Just A Little Romance

by Mary Jane Russell

  Kelly aimed her flashlight at Sam’s car. “But you always know where to find me when that need comes over you again, don’t you, sweetie?” Kelly locked the doors as Sam walked away.

  Sam wished Kelly was wrong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Sam still hadn’t shaken feeling like a heel by the weekend. She had spent the balance of the week going through the motions of her job and avoiding being alone with Kelly. She had finally talked briefly with Kelly on Friday morning—a conversation that should have made her feel better.

  “I’m going off duty,” Kelly said as she met Sam in the parking lot as Sam walked toward the building.

  “Have a good day,” Sam said, intending not to slow down.

  “Can you give me a few minutes?” Kelly stopped several feet away from Sam.

  Sam looked at Kelly. “Sure.”

  Kelly glanced down. “Look, I’m sorry to have acted like such an a-hole the other night.” She puffed air from her cheeks. “I was jealous. Lisa’s cute.”

  “What?” Sam shifted her briefcase to her left hand.

  “I really was jealous. You and Lisa look like you should be a couple. I knew you and me were winding down just from the look on your face.” She shrugged. “Me embarrassing you won’t happen again, so not cool.”

  Sam nodded. “I’m the one who’s encouraged you even if we did have an understanding.” Sam frowned. “Kelly, I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I enjoy talking with you as much as anything else we do. Nothing more than conversation between us, okay? I don’t feel right about it anymore, especially if you’re interested in Haley.” Sam held out her hand. “Deal?”

  Kelly grinned. “Deal.” She cocked her head to one side. “You and Lisa do look good together, and Haley is a sweetheart. I guess it’s time for us to get our shit sorted out and act like grownups.” Kelly shivered.

  Sam hugged Kelly and smacked her on the back of the head as they separated. “You’re such a romantic.”

  Sam had waved Kelly off, dismissing the possibility of Lisa. She didn’t know how she was going to manage standing before her class next week. She was restless enough Saturday morning to go where she always did to snap herself out of a funk.

  Sam opened the door to Ava’s house and walked in unannounced as she was accustomed. She was greeted with a shriek.

  “Fuck,” Sam said as she jumped in reaction to the loud noise ringing in her ears. She held her hands up, trying to calm the young woman in scrubs. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting.”

  “Ms. Moyer, you’re not making my job any easier.” A girl, the antithesis of Paul’s daughter, reached for the duster she had dropped to the floor. Jennifer was twenty-two, stocky, and employed by the home health service Don had called when he realized his mother needed help. Jennifer was the certified nursing assistant who Sam liked the most. During her shifts over the past several weeks, Sam had learned that Jennifer was from Buckingham County, worked in elder care while finishing high school, and was saving to enroll in Radford University’s nursing program. Sam had wondered if TLCplease had been one of Jennifer’s teachers.

  “I’m just not used to Ava having a companion,” Sam said as an apology.

  “Neither am I,” Ava said from the next room.

  Sam walked farther into the house and peered around the cased opening to the formal dining room.

  “I just can’t get used to having someone else in the house all the time,” Ava said. She sat at the rectangular table that was now completely clear of all books and magazines. She was hunched over in one of the chairs along the side of the table with her hands folded and resting on the tablecloth Sam had never seen as the only thing covering the table’s surface.

  Ava looked forlornly at Sam. “I’m to wait here until the living room is cleaned, then Jennifer will start on the den and sunroom.” She nodded with her repetition of the plan for the day.

  Sam glanced at Jennifer, then joined Ava at the table. “What are you working on during the day?” Sam had never witnessed Ava idle.

  “Not a damn thing.” Ava plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. “This situation will make me lose what little mind I have left.” She grabbed Sam’s wrist and looked at Sam with panic-stricken eyes.

  Sam covered Ava’s hand with her own. “Bless your heart,” Sam said, relying on her favorite catch-all phrase.

