A Soft Place to Fall

by Barbara Bretton

  If anyone had missed seeing Sam kiss Annie's hand at the Labor Day picnic, the front page color photo in the weekly newspaper brought them up to speed.

  Annie turned bright red on Friday morning when Sweeney dropped a copy of the paper on the sales counter and said, "Way to go, girl!" Claudia peered over Annie's shoulder to see what the commotion was all about and when she saw the very romantic photo, her smile grew tight and then she turned away.

  As the days and weeks progressed, Annie found herself thinking of the Labor Day picnic as the dividing line between her old life and her new one with Sam. Suddenly her life was filled to the brim with passion and joy and a renewal of creativity that had lain dormant for far too long. She felt truly herself in all the ways that mattered. Each night in Sam's arms she rediscovered another long buried part of the woman she used to be: the sensual, curious, happy woman she had come close to losing.

  There was no denying that they were a couple now. Claudia remained pleasant but distant, as if Annie's feelings for Sam somehow diminished her love for the woman who had opened her heart to her all those years ago. Nothing could have been further from the truth but each time Annie tried to broach the topic, Claudia found another chore that needed doing or suddenly remembered a meeting she had to attend. Annie was more than a daughter-in-law but not quite a daughter by blood and the thought that loving Sam might mean she lost the woman who had mothered her for over twenty-two years made her terribly sad.

  "Pay no attention to her," Warren had said when she dropped off the latest batch of typed manuscript for him. "She's worked herself into a snit. She'll work herself out of it sooner or later."

  Annie wasn't so sure about that. Claudia seemed to spend most of her free time poring over piles of documents connected to her Adam Winters seminars and when she wasn't reading, she was entering numbers into the computer then saving them to a floppy disk that went everywhere with her. Under normal circumstances, Annie wouldn't have hesitated to ask her what was going on but these days they were walking on eggshells around each other and Annie wasn't about to make the situation between them any more uncomfortable than it already was.

  Even Susan's attitude toward Annie had changed. Oh, she still was the master of lighthearted banter but there was an awkwardness between them that had never been there before.

  "You're so busy all the time," Susan said to her one afternoon in early October. She had stopped in at the shop to pick up an arrangement for a client's housewarming. "The kids keep asking when they're going to see their Aunt Annie."

  "Aunt Annie's right here," she said as she draped moss over the wire frame of a harvest cornucopia. "Tell them they can drop in anytime."

  "You know what I'm talking about."

  "No," said Annie as she reached for some broad and glossy ivy leaves, "I don't. I'm here, Susie, every single day of the week and when I'm not here I'm over at Warren's working on a project."

  "Or you're with Sam."

  "So that's what this is about."

  "Yes – I mean, no – oh, hell, I don't know what I mean."

  Annie wiped her hands along the sides of her jeans. "Why don't I brew some tea?" she suggested, glancing at the clock. "Claudia's off at her seminar today and the crew from the co-op are at Bar Harbor setting up for a sidewalk show this weekend."

  "I really shouldn't," Susan said. "I'm at the front desk this afternoon."

  "Ten minutes," Annie urged. "It's been too long, Susie." She flipped the sign on the door to read Closed. "Now how can you refuse me?"

  They fell together into the old rhythms of friendship. Annie took down the red tea pot she had found years ago at a yard sale and broke out the loose tea.

  "Fancy-shmancy," Susan remarked as she ferreted out a box of Oreos in the narrow cupboard off the workroom. "Will you read my tea leaves?"

  "I don't have to," Annie said as she poured the boiling water into the pot. "I know we're all in for clear sailing."

  "Speak for yourself," Susan said as she separated the two layers of cookie and exposed the filling. "I think I see a few storm clouds on the horizon."

  "Anything you want to tell me about?"

  "I don't know . . . I mean, it's all – damn it, Annie, I'm jealous as hell."

  Annie started to laugh. "You're kidding, aren't you? You have everything I ever wanted." A husband, kids, a beautiful house, a job, a big family all of whom loved her unconditionally.

  To her astonishment, Susan's dark brown eyes filled with tears. "You're so happy these days. Everyone's noticed it. The two of you actually light up a room when you walk in. If I could feel that way again for just ten seconds I –" She caught herself. "Don't mind me. I'm premenopausal."

  "You're jealous of Sam and me?" She couldn't believe she was even saying those words.

  "Yes," Susan said as the tears spilled down her cheeks, "and if you want to hear something really sick, I was jealous of you and Kevin too."

  "I don't know what to say."

  Susan laughed raggedly and dabbed at her eyes with the edge of a paper towel. "You and Kevin were the most romantic couple I'd ever known. We were all wildly jealous of you two in high school and then when you got married – hell, it was better than the romance novels we were reading under the covers at night. Do you know what we called you two?"

  Annie shook her head. She was beginning to think she knew very little at all.

  "The Orphan and the Penniless Poet."

  Annie started to laugh.

  "I know, I know, it sounds funny now but back then we thought it was the most thrilling and romantic thing in the world."

  "Even when Kevin and I were working double shifts at McDonald's to make ends meet?"

  "What's more romantic than poverty when you're young?"

