He turned the water off, pulled a Brillo pad from beneath the sink then stood motionless with it in his hand. “At first, it was that. Just blind grief. So dark I didn’t think it could ever lift. And then later—” He hesitated, scrubbing at the edge of the pot, silent.
“Later, what?” she asked softly.
“I think I can see now that maybe I didn’t want anyone else around me to be happy. If I could lose the woman I loved in the worst imaginable way, then how could it be okay for everyone else in my life to go on as if it never happened?”
Sophie put her hand on his arm and pressed once.
He looked at her then, their gazes locking. “I’m sorry, Sophie. Sorry for everything I’ve put you through.” He brushed his thumb along the curve of her jaw. “You have no idea, do you?”
“About what?” Her voice did not sound like her own. It was soft at the edges like melting chocolate.
“You don’t notice that men’s eyes follow you. That they wish for the courage to approach you and most of the time don’t find it.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. That it was not how she saw herself. She swallowed hard, the caring in his voice making her want to believe his words.
Caleb curved his hand to the back of her neck, then leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. There was question in his touch—is this all right? Something in the slight collapse of her body toward his or the sudden unevenness of her breathing said yes, and he kissed her again, really kissed her this time.
Her hands found their way up from the center of his chest and made a loop around his neck. His moved to her waist, guiding her more firmly against him so that they stood entwined in a lovers’ embrace.
They kissed as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. And suddenly Sophie realized how empty she had been, that some part of her had gone unfulfilled, unacknowledged for a very long time.
“Sophie.”
She heard the contradictions in his voice.
She turned out of his arms, putting physical distance between them. “I should go. It’s getting late.”
Self-preservation had snapped walls into place. Deny before being denied. Leave before being left.
“Sophie, I—”
“Please, don’t apologize,” she said.
He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbed his thumb once across her collarbone. Sophie lifted her eyes to his. And terrifying though it was, it felt as if something began from that moment, like a seed popping from its nesting place in the ground, reaching out for light and air in its destiny to become something as yet unrecognizable.
CATHERINE AND JEB PUT the final touches on the kitchen and then went upstairs to get ready for bed.
She was in the bathroom smoothing night cream on her face when he came and stood in the doorway. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She looked up, their eyes meeting in the mirror. She started to deny it, then stopped. There was little she could hide from Jeb. “It was nice having them here, wasn’t it?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes. But you’ve got to let the two of them figure this out, Cath. I don’t want to see you get hopeful for something that might not happen.”
“It would be nice though, wouldn’t it?”
He came up behind her, put his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. “I wish it could be that easy. But there’s little in this world that’s perfect.”
About that, Catherine knew he was right. But still. “He smiled more tonight than I’ve seen him in years.”
“I know,” Jeb agreed.
They stood that way for a good bit, just holding one another, considering. After a while, they went to bed. Catherine turned to her husband, kissing him softly on the mouth. He kissed her in return, and she pulled him to her, loving him in this most simple and basic way, grateful to have back what she had nearly lost.
CALEB DROVE SOPHIE AND GRACE back to his house where they had left her car. Long after they’d pulled away, he sat outside on the porch, a dozen emotions weighing on him.
It was hard to know what to do with what had happened between them tonight. He’d wanted to kiss her, and so he had.
But nothing about the two of them made sense.
How could anything good come of a relationship with a beginning like theirs?
A shooting star flashed across the night-darkened sky. He’d never seen one on his own before. Laney had pointed one out to him once when they’d gone parking in the south pasture during a spring break from college.
“You can only see them if you let yourself look, Caleb.”
Her voice echoed clearly in his head. And as if she had reached out from the heavens and handed it to him, he had his answer.
Nothing good could come of his relationship with Sophie.
Unless he let it.
SOPHIE SPENT THE ENTIRE next day trying not to think about Caleb. And so, he was all she could think about.
She relived every touch, every kiss until thoughts of them colored everything she did. There was nothing logical about her attraction to Caleb. And yet its hold on her was like some drug, altering the way everything looked and felt.
She gave herself a half dozen lectures, all centering around why it was a good thing Caleb had stopped.
And there was no denying the truth of them.
But not one of her pep talks prevented her from wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t.
THERE MUST HAVE BEEN some reflection of those thoughts on her face that afternoon when Darcy knocked at her office door.
“You look different,” she said, stepping inside and taking a chair.
Sophie closed the lid to her laptop. “Different how?”
“Like you have a secret,” Darcy said, studying her.
