His pleasure in her suffused him, and as he touched his lips to her fragrant gleaming hair he thought that he had never known such enthusiasm for another person, had not known such delight was possible. It both awed and fascinated him that every time he saw Sage he was refreshed, renewed, and reborn.
"You do fast work," he observed over her shoulder. She'd just started the job, and a pile of old wallpaper strips already blocked the door to his room. At this rate she'd be through with the job by tomorrow.
"This wallpaper is a snap to remove," she told him. "It peels right off." She paused, then decided to get it over with. "By the way," she said. "I asked Jim if he wanted a job working for me while he's here. He, um, said no in no uncertain terms."
Adam's eyebrows flew up and his arms tightened around her. "Was he rude?" he demanded.
She shook her head. "Not rude. Gruff."
Adam groaned. "Sage, if he spoke to you disrespectfully," he began, but Sage placed a finger across his lips.
"No, no, it wasn't like that," she soothed.
Adam told her quickly about the argument he and Jim had had over gas for the car.
"You were right, Adam, if that's any consolation. It's fair to expect him to pay for gas."
"I know." Adam sighed. "And yet I see how your family works, so peacefully, with everyone doing what he or she is supposed to do, and I wonder, how am I ever going to build any sense of family with Jim?"
"You should have seen the fight Hayley and Gregory had the other day," she told him. "You would have felt reassured. They called each other every name in the book because Greg ate the last of the Cocoa Krispies that Hayley thought should be hers."
"So what did you do?" Adam had so little experience with families. He wasn't sure what made one work and another fail.
"They ranted and raved and didn't speak to each other for a couple of hours, and the next thing I knew, Hayley was calling out Gregory's spelling words to him." She shrugged. "We all work at it. It's not completely natural to function as a family."
The door slammed below. "My son returns," Adam said wryly. Suddenly he looked tired. The long hours of work and his worry over Jim had taken their toll.
"I think I'll go wash up," he said. "I feel grimy from working in the shop most of the day." He hurried away, postponing a confrontation with Jim as long as he could.
After Adam left, Sage climbed the ladder and went to work. Jim was so quiet as he mounted the stairs that she didn't hear him until he stood beneath her. When she looked down to see him, she was so startled that she wobbled. Jim steadied the ladder for her.
"Thanks, Jim," she said, and went on steaming wallpaper.
"Sage," Jim began, and then stopped. He wasn't sure how to proceed. He regretted turning down her offer of a job. Now that he'd thought about it, the job seemed important. It would be a way of proving himself to his father and showing that he could be responsible. He wanted to redeem himself after all the trouble back in Hartford. He wanted the job.
Sage stopped what she was doing and looked down at him. He appeared acutely uncomfortable, as though trying to swallow his pride. He stood there, uncertain, looking gangly and young and somehow very forlorn.
"Yes, Jim?"
"I... I'd like to work for you," he said. "Is it still all right?"
She smiled warmly. Jim reminded her so much of Adam. Despite his problems in the past, she was sure that Jim was going to be okay. He was having growing pains, that was all.
"Sure," she told him cheerfully, her very tone an expression of confidence. He was grateful for that. "When can you start?" she asked.
"Now. Right now," he said, grinning up at her, relieved that she'd made no big deal out of his abrupt turnaround.
"Okay. Go put on some old clothes. You're going to learn how to steam wallpaper."
Jim nodded his head, satisfied, and loped off toward his room.
And that, thought Sage, is a real surprise. She couldn't wait to tell Adam.
Chapter 13
On Christmas night after the festivities were over, Jim and Hayley left Sage's house in Adam's car, with Adam's blessing but with Jim's gasoline. Sage drove Adam back to Kalmia Hill and made slow, languorous love in front of the fireplace. Afterward they watched glowing sparks from the flames whirl up the chimney like so many golden fireflies. They lay beside each other, a fur lap robe beneath them, their fingers interlocked, their spirits renewed.
