Stranger

by Megan Hart

  He looked up with a small grin. “I know. I know, okay? And I want to take the job. I’m just worried about the test, that’s all.”

  “You’ll pass. You’re good at this.”

  Together we finished with Mr. Rombaugh. I was looking forward to Jared getting his license, too, if it meant I might get a break once in a while. The emotional ups and downs of the only job I’d ever considered were as upsetting to me as the reasons I was having them.

  Jared shrugged. “I hope so.”

  “Listen, Jared…about the partnership thing. I haven’t really had time to think about it. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t considering it.”

  I’d turned to the sink to wash my hands after stripping off my latex gloves, but Jared didn’t answer. I thought maybe the sound of the water had garbled my words, but when I turned to repeat myself, his expression stopped me. “Huh?”

  Shit.

  “I thought Shelly would have mentioned it to you by now…” I trailed off. It’s hard to speak with a foot in your mouth.

  “About a partnership?” Jared looked momentarily pleased before his brow furrowed.

  “Shelly talked to you about making me a partner?”

  Double shit.

  “Um…yeah. She did. Last week. I told her I’d have to think about it. And I have,” I added hastily. “But I haven’t made a decision yet.”

  Jared shook his head, his jaw setting. He finished up what he’d been doing and stripped off the apron he’d used to cover his clothes. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t believe she’d talk to you about something like that and not tell me.”

  “I’m sorry I said anything.”

  He shook his head again, harder. “No. I’m glad you told me. Are we done here?”

  “I can finish up.”

  Jared looked upward, his gaze probably shifting through the ceiling to find the bottom of Shelly’s desk just above us. “Would you mind if I took Shelly out for a long lunch?”

  Instead of having them battle it out here? “Sure. Go ahead. It’s been pretty quiet. I’ll page you if I need you.”

  He nodded and left the room without another word.

  One more reminder of just how complicated relationships could be.

  The perfect occasion for Sam to meet my family arose in early October when my brother, Craig, came home to celebrate my mom’s birthday. Because he came home so rarely it was more of a party for him than for my mom, but we were going to have dinner and cake and presents.

  Hannah had planned just about everything and given me a list of tasks to complete, which I was more than happy to do, since it took most of the pressure off me.

  “And you’re bringing your friend, right?” This came over the phone.

  I hadn’t seen my sister much since the day she’d dropped off her kids with me. She’d always been too busy to have lunch with me. I thought I understood, even if I didn’t want to dwell too long on what she was doing with her time.

  “Yes. My boyfriend.” I paused for her reaction, but while admitting what Sam was to me meant a lot to me, it didn’t seem to register so much with her. “Sam.”

  “Sam. Right.” I heard the scratching of a pen on paper.

  “Hannah, are you making place cards? Please tell me you’re not making place cards.”

  “Relax,” Hannah said. “I’m just making a grocery list. Geez, Grace, since when did you get so uptight?”

  “Pot, have you met kettle? I think you have a lot in common.”

  My sister, to my vast surprise, laughed. “Ha, ha. Very clever. Did you read that off a gum wrapper?”

  “You’re in a very good mood,” I told her. Unusual for being in the midst of planning a party.

  “Let’s just say I’m learning to let a lot of things go.”

  Hmm. I wasn’t sure I wanted to touch that one. “Well, good. E-mail me what you want me to pick up.”

  “I’ll drop it off on my way to the library with the kids for story time.”

  “Here?” Again?

  “Yes. There. It’s easier for me than e-mailing. Not everyone lives their life online, Grace.”

  “Okay by me.” I wasn’t going to tell her I was surprised.

  “Oh, make sure Sam wears a suit and tie.”

  “Hannah!”

  “Just kidding,” my sister said, and hung up with a laugh.

  When I broached the subject of the family party with Sam, it was in the shower while he soaped my back. And my front. He didn’t miss my sides, either. In fact, Sam was being so thorough in his attentions, I had to repeat myself because he hadn’t been paying attention to my words.

  “Sam.” I put my hand over his. “You’re not listening.”

  He tore his gaze away from my suds-covered breasts and looked into my eyes. “I was listening. You want me to go to a party with you at your parents’ house.”

  “Yes. Will you?”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. Water splatted down between us, wetting my hair but only reaching Sam’s chest. “If you want me to.”

  “Why would you think I didn’t want you to?” I grabbed up the net sponge and the body wash and made him turn around so I could scrub his back.

  Sam looked over his shoulder at me. “Because we’ve been together for a couple months now and you’ve never introduced me to your family. I thought maybe you were ashamed of me, or something.”

  “Oh, Sam.” I poked his side. “Stop it.”

  He laughed and leaned forward to put a hand on the glass brick wall. “That feels good. Not the poking. The washing.”

  I scrubbed a little harder. “Like this?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes,” he said in a thick pirate accent. “Purr, purr. That be nice.”

  I moved lower, from behind, slipping a hand between his legs to fondle him. “How’s that?”

