Chapter 7
every look love gave us
Ever since Benny happened into the childbirth clinic in East Perry, Savannah had been less secretive about being a doctor. It didn’t take long for word to spread around Bitterly. Though it seemed to be common knowledge she volunteered over in East Perry, no one asked why she no longer practiced medicine outside of her Wednesdays in the clinic. No one speculated. No one whispered behind their hands when she appeared. It was a matter of fact that no one but she bothered about, so Savannah stopped.
Upon arriving home Wednesday, as always, far later than she hoped, Savannah had found a dishtowel-covered bowl on the table, a note on top:
This is my own version of locro, a traditional Ecuadorian potato and cheese soup. Taytay and Tío challenged me, and I was goaded into stealing potatoes from your pantry and cheese from the storefront. Considering I used your food, I made enough for you as well. I hope you do not mind.
Savannah had lifted the dishtowel, the aroma of cheese and spices filling her up and making her mouth water. The bowl was still warm. She grabbed a spoon from the ever-full dish rack, and ate standing at the sink. Intoxicating was the only word she could come up with to describe the soup. She left him a note in return:
I have to hate Johanna for her cake, and you for this soup. Insanely delicious. Thank you.
And that was all she saw of him until Friday afternoon when he came in from the fields covered in burrs, clumps of dried mud, bramble, and sweat. Savannah turned from washing the dishes she left in the sink after breakfast, dripping hands on hips.
“You’re like a little boy up in that field.”
“I forgot how enjoyable it is to get dirty.” Adelmo untied the laces of his work boots and kicked them off. “I will sweep this up, I promise. If you would be so kind as to turn your back, I’ll leave my jeans here as well instead of leaving a trail through your house.”
“Oh.” Savannah’s cheeks burned instantly. “S-sure.”
She turned back to the dishes, washing again the things she’d already scrubbed clean. In her periphery, Adelmo stripped out of his jeans. His belt hitting the floor was a muffled clunk that echoed in Savannah’s rapidly beating heart.
How silly. She was a doctor. And he slept across the hall from her, lived in her house, bathed in her bathroom. Get over it, sugarbeet.
Her own voice in her head became her aunt’s, became a chuckle echoing out of the past but somehow, in the present. She missed Auntie Bea at that moment, more than she had in all the years since leaving Georgia behind.
A bump upstairs lifted her head, opened eyes she hadn’t realized were closed. The shower turned on, making the old pipes of her house groan cranky protests more endearing than anything else. Savannah rinsed the twice-washed dishes and set them into the rack to dry. Adelmo was upstairs in her shower, where she would be soon after scrubbing off the day’s work. She tried not to imagine anything lusty, and failed. Miserably.
“Watermelon and tomato salad,” she reminded herself. “Make the watermelon and tomato salad.”
She sliced the watermelon, heirloom tomatoes—true ones, she checked—and red onion, tossed them in olive oil, salt and a squeeze of lemon before drizzling in the red-wine vinegar. It needed to marinate just long enough to meld the flavors without breaking down the fruits and making them mushy. On top she sprinkled the sweet pea sprouts she preferred to the mint in the original recipe. The earthy taste complemented rather than competed with the other flavors, in her opinion. Just before leaving, she’d sprinkle the crumbled farm cheese on top.
The water went off upstairs. Savannah covered the salad and left it on the counter, waited to hear the footsteps across the hall and the door to Adelmo’s room close before she went up herself.
“You finished in the bathroom?” she called from outside his room. He opened the door, wrapped only in a towel. Savannah stumbled back. Adelmo didn’t seem to notice.
“One moment.”
He hurried to the bathroom, his back still wet and the muscle that allowed him to swing himself into the loft deliciously evident. Savannah curbed that line of thought only to get snagged on his chest hair being the sort of just-enough she appreciated on a man.
“I will be ready to go when you are.” He came back with a toiletry bag. “Is it silly of me to be excited about this gathering?”
“Silly? No. But…why? It’s just a barbeque.”
“Guest lecturing from college to college does not give one time to make many friends. I will be here in Bitterly at least a full year. I am…hopeful.”
