The Last Time We Kissed

by Ann Roth

  Sam felt like a jerk. Some uncle he was, and further proof he’d make a lousy parent. He gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry kid, but you’re stuck with me. Tell you what, though, we’ll call her later.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sat up. “So your throat hurts, huh?”

  She nodded and sniffled. “Especially when I swallow.”

  Now that he thought about it, her voice sounded sort of cottony and thick, as if her throat were raw. She didn’t look so good, either—pale and dull-eyed, but that could be from the early hour. Over the past few days, several of her dancer friends had come down with strep. He frowned. “You got a fever?”

  “I’m pretty hot, so maybe.” Her puzzled gaze wandered to his bare chest, her discomfort momentarily forgotten. “How come you’re not wearing pajamas?”

  Sam gave a sharp, worried glance down. Nothing visible except his chest and thighs, thank God. “I like to sleep in…my shorts,” he said. His preference was to sleep naked. While taking care of Mariah, he’d opted to wear his boxers. At the moment, that seemed a very wise decision.

  He smoothed down the covers and patted the bed. “Climb up.” Mariah did. Sitting beside him, shoulders slumped, she stared listlessly at her lap while he felt her forehead. He frowned. “You’re pretty warm. I’ll call Gabe first thing in the morning and make an appointment.” Sam recalled his sister’s carefully written instructions for every possible emergency. He’d tacked them to the refrigerator with a large butterfly magnet. “Sit tight and I’ll be right back.”

  He pulled on a T-shirt and headed downstairs, then grabbed the notes, skimming them on the way back to his niece. “I think you should take a couple of kids’ Tylenol. Now let’s get you back in your own bed.”

  Mariah gave a heavy nod. Hand on her narrow shoulder, he steered her down the hall to her bed.

  He flipped on the light and her room lit up. His sister had decorated the space to accommodate Mariah’s favorite things. Two Degas reproductions of young ballerinas hung beside a poster of a female basketball team. Three bookshelves full of her favorite books stood over a bulging toy box. Dolls and stuffed animals were piled high on the padded window seat that overlooked the backyard.

  Sam tucked her in, then brought her the over-the-counter pain reliever—liquid because she didn’t like pills—and a glass of ice water. Obediently she swallowed the medicine, chasing it with water.

  “Will I have to miss school?” she asked, her eyes large and worried.

  “Probably.” Which meant he’d miss work. Along with his normal busy Monday, he was about to bid on property for a new Cutter’s in a small town up the freeway. He was also in the middle of negotiating with a new meat vendor. With his calendar full of meetings and appointments, he couldn’t afford to stay home. But what choice did he have? Luckily he’d brought his laptop home.

  “If you have to go to work, Claudia can probably baby-sit me when she gets home from school,” Mariah said as if she’d read his mind.

  “Good idea.” Sam nodded. He’d contact her.

  “You’ll have to call my teacher and get the homework. And Miss Parker, too, and tell her I won’t be at rehearsal.”

  Given what had happened a few days earlier, Sam didn’t relish the idea of talking to Amy. He had enough trouble keeping his thoughts off her without conducting an actual conversation. He’d take care of the problem with a crack-of-dawn call, and leave a message on her machine. Then again, knowing her workaholic tendencies, she’d likely be at work first thing. He couldn’t stop a groan.

  “Uncle Sam?” Mariah eyed him, still worried, but with a sleepy look.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he grumbled. “Now try to go back to sleep.”

  Sam didn’t bother. He was showered and dressed by five-thirty. Too early to phone anyone. He turned on the coffeemaker, setting up the laptop while the coffee brewed. The fragrant smell helped him wake up. He logged on to his office computer, savoring his first cup while he took care of e-mails. Then he refilled his mug, ate a bowl of cereal and scanned the newspaper. He made his first call at seven, to Gabe.

  “Bring her in at nine,” his friend said.

  Next, Sam phoned work. His secretary, a punctual and efficient woman in her mid-fifties, arrived daily at seven-fifteen. They worked through his calendar, rescheduling the day’s activities. “I’ll get back to you later this morning,” he pledged forty-five minutes later.

