by Ines Saint
“Then why are you drooling beer?” He took a napkin and pretended to wipe beer from her chin. She swatted his hand and grinned up at him, making him feel warm all over.
“Look, Dr. Yummy, you’re not going to score any dates if you go around saying you shoot rats,” Marisol pretended to scold.
“Dr. Yummy?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
Craig rolled his eyes. “That’s what they’re calling you. Watch out.”
Tony grinned. “I could get used to that. Not scoring dates could take some getting used to, though.” He raised his beer at Marisol. “I’ll take your advice into careful consideration.”
“Why do I feel like smacking you?” Marisol laughed. “I just met you.”
“Marisol wanting to smack you is a good thing,” Sam explained. “It means she likes you enough to bother.”
Dennis joined them again shortly after, and they chatted comfortably for a while, until Tony spotted Darlene making her way back to the booth. Before she reached them, he said, “Hey, I’m going kayaking tomorrow, do any of you want to come along? I’ve got three kayaks available.”
“Kayaking?” Sam lit up, and he wondered if she was thinking about the many times he’d accidentally dumped them into the water. “That sounds like a perfect Sunday. I’m game,” she agreed.
“Can’t— I’m picking a friend up at the airport,” Craig said. “But keep me in mind for next time.”
“I’ve got work.” Dennis sighed and took a swig of his beer.
Marisol looked from Tony to Sam and back again, the expression on her face downright wicked. “Oh, well, I can’t make it either. I’m… taking my niece shopping tomorrow. So it looks as though it’s just the two of you.”
Tony turned to Sam. The guarded look in her eyes told him she wasn’t sure about being alone with him, and he understood it. They were just getting reacquainted. For all she knew, he really did spend his Saturdays shooting rats in alleyways. Wanting to reassure her, he met her troubled eyes with a steady gaze of his own. “Meet me at Captain Cook’s at eight a.m. and we’ll have a perfect Sunday, Sam, like you said. I promise. But if something comes up, and you can’t make it, I’ll understand.”
“Why Captain Cook’s house?” Marisol asked, and turned his attention away from Sam.
“It’s mine,” he answered.
Beside him, Sam gasped in excitement and swiveled his way. “You bought Captain Cook’s?”
Tony merely nodded, not wanting to reveal how gratified he was by her enthusiasm. He didn’t understand it himself. He’d been looking forward to seeing her and reconnecting with her, but he hadn’t expected the warm, tender, and hopeful feelings that had filled his heart for her when he was a child to fill him again. It wasn’t logical. But it was what it was. She’d been kind, and she’d been real. Was she still those things, so important to him?
“You bought the pirate’s old place, huh? Interesting,” Marisol observed. “But why does she have to meet you so damn early?” she asked next, her eyes alight with a mischievous spark. Tony knew then that Marisol had caught his interest in Sam, and she was now having fun at his expense. He didn’t mind. In fact, he was sure he’d made a new friend. So he kicked her under the table to seal their new bond. Marisol shot him a, “Don’t worry—I’ll get you back,” glare and bent to rub her shin.
“Tony and I always got an early start on our adventures,” Sam answered with a big smile, oblivious to her friend’s pain.
Tony ignored Marisol and smiled back, but the look in Sam’s eyes was so pure and so hopeful, it made his heart clench hard in his chest. All of a sudden, Tony felt as if he were on new territory, when only seconds before, Sam had been speaking of the past. He excused himself and went to talk to a few other people he’d met since moving back.
Sam tried to keep her eyes away from Tony and on Marisol, but it was tough. He had a magnetic presence, and her eyes strayed despite her best intentions. She watched him flash his sparkling green eyes at a few women and wondered if he was flirting. Even as a kid, he’d been full of easy charm.
“So, how did it go with Brad?” Marisol asked when they were alone.
“He grew a beard,” was all she was willing to say. It had been a difficult morning, but she was feeling good now.
“Don’t get too close to him, then. I read a study that found that beards are as dirty as toilets.”