  “I can’t work anymore. She put all my magazines out for recycling collection. All my books are back on the shelves. They all tell me that the legal pads and pens stay at the desk, not scattered about the house so I can write when the inspiration comes to me.” Ava leaned toward Sam. “I’m a prisoner in my own home, my very neat home that doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Don has these women sitting with me around the clock. I’m only alone a few hours at night when the meds have me knocked out. Don even sleeps here now. I might as well be in prison. Why can’t I just be euthanized?”

  “Because your friends would miss you too much,” Sam whispered. “Let’s go make a cup of tea.” Sam nodded toward the kitchen. “Jennifer, would you like hot tea?” Sam raised her voice.

  “No, thank you. I have my water bottle,” Jennifer answered from the living room. “I’m only doing what they pay me to.”

  Sam put her finger to her lips and led Ava into the kitchen. Ava’s situation was not Jennifer’s fault. It was true that Ava seemed to have aged ten years since the incident of searching for Donnie’s dog. Ava finally acted her age and appeared as fragile as an eggshell.

  Sam turned the burner on beneath the kettle and went to the cupboard for tea bags. She checked the level of sugar in the dish and spooned generous amounts of sweetener into both cups.

  Sam watched Ava venture into the neatly organized den as though she was looking about someone else’s home.

  “Max wouldn’t know how to work in here, either,” Ava said. “I know the place looked like a fire trap with all the research materials we kept scattered about, but it was how we found comfort in our home. Our work was never controlled by a time clock.”

  “How are your new meds working?” Sam asked as she filled both cups with boiling water and bobbed the tea bags until she had a nicely dark brew.

  “Better,” Ava said. “I catch myself losing track of my thoughts in the afternoon and take a nap. Then I stay up until the late news. I sleep all night, rising when my first sitter comes on duty at eight.” Ava walked about the perimeter of the room, eyeing the desk and bookshelves. “There’s still so much I want to do yet I can’t read or write when I feel someone looking over my shoulder every minute. I don’t have time to waste. I’ve been gathering notes about the women in Mr. Jefferson’s life—lovers as well as daughters—for thirty years. It’s fascinating material that never has been brought together in one compendium. I’ve also discovered a collection of papers recently scanned and made available online—previously unpublished Quaker information from the Revolution. One of my former students printed it for me to incorporate with a manuscript I’ve worked on for the past ten years. It’s gone, thrown out with the trash, for all I know. I was so excited to finally tie up loose ends and show how Quakers were integral with ending slavery in the South.”

  Sam hated the wistful tone in Ava’s voice. She had no doubt that her friend still possessed the ability to work—a right that should be denied no one, much less a scholar of Ava’s standing in academic circles. So what if Ava only had an hour or two a day of lucid, productive thought. She could accomplish more in that amount of time than most could in a full day.

  The telephone rang. Jennifer was quick to answer the extension in the living room.

  Ava looked at Sam and made a sour face. “Don, checking on me.”

  Sam didn’t hesitate to take the kitchen extension off the hook. She listened to Jennifer.

  “Neighbor came in a little while ago and has your mother up and walking around, drinking tea. The caffeine is going to agitate her.”

  “She’s agitated from much more than that,” Sam said. “Don, we ne
ed to talk. Excuse me for interrupting, Jennifer.”

  “I’ll come there for lunch.” Don hung up.

  Sam stared at the receiver in her hand. “That went well.”

  Jennifer started the vacuum cleaner in the living room.

  Sam pointed to the sunroom and followed Ava. She gasped, having never seen every surface of the room devoid of clutter. There was nothing piled on the sofa or table or chairs. The room felt sterile and uncomfortable.

  Ava pulled Sam on the sofa beside her. “I must find some other way to live. I have my savings. This house was paid off years ago. Hell, I’ll check into a hotel or book myself on a cruise and call on room service for what Don is paying to the sitters.”

