No Ordinary Day

by Polly Becks

  “What are you doin’?” he asked, whining a little.

  “You can be a putz, too, ya know, Germ. Shut up.”

  Sam set the cupcake on the table’s edge, then seized the top of Jeremy’s jeans and unsnapped them.

  Slowly, like the lap dancer she once was, she slithered to the floor between his knees, dragging his zipper down with her.

  Then slid up his calves until she was leaning her chest on his thighs. She put her arms around him.

  “Arch your back,” she said huskily.

  Jeremy closed his eyes and followed her directions as she pulled his jeans down to his ankles.

  He could hear her inhale, as she often did at moments like these, as if she was impressed.

  That little inhalation of breath always did wonders for what she was watching and breathing about, making it, and him, more eager.

  “Open your mouth,” she whispered. “Your eyes, too, if you want.”

  Puzzled, Jeremy opened his eyes.

  Sam was close to his face, her own eyes shining. “You wanna pull my hair down?” she asked, taking his hand.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said, his voice wavering.

  “Do it,” Sam commanded, guiding his hand toward the ponytail. “But then put your hands on the sides of the seat. No touching ’til it’s your turn.”

  Trembling, Jeremy reached over and wound his fingers through the scrunchie that held her pretty hair back from her pretty face. He slid it down the thick ponytail and dropped it beside the chair, inhaling a little himself as her hair cascaded around her shoulders and chest, which was still clad in the camisole she had worn under her waitress uniform.

  Sam shook her head slowly from side to side, loosing her hair even more, making Jeremy’s groin feel like it was on fire. She closed her eyes and ran her hand erotically through her hair, making the fire rise higher.

  Then, still smiling, she turned to the cupcake on the table’s edge, and, with her index finger, scooped a lane of the frosting off it.

  With her other hand, she took a small dollop onto her finger, and stuck it suggestively into her mouth.

  Her smile grew wider.

  “Mmmmmmm,” she said. It was more of a groan than anything else.

  Jeremy swallowed hard, trying to remain still.

  “Wanna taste?” she asked in mock innocence, holding out another dollop of the frosting near his mouth.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy muttered. He was having trouble concentrating.

  Sam looked displeased.

  “Try again, Germ,” she said, a rough edge in her voice that she knew he liked. “Say ‘yes, please,’ or I’ll go back to making nachos.”

  “Yes, please,” he whispered. His throat was getting tighter as he strained to stay in the chair, his hands gripping the sides of the seat.

  “Open up,” Sam directed, holding the fingerful of frosting near his mouth. “Lick it off.”

  Jeremy obeyed.

  Slowly, carefully, she slid the tip of her finger just past his lips, then allowed him to wrap his tongue around it. He inhaled as he did, sucking the frosting off it, making her blink as her own face grew warmer.

  “I thought I picked chocolate,” he said.

  “You did,” Sam said smugly. “You’ll get it when it’s your turn to be in charge of the chair.”

  “Ahhhhh,” Jeremy said. It was the only sound he could make now, because Sam had quickly returned to the cupcake, scooped more of the frosting off it, and began painting him with it, opening his shirt and swirling a little on his pecs, which she inhaled immediately, then went back to the area she had laid bare a few moments before.

  Jeremy closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth as she took her time, applying the frosting liberally to everything that was exposed.

  By the time she set to removing it, he was almost out of control already.

  “You can arch your back again whenever you want,” she said, pulling her hair that had fallen into her face out of the way before she set about her sensuous task.

  She took her time, bringing him to the brink repeatedly, encouraged by the wordless sounds coming from his throat, only to back off playfully again. The sounds grew more desperate as she teased him, until finally she sat back and looked up at him, hovering at the knife’s edge, his eyes squinted shut.

  “What’s the magic word, Germ?” she said jokingly.

  “Please!” he whispered. “Please—please—”

  “All right,” she said. “Happy anniversary.”

  She turned her attention back to the task at hand, applying her talents and the warmth of her mouth as liberally as she had applied the frosting.