  It was nearly time to wake Mariah. After her rough night, he hated to do that. He’d let her sleep a while longer and use the time to call Amy. With dread, Sam looked up the number, which his sister had provided along with dozens of other numbers relating to Mariah and her activities. Not that he actually needed to consult the list. Though he hadn’t phoned Amy in over a decade and hadn’t planned to, he’d memorized both her studio and home numbers. Knowing that didn’t brighten his mood any. Stern-lipped, he grabbed the phone and with an odd mixture of dread and anticipation he didn’t understand, punched in the number to the studio.

  After six rings, the machine clicked on, which caught Sam by surprise. Years back, Amy had started work first thing every morning. She would have been at the studio by now.

  Ignoring a stab of disappointment he released a relieved breath. At least he didn’t have to talk to her. He left a message, then went to wake his niece.

  “SORRY CLAUDIA CAN’T come over today,” Mariah said after dutifully taking her first dose of the prescription medication Gabe had ordered. She lay listlessly on the sofa, watching a kids’ TV show.

  “Hey, you can’t help it,” Sam said.

  Gabe had cultured her throat, but one look at the redness and blisters and he knew. She had strep. According to Gabe, she was contagious for the first twenty-four hours after starting her medication. She’d miss at least one more day of school.

  His niece yawned. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

  Sam clicked off the TV and nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen, working. Holler if you need me.”

  He checked his voice mail. Amy had phoned, reminding him that it was his turn to bring the refreshments on Saturday. Sounding suitably sympathetic, she’d also she wished Mariah a speedy recovery. Nice of her, Sam thought. Though nice didn’t begin to describe Amy. Elbow on the table, he woke up his computer and stared at the screen without seeing it. How would he describe her? he mused. Full of fire, beautiful, passionate, one hell of a kisser—mid-thought he frowned and stopped himself. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was headed nowhere. And he’d wasted way too much time thinking about her. Besides, he had work to do.

  Mariah slept on and off. Between fixing lunch, getting her assignments from her teacher and keeping her company when she was awake, Sam managed to conduct a fair amount of business via phone and e-mail. By late afternoon, his niece felt well enough to work on her homework. Then they played Monopoly. Sam let her win. With the kid in better spirits, taking care of her wasn’t so bad.

  Just before he tucked her in for the night, she smiled. “You’re just as fun as my dad.”

  The words surprised him. Sam angled her a look. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She nodded. “You could be a daddy, too, Uncle Sam. Then I’d have a cousin. She’d think you were the best dad ever.”

  High praise, coming from his niece. “Thanks, kid.” Sam had never imagined himself in that role. He didn’t believe he had the temperament, despite Gabe’s pronouncement the other night that he did. “Being your uncle is good enough for me.”

  But later, just before falling asleep, he mulled over Mariah’s words and their day. For a guy with scant experience taking care of kids, especially a sick kid, he’d done okay. It might be fun to have one of his own. Too bad he’d never get married.

  The unexpected thought garnered a scowl. The single life was what he wanted. He’d get his “kid” fix through his niece.

  THANKS TO THE WONDERS of modern medicine, by dinner on Tuesday Mariah seemed good as new, and ready to head back to school and resume her activi
ties. Sam marveled at her quick recovery, which included a hearty appetite and the return of her natural exuberance. He watched with amusement as she demolished the chocolate sundae he’d made for dessert at her request.

  “Friday is show-and-tell,” she said when she at last came up for air. “I want to bring you.”

  “What for?”

  Turning her head sideways, she wrinkled her nose as if the question were ridiculous. “As my show-and-tell, silly.”

  Having missed two days at the office, Sam didn’t relish missing yet more work. “Is that allowed?”

  Mariah licked the chocolate from her spoon before replying. “I’ll ask my teacher. Some of the other kids in my class have brought in special people, so I know she’ll say yes. The kids will think it’s so cool to meet the owner of Cutter’s Fabulous Burgers.”

  “Special, huh?”

  She positively glowed with pride as she nodded, which pleased Sam. That plus her hopeful, big-eyed look made her request difficult to refuse.

  He shrugged. “I think I can make that. Maybe I’ll hand out coupons for Cutter’s specials, too. Ask your teacher about that.”