And his expression was hopeful. Hopeful and happy. He seemed more relaxed since their dinner together. Less guarded. That was a feeling she knew as well. Bitterly had a way of soothing even the most troubled spirit. Savannah returned his smile that became almost shy. Endearing and sexy at the same time. And he was still only wrapped in a towel. Savannah lowered her gaze and took a step away, then another.
“We’ll head out about a quarter to six. It doesn’t take long to get across town.”
In her own room, Savannah leaned against her door. Eleven years. Eleven years, and in all that time, the occasional date to satisfy Margit or Auntie Bea was the closest she had gotten to being interested in a man. And now, within days of meeting him, she couldn’t curb the naughty thoughts her Auntie Bea would howl over.
She exhaled deeply. It was the intimate proximity, his accent, loneliness finally catching up with her that she wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t living in her house. Maybe it was the just-enough chest hair, or the potato and cheese soup he made. Whatever it was, Savannah didn’t simply lust after Adelmo, she liked him. She liked knowing he was near, and not in the same way she did his father and uncle—men she loved. There had been others, in Georgia and in Bitterly, who tried to attract her attention. She’d even toyed with the notion of a colleague at the clinic, but it never went further. Why Adelmo? Why now?
Maybe you simply like him in that special way, sugarbeet.
She showered, dressed and managed to snap out of it enough not to startle when Adelmo came out to the car dressed in cargo shorts, a polo, and those clogs. His highlighter-yellow shirt worked to ease the inner frenzy building up inside her. Savannah could smile genuinely as he climbed into the passenger seat. “You sure like bright colors.”
Adelmo plucked at his shirt. “Is it inappropriate?”
“Not at all. Down south, men dress much more colorfully than these Yankees do. It’s refreshing.”
“Is refreshing a nice way of saying silly?”
“Are you fishing for compliments or truly concerned about the color of your shirt?”
Adelmo flashed that smile. “Both.”
“Well, your shirt looks great and so do you. That should cover it. Now hold on to the bowl of salad so it doesn’t tip on the way.”
“What is this?” he asked, lifting the cover.
“Watermelon and tomato salad. Don’t you go sticking your fingers in there.”
“They are clean.” Adelmo plucked a chunk of watermelon from the bowl. Chewed. His eyes rolled and his shoulders slumped. “That is outstanding. What would make you think to combine these things?”
“I didn’t,” she confessed. “It was a recipe left on my website-slash-blog thing back when Benny first created it for me.”
Savannah spoke of the site Benny created, and how the blog had become a place where growers, consumers, cooks, and casual visitors shared information, stories, and recipes. She caught him snitching more bits and pieces from the bowl, and though she chastised him every time, she’d catch him doing it again.
“Give that here.” She said when they got to the house on County Line Road. Lifting the lid, she saw the sprinkling of cheese still sitting pretty on top. “At least you were polite enough to snitch from the edges.”
“I couldn’t help myself. This is my new favorite thing to eat. Even more than Johanna’s Almond Joyful cake.”
&nb
sp; “Just see to it everyone else gets some.” She laughed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the snitch you took from my cake while I was at the clinic on Wednesday.”
“Me? I would never do such a thing.”
“Liar. You can’t fool me. I measured precisely, and there was a good quarter inch missing. Admit it.”
He placed a dramatically stricken hand over his heart. “But I made you soup.”
“And that’s why I forgave you.”
“All right.” Adelmo hung his head. “I admit it. Now may I have one more snitch before we go around back?”
And this is why I like you. She snapped the lid closed. “Let’s not get carried away, sugar. It’s easy enough to make. Most of the ingredients are right in the garden or at the farmstand. All but the watermelon. I’ve never had much success with them.”
He nodded. “Yes, growing them can be tricky here in the northeast. The cool nights lower the soil temperature more than melons like.”
“I tried plastic to up the temperature a bit, but the weeds were out of control.”
“Ah, you used clear.”
“To let in sunlight.”