She felt a flush spread across her cheeks, and busied herself with an entry in her Palm Pilot. “There is no secret,” she said.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Sophie met Darcy’s teasing gaze. And realized that she needed to talk. Maybe hearing herself voice aloud what had happened last night would illuminate the craziness of it clearly enough that she could stop thinking about it. “Caleb kissed me last night,” she said, the words out before she had time to rethink them.
Darcy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing for a few moments. “So how was it?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’ve lost my mind?”
“Would it do any good?”
“The whole thing is insane,” Sophie said. “It would never work.”
Darcy shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this after everything I’ve said to dissuade you, but here’s a fact. You look happy, Sophie. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?”
SOPHIE GOT HOME FROM CLASS around four that afternoon. She spent an hour or so in the backyard with Grace on the play set. They had just gone inside so she could start dinner when the phone rang.
Sophie tucked the cordless under her chin and opened the refrigerator. “Hello.”
“Sophie?”
At the sound of his voice, her heart dropped to the floor. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
A thousand different emotions were hidden in their reserved greetings.
“Do you have any plans tonight?”
“I was just starting dinner.”
There was a moment’s hesitation and then he said, “Would you like to come over? I thought maybe we could take a picnic out to this spot by the river. The sunsets are pretty incredible from there.”
Sophie replayed all of the logical arguments she had put together throughout the day. Then rejected them all outright, and said, “Yes. I would like that very much.”
SOPHIE HAD CALLED Becky Adams, one of her students who loved to stay with Grace whenever Sophie needed a sitter. She’d arrived with a bag full of books, and Grace had been so immersed in the first story that she’d barely noticed when Sophie had left.
Caleb was waiting on the porch when she pulled up in front of the house. He looked glad to see her, a picnic basket in his left hand, a quilt hung over his right arm. They walked along the edge of a thick green hay field that went on as far as Sophie could see, winding toward the mountain in the distance. To their right were trees, mostly old hardwoods that had watched generations of landowners walk these fields.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she said.
Caleb stopped and looked out across the field. “I think so, too. For a long time, my dad thought about selling it. He’s gotten a lot of pretty tempting offers over the years. But one thing he taught me was that owning land makes a person feel permanent, as if he belongs on that spot for the stretch of time he’s here, anyway.”
She looked at him, and something sealed between them, an understanding of sorts that neither of them could have imagined might come to exist a few months ago. To Sophie, it felt like something to hold on to, something rare and valuable she’d been lucky enough to stumble across.
They walked on and, after a couple of minutes, Caleb turned away from the green field and led her through the woods, down a winding path that found its end at the edge of a wide creek.
“We can eat here if it’s all right with you,” he said.
“It’s perfect.”
He dropped the quilt on a sandy patch of ground near the softly gurgling water.
It was a beautiful spot, the water so clear she could see the bottom, the rocks worn smooth and shiny. She wondered how many years it had taken to make them that way.
She slipped off her leather sandals and dipped her feet in. “Oooh, it’s cold.”
“It comes off the mountain.”
She bent down, scooped up a handful and tossed it in the air, tipping her head back and letting it rain across her face.
Caleb stood just behind her. She heard him step forward, then felt his hand close round her shoulder. Sophie went completely still, suddenly terrified to look at him. She somehow knew that if she did, everything she felt would show in her eyes. That he would be able to see straight through to the core of her where all the feelings she’d tried to reason out of existence had taken root with no regard for her resistance.
“Sophie.”
She turned and the moment was exactly as she had known it would be. She could no longer hide what she felt for him. She no longer wanted to.
He reached for her then, lifted her straight up against him so that her bare feet came off the ground.
He held her there, just looking at her, as if there were something in her worth taking time over.
Then he kissed her, quick and deep, as though he’d been thinking about it for a long time. As she had.
Around them, the creek trickled by, making its soft gurgle. The air held the heavy scent of honeysuckle, as sweet and potent as her attraction to Caleb.
They stood like that, locked into one another, kissing with the kind of hunger that demands satisfaction.
He put one hand at the back of her thigh. The air left her lungs in a whoosh.
He took a few steps backward, and they fell to the ground, landing on the blanket, laughing as they went. The laughter felt good.
They lay there for a moment, both a little winded, and then he rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow. He leaned in and started kissing her again. Sophie had never before wanted time to stand still, as she did now.
Then he pulled back, and with a gentle touch, brushed his hand across her hair. “Are you okay with this?”
She looked into his eyes. “Yes.”
He kissed her again. And then again. His hand at the curve of her jaw, gentle but insistent.
She traced the line of his shoulder, the muscle there firm and contoured.
His hand went to the top button of her blouse, his thumb rubbing across the exposed skin. He unbuttoned the blouse, his mouth grazing the skin beneath with each one. He pushed the fabric aside and looked down at her with open appreciation. “You are beautiful.”
