damage—smashed dishes all over the kitchen floor, the silverware drawers overturned, two of the windows broken.
“I ran upstairs and found Tula Jane in her bedroom, crying hysterically. She accused me of stealing her jewelry, and when the nurse tried to give her a shot, Tula slapped her and started screaming. Well, once I convinced Tula that everything was all right, she calmed down enough for the nurse to give her a shot. Then I phoned her doctor and made an appointment for early Wednesday morning.
“The glass company came and replaced the broken windows, but it took me half the night to clean up the mess she’d made. The next morning while I was getting ready to take her to the doctor, the owner of the home-health-care company called. She said they wouldn’t subject their employees to violence and physical danger. She terminated our contract and suggested I bring Tula Jane to a geriatric psychiatrist.”
Sam took a sip of water and groaned. “It went downhill from there. I called my secretary so she could cancel my appointments, and then I went upstairs to get Tula dressed. The minute I walked into her bedroom, she started all this crazy gibberish about how I was a thief and had hidden all her money. I knew better than to argue, and I knew I’d never get her dressed, so I tried to get her into a robe. That’s when all hell broke loose. She tried to bite me, and then she screamed and cried and ran out of the room.”
Sam stopped talking, and I could see the anguish in his eyes. I wanted to wrap him in my arms, but I knew he had more to say.
His voice dropped low as he went on. “When she saw me coming down the hall, she climbed up on the window seat. I was scared to death she’d fall through the window, so I rushed forward to get a hold of her. She grabbed a figurine from a shelf in the niche and walloped me in the head. I never even saw it coming until it was too late.”
Sam raised his hand and lightly touched the massive bruising that surrounded a line of stitches above his left eyebrow. “So anyway . . . we both ended up going to the hospital in an ambulance—me bleeding like a pig and Tula screaming and crying. After I got stitched up, I had a meeting with Tula’s doctor. It took a lot of work, but he arranged for her to be transferred to a special-care facility.”
“Is that where she is now?”
“Yes. She was taken there late this afternoon. I stayed with her until seven o’clock, but I doubt she knew who I was. She’s pretty heavily medicated.”
I lifted his hand and pressed it to my cheek. “What a terrible thing to go through.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. “It’s the beginning of the end for her, Teddi. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can’t stop thinking about how she and Everett jumped through hoops to adopt me.”
Sam stopped talking for a moment, and his voice splintered when he said, “And now I’ve put her in a home where she’ll die not knowing who I am, where she is, or why she’s there.”
I moved closer. “What can I do?”
“There’s one th
ing,” he said, resting his hand on my thigh. “But I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“What is it?” I said, kissing his temple.
He did not open his eyes when he said, “That you’ll forgive me for leaving you in the dark. I’m really sorry, Teddi. I meant to call you a dozen times, but everything was so overwhelming that I got lost in the fray.”
Slowly, I ran my fingertips over Sam’s forehead. I could feel him relax and sink into the cushion with every circle I made.
“You’re forgiven. But just this once.”
FORTY
In the days that followed, I often thought about the irony of it all. The person who was bringing Sam heartache had unwittingly brought us together. Had his mother not made a habit of stealing from my shop, had she not twisted her ankle, and had I not delivered a get-well gift, Sam and I would never have met.
One evening while I was having supper with my grandmother, I told her the story of how Sam had come into my life. I told her everything, from the many Limoges boxes that Tula Jane had shoved into her handbag to the theft of the telescope. Grammy’s eyes grew wide when I told her about the incident with the Staffordshire dog and how that had precipitated Tula Jane’s spraining her ankle.
Grammy licked pudding from her spoon and looked at me thoughtfully. “My mother used to say that each day was a gift and how we chose to unwrap it would determine our happiness.” Her lips spread into a smile as she added, “That was a nice thing you did, Teddi, taking that present to Sam’s mother.”
“Even though she’d driven me nuts for years, I felt really sorry for her, you know?”
My grandmother nodded. “I don’t imagine she’ll get any better.”
“No,” I said, taking a sip of ginger ale. “I don’t imagine.”
“How’s your beau doin’ with all this?”
“He doesn’t say much, so I don’t push. But I know he’s having a tough time.”
“I like the way you smile when you talk about him, Teddi. He sounds like a nice man.”
“He is, and I’m bringing him to meet you soon, if that’s okay.”
Grammy’s eyes lit up. “Well, that would be wonderful. Let me know ahead of time so I can get my hair done. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“I promise. You won’t believe what we’re doing this weekend. One of Sam’s friends is throwing a come-as-you-were party.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, all I know is that Sam said they do it every year and the guests are supposed to dress up as if they were living in a different era. Sam’s going as a gangster, and I’m dressing like a flapper. I found the perfect beaded white dress at a rummage sale. It weighs a ton, and the hem swings . . .”
I had just stepped from the shower when the doorbell chimed. Throwing on a robe, I descended the stairs and peeked out the window. Sam’s old car was parked on the street. He was forty-five minutes early. I smiled at his gangster outfit—black double-breasted suit, black shirt, and a white silk tie. Tilted rakishly over the eye where he had the stitches was a black fedora.
When I opened the door and he saw me in my robe, he raised his eyebrows. “Whoa, is this some kind of trick? Because if it is, it’s working.”
I laughed and pulled him inside. “You’re early.”
“Well, I guess I am. And by the looks of things, I’ll make it a habit from now on.” Sam took off his hat and tossed it on the sofa, then cupped my face with both hands and kissed me once, twice, and then again. He slid his fingers beneath my ears until they disappeared into my hair.