  “I will!” Mariah’s toothy grin told him he’d said the right thing.

  “WHAT’S IT LIKE, eating Cutter’s burgers, fries and shakes any time you want?” a pudgy boy with curly brown hair asked Sam during show-and-tell.

  The question was exactly what a growing boy would want to know. Sam’s mouth quirked. During his half hour here, he had fielded half a dozen similar questions from Mariah’s two dozen classmates. “I don’t eat every meal at my restaurant,” he said. “But I do eat lunch at one Cutter’s or another almost every day.”

  “You’re so lucky,” a pink-cheeked girl wearing a braided headband said with an envious sigh.

  Everyone in class seemed to agree, evidenced by the sudden escalation in noise level.

  Sam grinned. This was easy, and fun, too.

  “There’s time for two more questions and then we’ll let Mr. Cutter get back to running his business,” said Mariah’s teacher, a string bean of a middle-aged woman.

  “Can I have your autograph?” a kid with big ears and a large mouth asked.

  “May I,” the teacher corrected.

  The boy flushed. “May I have your autograph, Mr. Cutter?” he repeated.

  “Sure,” Sam replied. “I have some restaurant coupons, too, which I’ll give your teacher to hand out.”

  A tow-headed girl from Mariah’s dance group, whose name Sam didn’t recall, raised her hand. He nodded to her to speak.

  “Is it true you and Miss Parker used to be married?”

  Sam hadn’t anticipated the question. Not here, and not from a pip-squeak of a girl. He rolled his eyes. Was there no escape from the gossip? “A long time ago.”

  “Before I was born,” Mariah added sagely as she cut Sam a curious look.

  “Are you going to marry her again?” the pudgy boy asked.

  This kid wasn’t even a dancer. Sam shook his head. “Absolutely not.” Frowning, he looked to the teacher for help.

  The pesky female dancer opened her mouth. “But, my mom said—”

  “Looks like we’re out of time,” Sam cut in. He moved aside as the red-faced teacher walked to the front of the room.

  She cleared her throat and shot Sam an I’m-sorry-they-got-personal smile. “Let’s thank Mariah for bringing her uncle, and thank Mr. Cutter for his time and the coupons.”

  The class dutifully voiced their appreciation. Sam nodded and beat a hasty retreat.

  Some show-and-tell.

  Chapter Six

  THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, Amy stood at the side of the stage directing the Rubies—sixteen eleven- and twelve-year-olds, tall, short, chubby and thin—as they worked through the end of their dance. Due to a nasty strep bug that had circulated through the group, more than a few students had missed several days of rehearsal. In their short time away, they’d already forgotten parts of their routine. “Adagio, and pirouette,” she reminded them to the rousing beat of a Mozart piano concerto. “One and two, and move into high fifth.”

  Faces taut with concentration, they executed the final steps in time to the music, some in sync, others a beat behind. The dance ended with a dramatic crescendo. In the moment of silence following, flushed and breathless, the entire group glanced expectantly toward Amy.

  They’d worked hard, and while they were far from good, Amy was satisfied. “Nice job,” she proclaimed with a pleased smile.

  Grins broke out everywhere. “Yes!” exclaimed Jared Shorey, a reedy, thin twelve-year-old. Fists of agreement shot into the air, and excited chatter erupted as the dancers on stage and those sitting on the floor out front shared their exuberance. Forty-four students in all, they created a lot of noise.

  Amy let them talk. Everyone had been respectful and quiet throughout the Rubies’rehearsal. Now they needed a chance to let loose. With only three weeks until the recital, she’d started a four-hour rehearsal this morning. Each group had run through their routines several times while kids from the other groups watched. Since Amy wanted the recital to be a surprise for the parents, adults were no longer allowed to stay and watch. The kids loved sharing a secret, and the mystery created a wonderful buzz of excitement.

  Amy was excited, too, but she needed a break. She glanced at the large round clock opposite the mirrored wall. Nearly lunchtime, thank goodness. “May I have your attention, dancers?” She called out, holding up a hand. When silence fell and the attention focused on her she continued. “That’s it until after lunch. We’ll take an hour’s break, and then we’ll run through our group finale. After that, some of your parents will be here to work on the things we need for the recital. But you get to go home.”