  Lovingly as well.

  Jeremy was panting now. He had just enough time to take one last deep breath before the ceiling exploded above him in rapidly-changing colors, and the chair below him caught fire, his entire body wracked with tremors that shot from him like a gigantic, whole-body sneeze. The reaction was so violent that Sam had just enough time to grab his knees as she fell back, rump first, on the floor behind her.

  “Sorry, baby,” he murmured as she pulled her hair out of her face, laughing. “That was—that—wow—amazing—ahhh—”

  Sam stood up and brushed off her jeans.

  “S’ok,” she said, wrestling for a moment with her hair. “That’s what you get when your boyfriend’s hung like a horse. Fortunately, there are other things you get, too.”

  “You’ll be gettin’ it as soon as I can breathe again, believe me,” Jeremy mumbled.

  “You just sit there until you feel up to it,” Sam said, heading for the kitchen.

  Jeremy followed her suggestion, inhaling lightly to calm his racing heart, feeling the blood slowly leaving his burning face as his pulse simmered down. He could hear Sam banging around in the kitchenette behind him, but he was afraid to open his eyes yet.

  The hum of the microwave vibrated off his temples, but still Jeremy sat, his head back, chin pointed at the ceiling, as the hottest parts of his body cooled in the breeze from the motel’s extremely loud air conditioner and the occasional opening of the fridge behind him.

  Finally his nose caught a whiff of something appealing, and his ears were stabbed by the sound of a plate rattling as it was placed on the table in front of him.

  Followed by a light thud, a hiss, and the slight screeching of the table legs.

  Jeremy opened his eyes.

  Sitting before him was a plate of steaming hot nachos.

  Next to a steaming hot girl.

  And a just-opened bottle of beer, cold from the fridge.

  “Damn, I am the luckiest guy in the world,” Jeremy said, finally able to breathe.

  “You’re sure right about that,” Sam said humorously. “You have a decision to make.”

  “An’ what’s that?”

  “Well,” she said, moving the nachos aside, though still within reach, and scooting herself in front of him, “you have to decide what you wanna eat first.”

  Jeremy’s sense of humor was returning.

  “Well, the nachos are likely to get cold,” he said, winking at her.

  “They’re not the only thing that can.” Sam’s voice was light, indicating that she was joking.

  Jeremy knew better than to risk it. He pulled his chair closer to the table and seized the waistband of her jeans, just as she had done to him, and pulled them apart at the snap.

  Then sat back in his chair, puzzled.

  A green rectangular piece of paper was sticking up at her waistband.

  “Wha—what the hell is that?”

  “Your third and last anniversary present,” Sam said, her voice warm and loving now. “Number one was the cupcake, number two was, well, what the cupcake helped with, and now this is number three.” Her face gleamed with excitement. “Open it, Germ.”

  Jeremy was still staring at the paper, confused. He looked up at her again, and was touched by the expression on her face, a face that could look as innocent as a four-year-old’s when she was planning s
omething nice for someone.

  And something more.

  Jeremy was pretty sure he was looking at love.

  “I didn’t get you anything,” he said, embarrassed, as he picked up the beer and took a swig.

  “Figured you wouldn’t. You never remember dates.”

  Jeremy swallowed the beer, but said nothing.

  There were a few he was bound to remember now.

  “But, I do have somethin’ for you,” he said hurriedly, his mouth moving faster than his occasionally-stalled brain could think.

  “Oh? An’ what’s that?”

  “A—a proposition,” he said, his thoughts still lagging behind his words.

  “A proposition? For what?”

  “To make an honest woman outta you.” Jeremy’s words screeched to a halt, having gone a few miles farther down the road than he had intended.

