by Holly Jacobs
Harry seemed surprised and shot her a questioning look, but before he could say anything, someone screamed from the hall. "I'd better go. See you in a few minutes," he said quickly.
Samantha returned to find Carly and Michelle waiting.
"You okay?" Michelle asked.
"I'm fine." Harry's leaving would hurt, but she'd get over it and keep going. "Just fine."
HARRY KNEW SOMETHING was wrong, although he couldn't put his finger on what exactly. Samantha had been quiet—too quiet—throughout their lunch. She kept giving him these sad looks, which he couldn't quite figure out. She should be giddy with excitement that the pageant was not only a huge success, but also that it was over.
He'd followed her to her house, and she opened the door to Marmalade's loud, enthusiastic greetings. "Make yourself at home while I put the dog outside."
He went into the chaotic living room and couldn't help but smile. He liked that the house looked lived in. That Samantha was more concerned with comfort than a designer atmosphere.
He cleared a line of dolls off the couch, and noticed that Ruby was there. He wondered if Samantha realized Stella had forgotten Ruby. Maybe they could run it over to Phillip's?
Marmalade bounded into the living room, deftly dodging the impressive remains of a blanket tent as she hurried over to the couch to greet him.
"Hey, Marm." He petted the rather ugly dog's head. "Stella forgot Ruby. Will it be a problem?"
He caught Samantha eyeing the now doll-filled chair before taking a seat on the couch.
"No, she'll be fine. They're not staying overnight, only spending the evening."
"Oh, well, that's good." It got quiet, and he wasn't sure what to say. Samantha gave him another of those sad looks. Before he could ask her why she was unhappy, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the number. "I have to take this."
He got up off the couch, and moved toward the front window as he flipped the phone open. "Hi, bud. How was the last day of school?"
Harry offered an occasional, "Really," or, "Wow," as he listened to Lucas's recounting of his week. Harry missed these moments. Last year, in Columbus, Lucas would hang out in Harry's office after his last class, and ride home with him. That car trip had been a highlight of Harry's day, hearing the ins and outs, complaints about tests, about kids in his class. Glancing over to see Lucas blush as he talked about a girl he liked.
The feeling of impotence, knowing there was nothing he could do about the circumstances, hit.
"And Harry, guess what?"
He got himself under control and asked, "What?"
"Mom says maybe I can come to Columbus sometime soon."
In the distance, Harry heard Teresa's voice. "That's not what I said, Lucas."
"Well, she said maybe."
"I'd like that," Harry assured Lucas, trying not to think about what an understatement that was. Like it? He'd hold on to the possibility when he got back to Columbus. He glanced at Samantha, who was studiously eyeing a magazine, trying to give him privacy. Actually, he'd be missing a lot more than Lucas when he got back to Columbus.
"Mom wants ta talk to you, okay, Harry?"
He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation at hand. "That's fine, Lucas. I'm glad you called. I'm here, anytime."
"Thanks, Harry."
Harry could hear the phone being jostled, then Teresa's voice came on the line. "Harry?"
"Hi, Teresa."
"How are you?" There was genuine concern in her voice.
"Good." And as he said the word, he realized he was. Talking to Teresa didn't hurt like it once had. There was just the slightest hint of poignant remembrance, but no pain at all. "Much better, as a matter of fact."
"I'm glad. About what Lucas said. . ."
"Yes?"
"He's been begging to visit. I know he misses you, and you must miss him."
"I do. More than you know."
"I'm not sure yet how to make this work. Thinking about being without him—even temporarily—hurts, which only makes me understand how much pain it must be causing you. Harry, what I'm saying is, I'm sorry. I swear we'll find a way for you two to spend time together. Maybe. . ." She paused. "Maybe you could have him for a few weeks during the summers, and over some of the holiday breaks. If you want him."
"If I want him? I never stopped wanting him, Teresa. He's my son in every way that counts. I'll always want whatever time I can have with him."