  “Hey, Mariah, when is your uncle bringing the food?” David Smith asked, peering at the girl from the stage. At twelve, he was growing like a weed and always hungry.

  This was Sam’s and Mariah’s day to provide the snack. Sam had generously offered to feed the whole group at his expense, a proposal too good to refuse. From her place on the floor Mariah shifted positions and studied the clock, her expression worried. “He said he’d be here at noon.” Frowning, she looked to Amy. “Should we call him, Miss Parker?”

  The man had his faults, but he always followed through. “I’m sure he’ll be here,” Amy assured the girl. “This is a good time to wash up and find a place to sit.”

  Noisy conversation resumed. Laughing, talking, and exuberant, the Rubies skipped, loped and moved en masse across the stage with a boundless energy that Amy envied.

  Her shoulders slumped as she fast-forwarded the tape of recital music she’d recorded to the finale piece she’d need later. She was worn down, and not just because of the rehearsal schedule. She’d also fielded endless questions about the performance from both parents and kids. Then there were the whispers, blatant stares and speculative comments about her and Sam. Just as Amy had feared, Kari and Connie had spread untrue rumors all over town. Over and over, she’d explained that there was nothing between her and Sam. They were not getting back together, didn’t plan to in the future and never would. People seemed to listen. They nodded, but Amy got the feeling they didn’t believe her. Even Dani and Nina seemed skeptical. Her best friends!

  It didn’t matter that she and Sam had given them nothing to work from. They’d barely spoken since last Saturday. Sure, he’d come in twice to work on the sets. But there were other parents around, and they plainly observed that nothing at all passed between her and Sam other than a brief hello. Why couldn’t people stop manufacturing ridiculous things that weren’t true? Amy was truly perturbed. With all the rumors floating around, she’d never meet a man to make a life with. The rumors had to stop.

  No doubt Sam had heard the same kinds of comments. Amy planned to talk to him when he delivered lunch. They needed to compare notes and figure out how to put an end to the gossip. With parents not allowed in the studio for another two hours and the students
wrapped up in the recital and their own lives, a private discussion with Sam should be safe enough.

  “He’s here!” Mariah shouted over the noise. “Hi, Uncle Sam!” She jumped up and dashed toward the door at the back of the room.

  All heads turned toward Sam. Arms heavy with two flats of pop, he shouldered open the door. Sun-light slipped through as two high school boys trudged inside hefting large boxes. Sam followed, letting the door bang shut behind him.

  He looked straight at Amy, who waited near the stage. “Where do you want this stuff?” he asked over the noise.

  “Up here by the stage.”

  Trailed by the two gawky boys, Sam strode forward, his biceps bulging from his load. Amy told herself not to look at his strong arms wearing that gray T-shirt, but how could she help herself? Her heart thudded giddily in her chest and her stomach did a funny flip-flop—the same unwanted visceral response she had every time she saw him.

  Several girls from the Rubies and Emeralds shyly eyed Sam’s young assistants. Though the nine-through twelve-year-old females were far too young for teenage boys, both males noticed and flushed scarlet. They set their boxes on the stage, then shoved their hands in their pockets and shifted awkwardly. Sam thanked them, then tipped both generously and sent them on their way.

  The aromas of French fries, onion rings and piping hot burgers quickly filled the air. The noise level increased as hungry kids crowded around. Sam caught Amy’s eye and shook his head at the growing pandemonium. Kids, he seemed to be saying. I know, Amy shrugged, and for one brief moment they were on the same wavelength.

  She smiled, and then so did he, even his eyes. His whole face lit up, and suddenly he was more than a good-looking man. He was irresistible. Amy succumbed completely to his charm. For the second time since he’d walked through the door, her heart expanded. Touching her hand to her chest, she drew in a dreamy breath. As she released a sigh, his grin subtly shifted to an intimate smile meant just for her. His eyes darkened and warmed. Pure, unadulterated heat seemed to arc between them. Blood rushed to Amy’s face, and she quickly ducked her head. She sensed that Sam, too, had averted his gaze.