  Sam knew she was interfering but wasn’t about to let that stop her; it never had before. What was the point of growing old if a person could not live as they were accustomed and with a measure of dignity? “You have options, sweetheart, and every right to exercise them.”

  “I’m not completely senile.” Ava attempted a smile. “There’s a new complex with lovely small apartments near the new hospital. I could call on my former students for help with my research. Don won’t even discuss me buying a place there.”

  That was all Sam needed to hear. She waited for Don and met him as he walked into the kitchen. They faced off across the butcher’s block.

  “I know what’s best for my mother,” he said. “She stays in her own home.”

  “I know I’m an interfering bitch, but I love your mother as if she was my own,” Sam said. “Your mother’s miserable. She knows her condition and her limits. Why not let her downsize and move to the new AZ unit where she can be self-sufficient for a while longer?”

  “Do you know how bad the real estate market is? Do you understand all the updates that would have to be done to this house that I’ve let go rather than disturb her oversized office?” He gestured about the house.

  “So sell it as a fixer-upper. Let someone else flip the house,” Sam said.

  “That would bring down the value of the entire neighborhood.” Don’s voice rose needlessly.

  “Cool. It’ll decrease my real estate taxes,” Sam said.

  “You have an answer for everything.” Don hung his head briefly. “I’m not joking.”

  “Neither am I.” Sam reached for his hand gripping the edge of the wooden butcher’s block. “What’s going on with you, Don?”

  “I don’t want her in one of those places.” He sounded as though the age when Newman was alive.

  “It’s a new facility. I’ve toured it as part of the governor’s ribbon cutting. The apartments are bright. Everything’s within easy reach, including a call button for twenty-four/seven care. There’s a van to take residents on errands and to appointments. There are others there going through this—both of you would have peer support. It’s a progressive facility—there’s care for all stages of this disease.”

  Don’s expression was anguished. “But Mom won’t be at home any longer. I won’t have a home to come to. I’ve been in a town house since my divorce.”

  “It’s all about losing your mother, isn’t it?” Sam asked.

  Don nodded and let out a deep sigh. “I’ve been a butt head because I’ve let it be about my needs.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” Ava entered the kitchen. She went to her son and hugged him. “I’ve had an excellent life. I still have good years ahead, Donnie. My bulb will grow gradually dimmer but will still light my way.”

  Don nodded and embraced his mother.

  Sam waved to Jennifer as she left. Jennifer gave her a thumbs-up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Psst. Sam. Psst.”

  Sam blinked her eyes. Was she dreaming or had she just been awakened by a voice in her bedroom that she didn’t fall asleep with? Never a good question to wake up to.

  “Sam, are you awake?”

  Sam rolled over and saw someone standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

  “It’s me, Paul.” He held a flashlight under his chin and turned the light on so that she could see his face. “I don’t mean to scare you, sweetie.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing waking me up in the middle of the night? What’s wrong? Is it Angela?” Sam sat up in the bed and reached for the lamp on the small table beside the head of the bed. She glanced at her alarm clock—10:30.

  “It’s not exactly the middle of the night. I didn’t think you’d already be in bed asleep or I might not have barged in.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “I notice you said might. What’s wrong?” Sam leaned back against the headboard.

  “What are you doing in bed so early?” Paul sat on the foot of the bed, one leg crossed and the other foot resting on the floor.

  “I haven’t slept worth a damn all week. I think it’s seeing the ‘for sale’ sign next door and watching the parade of antique dealers going back and forth, cruising the estate sale.”

  Paul grinned. “Ava loves it. I saw her this morning. She’s having a blast telling the pickers all the stories that go with everything. Those guys are earning their profit on her belongings.”

  Sam threw the extra pillow at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t write.” Paul made a horizontal motion with one hand. “Nada. Nothing. Not a thought in my head worth typing once I open Word. Dry. Empty. Kaput.”

  “Oh, stop being such a drama queen.”

  “I can’t help my nature.” Paul hugged the pillow. “I’m also tired of being virtuous.”