Sage shifted her position so that her head rested on Adam's shoulder. "Joy loved her stuffed unicorn," she told him. "She insisted on taking it to bed with her tonight. The unicorn may even supplant old Watson."
Adam smiled. "I'm glad. This has been a wonderful Christmas, Sage. The best one I've ever had." He pulled the edges of the lap robe up around them so that its fur enfolded them like a warm cocoon.
"Oh, Adam," she said, her throat constricting. She was recalling the way he'd looked at their Christmas tree, all lighted up and with presents spilling every which way beneath it, when he and Jim had arrived for the present-opening ceremony the night before. Adam's eyes had grown wide, just like a child's. In that instant she had seen a brief glimpse of the boy Adam had once been, and she had felt a pang of sadness because his boyhood had not included Christmas trees and family and the closeness that goes along with those things.
"And you," he went on, tracing the line of her collarbone with one cool fingertip, "were magnificent. I watched last night and today as you made sure everyone got enough attention, that they found their presents under the tree, and that they interacted happily with everyone else. My dear handyman, you're adept at oiling the machine so that it runs smoothly."
"You're giving me too much credit," she objected, but she was touched that he'd noticed her efforts.
"I wonder if anyone else realizes how much you do to make that house a home and that family a real family."
She silenced him with a kiss. Then she settled down comfortably, her head on his chest, the hair there wiry against her cheek. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily. Her view of the antique clock on the mantel was blocked by Adam's head in her line of vision, and she didn't want Hayley and Jim to return after the movie to find them asleep in front of the fire wearing nothing but a fur lap robe.
"Good question," murmured Adam beside her ear. "Why don't you look under the settee and find out?" He loved planning surprises for her.
"Under the settee?" She lifted her head and stared at him.
"Sure. There's more under there than just dust." His eyes sparkled mysteriously.
Dubiously she lifted the skirt of the settee beside her and saw a small wrapped package there. She shot Adam an amazed look that made all his planning worth it.
"For me?"
"For you. Hurry and open it. I can't stand the suspense."
"But you've already given me a present!" They had exchanged them in front of the Christmas tree during the general present-opening on Christmas Eve. Her gift to him had been a handcrafted wine rack that she'd made herself, and his to her had been a cashmere sweater in an appropriate shade of sage green.
"There's no law that says I can't give you more than one present, is there?"
She tugged at the silver bow until it fell away, and then at the metallic-green wrapping paper. This disclosed a small white box, in which reposed another box, this one deep-blue velvet with a hinged lid. She lifted the lid to find a lovely gold watch, a Piaget styled similarly to his.
"Adam! How beautiful!" She was stunned. She knew the watch had cost thousands of dollars. She couldn't possibly accept it.
"I thought you'd never ask me what time it was," he told her, enjoying her surprise, feeling it. He loved pleasing her and would like to buy her more presents. Her delight shaped her eyes into circles and intensified their unusual golden color. She made him want to do more for her, much more.
"But I can't accept this!" she exclaimed.
"Of course you can. And will. You've never replaced your watch that stopped the day we met. I want you to hav
e it," he said firmly, taking the box from her and removing the watch. He carefully fastened it on her wrist and she held it up so that she could look at it in the flickering firelight.
"It's exquisite," she said. She couldn't believe his generosity.
Adam turned the inside of her wrist toward him and kissed her forearm gently just above the watch. She slid her arms up around his neck, closing her eyes as the full force of her love for him swept over her. "I've never had such a lovely present," she told him truthfully.
"And I," he said, "have never had such a lovely Christmas." His lips found hers and plied them so sensitively that she let her head fall back, savoring his natural taste of cinnamon and cloves, and let him ease her down onto the fur throw until she was lying beneath him, his weight bearing down on her and holding her down, although she felt so light and free that she might have floated away, drifting up the chimney with one of the sparks from the fire.
* * *
It was on New Year's Day that Jim decided to stay in Willoree rather than go back to his mother.
