“Don’t let me fool you,” he said. “I have my moments, just like everyone else. Besides, once again, you’re second-guessing yourself too much.”
“I don’t know.”
“Try to think about the gems, even when the others are giving you shit. They’re always there, but the difficult ones pull us away from seeing them.”
Ian was one of the gems, and Sophie was uncharacteristically relaxed as she headed to her fifth period class, which was normally one of her biggest sources of stress. Strangely, she found her students were different as well. Not once that hour did any of them say something hurtful or nasty. They even bordered on being kind to one another. It was a good day.
However, she was going to make an effort to keep an eye on her new friend, Ian.
Eleven
“I have never been able to do that.” Sophie tossed another popcorn kernel Sam’s way.
They lay facing each other, one on each end of his couch. Sam leaned to the side and caught another one in his mouth. “You have to be quick,” he bragged, like it was a special talent.
“Let me try.”
A piece of popcorn hit her on the nose. Then another one in the eye. She felt like an idiot trying to catch the damn things. “I can’t do it!” She laughed. Before long, ten or more pieces were hitting her at a time. “Hey, knock it off!”
“Well, I thought if you had a few coming at you at once, you might be able to catch at least one. But it’s clear you don’t have the gift.”
“I guess we all have our failings,” she said.
Sam quit pelting her and set the bowl on the floor. “Come over here.”
She crawled over to him and lay on his stomach, her socks rubbing against his bare feet. Louis Armstrong’s “La Vie En Rose” played faintly on the old jazz station, a love they both shared. Sophie had always felt she was born out of her time. She had a fondness for 40s music and fashion since she was a child. Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman—she loved jazz and swing.
When she was about ten years old, she had one of those old-fashioned, domed-shaped radios in her room, and couldn’t understand why it played Billy Idol and not big band. The first time Sam had the stuff playing on his stereo, she could hardly believe it. She had never met anyone her age who was into it.
“You should wear your bangs shorter. Stop hiding those gorgeous eyes.” He brushed them out of the way. She scooted up a bit more so she could reach to kiss him, tasting the salt on his lips.
“I could cut them again, if you like,” she offered.
“No, please don’t do that.” He chuckled. “Leave that to a professional, I beg you.”
“You sure?” She sat up and pulled her bangs straight up in the air.
He studied her carefully. “On second thought. . . .”
“I could get some of that Bed Head stuff. That would make them stay this way.”
“Or I could offer up my personal homemade gel,” he said with a flash of his eyebrows. “High in protein. Very good for your hair.”
Sophie choked out a strange noise in response. “Sam!” She grabbed a pillow and smacked him in the face with it. “You are so bad!”
He swiftly flipped her onto her back, tickling her relentlessly, making her squeal and giggle. Only when she tired of fighting back did he finally take mercy on her. He lay on top of her, so that his face was close to hers.
“Do you have any idea how often I think about you?” he asked.
“You do?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” He knitted his brows together. “See, I just can’t concentrate on my work anymore. The kids are always sayin’. . . .” He switched to a falsetto. “Mr. Collins, would you please stop daydreaming about Miss Cook? We have so much learning to do! We need you to mold our eager minds!”
Sophie rolled her eyes and snorted. “Good God!”
“It’s true.” His lips grazed her skin just above the scoop of her tank top, then slowly his kisses traveled up her neck. She closed her eyes and smiled, wrapping her arms around him. Damn, taking things slow is going to be rough!
It wasn’t long before the innocent dallying led to his body pressing against hers. She moved beneath him, in spite of herself, her hands on his lower back, pulling him closer.
Oh, how she wanted him! Right then and there. His exploring led him to her bare shoulders, her collarbone, her chin. As their desire rapidly grew in intensity, her mouth eagerly welcoming his, Sophie willed herself to cool things down—unsuccessfully. Maybe it was okay to throw caution to the wind, she thought, just this once. Just about the time she had surrendered to the idea, Sam forced himself to break off their make-out session, going listless and letting his arm hang to the floor.
“You’re killing me!” He moaned.
“Me?” She tapped his shoulder to let him know she wanted up, then rose from the couch and started fanning herself. “You started that!”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?”
“You are ignoring our agreement,” she said with a pointed finger. Given that they worked together, they both thought it a good idea to postpone any serious intimacy until they felt confident this was going somewhere. Sophie had expressed how difficult it would be for her to see him on campus if they ever broke up, after doing the deed. She realized there were no guarantees, but at least wanted to attempt some restraint.
She wasn’t prepared for how quickly she had become attached. They had only been seeing each other for about a month, but they had been spending nearly every moment of that month either texting, on the phone, or together. It was all rather gooey.
“You’re right. You’re right.” He nodded. “I’m sorry.” His nod gradually turned into a shake of the head with a grin. “Actually, no. I’m not sorry.”
She sat down next to him and gave him a playful shove.
