by Nancy Thayer
“A reasonable one, I think. I never thought about what it was like for you, being married to such an…absent…man. He was never affectionate with me, and, well—” Sophie stumbled over her thoughts. “It must have been lonely for you.”
Hester’s face softened. “I don’t often indulge in thoughts of the past. It’s past. I’ve learned as an ER doctor to do what I can and get on with it. I’ve had a useful life. That’s what’s important to me. I’ve helped heal and save and bring consolation. Your generation is much too pampered, always picking away at the slightest discomfort and whining about it.” To Sophie’s shock, Hester spread her arms. “I’m here. The sun is shining. My daughter is healthy, my grandchildren are healthy. So yes, I’m happy, Sophie. Happy enough.”
“I’m—I’m glad,” Sophie sputtered. This was as intimate as her mother had ever been.
Before Sophie could say anything else, Hester announced, “And now I’m going down to the apartment to have a chat with that Connor fellow.”
“Mother! At least let me come with you and introduce you.”
Hester waved a dismissive hand. “You should check on Lacey. I’ll be fine.”
—
The afternoon passed in a lethargic preoccupation with the children. Sophie went up and down the stairs, taking Jonah iced ginger ale, carrying down smelly towels, doing laundry, taking everyone’s temperature. Leo felt better, restless, and begged to be read to, so Trevor sat on the sofa with a few of the beginning books of The Boxcar Children in his hands and read to his son. Lacey curled up on the other side, listening, too, her head resting on Trevor’s arm.
Hester was apparently still down in Connor’s apartment. At one point, when Sophie and Trevor passed in the kitchen, Sophie whispered, “Maybe they’re making mad, passionate love.”
Trevor whispered back, “I’m glad someone is.”
Sophie quirked her mouth in a grin that made Trevor’s stomach flip.
In the late afternoon, Trevor had to make a run to the store for invalid nourishment: ginger ale, chicken noodle soup, graham crackers, frozen fruit ices, and Instant Cream of Wheat, which Leo was craving. He stopped at Sayle’s Seafood to buy three seafood dinners: clam chowder, fried cod, amazing French fries, and coleslaw. With the children sick, Sophie wasn’t in the mood for cooking, and Trevor snatched any opportunity to eat Sayle’s dinners.
By the time he got home, he found Lacey and Leo standing at the card table in the family room, working on a jigsaw puzzle.
“Hey, I thought you guys were sick.”
“I feel better, Daddy,” Leo told him carelessly.
“Me, too,” Lacey added.
From the depths of the sofa, Jonah grumbled, “I don’t. But I’ve stopped puking.”
Sophie stuffed clean towels into the dryer and slammed the door. “What smells so good?”
Trevor held up the bags of seafood, already stained with grease. “Comfort food for the adults.”
“French fries!” Leo yelled, running into the kitchen.
“No French fries for you,” Trevor said. “You’ve been sick. You’re having chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. Graham crackers for dessert.” He set about heating the soup for Leo and Lacey while Sophie set up TV trays in the family room for the children. Sophie set the table in the dining room for three, and poured herself and Trevor a glass of wine.
“Honestly? I don’t know what to do,” Sophie said. “Should I go down to Connor’s and drag my mother up here for dinner?”
Trevor laughed. “From what I’ve seen of your mother, I wouldn’t mess with her.”
“All right then, let’s eat. Everyone else is settled, and I’m starving. I don’t think I got lunch today.”
They sat at the table, munching the batter-fried cod, moaning with pleasure. Sophie said, “Sometimes I think my dream meal is Sayle’s French fries and a glass of Prosecco.”
“Sometimes I think my dream meal is you alone in—”
Sophie interrupted. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. My mother will walk in the door and read your mind.”
Trevor fixed Sophie with a look. “I doubt it.”
Sophie snorted. “You think my mother doesn’t know about sex? She’s a doctor.”
“I’m not thinking about sex,” Trevor told Sophie. That was kind of a lie, because anytime Sophie even entered the room he was thinking about sex, but it was also the truth because he was so happy right now, with all three kids in the family room and Sophie here at the table with him in shorts and a baggy T-shirt, her shaggy hair pushed back behind her ears, no makeup, no pretense, all honesty, all real. “I’m thinking about love.”