"Harry, I'm so sorry—"
"Shh. I get it now." And he did. He finally saw that Teresa had been brave enough to admit their relationship wasn't working. And it might not have been so bad if losing her hadn't meant losing Lucas. "We'll sort it out."
"Thanks. I'll call in a few days and we'll set something up. It's too late for Thanksgiving, but maybe over Christmas?"
Time at Christmas with Lucas was one of the biggest gifts he could have. "Okay. Thanks, Teresa. I can't say that enough."
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Harry couldn't get a handle on his feelings. He'd been angry at Teresa for so long, but part of him knew that she'd been right to leave. They hadn't been happy for a long time, and he'd simply ignored that fact because he didn't want to break up the illusion he had of their family. Maybe his mother had been right about that. He'd stayed with Teresa for all the wrong reasons.
"Everything all right?" Samantha asked.
He turned and saw that he was still standing at her window, looking out onto the silent street. He came back to the couch. "I don't know."
She didn't press. Didn't ask him to say more. And soon, he couldn't seem to think of anything to say at all. He tried a very lame, "So the pageant went well."
"Yeah, it did."
Normally so comfortable in each other's company, the air now felt heavy and ominous. Thinking that made him feel ridiculous, but there it was. Something was off. He could pussyfoot around it, or he could just come out and ask. "Samantha, what's wrong?" Simple and to the point.
"When you saved Stella from falling off the stage, it was clear to me that I'm going to miss you when you're gone."
He wasn't sure that he saw the connection, but that didn't alter that he was going to miss her, as well.
"We can keep in touch. . . ." The offer sounded half-hearted even to him.
"And yet, the reasons we shouldn't keep in touch are very much related to the reasons starting a relationship made sense. We both went into it knowing when it had to end. Coming out of a breakup, there's something comforting in that. But now, the idea of you leaving isn't so very comforting."
"I have a life in Columbus. My job and the kids I work with are waiting for me. The administration gave me a sabbatical to finish my degree." For a long time he'd tried to build his life around Teresa, but that hadn't worked. Now, he had to figure out how to rebuild a life for himself.
"I know. I'm not asking—"
"I know you're not, but Samantha, if I ever get seriously involved with another woman, it won't be one with kids." He'd said the words before, but he saw that this time they really sank in.
He nodded. "When Teresa left, it hurt, but losing Lucas was like losing a son. I'd helped raise him for seven years. She didn't just end our relationship, she severed my relationship with a boy, who for all intents and purposes, was my son. It was a double whammy. When Phillip left, you still had the kids."
"Are you saying my pain was somehow less than yours?" She sounded angry now.
That's not what he was saying. Oh, hell, he didn't know what he was saying, what he was thinking. "Do you know what it's like to lose the life you'd planned? How much that hurts?" he asked, his breath ragged
"Yes," was her quiet response.
SAMANTHA THOUGHT ABOUT THE life she'd envisioned with Phillip. Watching the kids grow up and then she and Phillip were going to travel and see the world together.
Well, her kids would still grow up and eventually move away. And she could still travel. Though on her own. Solo.
The word sounded so. . .lonely. When that day came she didn't want to do it on her own. She didn't want this on her own. She wanted. . .
She let the image form in her mind, an idea that had been growing since the pageant, knowing what it was she wanted.
She wanted Harry.
She wanted him to stay in Erie. She wanted to laugh with him, to make love with him. She wanted to share her life with him.
But she'd known from the start that's not what he wanted.
She understood, but it still hurt.
And it was going to hurt more when he left.
So, she had two choices.
One, she could cut him off now.
Or, two, she could treasure this time with this man, whom she cared for, then let him go.
It wasn't really a choice.
"Harry, I understand that you have baggage. And I get not wanting to get involved, especially with someone who comes with so much baggage of her own. Listen. . ." She hesitated, not wanting to say the words, but knowing she had to. "We've gotten through the pageant. I want to be with you for as long as I can without recriminations, but I realize that you'll be leaving, and we'll get on with our lives separately. We'll celebrate Thanksgiving, and be thankful for the time we have."
"I just don't want to hurt you when I leave."