“Sam, I . . . I have to get dressed.”
“Just let me tell you this one story,” he whispered, kissing the side of my neck. “Once upon a time, there was this guy with goofy ears. He was kind of surly,” Sam said, moving upward and kissing my temple. “And then one day his doorbell rang,” he said, running his lips across my cheeks to my eyelids. “When he opened the door and saw a pretty girl standing on his porch,” Sam said, untying the belt of my robe and slowly pulling it free, “something happened . . .”
Next thing I knew, it was two hours later and Sam was asleep in my bed. He was on his back with his right leg flopped outside the covers, his breathing deep and steady.
Night had fallen, and blue-tinted shadows stretched across the bedroom walls. I heard a whimper and turned to see Eddie’s nose pop up over the side of the bed.
“Hi, little boy,” I whispered. “C’mon up. There’s room.”
He wiggled, pushed off his haunches, and jumped onto the bed. I wrapped him in my arms and tucked him against my chest. Sam stirred, rolled onto his side, and drew me close, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. I closed my eyes, wanting to preserve the moment for as long as possible, like pressing a leaf between the pages of a book.
I woke to the wet tickles of Eddie licking my face and glanced at the clock—another hour had passed. Slipping out of bed, I quietly threw on a fluffy white sweater and a pair of jeans. After brushing my hair, I padded down the stairs. My robe was where Sam had left it, right by the front door, along with his suit jacket, his shirt, and his belt. His tie was hanging on the doorknob. I picked everything up and laid the bundle over the arm of the sofa.
A cool breeze blew in when I opened the back door to let Eddie run out into the darkness. Only a few minutes later, he barked at the door, and when I let him in, he ran so fast that he skidded on the kitchen floor. Eddie looked around and seemed relieved that Sam wasn’t there.
“Are you jealous?” I asked, giving him a pat on the head and a chewy treat.
He flopped down at my feet and thumped his tail.
Knowing that Sam and I wouldn’t be going to the party, I rummaged through the refrigerator. I had to come up with something for us to eat, but what? Deciding on pancakes, I walked into the pantry to gather what I needed. As I was about to take a skillet from a lower shelf, Sam appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled, his cheek creased with sleep, and his shirt in his hand. He walked toward me with a sly grin on his face.
“You’re one helluva dame, Theodora,” he murmured into my hair.
I gave him a kiss on the neck and relaxed into his arms.
“So we’re staying in for dinner?”
“Yes. Are pancakes all right with you?”
“I love pancakes,” he said, slipping into his shirt and turning up the cuffs. “Would you let me make them? I’m dying to cook something on that old stove.”
“Sure. I’ll set the table. What would you like to drink?”
“Tea,” he said, giving me another kiss.
When Sam fired up a burner and a ring of blue flames shot up, he grinned like a kid. “This old thing is so cool. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s go grocery shopping tomorrow, and I’ll cook a big Sunday dinner here.”
I smiled at him over my shoulder. “I’d love it.”
When the pancakes were ready, I lit a candle and dimmed the lights. As I walked toward the table, I experienced a fleeting moment of déjà vu—the cast-iron griddle sending out its last sizzle, the heat radiating from the stove, Sam’s old car parked in front of the house. Though I had no idea why, all of it seemed so familiar and comfortable.
The flicker of candlelight illuminated our faces while Sam told me stories about a few of his most eccentric clients—from the heiress with empty eyes and a heart to match to the man who hid a fortune in gold locked inside an old freezer in his basement and how, when he was out of town, his new wife of only a few months (who hated the old monstrosity) had it hauled away, not knowing what was inside.
Swirling a forkful of pancake through a puddle of syrup, I looked at Sam. He had become my friend and my touchstone, and now he was my lover. I’d never dreamed I’d find those three attributes in one person. I took a sip of tea and wondered if he felt the same.
That thought had barely taken form in my mind when Sam swiped his napkin
across his lips and said, “Sometimes it’s hard to believe we spoke on the phone at least a half dozen times before we met in person.” He laughed and shook his head. “I still remember the first time you called. You were so chilly.”
“Was I?”
Sam’s eyes brightened with amusement. “You introduced yourself as Miss Overman, and you hissed just a little when you said ‘Miss.’ Anyway, I’m sorry for what Tula Jane put you through, but I sure am glad you showed up at my door.”
I finished the last bite of my pancake and studied Sam for a moment. “If you don’t mind my asking, what made you follow me out of the diner? I mean—we’d met . . . what? Seven or eight months before that night?”
“Well, when you came to the house with the gift for Tula Jane, things were tough, as you might imagine.” He hesitated for a moment, pushed his plate aside, and rested his elbows on the table. “Plus, I was swamped with work. So I spent several months digging myself out.” Sam reached across the table and ran his fingertips over my hand. “And then, when I saw you at the diner, I had the same feeling I had when we first met. That’s when I knew it was time to free myself.”
I furrowed my brow. “What does that mean?”
“I was in a relationship.”
When his words sank in, I gasped. “You ended a relationship because of me?”
“Yes, Miss Theodora. I certainly did.”
“But you didn’t know anything about me. I could have been involved with someone, or . . . or what if we just didn’t click?”
His face turned serious. “Everything in life is a gamble, Teddi. It was one I was willing to take.”
“Well, I’m—”
The shrill ring of the phone cut into the serene atmosphere. After the second ring, Sam said, “You’re not going to get that?”
“The answering machine will pick it up.”
My recorded greeting was followed by a beep. After a pause there came the words, “Teddi, it’s Jeb Davis. Call me as soon as you can. Something happened in the Gorge.”