“What’s going on with Abby?” Sophie asked, eyeing her sprawled next to the couch. “I can’t believe she wasn’t jumping in when you were tickling me. She’s just been lying there the whole time.”
He got down on the floor next to Abby to pet her. “Yeah, I hate to say it, but I think she may be on her way out. She’s been having kidney trouble for the past few months. I’ve been giving her medicine for it, but I don’t think it’s doing a whole lot for her now.”
Sophie joined him on the carpet. “Sam, I’m sorry. Poor Abby.” She laid her face next to the dog whose eyes were half closed. Abby didn’t seem to care that they were both doting on her as she tried to nap. Sophie ran her palm down the length of the dog’s body. There was no way to describe or express it, but there was something about this aging pooch that, at times, intensified the connection she felt with Sam. She couldn’t put her finger on it; it was just an odd sense. Maybe it was because she had been here so often, Sophie was beginning to see Abby as much her dog as his.
A Cole Porter tune rolled in, and with it, the thought of an Australian Shepherd at her feet, trotting alongside her. She caught a glimpse of her saddle shoes and the hem of her navy skirt, as she pushed open a door—what appeared to be a barn door. And this door opened to the same golden grass, the same saturated hues. Someone was there with her. Well, not exactly with her, but not far ahead. His back toward her, working on something. Was it a tractor?
The touch of Sam’s fingers in her hair pulled Sophie back to the present moment. “Are you okay? You look like you’re having some kind of telepathic moment with Abby,” he teased.
“Oh.” Sophie sat up, pretzel-style. “Guess I was kinda zoning out there.” She patted her cheeks, but couldn’t disguise her discomposure.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Just tell him!What are you so afraid of anyway?
Uh, that he’ll think I’m some sort of fruit loop!
But he said he’d seen something, too, that first time you kissed. Why are you so scared to talk to him about it?
“So are you ready to tell me about that tattoo?” She c
hanged the subject.
Sam leaned back against the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you take a guess at what it means?”
“Hmmm. You mentioned something about it being corny. How about Mother?”
“Nope.”
“Ummm. . . .” She tapped her finger to her chin. “With great power comes great responsibility. That’s from Spiderman, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But that’s strike two.”
“Uh. . . .” She thought a little longer, uncrossing and crossing her legs. “Do or do not. There is no try,” she said in her best Yoda voice.
Sam smirked. “What the hell was that?”
“What? Everyone knows Yoda has the best quotes.”
“Those are really long guesses. You think this one little symbol is going to say all that?”
“How should I know? I don’t know how to read Chinese. I thought one of those little lines could be a whole word.”
“One.”
“One?” she repeated.
“The symbol means one.”
“Ohhhhh!” She nodded her head, before frowning with confusion. “One what?”
“We’re all one,” he said, briefly twirling his finger in a circular motion. “Everything’s one.”
She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “That’s very deep,” she commended. “And cool. How old were you when you got the tattoo?”
He peered up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. “I think about twenty.”
“So. . . .” Sophie crept over to him along the floor and took his arm and wrapped it around her. “How long have you been this complicated, reflective guy? Were you like that as a child?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself complicated. I consider myself very uncomplicated. But reflective?” He tilted his head, as if he would agree with that term. “Let’s just say I was a very inquisitive kid. Always observing.”
“I see.”
“Now, I have something to ask you.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “How is it that you’re not married? That someone hasn’t snatched you up. How old did you say you were? Fifty-two? Fifty-three?”
“Very funny.” She knew this conversation would eventually come, because she had the same question about him. “There’s nothing deep and dark about it. For one thing, I haven’t really dated a whole lot of people, so when you add that to the fact that it’s tricky finding someone you’re compatible with, well, there ya have it.”
Sam pursed his lips with concentration and nodded. “So, how many is not a whole lot?”
“Not a whole lot,” she repeated, starting to feel weird about this discussion. “I don’t know.” She started counting in her head. “Five . . . six . . . over the last ten years. And I wouldn’t even call a couple of them dating—more like three or four dates.” Why was this making her so uncomfortable? “Is that bad?”
Did she really just ask him if that was bad? Oy! Why was she seeking his approval?
“I don’t know!” He laughed. “It’s not bad or good, I was just wondering.”
“Well, what about you? Why haven’t you settled down?”
“Maybe I’ve been waiting for you.”
She straddled his lap and touched his face, as if she were about to say something very sweet. “Nice try, but you’re not gonna sidetrack me that easily.”
“Okay.” He exhaled, running his hands back and forth over her thighs. It seemed like he was stalling. “I was engaged, to someone I was with for years.”
Sophie’s heart dropped. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like it at all. “How long were you with her?” she asked.
“Four years.”
“How long were you engaged?”
“A year,” he answered.
Ouch, this was painful! The thought of him almost marrying someone. Someone that wasn’t her. She climbed off of his lap and sat beside him. “So what happened?”