“Yes, yes, but the clear plastic acts as a greenhouse to weed seeds too. Black plastic keeps the soil even warmer, and it doesn’t allow the weeds to grow. You must water very carefully though when using plastic. Watermelons need a lot of water.”
“Interesting,” Savvy said. “Too bad it’s so late in the season.”
“We can try it next year.”
Savannah met his gaze, tried to figure out if the sudden dip in his tone was real or imagined. He was out of the car before she could decide, coming round to her side and opening the door.
“Thank you,” she said.
“May I take that for you?” he asked. “I promise not to sneak any more.”
“I don’t trust you for a moment.” But she handed it to him all the same. Adelmo closed the door behind her, his arm encircling her. Briefly. He smelled like pine and spice and fresh air.
“You look lovely this evening,” he said. “As always.”
Savannah lifted a Birkenstock-sandaled foot. Cut-offs, tank top and Birkies. Her casual outfit of choice from the first scent of the earth warming to the first bite of autumn. “Well, thanks, but I have to say, your standards might be a bit low.”
“I assure you, they are not.”
No question this time. His voice dipped lower. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his smile sent a shiver across Savannah’s shoulder blades. She murmured sounds she wasn’t quite sure qualified as actual words and preceded him around to the back of the house where the family McCallan was already gathered, along with two of Johanna’s three sisters, Benny and Dan, and Benny’s younger brother, Peter Grady.
“Are we late?” Savannah asked after the greetings were made.
“Nope,” Johanna took the bowl from her hands. “We’re still waiting on Nina and Gunner. Why don’t you go introduce Adelmo around while Charlie and I get the food out. The kids are starving, as always.”
Savannah introduced Adelmo to Johanna’s sisters, Emmaline and Julietta, and their husbands, Mike and Efan. She didn’t bother with the little ones racing about, whose names she rarely kept straight anyway, but included eighteen-year-old Caleb and, of course, Charlotte in the introductions.
“Nina and Gunner are always late,” Charlotte pulled Savannah in to whisper, which in this young woman’s world was nothing of the kind. “They always breeze in with some wild story about being abducted by Somali pirates or something. Half the time it’s true.” Charlotte caught Adelmo’s hand. “Adelmo, is it? What a great name. Come and meet Benny. She’s been dying to see you in the flesh after Johanna’s description.”
Dragging him over to meet Benny, as well as Dan and Peter, Charlotte left Savannah staring after her. Caleb was shaking his head, chuckling softly.
“She seems a lot more…” Savannah sought the right word.
“…manic?” Caleb suggested. “Yeah, she is. It’s getting worse. Will says it’s because she’s super-unhappy but won’t admit it. That’s how our mom got just before she left Dad.”
“Where is Will these days?” Savannah asked. “Is he doing a summer semester?”
“Internship. He’s staying in Florida with Mom for now.”
“No bakery for him, huh?”
“Nah. He wants to be a professional scuba diver or something.”
“Caleb,” Charlotte laughed, dragging Adelmo back to Savannah. “Marine biology, Savvy. Don’t listen to my little brother.”
Caleb rolled his eyes.
“You’re starting at the Culinary Institute soon, aren’t you?” Savannah asked him.
He beamed. “Associates in Baking and Pastry Arts. Dad wants me to do a Bachelors program, but I don’t see the point.”
“Education is never wasted,” Savannah insisted.
“But time is. I’ve got plans.”
“You do?”
Caleb grinned. “Big plans not just for myself. For CC’s.”
“Plans he won’t share.” Charlotte feigned a pout. “Not even with me.”
“So you can steal them? No way. The world will have to await my genius.”
Brother and sister teased and argued. Children played. Adults talked and laughed. Johanna and Charlie called the older kids in to help carry things out. Julietta and Efan started a rousing game of duck-duck-goose with the little ones. Before food came out of the kitchen, Nina and Gunner arrived, a sullen teenaged girl in tow. Dark hair and eyes, her skin like sunshine on burnished wood, she was even more exotic in Bitterly than Savannah herself. She stuck close to Nina, smiling only cautiously as introductions were made.
“Savvy, this is Tabitha. Tabs, this is Savannah Callowell.”