  Sam exhaled, then smiled slightly. “I think the word you wanted was ‘proposal,’ not proposition,” she said, her hands now grasping the rim of the tabletop on either side of her legs. “You proposition me almost every morning before you leave, usually with dirty suggestions on a post-it under the peanut butter jar.” Her face grew serious. “And, for the record, Germ, I’ve always been an honest woman. Always. I just didn’t wait for marriage to have sex. I thought that was somethin’ you liked about me, but whether you do or not, it’s somethin’ I like about me. And only I get to make me an honest woman or not—not you. Ever.”

  Jeremy, his brain finally caught up, just smiled.

  “We can talk about your—your proposition later,” Sam said, her humor returning. “Open your card.”

  “It’s a card?” Jeremy put the beer down and pulled the green rectangle carefully out of her waistband, realizing how stupid his comment had been.

  “Open it,” Sam urged, getting excited again. “I hope you like it.”

  Jeremy opened the envelope, sliding his finger under the seal to keep from damaging what was inside it. He pulled out a paper brochure, printed in color on glossy paper.

  Lake Rawlings, Rawlings, Virginia, it read.

  He scanned the text, his hands beginning to shake.

  “It’s a scuba diving place, about two hours from here,” Sam said excitedly, turning the brochure over in his hand and pointing to the pertinent parts. “The water’s real clear, and they have all kinds of stuff to see underneath it—like a plane, cars, school buses, sunken boats an’ stuff like that—and the equipment rental wasn’t that bad. There’s cabins and tent camping—and—”

  She paused, looking proud.

  “And we’re going next weekend! I already got the time off. It’s all paid for.”

  Jeremy, who had been staring at the brochure, raised his head.

  His eyes wild and panicked.

  The look of pride, and the smile, were stripped from Sam’s face like water running off the edge of it. She tried to explain, tripping over the words.

  “I—I felt bad it was so—so—expensive in the Adirondacks that—that you—you didn’t—get to—go diving—there—”

  Jeremy lurched back in his chair, stood up, shaking violently, and lunged for the bathroom.

  Slamming the door behind him.

  Sam blinked in astonishment as sounds of retching came from behind the door.

  “What the hell?” she murmured. They were the only words she could form that survived the shock that had taken her over.

  After what seemed like a very long time, she heard the toilet flush and the water in the sink being turned on. Then, everything went silent.

  The bathroom door swung open violently.

  “Germ—” Sam said, stunned by the speed at which everything in the little motel unit seemed to be happening.

  Jeremy said nothing, completely avoiding her. He strode to the closet near the door, pulled his motorcycle jacket and helmet from the bar and shelf, and ran to the door.

  He tugged on it, forgetting Sam had locked it behind her.

  Then violently turned the deadbolt, rushed out and slammed it behind him.

  In the distance, Sam could hear the sound of his bike revving up.

  She rose from the table on which she was still sitting, and walked to the window, pulling the low-quality, heavy-motel-fabric curtain back.

  In time to see the bike streak around the corner.

  Wondering what had just happened.

  She was too shocked to cry.

  At least for the first hour that he was gone.

  JUST BEFORE DAWN, Jeremy returned to the hotel unit.

  He opened the door to see Sam’s meager possessions packed and sitting at the door.

  The owner of the possessions was curled up on the couch, asleep, wadded-up tissues on the floor in front of it.

  Jeremy cursed himself silently.

  He went over to the couch and crouched down next to her.

  “Sam, baby, I love you,” he whispered into the hair that lay along her ear. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave.”

  She opened her blood-shot eyes slowly and stared at him.

  Their gaze stung his, and he lowered his head for a moment.

  Then he lifted it again and looked into her eyes once more.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded like he had swallowed ground glass.

  But his eyes looked as if he had seen the end of the world.

  “I have somethin’ I have to tell you,” he said.

  AFTER SHE HAD heard what Jeremy had to say, Sam left anyway.

  As quickly as she could.

  Chapter 31

  ‡

  SAME DAY

  Obergrande Community Church, Obergrande, New York

  LUCY SULLIVAN KNOCKED on Pastor Fuller’s office door, an armload of books and supplies balancing in her hands.

  As she waited for a response, she glanced around the narthex, the foyer of the church, and smiled.

