Notes on His Pillow

by Diana Currie

  “Well, I’ll be here until seven o’clock if you need anything and I’ll be back tomorrow morning at eight for breakfast,” I say in a businesslike tone.

  “You don’t stay here?” he asks puzzled.

  “No, I need to get home,” I reply quickly glancing into the living room at my unusually quiet children. “But I only live two blocks away and there’s a phone number to call on the nightstand in your room if you have questions or a maintenance issue,” I assure him.

  He nods his head in thanks and walks towards the staircase. Mrs. Coleman’s head pokes around the corner of the dining room and the two of us stare, equally awed by the backside of our newest guest as he makes his way up the stairs.

  The kids giggle seeing their mother and this older lady acting so strangely. “Oh, you two hush,” I chide them teasingly. “Start packing up your toys. We’re going home as soon as I finish the dishes.”

  Mrs. Coleman retreats to the dining room table where she finishes the food on her plate and then brings the dirty dishes into the kitchen. This kitchen is my favorite room in the house. Mr. Thatcher restored it with antique style appliances and a large white farmhouse sink. Unfortunately, for the sake of authenticity Mr. Thatcher chose not to include a dishwasher which means I spend a lot of time washing dishes.

  “Thank you,” I say sweetly as she places the plate and glass on the counter top.

  “You’re a very good cook,” she compliments with a pat on my shoulder before turning to go back to her room without waiting for my response. I’m too shocked by her sudden kindness to speak anyway.

  As I fill the sink with soapy water and proceed to wash the dishes from dinner I hear Adam Brickman moving around upstairs. The house has original wood floors throughout and even though the bedrooms are fitted with carpet the floorboards still creak. While scrubbing the plates and glasses I listen to the soothing sounds of my children playing in the living room and the handsome new guest upstairs unpacking his suitcases. I can hear when he moves into the bathroom and easily recognize the soft buzzing sound of an electric razor. The water rushes through the copper pipes in the wall alerting me that he has turned on the shower.

  Holy cow, Adam Brickman is getting undressed right now. My imagination runs wild and I can’t help trying to picture what his body might look like unclothed. Suddenly my heart rate accelerates and my fingers tightly grasp the edge of the sink. It’s been over a year since Tommy and I separated and even longer since we were last intimate with one another. I haven’t had sex at all since then besides a couple major lapses in judgment soon after Tommy moved out. My best friend, Brett, had been more than willing to accommodate my sexual frustration and I still sorely regret it. Since then my sex life has been completely dormant, but the thought of Adam Brickman naked upstairs is enough to awaken my libido from its deep sleep. I need to get out of here pronto.

  “Are you kids ready to go?” I call out, my voice cracking.

  I finish up the dishes in front of me as quickly as possible before grabbing my purse and keys from the kitchen table to meet the kids at the front door. “You got everything?” I ask them as I take a look around making sure there’s nothing I’ve forgotten.

  They nod their heads and follow me outside and down the front steps to my car; a shabby looking Honda Accord I’ve had since high school. My generous father, who’s known as Pastor George to our neighbors, bought it for me when I turned seventeen since I wasn't allowed to borrow the church’s Meals On Wheels van. I thought the Honda was an old piece of junk back then. Seven years later I’m still driving it around this town. I sigh as I buckle Tyler and Gabby into their car seats.

  Backing the car out of the driveway I can’t help but glance up to the window that is located directly over the kitchen. The Red Room. The lights are on and just as I’m switching gears from reverse to drive the bare-chested new doctor in town walks by the window. His hair is wet from the shower and one of the B&B’s white fluffy towels is secured tightly around his waist. My once dormant libido rumbles like Mount Saint Helen's and I close my eyes, willing him not to notice me watching. I can't understand why this one man is so fascinating to me. I've seen a number of very attractive men in the past but have never been deduced to such a quivering mess like this before. When I have the courage to open my eyes again I see Adam’s back is turned and it looks like he’s rummaging around in a suitcase on the bed.

