by Bird, Peggy
“Help. Yeah, of all people in the world, I know that, Sam. You bailed me out once. Big time. I can’t let you keep doing that. I have to stand on my own.”
“Amanda … ”
“No more. We had this discussion before and nothing’s changed since then. I need to take care of myself. Without being rescued like some stupid damsel in distress in a tower someplace.”
He folded her in his arms and held her. “No one would ever mistake you for Rapunzel, baby. Just don’t lock me out. Talk to me. At least let me be a sympathetic ear. Promise?”
“If you’ll promise not to try to solve my problems.”
“If that’s what you want, sure.” Then he kissed her softly and sweetly, a gentle, almost imperceptible touch of his lips on hers. When he outlined her lips with his forefinger, a yearning washed over her. In spite of her brave words, she loved his strength, felt safe with him. She had to fight the urge to dump it all in his lap so she could run away, lose herself in her work, maybe.
Instead, she tried to lose herself in his attention to her mouth as his warm breath feathered across her lips. Her breath stopped, the world stopped, while she waited for him to kiss her, really kiss her, as she knew he could. Finally, blessedly, he did. He tasted of chocolate and coffee and kissed like an angel. It was heaven to kiss him.
He drew her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other at the nape of her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair. Angling his head, he took her mouth with his. This time it was no angel who kissed her but a man who showed her how much he wanted her with his mouth, with his tongue, with his body as he turned her insides to liquid fire.
His lips never moved from hers even when he adjusted his head to have better contact so he could steal the breath from her lungs with a gentle suction. Desire flamed over her as his tongue explored her mouth. At the same time his hands moved from the small of her back up her sides straying to her breasts, his thumbs grazing the hardening tips of her nipples.
She drew her head back, trying to catch her breath but that only gave him access to her throat. He kissed down the side of her face to the rapidly beating pulse in her neck and sucked gently at it. She could feel heat swirl around her belly and moisture pool between her legs.
“Let’s take this to bed,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer, just moved to the stairs.
• • •
For a couple days, Sam chewed on the conversations they’d had about the basement and Eubie Kane. He didn’t know what to do about the push-back he was getting from her when he asked about either subject, didn’t know how to make her see that he wasn’t trying to run her life, just be part of it. Hell, more than that. He was falling in love with her. He wanted her safe, happy. Wanted to help her make that happen.
But he’d been relegated to spectator, at least in the parts where she had any problems. He didn’t like being useless. So to shake off that feeling, he did a couple things. He ran a background check on Eubie Kane, just to see what he could find out, which was nothing, not even a traffic ticket.
Then he asked around about the attorney Kane had hired. He was legit and high-priced, which led Sam to wonder where Kane was getting his money.
He also called the alarm company and found out exactly how many times there had been a false alarm at Amanda’s. It was considerably more than he was comfortable with. He asked them to call him directly if it happened again after they notified her but without telling her. And he got a patrol car to swing by in the evenings just for good measure.
She’d be pissed as hell if she knew what he’d done. He’d have to take that chance. Because he couldn’t just stand by and watch, even if she wanted him to.
• • •
“How come you’re not with the sexy cowboy this weekend?” Cynthia asked as she hugged her old college roommate.
“He’s got his two sons with him,” Amanda said. “How come you’re not with Josh?”
“He’s at some political thing in Olympia.” She extracted herself from the hug. “So we have a chance to talk about them both! Have you met his sons yet?”
“No, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“How come? You’re clearly in love … ”
“Can we do this later? I’d rather see the new work you’re bringing for Liz’s gallery.”
So, they talked glass and art for a while, then delivered Cynthia’s jewelry to The Fairchild Gallery. Finally, back at Amanda’s house, they cracked open a bottle of wine and began cooking dinner.
“Is this later?” Cynthia asked.
“Meaning … ?”
“You said we could talk about you and Sam later. Is this later?”
“I don’t know, Cyn. It’s complicated.”
“As best I can figure out, that pretty much describes every male/female relationship on the planet. Why did you think yours would be different? Is he … ?”
“It’s not him. It’s me. I’m just not sure I can pull off a successful relationship.”
“For heaven’s sake, why? I mean, your last one was a disaster, but you had good relationships before.”
“Really? Jim Warden?”
“Okay, not him.”
“Bill McClain?”
“Or him.” Before Amanda could add to the list, she said, “I get your point. But those were college guys. You’re way past college now.”
“And last year I got involved with a guy I was doing business with who turned out to be a cheating, crooked scum-bag. That’s even worse than I did in college.”
“Surely you don’t put Sam in the same category?”
“Dear God, no. He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s sweet and kind; he’s smart and funny; he’s … ”
“Sexy as hell and great in bed.”
“Sexy as … wait, how do you know what he’s like in bed?”
“Because your face just told me. So, you’re in love with him. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just … I don’t know. I’m just not ready for it.”
“Not ready or scared?”