"I'm a big girl. And I've learned that I can be complete in and of myself. But right now, we have a couple hours to ourselves before Phillip brings the kids home. I suggest we figure out some way to fill that time."
"What do you suggest?"
She took his hand and led him toward the bedroom.
He was right, it would hurt when he left because she cared for him. No, it was more than that. It was the beginning of something so much more than that.
She loved Harry Remington.
And soon he'd leave, and she loved him enough to let him go. But at least she'd have this time to hold on to.
This time with the man she loved.
Chapter Twelve
Thanksgiving afternoon, two days later, Seton opened the front door for Harry. "Hi, Mr. Rem. Mom's in the kitchen." Harry stepped inside the foyer and inhaled a yeasty, spicy smell.
'"Bye," Seton yelled, as he darted up the stairs.
Last night, an inch of snow had fallen, leaving the city covered with that first real snow of the season. Harry took of his coat and boots, and Shane ran in. "Did you see him?"
"Who him?"
"Seton. He's it."
"Ah." Harry understood Seton's bolting now. "I may or may not have seen him. I'm Switzerland, and neutral in all games of tag."
Harry hung his coat on an empty peg as Shane shook his head, and ran down the hall.
Harry spotted Seton's head peer down from upstairs. He shot Harry a thumbs-up sign, then disappeared.
Harry made his way through the living room. Stella was cuddled on the couch, wrapped in a quilt with Ruby, Marmalade and Grunge, who shot Harry a help-me sort of look.
He opened the kitchen door and found dishes lined up on the counter and even more piled in the sink. He was pretty sure there were more on display here than he owned. "Need some help?"
"No—" Samantha started to say, but she shook her head. "Sure. Do you mind scrubbing a few pots?"
"You've got it." Harry rolled up his sleeves and started scrubbing. "I talked to my mom this morning. She's still bent out of shape I didn't come home."
Samantha kept her head down. "I would have understood if you had."
"It's a long drive in this weather—they're saying we may get another couple inches of snow. I don't relish driving four hours in it. And I'll be home in a few days. I told her we could celebrate Thanksgiving then. That seemed to placate her." He should be looking forward to going back to Columbus, but he couldn't quite muster any enthusiasm. And it didn't have anything to do with Teresa and Lucas not being there. No, it had everything to do with not being here with Samantha and the kids.
After the pageant, when he'd told Samantha he'd never want to get serious with a woman who had kids, he knew it for the lie it was. When he'd come up with the no-dating-a-woman-with-kids rule, it had made sense. The fact that he'd be leaving was a loophole when it came to dating Samantha. He hadn't planned on falling for her.
Not just falling, he noted as he glanced at her, stirring something in a bowl. She looked hot and tired, but when Stella ran into the kitchen and asked if she could have a drink, Samantha dropped everything and got her one.
Fallen.
He'd totally gone and fallen for Samantha Williams.
How could he not love her?
It wasn't something he'd been looking for, and certainly wasn't something he'd planned on, but there it was. He was madly in love with Samantha Williams and he wasn't sure how she felt about him. He thought she might learn to love him, too, if he had more time.
Time.
At first, his limited time in Erie seemed like a welcome out of a temporary relationship.
Now, he wanted more time. More time to see this tentative new love with Samantha blossom into what he thought—no, knew—it could be. He'd lost the life he thought he wanted, and had been determined to build a life for himself. But he realized that the life he wanted included Samantha.
An idea started to form. He scrubbed a particularly gross pot, and by the time the pot was clean, he was smiling. "Hey, Sam, I finished the dishes."
She looked up, her face flushed from the warmth of the kitchen. "Thanks. That's a big help."
"I'm going to step out back for a minute and make a phone call, okay?"
She laughed. "Sure. I've got things under control here."
"Mom?" Seton hollered. "Shane's cheating at tag."
"Want me to take care of it?" Harry asked.
She laughed. "No, I've got this wonder-mom thing down to a science. I can make a Thanksgiving dinner and referee out-of-control tag. I'm used to doing things on my own, Harry."