  Deciding I’ve invaded his privacy enough for one night I press my foot to the gas pedal and force myself to head towards home. I still live in the house that until recently I shared with my husband. I still think of it as “our” home even though Tommy’s moved his belongings out a while ago and once our divorce is final the house will be mine.

  Tyler gives me grief about bedtime as usual and Gabby only wants to wear her princess pajamas which are regrettably in the washing machine at the moment. Nights like this make me miss Tommy. He was a real help with the kids and always knew how to get them settled down to sleep. It’s after nine before they are both blissfully asleep in their rooms. I tiptoe down the stairs to the living room and pick up a few toys here and there before collapsing on the sofa. It’s been such a long day.

  It’s the middle of June and in just a few months Tyler will be starting kindergarten. I can’t believe how big my baby has gotten. Gabby has another two years in daycare and then things will get easier for us. Once both of them are in school I won’t have the cost of daycare that eats right through Tommy’s child support payments. Maybe then I can think about buying another house. The kids like it here but everywhere I turn I’m reminded of my marriage and how I let everyone in my family down.

  And I'm not just speaking of Tommy and the kids. So far my father has been able to hold his tongue and refrain from the 'I told you so' speech but I can still see the disappointment in his eyes. He’s always set such high standards for me. It’s in his nature; being the pastor of our town’s only Baptist church. My mother’s disappointment stems from another source. She’s let it be known time and time again how regretful she is that I’ve repeated her mistakes. I married too young. Had children too young. Got stuck in Swainsboro, Georgia tied to a man I didn't truly love, just like her. Only she committed one additional heinously selfish act of which I refuse to repeat. When Nadine mustered up the courage to leave my father she did so thoroughly, fleeing halfway across the country to Galveston. In doing so she abandoned me too, when I was only six years old. I may not love Tommy enough to stay married to him but I love my family too much to separate them. I'd love to move to Atlanta but I could never, and will never, take Tommy's kids away from him.

  I’ve found myself reminiscing like this a lot lately as the divorce comes closer to being finalized. What am I really gaining, I ask myself. I won’t uproot the kids to move someplace where I’d have more opportunities so married to Tommy or not, I’m never getting out of Swainsboro. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a mistake leaving him. If I’m going to be unhappy either way wouldn’t it be better to keep the family intact for the kids’ sake? I am enjoying the freedom of living on my own, being dependent on no one but myself for the first time in my life. And I’m not in love with Tommy any longer, but I don’t think I’ll ever find some storybook romance in this dull, predictable little town. Being with Tommy was a safe, comfortable arrangement that I gave up for the unknown; the dream of something better. I’m worried I’ll never find it and the years that will go by as the children grow up will leave me lonely.

  I already feel lonely most nights after the kids go to bed. I need this quiet time to decompress after every long and stressful day but I miss having the company of another adult to talk to. Tonight I'm thinking about pouring myself a small glass of wine when the phone rings. I only ever get calls this late from Tommy or a guest at the B&B. I reach over to pick up the handset before the ringing wakes the kids.

  "Hello, Amanda speaking."

  "Oh, Amanda, hi," a beautiful celestial voice replies. I recognize it immediately.

&nbs
p; "Dr. Brickman," I say. My heartbeat immediately quickens.

  "It's Adam, please. Forgive me for calling so late. I expected to get Mr. Thatcher or a maintenance man," he apologizes.

  "No, don't worry; it's part of my job. Is something the matter there?"

  "No, nothing serious. The faucet on the bathroom sink turned off right into my hand. I found a wrench and was able to stop the water from flowing… mostly. But there's still a bad drip and I wanted to let Mr. Thatcher know that I can't stop it completely."

  "I'm so sorry about that, Adam. I should have warned you not to turn the faucet on all the way or that happens. I'll have to call the plumber in the morning. Mr. Thatcher is not very handy.”