Sophie said, “Oh.”
“I don’t want to be impetuous.” Trevor wiped his hands on his napkin and leaned his elbows on the table. “I’ve been impetuous, and regretted it—well, not completely, because I have Leo. I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to seem impulsive, rash—young. I know I’m younger than you are, but I can’t change that. But I don’t think it matters. You and I seem to—fit. Our kids fit. It’s been that way since we first walked in the door. We’ve got something special here, not just you and me, but absolutely you and me, and then the kids, too. I don’t want to lose it. I want to make love with you, but that’s not all I want, and I want you to know that.”
Sophie slowly began, “When we all get back to Boston—”
“When we all get back to Boston, it will be horrible!” Trevor said. “I’ll miss you. Leo will miss your kids. I’ll miss your kids.” He pressed on, leaning forward in his urgency. “Here’s what I want to do. I want to buy a house in the suburbs so Leo has a backyard to play in. Our apartment is too cramped, too full of sad memories. I want to buy a nice big house in your suburb, right next door to you, across the street, something.”
Sophie smiled. “Trevor, I’m not even divorced yet.”
“Yeah, but you will be. And when you are, you and the kids can move in with me and Leo. I’ll buy a house that’s big enough—”
Sophie leaned back in her chair, imagining. “Or you and Leo can move in with me and the kids. Our house is big enough, although Zack designed it, and frankly, it’s never been my kind of house. Gosh, you’ll have to deal with Zack.”
“Of course I’m going to have to deal with Zack,” Trevor said. “He’s your children’s father, and I’ll just have to man up and be cooperative.”
“You’ve really thought about all this.” Sophie’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“It’s all I can think about. We’ll be leaving soon, it’s almost September, and hasn’t this been great—” Trevor held out his arms, gesturing to the entire house— “all of us here together?”
“Yes, it has been great. It’s been an enormous surprise.” Sophie toyed with a French fry, dipping it into the cup of catsup and chewing it pensively. “That we’ve all gotten along so well, I mean. But Trevor, we’ve been on vacation. Certainly I haven’t been dealing with reality. When we get back to Boston, I’ve got to get the kids ready for school, and go through some kind of grisly divorce proceedings with Zack, and I need to find a way to make money. Zack will pay child support, of course, but I don’t know how much, and I’ll need to work somehow. Finances have never—”
“You’ll teach piano,” Trevor announced.
Sophie sort of bounced. “What?”
“You’ll teach piano. Plus, I’ll bet you could get a lot of other gigs. School musicals. Local theater productions always need accompanists. Private students.”
Sophie sat speechless.
Trevor continued in a sensible tone, “Sophie, you know you’ll get half of your and Zack’s assets when you get divorced. I don’t know how much that is, but maybe you’ll get the house, plus he’ll pay child support. When we get married, you won’t have to worry about money. I do pretty well with my business—okay, I do very well with my business. We can—”
“Trevor, slow down.” Sophie held up her hand. “We’ve known each other less than three months
.”
“But we’ve lived together, with kids and friends and tantrums and vomit—I’d say that gives us about a year’s worth in the familiarity bank.”
Sophie looked across the table at him, her face glowing, amused, bowled over, and suddenly mischievous. “Well, there is one problem.”
“What’s that?”
She peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes, coyly. “We don’t know if we’re compatible in, um, bed.”
Trevor wanted to leap over the table and ravish her right then and there. He restrained himself. “Okay, you’re right—we definitely need to test that out, and as soon as possible.”
“But how?” Sophie asked, waving her hands in the air. “With three children and my mother in the house?”
Frantic, Trevor suggested, “When your mother returns, you and I can leave the kids with her and drive somewhere, the beach, a hotel—”
“Trevor. We can’t leave sick children.”
“They’re not that sick, and your mother’s a doctor.”
“Still, we’re their parents.”
“You’re killing me.”
“I’m killing me, too.”