“Both, maybe. Not ready to admit what I’m feeling because I don’t want to make another mistake. Scared I’m feeling this way to avoid taking care of myself.”
“You’ve taken care of yourself since you were in college.”
“Yeah, me and a huge trust fund I did nothing to deserve.”
“Okay, you’ve had stable finances. But moving half-way across the country from your family, following your dream, establishing yourself as an artist … isn’t that taking care of yourself?”
“I seem to be able to manage it in my professional life. I just suck at it personally. But,” she pulled a pan of cornbread out of the oven, “I’m going slowly with Sam. Until I figure it out.”
Cynthia ladled chili into bowls. “You’ve figured it out. You just haven’t been brave enough to admit to yourself — and to Sam — that you’re in love with him. That’s all.”
• • •
In the following weeks, Amanda’s life seemed as golden as the remaining autumn leaves on the trees in her backyard. She heard nothing from Eubie Kane, who appeared to have crawled back into the weeds. The lawyers continued to negotiate, burning money she was happy to spend from the trust fund she knew could keep her in attorneys for decades. She wasn’t sure that Eubie was in the same position.
Her professional life was blooming. The details of her solo show in Tacoma had been nailed down. A gallery owner from San Francisco contacted her about placing her work with him there. With her work in Liz’s gallery as well as the Erickson Gallery in Seattle, she was in the happy position of worrying whether she could produce enough to meet the demand.
And her personal life? It was off the charts. Dinners, movies, and nights with Sam m
ade the weeks rush by in glorious bliss. Cynthia was right. Soon she’d have to admit she was in love — first to herself and then to Sam.
• • •
After dinner one Saturday night, Sam said, “Are you ready to talk about something personal about us?”
“How personal?” She was sure she sounded wary.
“Meeting my sons. They’re getting pretty curious about you.”
She was sure she looked startled. “How do they even know about me?”
“They always ask what I’m up to on the weekends I don’t see them. They’ve noticed that I’m going out more and Sammy, the older one, asked what the name of the woman was who was going with me. He prides himself on being a good detective.”
“Like his dad.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m not sure. How’ve you handled this before when you’ve dated someone?”
“They’ve never met anyone I’ve gone out with. After the divorce, their mother and I agreed we’d be careful about introducing them to people who would float into their lives and then walk out when the relationship ended. We didn’t want to add any more stress than they were already under from the split.”
“You get along better with your ex than some people do with their spouses.”
“I don’t know about that but we do have the same ideas on how to parent our sons. We agreed, no overnight guests when the boys are around and, like I said, no introductions to anyone unless it’s more than a casual relationship. And this isn’t a casual relationship any more. At least, not for me. But you have to decide if you’re up for it. I haven’t said anything to them but if you’re okay with it, I thought maybe next Saturday you could have lunch or something with us.”
She took a deep breath and made the leap. “Okay, I guess it’s time. How about meeting at the dog park? If they hate me on sight, at least Chihuly will interest them enough to get us through an hour. But if everyone gets along, you could all come here for lunch.”
“They won’t hate you on sight but the dog park’s a great idea. Jack wants a dog so bad he can taste it but their stepdad has serious allergies and I won’t have one shut up all the time because of my hours. He’ll love Chihuly.”
The following Saturday Amanda sat on a bench in Normandale Park, her dog at her side. She wasn’t sure who was antsier: her about meeting the boys or Chihuly because he was being made to stay while all the animals around him were chasing balls and Frisbees. But Amanda wanted him with her until Sam and his sons arrived.
She didn’t get her way. At about the time Sam said they’d be there, Chihuly’s ears perked up and, slipping out of Amanda’s control, he took off running. When he ignored her calls to stop, she gave a long, sharp, shrill whistle and he came to an abrupt halt at the feet of two boys and a man who looked at Amanda in amazement.
“Christ, who knew you could do that?” Sam said as he circled her shoulders with an arm and kissed her.
“Sorry. Chihuly must have heard your voice. I didn’t. That’s the emergency signal that always makes him stop.”
“Him and everyone else in the park.” Sam gestured to the two boys. “Amanda, this is Sammy and this is Jack. Boys, this is Amanda St. Claire. And you’ve already met Chihuly.” Sammy put his hand out to shake hers and looked at her with his father’s brown eyes and serious expression. Jack had knelt to get to Chihuly’s level and barely acknowledged the introduction until Sam asked him to stand up and be polite.
After his “hello,” Jack said, “He has a funny name. What kind of dog is he? He’s wooly, kinda like a sheep.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Amanda said. “He’s a curly coated retriever. And he’s named for a glass artist who has curly black hair.”
“Does he do tricks?”
“He sits and stays although not today, I guess. And he fetches and rolls over. Mostly he likes to play Frisbee.”
“Can we play Frisbee with him, Dad?” Jack asked.
Sam glanced at Amanda who nodded. “The Frisbee’s back at the bench. I’ll get it.”