  I am mortified that I forgot to tell him about that faucet. His overwhelming sexiness sure did a number on my brain function this evening. He tries to offer to have it fixed first thing tomorrow but I adamantly refuse. I hear metal clanking in the background and I can picture Adam with a wrench in his hand, the sleeves of his ivory dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, as he works on the leaky faucet. An unwelcome ember of desire ignites inside me just thinking about it.

  "No, please. It was my mistake for not making you aware that it was broken in the first place. I don't want you to go to any trouble," I insist.

  "I've got it slowed to a steady drip. I'm afraid that's the best I can do tonight," he says regrettably.

  "Thank you for that. I'll have someone over first thing tomorrow to work on it. Feel free to use the other bathroom until it's repaired.”

  "Alright," he murmurs sounding defeated. I can tell by the tone of his voice he's frustrated that the water is still dripping and it almost makes me smile.

  "Have a good night, Adam. See you at breakfast," I say softly, suddenly saddened to be hanging up with him.

  "Good night, Miss Amanda," he replies and the phone line goes silent.

  I sigh and shrink back into the sofa cushions. It's going to be an exciting few days, or however long Adam Brickman plans to stay at the Thatcher B&B. He mentioned not yet having a place to live. Does that mean I'll be seeing him every day for weeks? Or longer? I still don't understand why he isn't staying with Gregory and Caroline Brickman. Adam's parents’ house is so large and beautiful I can't imagine anyone not wanting to stay there.

  The new doctor is certainly a mystery to me and I'm equal parts thrilled and nervous to have him under my roof for the foreseeable future. His piercing green eyes dazzle me and take my breath away. That is not something a mother of two young children, who technically still has a husband, should be feeling for one of the current residents at her place of employment.

  "Oh, Amanda, you are in so much trouble," I warn myself as I slowly walk up the stairs to my lonely and empty bedroom.

  Chapter Two: Seeing Him Again

  I went shopping early this morning at a store called In Your Dreams. It’s located in the very back of my closet and I window shop there occasionally. Everything is free but the catch is every blouse, every pair of jeans, is one or two sizes too small. Today I thought what the hell and tried on a pair of designer jeans I haven’t worn since before Gabby was born. And they actually fit! I was so surprised I did a little happy dance in my room. I'm not usually one to put much effort into how I look but for some reason I felt like dressing up a bit today.

  I've gone on a few dates since my separation and each time I had hope it might turn into something good, but it’s the same kind of hope you have when you go to Las Vegas. You hope to win a lot of money, but go in knowing that you better enjoy the experience because most likely you’ll be returning home empty handed. I don’t normally even think about these things. I’m honestly not looking for a man right now. I have a job to do, two amazing children to raise, and an ex husband to deal with. These thoughts of dating only stirred up in my mind about twelve hours ago, when the Vegas Jackpot walked right through my door in the form of a man named Adam Brickman.

  I had trouble sleeping last night because of him, and that annoys me. Those dazzling green eyes and that lean muscular body have trouble written all over them. It would not be beneficial for me to dwell on these sexual feelings for the hunky doctor and I have every intention of being perfectly professional when I see him at the B&B. But it can't hurt one's self esteem to try and dress nice once in a while... at least that's the excuse I'm giving myself this morning.

  I drop Tyler and Gabby off at daycare and arrive at work a few minutes before eight o'clock. I whip up some blueberry muffins from a box and pop them in the oven. Then I make Mrs. Coleman her oatmeal with banana before she has a chance to ask for it. The floorboards creak over my head and I know both the guests are awake. That reminds me to call Bill, my handyman, when his business opens at 9am.

  I'm working on the scrambled eggs when Adam comes down the stairs. I glance over my shoulder and give him a warm smile as he enters the kitchen. He's wearing dark jeans and a green polo shirt; top two buttons at the collar undone. I take note of his clean shaven face as he says good morning. He's even more handsome than he looked last night.

  "Did you sleep well?" I ask turning my attention back to the eggs.

  "Yes, thank you. It's so quiet here. I guess I'm used to city noise," he chuckles. It's a heavenly sound. "Do you have any coffee made?"