“When does your mother leave?” Trevor asked, as the kitchen door opened and Hester stepped into the room.
“Mom! Hi!” Sophie jumped, so guilty her voice was overly cheerful. “Trevor got a fish dinner for you. We didn’t know when you were returning. Is Connor okay? What have you been doing? Would you like a glass of wine?”
Hester pulled out a chair and sank into it. “I would be grateful for a glass of wine. I’ve eaten with Connor.”
Trevor rose. “I’ll get the wine.”
“So, how is Connor?” Sophie asked. She suspected her mother had already had one glass of wine because her cheeks were rosy.
“Connor Swenson is a healthy male with all the sense of a flea. It took me a while to get him to talk about it, because no male likes to admit weaknesses—thank you, Trevor.” Hester accepted the glass of merlot and sipped it.
“And?” Sophie prompted.
“He has an open sore on his foot that won’t heal. He’s had it for several weeks. Has he seen a doctor? Of course not. He’s a man. He’s tried to treat it himself. He’s used antibiotics and Band-Aids. He’s left it open to the air. It’s getting worse, so he doesn’t go for walks and of course he doesn’t do all the physical labor he used to do when he had the farm, and he’s depressed because his wife died. He doesn’t eat well. He eats too much sugar. I suspect he has diabetes.”
“Diabetes,” Sophie echoed.
“I called a friend up at Mass General. I’m taking Connor up there tomorrow for blood tests and treatment for his foot.”
“How will you get there?” Sophie asked.
“I’ll drive us in his truck to the airport. We’ll fly.” Hester took another sip of wine. “We probably will have to spend the night in Boston.”
Sophie’s eyes flew to Trevor’s. She knew he was thinking exactly what she was thinking: the apartment would be empty.
Sophie gathered her wits. “Mother, you’re remarkable. Connor must be thrilled that you came along, knowing so much.”
“I’m sure he is,” Hester replied calmly.
Was it too good to be true?
Sophie tiptoed down the stairs, her finger to her lips in a shushing sign, and beckoned Trevor into the kitchen.
“They’re all asleep,” she whispered, although there was really no need to whisper. Once her kids were down, they were out for the night. Lacey and Leo and Jonah had all recovered from the flu. They’d spent the day in town—a compromise between the more rigorous sun and fun on the beach and more lying around the house.
“They’re all asleep. Your mother’s in Boston with Connor. Let’s go,” Trevor said.
“Maybe we’d better give it a few more minutes—”
Trevor gently pressed Sophie up against the wall, put his hands on either side of her face, and kissed her. She put her arms around him, pulling herself against him. His kiss was sweet and urgent.
Sophie moved her mouth away enough to gasp, “Where? Not our bedrooms—too close to the kids. The living room? On the sofa?”
“What if the kids come down?” Trevor whispered.
Sophie nodded. “You’re right.” She thought a moment. “The music room. We can shut the door and Connor’s gone, so he won’t be able to hear us in the apartment.”
Trevor took Sophie’s hand in his and led her from the kitchen, through the hall, through the large living room, and finally through the doorway into the music room. He pulled Sophie inside, shut the door, and took her in his arms, kissing her hungrily on her mouth, her neck, and down the tanned bare skin above her tank top. Sophie moaned and let her head fall back, exposing her neck to his kisses. She embraced him, gliding her hands down the long muscles of his back, sliding her hands around to the front of his jeans, undoing the snap, slowly tugging down the zipper, and slipping her hands inside.
Trevor groaned. “Sophie,” he murmured, pulling her to the deep rose-covered sofa.
From the two high windows on either side of the room, a white brilliance gleamed from the moon and stars, striking spots on the chandelier’s crystals with light. The shadows seemed to dip and play over their bodies as Sophie and Trevor undressed each other, slowly removing the light cotton clothing so that it trailed like fingertips over their skin. They stood taking in the sight of the other’s naked body until Trevor pulled Sophie close to him and for a while they remained like that, naked, pressed together, head to toe, inhaling one another’s scent, trembling with desire, allowing the desire, like music, to spiral and climb and build and expand, until Sophie, summoning all her courage, defying any inner voice reminding her that her body was not young, that she might do something wrong, said in a low, urgent voice: “Trevor, please.”