  Oh, Susan, if you only knew . . . .

  Annie poured tea for both of them then settled back down opposite her friend. "I know you and Jack are happy," she said. "Knowing you, I can't believe you'd still be with him if you weren't."

  "We're happy," Susan admitted, "but sometimes I find myself wondering what else might be out there." She fiddled with her spoon. "I'm forty-two, Annie, and I can't believe this is as good as it's going to get."

  "Isn't that what Sweeney said when she left husband number six?"

  "I'm not saying I want six husbands," Susan said with a mock groan, "but sometimes I see a man and next thing you know I'm having him stripped and brought to my tent." She laughed at the look on Annie's face. "Figuratively speaking, of course."

  "I thought I was the only one who did that."

  It was Susan's turn to look shocked. "You? You're kidding!"

  "All the time," Annie said. "You wouldn't believe what I did with the new attendant at the gas station last spring."

  Susan started to laugh and then before you knew it Annie was laughing too, huge loud belly laughs that left no room for jealousy or anger.

  "When I was pregnant with my last one, I actually started fantasizing about Hall in the delivery room," Susan admitted.

  "Did you know Roberta Morgan spritzes herself with Shalimar before every visit?"

  The two of them convulsed in laughter again, falling across the table in helpless mirth.

  "Now where did you hear something like that?" Susan demanded when she could finally speak again.

  "I heard it right here," Annie said. "She and Claudia were talking about gyno visits and Roberta piped up with that revelation."

  "I would've given anything to see my mother's face when she heard that."

  Annie poured them some more tea and broke into a new bag of cookies.

  "You know I was disappointed that it didn't work out for you and Hall," Susan said.

  "I figured as much." Annie sipped her tea. "He's a good man," she said, "but there's just no chemistry there."

  "Maybe there could be if you gave him a chance."

  Annie shook her head. "You can't force chemistry, Susie. It's either there or it isn't."

  "Now you sound like Jack."


  "Your husband's a smart man."

  "I know," said Susan.

  "And he loves you."

  "I know that too."

  "That's more than most of us get in one lifetime."

  Susan broke apart another Oreo. "Did you love Kevin?" she asked suddenly.

  "What kind of question is that?" Annie bristled. "Of course I loved him."

  "Were you happy?"

  Why didn't she ask how many angels could dance on the head of a pin?

  "I think you've had too much orange pekoe."

  "No, no," Susan said. "Don't push me away with a joke, Annie. I want to know if you and my brother were happy together."

  "Is this a test?" Annie asked lightly. "Miss one question and I'm drummed out of the Galloway clan."

  It was Susan's turn to bristle. "You looked happy. You sounded happy. But lately I've found myself wondering what happiness is all about."

  "You're married," Annie said, choosing her words with great care. "You know it isn't always a matter of being happy or unhappy."

  "He adored you."

  Annie couldn't deny it. "He wasn't the most practical of men."

  "He was a poet," Susan said. "A poet dropped in the middle of a bunch of bean counters. Mother was the only one who really understood him."

  "It isn't always easy living with a poet." We almost lost the house, Susie. Strange men used to show up at our door in the middle of the night. Our poet had a terrible problem . . . .

  "Is Sam a poet?"

  Annie shook her head. "Only when he's working on one of Warren's boats. He seems to understand them from the inside out."

  "Is that what he does for a living, repair boats?"

  She couldn't help smiling. "Would you believe he's some kind of bean counter."

  "You're happy, aren't you?"

  "Very."

  "And you're being careful. It's a different world out there from when we were young and dating. The rules have all changed."

  "He's a good man." Remember how I fell apart when my parents died, Susie? Sam lost his parents too when he was about the same age, but he didn't fall apart. He did what he had to do to keep his family together. I would never have been able to do that. "I've never known anyone like him."

  "He'd better be good," Susan said fiercely, "or he'll have to answer to me."

  "He saved my life."

  "Very funny."

  "I'm not joking, Susie. He saved my life the night I moved into the new house." She told her the whole story, from the bottle of cheap bubbly on an empty stomach to setting fire to her beautiful green robe to waking up in bed with him the next morning.

  "Ohmigod," Susan breathed, wide-eyed. "Ohmigod!"

  "And as if that's not enough," Annie said, "he brought over a bag of DeeDee's donuts."

  Susan pretended to fall across the table in a swoon. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you? First you tell me the guy is a bona fide hero, then you tell me he wooed you with DeeDee's donuts."

  "Afraid so," Annie said. "I didn't stand a chance. He's as close to perfect as a man can get."

  "The donuts alone would have done it for me," Susan admitted.

  They talked about other things too, touching on subjects near and dear to their hearts in a way they hadn't for far too long. Family and friends and the latest gossip making the rounds about town. "You're the number one topic these days," Susan said as Annie washed the cups and teapot.

  Annie handed Susan a wet cup and a dry dishtowel "What are they saying?"

  "Mostly that you never looked so good. Ceil at Yankee Shopper thinks you're doing tae bo."