  Sam shook her head. “You were right to break up with Scott and you know it.”

  “He’s been calling again lately. Keeps saying he just wants to hear my voice.”

  “And that he still loves you?’ Sam knew the pattern too well.

  Paul nodded.

  “And that his wife isn’t enough?” Sam could tick the ploys off on her fingers.

  “Our third anniversary would have been next week.”

  “You guys are more sentimental than two old women.” Sam rubbed her hands over her face.

  Paul sat up straight and placed his hands on his hips. “I resemble that remark.”

  Sam grimaced. “There are kids involved.”

  “That’s what’s bothered me all along. I never should have given in to that cute round face of his.” Paul glanced at Sam. “He keeps telling me that his past boyfriends accepted his double life.”

  “So his behavior pattern is your fault?” Sam looked at him sideways.

  Paul huffed.

  “Come on. Your alter ego never lets you down. Writing is your preferred form of escapism from work and lovers.”

  “Exactly.” Paul tossed the pillow back at her.

  “How are you stuck? Beginning, middle, or ending?”

  “I’m at the oh-shit middle—over fifty thousand words. I’m too far in to start making major changes without an extensive rewrite, yet all the little nagging doubts are jumping out at me. Have I planted the info to make the ending work? Is the plot too obvious, too contrived, or too obscure? Does the ending make sense? Would an attorney really catch all of those clues and solve a murder?” His thoughts trailed off as he looked about the room. “Damn, just how many projects have you been working on while you couldn’t sleep? This looks like Ava’s house used to.”

  “Don’t start. I’ve been bringing work home all week so I wouldn’t stay late at the office.”

  Paul grinned. “And indulge with the strangely enticing Kelly?”

  Sam hit him again with the pillow. “That’s been over for a month now. I actually like her better as a friend. I think we both knew that all along.”

  “I still think you two should have tried it as a couple. You have the advantage of knowing each other at work and already having sex.” Paul leaned against the bedpost.

  Sam held up her hand, knowing his reaction to what she was about to say. “I’m not a snob. I just don’t think Kelly and I have any long-lasting connection. I think it was the latent voyeurism of sex at the
office.”

  Paul started to respond and stopped himself.

  “What?” Sam wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “Kelly would be an improvement for Haley.” He watched Sam closely.

  Sam leaned forward and smacked his knee. “I’ve already had that conversation with Kelly. She wants to wait until Haley is through the first rush of being single.”

  Paul pointed at her. “That’s what’s holding you back. You can see the two of them together.”

  “If Haley wants an older butch, at least Kelly is a soft one I know to be a decent woman.” Sam shrugged. “It’s the Doris Day theory—what will be will be. I can tell you who I don’t see together.”

  Paul raised his eyebrows.

  “Lisa, anywhere near me—not going to happen. She’s skipped three classes in a row. I really messed that up.”

  “Well, Kelly helped.” Paul picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

  “But I allowed the situation with Kelly. Now I’ve alienated Lisa when I should be able to do my job and help her. I don’t know whether to call her or just leave the situation alone.” Sam had thought of little else lately, more with each passing week of Lisa’s absence.

  “That sucks.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Angela is quitting college and going to work. She really wants to earn a living and marry this boy she’s living with. She has a second interview with my stockbroker.” Paul beamed.

  Sam’s chin dropped.

  “She probably won’t keep the job any longer than she has the others she’s tried during summer breaks, but at least she’s trying. Talk about allowing a situation. Don’t get me started on how I’ve fucked up my daughter.” Paul crawled up the bed and stretched out beside Sam. “I don’t have to go back to that empty house and glaring monitor, do I?”

  “We’re just pitiful,” Sam said.

  “Woe is me.” Paul struck a pose with wrist to forehead.

  Sam laughed as she popped him in the head with the pillow.

  “Hungry?” Paul peeked out from behind the corner of the pillow.