He lowered her onto the sofa, pulling a pillow beneath her head. He knelt over her, allowing himself to take possession of her rich, luxurious body with his eyes. Gently, he pressed his knees between her parted legs, rested his hands on either side of her head, and slowly lowered himself to kiss her mouth, her neck, her breasts. Sophie embraced him, nuzzling against his skin, murmuring—inviting. And slowly he entered her and they both closed their eyes to savor the sensation. This was perfection.
—
Trevor set the alarm on his watch for four o’clock so they could sneak back into their own beds before the children woke, but Sophie was awake before the alarm. She lay with her face pressed close to Trevor’s chest, which was a marvelous place to be.
The alarm went off. Trevor mumbled, woke up, and stopped the alarm. “What are you doing?”
“Sniffing you.”
He pulled back, raising himself up on one elbow to look down at her. “Sniffing me?”
“You smell so good. I want to inhale you, molecule by molecule.”
His low laugh rumbled near her ear. “You’d better stop. We’d both better get up and get to our beds.”
Sophie responded by snuggling closer, pressing herself against him. “Maybe a few more minutes…”
“Stop that.” Trevor rolled away and stood up. “You exhausted me. I’ve got nothing left.”
Sophie heard herself give out a hum of laughter from deep within her belly. Stretching out full-length and brazenly naked in the gentle light of dawn spilling through the windows, she scanned Trevor up and down. “I can see quite a lot left, actually.”
Trevor stooped to dig around in the pile of clothing to find his briefs. He pulled them on. “You’re shameless.”
“I am? How fabulous.” She rose languidly and began to search for her own clothes. As she did, the reality of the day seeped into her mind like the morning light into the house.
Last night, between their first and second times of making love, they had talked about their lives, especially about their children. They couldn’t go frolicking all smoochy and giddy like young lovers in front of their children. That would freak out the kids. Only one m
ore week remained before they left the guest cottage. After that, change would come at them, especially at Jonah and Lacey, like a tornado. Their parents’ divorce. Getting to know Lila, who would be in their lives more and more from now on. Realizing that Trevor and Leo were also going to be a permanent fixture in their lives. And for Sophie’s kids, the all-important return to school, dealing with new classes, new teachers, old and new friends. This was not the time, Sophie and Trevor agreed, for them to let the kids know their parents were anything more than good, even devoted, friends.
This was going to be hard work for Sophie, now that she had, for the first time in her life, truly discovered what her body could do when sex and love overwhelmed her. She had clutched him to her, weeping. “I love you,” she’d sobbed. “Oh, Trevor, I can’t help it. I love you.”
He hadn’t laughed. He had said, “I love you, too, Sophie.”
Sophie pulled on her T-shirt and shorts, slid her feet into her flip-flops, and looked around the room. The rising sun sparked rainbows from the chandelier.
Trevor took her in his arms one more time. “You go first. Go up and get in bed. Try to catch another hour or so of sleep. I’ll hang out in the kitchen. We don’t need anyone catching us sneaking upstairs together.”
Sophie smothered a laugh. “We’re like teenagers.” Then, as her body registered Trevor’s body’s reaction to her warmth and closeness, she whispered, “Are you sure you want me to go to bed alone?”
He pulled away. “Be good. Go.”
Sophie tiptoed up the stairs, unable to stop smiling.
—
Trevor caught a couple of hours of sleep before he heard Leo bumbling around in the next bedroom. He rose and hurried in for a quick and necessary shower before shaving and pulling on clean shorts. Then he stuck his head into Leo’s room.
“Good morning, guy. Want breakfast?”
Leo was, not surprisingly, building with Legos. “In a while,” he replied, preoccupied.
In the kitchen, Trevor made a pot of coffee and sat down at the table with his laptop. Pretty soon the rest of the household ambled in, yawning and drowsy. The day had quickly become sticky with humidity, the overpowering kind that seemed to suck the energy right out of a person. Or maybe that was because Trevor hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.