Sam laughed, another friend joined them, and Marisol dropped the subject. Tony never came back and when Sam was leaving she was so intent on looking around for him to say goodbye that she ran smack into him with a hard bump to his solid chest. “Hey, watch where you’re going,” a woman beside him said to her.
“Oh, she knows exactly where she’s going.” He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
His smile was so contagious, Sam had to smile, too, even as she rubbed her forehead. “I do, I’m going home.”
“Well, I’m going home, too,” the woman beside Tony met his eyes and made him a subtle invitation by nudging her head to the door.
When Tony pretended not to notice and instead said, “Good night. Thanks for walking me to the door,” Sam realized she’d been holding her breath to see what he would do. It was beyond ridiculous of her.
“Did you walk or bring a car?” Tony asked when Sam took a step toward the door.
“I walked.”
“Is it safe for you to walk home alone?”
A moment they once shared popped into her head, making her heart flutter with the warmth of the memory. Without thinking, she said, “It’s safe, but would you like to take a walk with me? There’s something I’d like to show you.” The instant the words left her mouth, though, she regretted them. His youth had been difficult. Maybe he wouldn’t remember any of it with warmth.
His eyes twinkled. “That depends. Will you be holding my hand like you used to?”
She tossed him a look of mock-reproach, while inside, she was grateful he’d put her at ease once again. “That depends—are you planning on running after every squirrel you spot, like you used to?”
“Nope. I’m reformed. It’s been two whole months since I chased a squirrel.” She laughed, and he opened the door for her, following her outside.
The early spring night was brisk, fragrant, and full of stars. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Sam said, “I’m glad you haven’t asked where we’re going. I’ll take it to mean you haven’t lost your sense of adventure.” She smiled up at him.
“I don’t think I’d be back in Haven if I had. Besides, I see we’re heading to the old trailer park grounds.”
She felt him stiffen ever so slightly beside her, and she stopped. “We’re going a little bit beyond that, to the Sweet Creek Park, but we don’t have to take that route if you don’t want to.”
He turned to her and graced her with a smile so tender, it warmed her from the inside out. “I’m not eight, Sam. You don’t have to protect me. I haven’t visited the old trailer park grounds since I’ve been back, and so a few memories hit me at once. That’s all. I’ll be fine.”
Sam continued to walk. “You’re like me, then. Memories come to me at the strangest times. Do your memories come back to haunt or to visit?”
“Both. I welcome them, though. Do you?”
Sam was silent until they reached the old grounds. Tony turned to where his grandmother’s trailer used to be, and Sam turned to the site her mother had leased so many years ago. “I haven’t thought about it, but I guess I welcome them, too. Sometimes you don’t know there are things you still need to overcome until the past stops by for a visit.”
Tony watched Sam. Her expression was open, vulnerable. “Is something haunting you now?” he asked. Her eyes fluttered, and her expression changed in an instant. She smiled the way she used to, when she was trying to convince the world that everything was all right. He had a smile just like it. Without looking at him, she said, “Let’s just say I’m glad memories of you are visiting, too.”
“I’m here to
stay.” He didn’t mean to sound as serious as he did, but as sweet and hazy as memories of them together were, he was grounded in the present. “And I hope we can be friends again.”
“I hope so, too, but can we still act like kids from time to time?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll race you to the giant oak where we had your goodbye picnic.”
Before he could locate the oak, Sam took off. Tony followed, past the grounds, across the soccer fields, and to the end of the park. They stopped at the huge tree, and Sam leaned against it to catch her breath.
He was about to tease her, when something caught his eye. The words “Sam & Tony 4-ever,” were carved into the tree.
“You wanted me to carve it, remember? But we didn’t have a knife with us,” she explained. “So I came back the next day and carved it, even though I didn’t think you’d ever see it.”