It was a gentle reminder, but one that made Harry want to blurt out his not fully fleshed-out plan. He didn't, though. Instead, he patted his pocket, making sure he had his cell.
Out in the backyard, he dialed the number. "Hey, Geri, I'm sorry to interrupt your holiday, but. . ."
"DINNER," SAMANTHA ANNOUNCED at three on the dot. The kids thundered into the dining room and took their seats.
Harry didn't thunder. He simply carried in the bowl of mashed potatoes, and shot her a look. An odd look.
He'd been doing that ever since he'd washed the dishes, and for the life of her, Samantha couldn't figure out what that look meant.
"Everything okay?" she asked him quietly as she trailed after him, the cranberry sauce in hand.
"Just fine," he told her. And though he was smiling, that look was still there. It seemed as if he was bursting to tell her something.
"Mom, Stella has that doll at the table," Shane tattled.
Samantha decided to try and figure out Harry's look later, and concentrated on Seton. She didn't reprimand him. She only smiled and said, "It's Thanksgiving, so I imagine it would be okay just this once if Miss Ruby stays at the table, as long as no one tries to take her from Stella, and, Stella, you keep her away from the candle."
Stella stuck her tongue out at her brother, then turned to Samantha. "Can me and Miss Ruby say the grace?"
"Sure, sweetie."
"God, thanks for the food, and for my mom. I guess thanks for my brothers, too. And thanks for Harry. He builds good swings and reads books good, too. And he doesn't let me fall off stages. Amen."
The boys groaned in unison, and Samantha assured them it was a fine blessing, while Stella leaned over and whispered something to Ruby.
For the next hour, Samantha ate without worrying about sucking in her stomach or fitting into her jeans. She watched everyone else eat their meals, and felt a bit misty. She wasn't that type of woman. She didn't cry at Hallmark commercials, and rarely even teared up at sad movies. Okay, Steel Magnolias got her, and Terms of Endearment when Debra Winger tells he
r son that it doesn't matter if he says he loves her, she knows he does, made Sam cry every time. But those were exceptions, not the rule.
She looked up at Stan. Her son. On the cusp of becoming an adult. She remembered him coming to her and telling her that Harry made her happy and he wanted that for her. She went from feeling misty to actually having tears gather in her eyes. She blinked hard and held them back, knowing she'd never be able to explain why she was crying to the kids. Or to Harry.
She glanced at him, sitting opposite of her. He spotted her watching him, and gave her another of those smiley looks.
She blinked back the tears even harder.
He was leaving, and she knew that Stan was right, Harry had made her happy. Well, she'd figure out a new way to be happy. She deserved to be happy.
"Can we be excused until dessert?" Stan asked politely. So grown up.
"Sure." Samantha managed to squeeze out the word between the tears that were clogging her throat.
"Thanks, Mom," Seton said, shoving back his chair.
"Yeah, it was good," Shane added.
Stella didn't say anything, she just grabbed Miss Ruby, who'd apparently enjoyed her meal, and hurried after her brothers. Samantha could hear the distant rumbling of a football game on television. "You can go watch the game, too," she offered Harry, hoping he'd take her up on the offer and give her a few minutes to get herself under control.
"I'd rather stay with you, if you don't mind."
What could she say to that? "I'm going to clear the table, then we can have the pie."
"Can we talk first?" he asked.
She nodded, even though she didn't want to talk. She wanted to have this holiday with Harry and not dwell on the fact that it was transient. That he was just an interim principal, and her interim lover.
"I leave in a week," he said without preamble.
She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she nodded. But her heart broke into little pieces at the thought. For some reason, a line from the pageant flitted through her mind—Thanksgiving's a day to remember to start, saying thanks for the things that are near to our heart.
Stella had remembered to be thankful for Harry, and Samantha was going to have to learn to be thankful for the time they'd had together. She'd known from the start she was going to have to let him go. She blinked rapidly and tried to force a smile. "I know. I'd rather not think about it today, though. I'd just like to enjoy the moment. Let's have that pie."