Sage and her family were eating a savory dish known as Hoppin' John for luck in the new year, a South Carolina tradition on New Year's Day. Hoppin' John consisted of black-eyed peas and rice cooked with a piece of ham hock, and Sage and Irma had set up a buffet table in the dining room to serve the Hoppin' John in addition to several cold meats and relishes. Visitors and well-wishers this New Year's Day were welcome to sit down and eat with them if they wished.
They'd had several visitors, including Lyndell and Ed Sheedy. Ed looked well, and Lyndell was cheerful.
"I'm glad to see Ed looking so fit," Sage told Lyndell as they sat with their plates and coffee mugs in the living room. Ed had joined a group in the den, where everyone was watching an interminable holiday football game on television.
"He keeps talking about going back to work," Lyndell said with a worried frown.
"Will his doctors let him?"
"Not yet. But I want him to retire, Sage. If only we could find a buyer for the Wilpacko plant." Lyndell sighed.
"Have you had nibbles?"
"One or two. Nothing serious. A lot of changes are about to happen in Wilpacko's manufacturing process, and investors want the plant to prove itself before they put their money into it. I'd like to see Wilpacko sold. I don't think Ed's up to the strain of overseeing the installation of new machinery and all the other things that are coming up."
"Ed seems so much better."
"He has good days and bad days. He's chomping at the bit to get back to the plant, but I've been hoping that Ed and I could take that leisurely vacation through Europe that we've always dreamed about." Lyndell had been talking about such a trip for ages. She and Ed wanted to take a river cruise, maybe down the Danube, or hire a car and drive to several countries with their own private guide.
"Oh, Lyndell. You deserve that. I hope it happens." Sage couldn't remember a time when Lyndell hadn't been at Ed's side. She'd always been his unfailing support and managed to hold down the home front while her husband grew the business. She'd become Ed's devoted caregiver since his heart attack. It would be nice if Lyndell could finally relax and enjoy herself doing something just for fun.
Lyndell folded her napkin. "I can't tell you how wonderful Adam has been, Sage. He's so knowledgeable about the industry and does a terrific job. He's been a lifesaver. Literally, too, by taking care of Ed until the ambulance arrived on that awful night."
Sage glowed in the light of this praise of Adam. But she hated to think about the Wilpacko plant's being sold. The selling of Wilpacko Industries might well cut short Adam's stay in Willoree, and she didn't like to think about that.
Lyndell and Ed left as Adam and Jim arrived. Sage knew as soon as Adam got out of his car that something had happened to make him happy. She could tell by the swing of his shoulders and the spring in his step. Jim was beaming too.
Adam greeted Sage with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek.
"Are you going to tell me the news right away or are you going to make me suffer?" she teased, reaching up to tweak his mustache.
To her surprise, he circled her waist with his hands and swung her up and around, jubilantly lifting her high in the air before he set her down again. She laughed in excitement.
Joy watched openmouthed from the stair landing. Adam bounded up the stairs and picked her up before coming down again, smoothing Joy's red-velvet holiday dress. Joy wrapped her arms trustingly around his neck. She was used to Adam now, and she doted on him.
"The news," Adam said, grinning at a breathless Sage and then at Jim, "is that Jim is going to live with me. He's not going back to Hartford tomorrow as planned."
Sage swung her head around and saw that Jim was nodding to confirm his father's words. "That's right."
"Really?" said Hayley from the door to the living room. She looked adorable in her new tunic, leggings and boots, gifts from Irma and Ralph. "Honestly?" She looked as though she were afraid this might be a joke they were playing on her.
"Really," said Jim, looking happier than ever when Hayley smiled at the news.
"Come and tell me all about it," said Hayley, offering her hand. She and Jim settled into the familiar dining-room window-seat niche, and Adam, still carrying Joy, followed Sage, with a jaunty rhythm in his stride, into the living room, where they found a cozy place together on the couch.
"How did it happen?" asked Sage. She was happy that Adam was happy. To her knowledge, the possibility that Jim might stay with his father had never before been discussed.