  Just as she had expected, the door was opened by a small girl, working on six years old, with long chestnut-brown hair.

  Who grinned widely upon seeing her.

  “Hello, Miss Sullivan,” Grace said.

  “Well, hello, Grace,” Lucy responded. “Is your daddy around?”

  “He is,” called Pastor Fuller from deeper within the office. “Be right out, Lucy.”

  Lucy exhaled and tried to maintain the balance of her supplies.

  Pastor Fuller appeared at the door, his face wreathed in a smile that quickly faded.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, rushing to her aid and offloading some of her burden. “I didn’t realize you were bringing your supplies already.”

  “I like to start early,” Lucy admitted, following him down into the church’s classroom wing.

  “Can you keep an eye on the office, honey?” Pastor Fuller asked Grace, who was following them.

  The little girl’s eyes lit up. “Can I answer the phone?”

  “Hmmm. What do you say when you do?”

  “ ‘Obergrande Community Church, how may I direct your call?’ ”

  “Good,” said Pastor Fuller as Lucy hid a smile. “Go for it.”

  “So how did your meeting go?” he asked as Grace hurried back to the office. He opened the door to a mid-size classroom with many toys and a long, low table. “Did the principal honor your request?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said. “I’m getting to keep my same kindergarten students for first grade next year. It was deemed a ‘measure of stability.’ ”

  “That’s great. Grace will be so excited.”

  “Anything to provide healing for the Fearless Fivesome,” Lucy said. “They seem to be doing well. How’s Grace liking summer?”

  “Loving it. We’ve been spending a lot of time in Schroon Lake.”

  At the words, Lucy’s smile faded. She thought back to the night of the Town Board meeting, three months prior, the night of her dinner date with Glen Daniels.

  Why aren’t you attending the hearing? I thought everyone in town was itching to be there tonight.


  Maybe, but I don’t live in town. I come over from Schroon Lake.

  “That’s a lovely place.” She inhaled, preparing herself. “Have you noticed any, well, anxiety?”

  Ben Fuller turned around in surprise.

  “Well, there’s the occasional nightmare from the flood, but the girls’ therapist has said that it’s normal.”

  Lucy pursed her lips as she tended to do when she was thinking of how to say something tactfully.

  “I think I noticed a little bit of uncertainty before the flood,” she said carefully. “For Grace, I think it might be biological—maybe inherited.”

  Pastor Fuller’s brows drew together.

  “Really? That’s strange—I’ve never noticed it. And neither Kathy nor I have any problems with that.”

  Lucy, who had seen Kathy Fuller in a few social situations, thought otherwise, but merely nodded.

  “Since the girls are still seeing a therapist regularly about the flood, you might want to just mention it to him—or her.”

  “Her,” Pastor Fuller said. “Thank you; I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Lucy just nodded and began unpacking her materials, inwardly disappointed.

  It was the brush-off most parents gave her when they didn’t want to see what she was talking about.

  “Thank you again for letting us borrow your classroom space,” she said, setting the books on the shelf. “I do hope the new school is open and ready for business next year, so you can have your religious ed space back. It was great to have it this year, to finish out the school year for those kids.”

  “It’s not a bother at all,” said Pastor Fuller. “We’re glad to be able to help out. Isn’t that what neighbors are for?”

  Lucy smiled. “Absolutely.”

  Grace appeared at the door.

  “Someone on the phone for you, Daddy,” she said importantly. “He has a special offer on magazines for you—hurry!”

  Lucy laughed as the minister rolled his eyes and followed his daughter out the door.

  Murray Street

  DAVE WINDSOR RANG the doorbell, a package in hand.

  As he waited, he cast a glance around the neighborhood.

  Leland and Betty Finley had found a nice home in an area of the remains of East Obergrande distant from Tree Hill Park. He admired the landscaping and the pristine driveway leading up to the little Cape Cod home with Adirondack styling, the cedar shakes and pitched roof, typical for the area.