He shrugged, staring at his hands. “We wanted different things. I wanted kids. She didn’t. And each of us believed we’d change each other.” He gave her a half-cocked grin. “Lesson learned, right?”
She tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t reveal she was crushed, because she had absolutely no reason to be. This heaviness inside was so stupid! “If I said I’m sorry it didn’t work out, I’d be lying,” she said. “But I’m sorry if you were hurt.”
“It’s okay, Sophie.”
Now she just felt blech. You’re seriously going to let this ruin your evening? Let it go!
Sam wasn’t oblivious to her shift in mood and squeezed her hand. “You know, this was quite a while ago. It was when I was like, twenty-eight.” He kissed her on the nose. “Don’t start thinking you’re a rebound girl.”
“I’m not.”
“So you’re not going to share anything about your relationships?”
“Well, I’ve never been engaged, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She felt sick about his revelation, and she so did not want to be this possessive, jealous girl over something that took place before they even met. Sophie, get a grip!
“Nothing serious in your past?” he pressed.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” There was James. He seemed perfect in every way, and she was completely infatuated with him at the beginning. But somewhere along the way, she realized he wasn’t someone she wanted to spend her life with. He was a wonderful person whose company she adored, but that was all. “There was this guy I saw a few years back,” she told Sam. “We dated for about nine months, but he just wasn’t the one. You know?”
“No one mentionable since then?”
She shook her head and frowned. “Not really. There was someone I was really into, but the feeling wasn’t mutual.”
“What the hell he was smoking?” Sam wondered. “His loss, my gain.”
It was the story of her life. The men who went for her, she had no interest in, and the ones she pursued barely knew she existed. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. Until now.
Sam rose from the floor, then offered his hand to Sophie to pull her up. “I’m gonna get me some coffee. Want some?”
“Sure.” She followed him to the kitchen, then leaned on the bar and watched him. He was saying something about a meeting at work, but she wasn’t paying much attention. Deciding to put the news about Sam out of her mind, her thoughts wandered to Evie, wondering what had transpired between her and Christian. They had spoken since their time at the mall, which was about two weeks ago, but Evie had not said another word about it. She longed to learn the details, but Evie was becoming increasingly private and overprotective of Christian, and Sophie had been trying extra hard not to start another argument. She was beginning to feel like Evie’s relationship with him was pulling her further and further away, but deep down, she knew it was her own doing.
“You got awfully quiet,” Sam said.
“I need some advice.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“So, you know about my sister and her illness,” Sophie said. “And you know how I am not a fan of Christian.”
“Uh, yeah. You’ve mentioned it on more than one occasion,” he kidded. Sam took a couple of mugs from an overhead cabinet. Nice, wide mugs, the kind Sophie loved for coffee, but could never seem to find in the stores.
“I’ve never hated the guy or anything, or thought he was a bad person, but—Evie and I saw something that made it look like he might be cheating on her.” Sam handed her a full cup and rested his arms on the counter. “And . . . oooh! If he is, I will have to hurt him.”
“That’s pretty rough.”
“And the thing is,” she added, her eyes widening with frustration. “I think even if he did cheat, she’ll stay!”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm?” Sophie echoed.
“I guess I’m still waiting for a question in there.” With coffee in hand, he walked toward the back of the house and opened the French door. “C’mon. Let’s sit ou
tside.”
Sophie grabbed the lightweight hoodie she had draped on a barstool, before accompanying him outside to make herself comfortable in the cushioned sling rocker on his patio. “I suppose I really don’t have a question. But Evie says that I judge her all the time. That she can’t confide in me because of it. I don’t think I’m being judgmental, I just want what’s best for her.”
Sam tossed some wood into the fire pit, then he paused. “And of course, you know what’s best for her,” he said amiably.
Sophie sat up straight in her seat. “I’m not saying that, exactly.”
“What are you saying then?”
“Dude! Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? I mean, she’s my sister,” she said, putting her hand to her heart.
“Sophie, I’m not on anyone’s side here.” He brushed his hands on his jeans, lit a match, and threw it into the pit. The result was only a faint glow, so he took the fire iron and nudged the wood to ignite the flame. “Do you know for a fact he’s cheating on her?”
“Well, no.”
“Does she love him?”
“Oddly, yes,” she replied.
He shook his head and smiled. “Nah, I can’t see why she would feel like you’re judging her or anything.” He dropped a couple more matches into the fire that was slow to start.
Sophie was about to argue the point, then stopped herself. She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God!” she said, recognizing it for the first time.
“I get it.” Sam joined her on the swing. “Like you said, she’s your sister, and you want to protect her.”
“I do!” she agreed emphatically.
“I know it’s hard, but things will be a lot easier on you when you just realize and accept that it’s her life, and she’s gonna live it the way she wants. Never mind how you feel about it.”
“Apparently you haven’t had a loved one making choices that aren’t good for them.”
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