  Annie burst out laughing. She wanted to tell her friend how wonderful it felt to have a secure roof over her head, to no longer worry about strangers on her doorstep or late night phone calls. She might not have much but what she had belonged to her free and clear and the sense of freedom and independence that gave her was exhilarating. And then to have someone like Sam walk into her life at that very moment—well, it was enough to make a woman believe she just might have been born under a lucky star after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hall looked up from his computer to find Ellen standing in the doorway to his office. She was holding a newspaper clipping in her right hand.

  "I found this is in the fax machine," she said. "Nice picture of Annie Galloway and Sam Butler, isn't it?"

  "Thanks," he said. "I was wondering what happened to it."

  "You have to check the machine now and again, Hall." She walked over and dropped the clipping on his keyboard. "One day you might leave something incriminating behind."

  He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her. "If you have something to say, why don't you just say it."

  "I am saying it." She leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm just not sure you're listening."

  "I faxed a copy of a newspaper story to a friend. Is that a crime?"

  "That picture goes back to Labor Day. How long are you going to hang onto it?"

  "It's not what you think."

  "Yeah," she said. "Sure it isn't."

  "Annie's in love with the guy. I know that." There were times when he even believed it.

  "So what are you doing hanging onto this stupid picture?"

  "A hunch," he said.. "A reminder." He shoved away from his desk and stood up. "Hell, Markowitz, I don't know why but I'm glad I did."

  She looked weary and more than a little bit irritable. "You still think he looks familiar, don't you?"

  "More than ever. What can it hurt to check him out with a few sources."

  "You mean, apart from the fact that it's none of your business?"

  "I've known Annie since we were kids," he said, not quite sure why he wanted her to understand. "She's been through a lot in her life. I don't want to see her go through anything else."

  "Never knew you were such a Boy Scout."

  "You're not acting like yourself today, Markowitz. What's going on?"

  "Forget it," she said. "If you can't figure it out for yourself, it's hopeless."

  She slammed the door behind her so hard the certificates on his wall rattled. No matter what Ellen though, he hadn't been trying to duck her question. Right from the beginning he'd had the feeling he knew Sam. There was something familiar about him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on and it was driving him crazy.

  The sense that Sam Butler was hiding something was too strong to ignore. So was the certainty that Annie was going to be hurt. He knew there wasn't any hope for him but he'd be damned if he stood still while some other guy broke her heart. If he couldn't have her, the least he could do was make sure a better man did. And there was no way in hell that Sam Butler was the better man.

  What could it hurt to fax the clipping to some of his friends and colleagues down in New York and see what, if anything, he could uncover. Susan said the guy was some kind of bean counter on Wall Street. That was a good place to start. He had failed Annie once with his silence. He didn't want to make that mistake a second time.

  #

  Sam spent his days at work in Warren's barn and his nights in Annie's bed, moving easily between heaven and paradise. The first of the canoes was almost finished. All that remained was the time-consuming job of stretching the canvas over the frame and securing it at one-inch intervals. Most people would have found the work tedious and repetitive but not Sam. He loved everything about the process. The sharp-sweet smell of freshly cut wood. The graceful curve of the shell. The symmetry of the bench seats. The taut crispness of canvas stretched to its limit.

  Canoes were wonders of maritime construction, elegant and efficient, the perfect example of the "less is more" philosophy. They glided silently through the waters same as they had two centuries ago when the Penobscot still outnumbered the white man. Canoes were rich with the history of the place and Sam found himself drawn more deeply into the process with every day and, by association, more deeply drawn into lure of the region and its people.

&nb
sp; Both Annie and Warren were of this place. The rugged shoreline and fertile waters had helped shape them. They were both strong and honorable and fiercely loyal to the people and things they loved, old-fashioned virtues he understood even if he fell far short in applying them to real life.

  Warren and some of his old friends were up in Canada on their annual mid-October fishing expedition which coincided with Pete and Nancy's week in Rhode Island with their daughter and new grandbaby. Sam said he would take in the mail and keep a casual eye on the house but except for an occasional FedEx delivery, nobody ever drove past the mailbox at the foot of the driveway. Solitude of this richness and magnitude was new to Sam and he was surprised to discover how much he liked it. He was able to sink deeply into his work to the point where the rest of the world fell away. Annie was that way too. He had noticed the way she blocked out everything but the project at hand when she worked, sailing away deep into some interior world that was hers alone. Further proof, as if he needed any, that they were meant to be.

  Warren had been elated when she told him that she'd nailed a concept for the front of the museum and he had faxed her list of materials to a friend who promised to fulfill the order within the next two weeks. Annie alternated between excitement and terror, convinced one minute that she was about to make her mark and equally convinced the next that she was doomed to failure.

  She fascinated him, delighted him, made him feel anything was possible. She understood the deep loneliness that never quite went away because she felt it too. Losing both parents was like being cast adrift in hostile waters without a compass. It marked you, changed you forever in the most primal way possible. Life would never again seem safe or easy. He was glad she'd had the Galloway family to drew her into their circle and made her one of their own. He wished his own brothers and sisters had been half that lucky. He had done his best but more often than not these days it seemed as if his best hadn't been close to good enough.

  He began to close up shop around six o'clock. Max, who had been sleeping peacefully in a quiet corner of the barn-turned-workroom, barked twice and took off through the open door.