  I immediately abandon the eggs to grab the empty coffee pot from the opposite counter. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot. Mrs. Coleman never asks for coffee," I say. Just then the oven timer dings alerting me the muffins are ready.

  "Here, let me take that," Adam offers reaching for the coffee pot. I can feel myself blush when our eyes meet and I release the pot to him.

  He fills it to the eight cup line and I wonder just how much caffeine one man needs. He finds the fresh grounds easily enough while I remove the muffins from the oven and then hurry back to the scrambled eggs before they burn. My eyes stay down as I transfer the eggs onto a serving plate. I'm usually very comfortable around the B&B guests but Adam’s stunning beauty has my nerves on edge. He is standing next to me, pulling two coffee mugs down from the hooks under the cabinet, when our close proximity sends a whiff of his cologne my way. I have to grab the counter’s edge to keep myself standing upright. Of course this handsome stranger has to be kind, and helpful in the kitchen, and smell so damn good I want to bury my face in his chest. It’s the kind of scent that has me imagining him bare-chested on a white horse galloping through the ocean surf at sunset.

  I feel annoyed again at the effect this man has on me. I’m still looking down at the floor like a moron which causes me to notice Adam isn't wearing shoes. His feet are covered in clean white socks with a gold toe. They remind me of the socks I used to buy for Tommy and suddenly a nauseating wave of memories flood through my head. It feels all too familiar and domestic in this kitchen; a life and family that should have been the picture of pure bliss echoes in my subconscious. I hate it when I’m overcome by emotion like this; mourning the loss of my happy family when I’m the one who destroyed it in the first place. And I feel dizzy with guilt for crushing on this poor unsuspecting house guest. I really need to get a grip.

  For a few seconds I lean against the kitchen counter sucking in calming breaths. In and out. In and out. "When do you start working with your father?" I ask to distract myself from my tortured thoughts, casually taking a step away from him.

  If he’s noticed my little freak out he doesn’t let it show. "Not for another two weeks. I have to wait for my license to come in before I can legally practice medicine," he replies. "It'll give me time to look for a house."

  He smiles kindly at me when I dare to look his way. His long fingers tap idly on the countertop waiting for the coffee to percolate. I reach for the plate of eggs and another filled with muffins and bring them to the table.

  "Will you be able to find a house in two weeks?" I wonder. "Are you looking for something in town or on the outskirts near your parents?"

  He ponders my questions for a moment as if he hasn't given much thought to where
he wants to settle until just now. I take Mrs. Coleman's oatmeal to the table and then pop a few pieces of bread into the toaster.

  "I think I'd prefer to be just outside of town, but not too close to my parents. I figured I would renovate whatever house I purchased," he says reaching into the overhead cabinet for plates. He pulls open a few drawers until he finds the utensils and sets everything down on the table. "Are you joining me?" he asks his eyes wide and hopeful.

  I can't help but smile at his politeness. It isn't often a guest asks whether or not I've eaten breakfast as I'm serving it to them. And I happened to not have eaten anything yet this morning.

  "Don't make me eat alone," he coaxes while pulling out the chair closest to me.

  I nod my head in acceptance and move to sit in the chair. "Thank you," I reply softly.

  Adam pours us both coffee and compliments the food as he dishes out a large helping of scrambled eggs onto his plate. I hop up again to get the toast I'd forgotten and the butter from the refrigerator. I pass him the butter and he places a warm muffin on my plate. We eat in amicable silence for a few minutes before Mrs. Coleman comes down the steps. She nods curtly in our direction and picks up her plate of oatmeal and the glass of orange juice I'd set out for her.

  "Thank you, dear," she says impartially and retreats back to her room without another word.

  I giggle at the expression on Adam's face as he watches the cranky old woman hobble up the staircase. He turns back towards me and flashes a brilliant smile.

  "Friendly isn't she?" I whisper sarcastically.

  "Are we the only two guests you have right now?" he asks.