Tabitha’s jaw worked, but she didn’t say whatever words made her scowl.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Tabitha.” Savannah stood aside to pull Adelmo forward. “Ladies, Gunner, this is Adelmo Gallegos, the new foreman on my farm.”
“I am pleased to meet you. Tabitha.” Adelmo extended a hand, kissed it gallantly when she gave it. The teenager’s wide eyes darted from his face to Savannah’s and back again. “I am pleased as well.”
Her accent was somewhat Greek, somewhat Russian. Savannah couldn’t quite place it. “Welcome to Bitterly,” she said, and was rewarded by something that might have been a real smile. “How long will you be in town?”
Tabitha’s lips pressed into a pouty line.
“Only through the weekend,” Nina said. “Gunner and I have to be back in New York Monday morning.”
“Charlotte told me you have a curiosities shop in the city,” Adelmo said. “That seems a unique line of work.”
“It is and it isn’t.” Gunner laughed. “I’ve come to know there are a whole lot of oddies out in the world to cater to.”
Charlie and Johanna, followed by a line of children, came out the back door carrying platters and bowls, and baskets of bread, utensils and paper plates. Nina hurried off to help, Tabitha on her heels.
“And welcome to you, too,” Gunner called to Adelmo as he joined his wife and Tabitha. “I apologize in advance for the headache you’ll go home with. My wife and her sisters are a bit…overwhelming. Add Benny to the mix and it’s completely nuts.”
Adelmo’s eyes moved from face to laughing face. Savannah tried to read his expression. Amused? Or…she shook it off. That flickered calculation was her own experiences insinuating themselves. His smile was nothing but kind. Curious, but kind.
“Overwhelming to say the least, huh?” she asked him. “Aren’t they?”
“A bit, yes. But nice.”
“I know a lot of people in Bitterly, but these? They’re my only real friends.”
“Why is that?”
Savannah shrugged. “I guess I’m particular about who I let into my life.”
“I will keep that in mind.” He held her gaze.
&nb
sp; Savannah warmed from head to toe, but she didn’t look away.
“Come and get it,” Charlie called, waving them in. “Hurry, before the kids devour it all.”
Adelmo gestured her to lead the way. Despite Charlie’s warning, the children didn’t break their game to rush the food table. Gathered there with the other adults, Savannah took paper dishes from the pile and handed one to Adelmo.
He leaned over her shoulder. “I thought this was a barbeque,” he whispered far too close to her ear. “I have had pasta salad at a barbeque, but never anything like this.”
“I should have warned you,” she said. “This is an Italian barbeque. That means macaroni and meatballs, not grilled stuff. I’m sure Emma made the meatballs and tomato sauce. No one can beat Johanna’s skill with sweets, but Emma’s the cook in the Coco family. You’re in for a treat.”
They ate. And they ate. Having been a guest to such a gathering before, Savannah knew to pace herself. Johanna would have something completely irresistible for dessert. The bottomless stomach Adelmo exhibited at D’Angelo’s was again in evidence. When Johanna’s strawberry shortcake appeared, he ate a generous slice. Slowly. Savoring every mouthful as if it were the last thing he would ever eat.
“That beats me.” Dan Greene patted his stomach, setting his fork down with half a slice left. “I can’t do it.”
“Allow me to help you.” Adelmo snatched Dan’s plate and finished what was left on it. He licked the fork clean. “That, ladies, was the most delicious meal I have ever had the pleasure of eating. And I have eaten in some of the best restaurants in the world. Genius, from first bite to last.”
“That might be laying it on a little thick.” Mike, Emma’s husband, pulled his wife closer. “But not by much. The older I get, the more Emma’s cooking shows up in my jeans size.”
“Tell me about it,” Charlie chimed in. “Try being married to the cake queen.”
“Adelmo’s a good cook too,” Savannah blurted, and immediately regretted it. Her face burned. “I mean, he made locro, this potato and cheese soup, the other night for his dad and uncle and was good enough to leave a bowl of it for me.”
Waking Savannah Page 7