"Jim got so depressed about going back to Hartford that we called Marcia in desperation and told her how he felt. She agreed that it might not be a good idea for him to go back to Hartford, so he's going to start at Willoree High after the holidays."
"Having Jim at Willoree High will certainly make Hayley happy," observed Sage, watching Hayley and Jim from where she sat. They held hands, and Hayley was gazing into Jim's eyes.
"Say, I brought a surprise," said Adam suddenly and unexpectedly.
"You did?"
"Yes. Here, sweetheart," and he deposited Joy in Sage's lap. "I have to go out to the car for a minute."
When Adam returned he was carrying his violin case.
Nothing could have surprised Sage more. "Adam," she said slowly as he set the case down on the coffee table and proceeded to release the catches, lifting the lid and exposing the beautiful, shimmering wood of the instrument.
Adam looked at Sage quizzically. "What's wrong?"
"I know how you feel about playing your violin," she said, and their eyes met and held so that they each knew the other was thinking of that emotion-filled night at Adam's house when she had chanced upon him playing the violin and he had subsequently bared his soul to her.
"It's about time some feelings were laid to rest," he said firmly and quietly as he rosined his bow, "and new traditions were begun." He removed the instrument from the case, tucked it under his chin, and lighted into a rollicking rendition of "Old Dan Tucker."
Adam's vibrant playing stirred Joy into rhythmic dancing and attracted a host of others, including Gregory, Macon and Zoey, from all over the big house. And Adam, playing his violin, led them in a conga line through the dining room, where they picked up Hayley and Jim, to the kitchen, where Irma dropped what she was doing and followed along, to the back porch where they persuaded Poppy and Snowball to come with them, to the den where Ralph and visiting neighbors actually left the game and proceeded with the now very large group to the living room.
There as they gathered around him, Adam entertained them with folk songs, his playing lively, his dark eyes snapping with merriment as he energetically plied his bow across the strings of the violin. His long fingers fairly flew as they coaxed a smattering of gypsy music and old favorites from the instrument.
Sage's eyes connected with his over the violin, communicating without words. She loved him so much that her heart hurt. A feeling swept through her, one that she could only identi
fy as belonging. He fits, she realized, he fits in here with all the rest of us. Just as Ralph and Irma fit, as Gregory and Hayley fit, as Poppy fits.
No, she told herself, denying it. It's just the holiday spirit, that's all. But underneath her denial there was certainty: Adam fits. The thought made her happy, but it was a bittersweet happiness. He fitted into this peculiar jigsaw-puzzle kind of a family she had put together, but at the end of a year he would be leaving, and his leaving would create a hole that no other piece could fill. A big, jagged hole.
And if Adam fitted, what about Jim? Her eyes flew to Jim, who sat in a corner, holding hands with Hayley. He still stood out from the rest, alien if not alienated, and not really a part of them. No, Jim did not fit. He was still an extra piece.
Adam ended his violin concert with a sing-along in which everyone participated, even the dog Snowball.
"My, Adam," said Irma, fanning her face with fluttery fingers, out of breath when the sing-along was over. "The town of Willoree hasn't heard the likes of your music since the Down Home Gospel Singers arrived for a visit and packed the high school gym chock-full back in 1998. Tell me, do you know how to play 'That Old-Time Religion'?"
"Time for bed, Joy," Sage whispered to her daughter, and with a laughing look back at Adam over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs, she left him to deal with Irma and her request.
Adam and Jim stayed late. Just before they left, Adam again tucked his violin under his chin, this time playing "Auld Lang Syne." Everyone joined in the song, and it was with a warm, close feeling that they finally dispersed.
"Good night, Sage," Adam told her as she walked him out to his car, their arms linked loosely around each other. His violin case swung easily from his other hand. When they reached his car, she turned to face him. Jim and Hayley were walking close behind them, so she satisfied herself with his light kiss on her cheek.
"Good night, Adam," she whispered. "This has been such a happy New Year. I'm glad you and Jim were here. I'm glad you brought your violin."
Handyman Special Page 18