Sammy decided he didn’t want to play, so Sam and Jack went off to entertain Chihuly — or vice versa — while Sammy sat on the bench beside Amanda. He stared straight ahead, legs swinging, saying nothing.
After a few moments, Amanda said, “You look even more like your dad in person than in the photos he’s shown me. Do many people tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Does Jack look more like your mom?”
“I guess.”
“And do I remember right that you’re ten and Jack is seven?”
“Yes.”
“Does this feel as awkward to you as it does to me?”
No response although she was sure she knew the answer.
“Okay, how about you ask the questions. Surely there’s something you want to know about me.” Amanda faced him, trying to read his expression.
“Are you going to marry my dad?” he asked without turning toward her.
“You don’t mess around with the little stuff, do you? You are like your dad.” She shook her head. “The answer is, we haven’t talked about it. There are things that have to get settled first.”
“Like what?”
“Well, the first one is, do his sons and I get along.”
Sammy finally looked at her. “Jack will like you just because you have a dog.”
“So you’re the one I have to impress. Good to know.” She smiled at him and got a half-smile back. Progress, she thought.
“Will you spend the weekends with us from now on when we’re with Dad?” He’d turned away from her again.
“No, you guys don’t have a lot of time together so I don’t want to intrude. Although I wondered if you’d like to visit my studio sometime to see the two glassblowers I share space with work. I haven’t said anything to your dad yet because I wanted to see if you were interested first.”
“Dad said you’re an artist.”
“Yup. I work with glass but I don’t blow it. The kind of work I do, you might be interested in doing yourself.” As she went on to describe how she did her work, Sammy finally gave her his full attention.
• • •
It was killing Sam. He was trying to keep his mind on the Frisbee game but he really wanted to know what was going on with Amanda and Sammy. So far, Amanda was doing all the talking and his older son’s face was set in a familiar stubborn expression.
Sammy was a hard sell. Jack had been so young when the divorce happened he barely noticed that his parents didn’t live together any more. Sammy, on the other hand, had been old enough to be hurt and unhappy. He’d made it clear he wanted his parents back together. The first blow to his plans had been his mother’s remarriage. Amanda, Sam knew, would be the last nail in the coffin, consigning his hopes for reconciliation to the flames.
Sam wanted this meeting to work out because he had his own plans. They included things he’d never believed in until recently, like sappy, “happily ever after” movie shit. And then there was this image that flashed through his mind of a little girl with his brown eyes and her caramel-colored curls, sitting in front of him on an Appaloosa, her fingers laced through his as they guided the horse around the corral at the family ranch.
All his plans depended on the woman on the bench. But before he could work on her about the plans, he had to know she and the boys were comfortable with each other.
Suddenly Sammy smiled at Amanda and started talking, his hands moving in explanation of something. Maybe he shouldn’t have worried. She seemed to have charmed Sammy almost as fast as she’d charmed Sammy’s father.
Sam signaled to Jack to wind down the game, and headed toward the bench, his younger son running before him.
Jack raced right to Amanda. “Dad said we could go to your house and have lunch and play with Chihuly some more. Is it rea
lly all right?”
She nodded.
“But Sammy has to want to go, too. Say yes, Sammy. Please?” Jack begged.
Amanda stood up. “How about I go clean up after my dog, who seems to have left a little present over there while you three decide?”
“No,” Sammy said. “You don’t have to leave. Going to your house for lunch is okay. And maybe we can go see your studio. Dad, Amanda says if you and Mom are cool with it, she’ll teach us how to cut glass and make things like she does. Can we?”
Sam smiled at his son. “I’ll talk to your mom and see what she says but, yeah, I think that sounds like a great idea. Today, though, we’ll just watch Leo and Giles.”
“I’ll meet you there, Sam, as soon as I clean up after Chihuly,” Amanda said. He nodded and kissed the top of her head.
“The guys blow glass, you know,” Sammy said as they walked to where Sam’s truck was parked. “Amanda does a different kind of glass art. She cuts up sheets of glass into designs and fuses them in a kiln.” He continued, repeating almost word for word what Sam knew Amanda had told his son. Knew because she’d once explained it exactly like that to him.
• • •
That night, as he usually did after herding his sons to bed, Sam called Amanda, eager to find out how she felt about the day.
He broached the subject first. “You were a big hit. Not only is Jack in love with you because you have a dog, but you managed to charm Sammy, which is considerably harder. He says if I want to invite you for one of our Friday pizza nights or a Saturday green-eggs-and-ham dinner, it would be okay.”
“You don’t really make green eggs and ham, do you?”
“Close. When we eat in, we make odd combinations of food often dyed with a lot of food coloring to make up for the fact than none of the three of us can cook anything other than breakfast.”
“I’m honored and scared, all at the same time.”
“You’re not only beautiful but wise.” He was silent for a moment. “It went okay today, didn’t it?”
“I think so. I hope so. I really liked your boys. Jack is adorable, so open and loving. And Sammy is so much like you it almost made me cry. You and your ex have done a great job raising them.”