Tony’s heart slammed against his chest. He looked down at the beautiful woman Sam had become. He’d been thinking his feelings were a mix of old gratitude and pure male lust, but they weren’t. Did a person’s soul remain intact throughout a lifetime? Was Sam Presley still the girl who understood his?
Sam looked into Tony’s eyes. Something passed between them, and it scared her. In one, breathless moment, he dipped his head and whispered “Thank you,” in her ear, his breath feathering her cheek. Her heart thundered in her chest.
He straightened, and looked as confused as she felt. A moment later, he grinned. “But it was supposed to say, ‘Tony and Sam, Friends Forever,’ you know.”
Sam relaxed. “My hand got tired, and I wanted my name to be first. I wanted you to know who was calling the shots, in case you ever came back.”
“You can call the shots, as long as you know I’ll ignore them from time to time.”
“Sure,” she answered. His tone was friendly, but her rusty libido and overactive imagination had her reading more into his words. “I really have to go now.”
“I’ll walk you home if you tell me all about your preschool.”
Sam nodded, happy he wanted to hear about her greatest achievement.
When they reached her door, their long-ago roles became reversed. Sam was the one feeling impulsive. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Sorry I droned on. Thanks for listening.”
Inside, she leaned against her door. Funny how a quiet stroll and conversation with an old friend had her feeling both more relaxed and more alive than she’d felt in ages.
~3~
Sam woke up to a bright, beautiful day. Butterflies fluttered outside and deep in her belly. Lately, she felt unsure of both every new and every old feeling.
She packed a picnic basket, the way she used to, and met Tony on Captain Cook’s front porch. Up close, she could see the house had been newly painted in the same old colors. Yellow and white trim, with red doors and shutters. She loved it. She always had. The colors made the house stand out against the blue sky and ocean, and green swaying grass.
“I’ll give you a tour later,” Tony promised, eager to get started on their kayaking trip. No, he was no longer a little boy, but the little boy was still inside the man. He took hold of her hand as if it were natural, and led her over the jagged rocks to the private pier. His warm hand dwarfed hers, and the observation made the fluttering in her stomach worse. Her eyes roamed over him. He was wearing swim trunks and a sleeveless shirt, revealing strong, muscular arms and legs.
A shiny new red kayak was waiting for them. “Wow, I see we’re moving up in the world, remember the canoe we used to borrow from Rose Arthur?”
“Yeah, it used to tip.” He pushed the kayak onto the water, and helped her settle into it.
Sam laughed. “Yes—you used to tip it.”
“That’s not how I remember it.” He grinned at her as he sat, and they began paddling their way along the shore.
The distant cry of seagulls and the swishing, rhythmic sound of paddles hitting the water calmed her, and she knew it would be the perfect Sunday she’d hoped for. “I see you’ve gotten better at this.”
“My arms are no longer puny.”
Nothing about him was puny, she thought, eyeing his chest and shoulders. Her cheeks felt warm, and she turned them to the sun, so she’d have something to blame.
After an hour of paddling and easy conversation, they pulled into a small, sandy cove. Tony dragged the kayak farther in as Sam spread their brunch on a blanket.
“Do you want to go for a swim first, before we fill up?”
“It’s spring. The water’s still cold.”
“It’s not cold, it’s invigorating.” He swept his shirt off, and just like that, the thought of cold water appealed to her.
She rolled her shirt up, revealing the turquoise bikini top she’d worn in case they tipped. She caught his appreciative glance, he looked up, and their eyes locked.
He smiled. “You were a beautiful girl, and I always knew you’d turn into a beautiful woman.”
Her breathing felt uneven, and she tore her eyes away. “You were twelve when you left. You didn’t know a thing about women,” she teased.
“Well, I know a thing or two now,” he said, as he walked toward the water.
She bet he did. The idea heated her up, and she raced past him and dove into the water, in need of a good, cold dunk.
Tony waded until he was waist-deep before diving in. He came up beside her and shook his wet hair in her face.
She squealed and splashed him back. “It’s cold enough without you wetting the only parts of me the sun can reach!”