And he made her feel that way. Maybe that was how people found one another. Recognizing someone who could make you feel like more than you were, filling the empty places that had never been filled before.
She met his direct gaze and said what was in her heart. “Here, with you, all the other stuff…circumstances…don’t negate this. They don’t have the power to dilute it.”
“That’s what I want,” he said. “To let the rest of the world fade and just look at this for a while.”
His eyes held hers for a string of moments that had no awkwardness, but rather the most basic kind of need and want. For the first time, Sophie let herself believe it. That there was something right and good in this. And that she deserved it.
After that, they didn’t talk anymore. They didn’t need to.
The sun had dropped, draping the creek bank in dappled shadows.
The picnic basket sat at the edge of the quilt.
And it was a very long time before either of them thought to open it.
CALEB LAY ON HIS BACK. Sophie lay with her cheek on his chest, the heavy thud of his heart in sync with her own.
They’d sat on the quilt eating grapes and homemade bread with a soft Havarti cheese. Drunk lemonade with chunks of fresh lemon. Full and satiated, they lay together now, staring up at the evening sky, Caleb holding her with a tenderness she had not expected.
“Caleb.”
“I hope you’re not going to say you’re sorry about this,” he said, his voice soft.
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m not.”
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
He didn’t respond right away, and she found herself holding her breath for the answer. “That I feel happy,” he said. “I haven’t felt that in a long time. It’s nice. Really nice. Just to feel happy.”
She lifted her head, kissed the center of his chest, then put her cheek against him again.
They lay there, holding each other until the twilight began to flicker and give way to night. They got up, with obvious reluctance, dressed and gathered their things. Caleb took her hand in his and they walked back the way they’d come. And it wasn’t until they got in sight of his house that he let it go.
SOPHIE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT the next day. And wondered if there was some significance to it. Then she told herself to keep the search for symbolism focused on her literature classes.
And still, it was there. This question with a needle at its tip.
What had happened between them—would it be anything more than a few hours when they’d turned their backs to the walls surrounding them? Or, now that they had stepped out into the light again, would the glare of reality wash away all the softness they’d found by the edge of that creek?
All the reasons why it could never work between them came hurtling back at her like some boomerang she had flung as far from last night as she could. It had taken its time turning back. But with its return came logic as clear as the mountain water that fed Caleb’s creek.
Last night had been a gift. Something rare and special in its unexpectedness.
And maybe that was all it could be.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BUT THEN CALEB CALLED that night.
Late. After she’d turned off the lamp beside her bed and spent an hour staring at the darkness above her.
She answered, her heart thudding.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No. I…couldn’t sleep.”
“Me, either.”
Sophie rolled over on her side, tucking the phone tight against her ear.
“I know you’re probably having a thousand doubts,” he said. “But all I know right now is I want to see you again. I’ve spent the day coming at this thing from all angles, and I can’t see what you and I are doing wrong.”
A car drove down the street, the headlights flitting through Sophie’s bedroom window.
“At firs
t, it felt wrong,” he said. “That I might be happy. And I guess it seemed especially wrong that it might be with you. As if it would take something away from what happened to Laney.”
He paused and then said, “But she wasn’t like that. She would look for the positive in a situation. Figure out how to make that the end result.”
Sophie sat up against her pillow.
“So,” he went on, before she could find anything to say, “I was wondering if I could take you and Grace to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night,” she said. “That would be nice.”
“Okay, then. It’s a date.”
“It’s a date.”
They were both quiet for a moment, as if absorbing all that had just been said and the implications of it.
“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said finally.
“We’ll be ready.”
THEY WENT OUT THAT NIGHT. And the next.
They took Grace, and it was scary how quickly it began to feel normal. The three of them.
Both nights, Caleb helped put Grace to bed, and they came back downstairs, sat outside and talked. About everything. Big stuff. Little stuff. Just talked.
And then there was the kissing. They did plenty of that. To the point that it was painful not to do more.
But they didn’t.
By some unspoken consent, they made out like teenagers, and then he went home.
They went out every night for a week, twice without Grace. Once to a movie and the other time to a low-key restaurant forty-five minutes outside of Charlottesville that had become a find for gourmets in the know. The food was wonderful, wall sconces throwing soft light across the tables, the scent of garlic and rosemary drifting from the kitchen.
Sometimes, Sophie felt she might blink and it would all disappear. She was happy with whatever it was they had. She didn’t put a label on it, wouldn’t have known what to call it had she allowed herself to do so.
But there were a few nights, after all the lights were out, when one question refused to be silenced.
How long could it last?
Gift of Grace Page 18