“Come here, then, I’ve always been a degree or two warmer than most.”
She allowed him to pull her into his arms simply because it felt better than anything she’d experienced in ages. He wrapped his arms around her. “Is this better?” She shivered, and he raised her chin with his thumb. His eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sunlight, and he smelled of salt, fresh air, and sunshine. His lips looked warm and moist. She buried her head in his chest, feeling both safe and unsteady at once.
“This is nice,” she said, afraid of just how nice it was.
“It is,” he whispered. A moment later, he let her go.
They swam and splashed and talked and laughed, until Sam got too cold to do anything without shivering and stuttering. He ran ahead of her, dug a huge towel out of his bag, wrapped it around her, and held her close as they walked back to the blanket.
When she stopped shivering, they sat down to eat, and she wondered if he felt as she did, that this kind of happiness was fleeting.
“You’re twenty-nine now, right?” she asked in between bites of her egg salad sandwich. He nodded. “And you bought that big old house just for yourself?”
“Are you fishing for information?” He smiled a roguish smile. She didn’t remember that one. Her toes tingled at the sight of it, and she buried them in the sand, enjoying the warm, sinking feeling.
“Well, I know a few women who are interested,” she replied. It was the truth. “And none of them had to see you through poison ivy, clinging leeches, and golf ball-sized blisters, so there may be a chance they’ll stay interested.”
He laughed. “I’m single, but I’d like to fill the house up with kids someday—poison ivy, clinging leeches, and golf ball-sized blisters and all.”
Samantha pulled her toes out of the sand. “A pirate house brimming with kids who act just like their father. Some would say it sounds like a nightmare.” She smiled and tried to keep her tone light. Of course he wanted children. Children she could never give anyone.
“I think it sounds like the ultimate adventure. But who knows who the kids will take after? I don’t want to have any of my own. I want to adopt.”
Sam froze. “What?”
“I want to adopt. Do you know how many unwanted kids are out there, dreaming of a real home?” Sam remained still on the outside, but inside her heart ached for him, knowing he’d been one of those boys. He shrugged. “I figure I could c
are for at least four. I just need to find a sexy, spirited, female swashbuckler who’s up for the challenge.”
Again, he made her smile, and took her away from paralyzing thoughts. “Hmm, I don’t know of any sexy swashbucklers, but I’ll keep my eyes open. The costume alone should make her easy to spot. Any other characteristics she should have, like a good job, excellent credit, and basic cooking skills?” she joked.
His eyes caught hers the moment she smiled up at him. “Yes. She should know what it feels like to really hurt and what it’s like to lift yourself up. She should want to live and love and be loved by someone real.” The look he sent her told her that Tony Mancini had it together.
And she couldn’t, for the life of her, look away. “Real is good. And you’ve always been that. Even when you were a little boy, and I was a teenager, I was always happier being real with you than I was pretending with everyone else.”
Tony nodded. “I watched you pretend once or twice, with Brad. Why?”
Sam sighed and lay down on the blanket. She couldn’t lie. Not while they were talking about being real, but she couldn’t look at him either. “You must remember how it was. My mom was great, and she was a hard worker, but she’d dug herself into a deep hole. There were so many anxieties. The power got shut off all the time, and there wasn’t enough money for school supplies. And my father— well, he never even sent a postcard, let alone money. It was drilled into me that I had to make better decisions. That I had to go to college, and shoot higher than she had when it came to choosing a partner. She died thinking the sun rose and set on Brad’s shoulders, you know. He was so charming. And she used to talk about how lucky we were that he was overlooking where we lived. She’d say I had to show my gratitude and never embarrass him.” Sam shrugged. “So I tried not to. I tried to fit in with his crowd.”
Tony laid down on his side, planting his elbow on the blanket so he could prop his head up with his hand to look at her. “I remember Brad putting the moves on you,” he said. “My eleven-year-old self thought he was pretty lame. I was sure I could do better.”