  “Purr, purr, that be nice, too.” He hummed and shifted his feet wider apart, but a moment later his entire body jerked. “Shit! What the hell?”

  I dropped the sponge and stepped back before he could slug me in the face with his elbow.

  Sam turned, holding out his hand. A deep white slice welling with crimson crisscrossed his palm.

  He held it out under the shower spray and blood spattered under the force of the water.

  “Hold it under the water for a minute while I get a towel.” I reached to grab one from the hook near the shower and brought it in as I turned off the water. Sam held out his hand for me to wrap in the absorbent fabric, but blood had dripped onto the shower floor. It dotted his legs and stomach, too. I pressed the material hard onto the wound and together we eased out of the shower and onto the floor mat.

  “Sit down.” I pushed him to sit on the toilet while I rifled through my medicine cabinet for some gauze pads. “The same thing happened to me a few months ago. It must be a crack in the glass.”

  He hissed when I pulled away the towel, but the cut had mostly stopped bleeding. I cleaned it with peroxide and bit back my laughter when he yelped. I blew on the wound to ease the sting, then bandaged it.

  I kissed it gently. “There. All better.”

  Sam took up a lot of space in my small bathroom. With him sitting on my toilet, his knees nearly hit the opposite wall. His shoulders almost filled the small toilet alcove from side to side.

  Naked and wet, his skin humped with gooseflesh and his wounded hand laid out faceup on his knee as if he was afraid to touch it, he looked as if he belonged there.

  “I would never be ashamed of you, Sam. I hope you know that.”

  He touched my cheek with his unhurt hand. “Give it time.”

  Chapter 19

  I laughed off what he’d said, though it lingered with me. I’d never been ashamed of Sam, just wary about introducing him to the people I cared about in case things didn’t work out. Like most things, it had been all about me.

  In front of my parents’ house we sat in Sam’s car with the engine running. He wore a shirt I’d never seen before, tucked into khaki cargo pants instead of his fa
miliar jeans. He looked presentable and teacherly, even with the glinting earring and feathery spiked hair. I missed his big, clunky brogans and his layered shirts and the worn black leather belt. Still, it was obvious he’d made an effort, and I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

  “Are you ready?”

  He smiled. “You act like your family’s a pack of cannibals or something.”

  “No. They’re not that bad.” I laughed and ruffled a hand over his hair. “They’re just not used to me bringing anyone home. You’re probably going to get a lot of attention from my niece and nephew.”

  “That’s okay. So long as your dad doesn’t ask me to go for a walk out back to where he keeps his guns or anything.”

  “Oh, Sam.” I punched his upper arm lightly and rolled my eyes. “My dad doesn’t have any guns.”

  Sam grinned and kissed me. “Cattle prod?”

  “C’mon, let’s go in before they wonder what we’re doing out here.” I sighed. “Because you know they’re all peeking out the windows.”

  He peered around me to look up at the house. “Can I ask you something before we go in?”

  I’d already put my hand on the door handle, but I stopped before opening it. “Sure.”

  “Why didn’t you ever bring anyone home before?”

  That was a heavy question with no simple answer, and one I didn’t think we had time to really discuss at the moment. “I guess I haven’t met anyone in a long time who I wanted to keep around long enough to bother introducing to my family.”

  Sam’s grin tickled my insides. “Didn’t I tell you that you wouldn’t regret giving me a chance?”

  “I think you mentioned it once or twice.” I ran my fingers through the soft fringes of hair over his ear.

  “Are you glad?” Sam looked sincere, not joking, so I didn’t tease.

  “Yes, Sam. I’m glad.”

  He gave a half nod. “Me, too. Let’s go.”

  Just to prove I wasn’t ashamed, I held his hand as we went into the house and I introduced him to my parents, to Craig, to Hannah and Jerry, and finally, Melanie and Simon. The kids looked up, up, up, eyes wide in little faces and mouths agape.

  “Are you a giant?” asked Simon.

  Sam laughed and squatted to bring himself eye to eye with my nephew. “Yo, ho, ho. But, nope. I can do magic, though.”

  Simon’s eyes lit. “Like Criss Angel?”

  Sam shot me a look. “Maybe not quite like him.”

  He pulled a quarter from his pocket and did a passable sleight-of-hand trick to pull it from behind Simon’s ear. He then had to repeat the trick for Melanie. When the kids each took him by a hand and pulled him into the den to look at the fort they’d built with cushions, I knew he’d made two small friends.

  My sister bustled in my mom’s kitchen, setting up the sandwich tray and rolls. “Grace, put out the mayo and pickles, would you?”

  “You cut your hair.”

  Hannah stopped and turned, one hand going to the new, shorter cut. She’d worn her hair long and pulled back for as long as I could remember. Now it swept her shoulders in a sleek bob with amber highlights. She’d changed her lipstick, too, to something brighter.

  “Do you like it?” She patted her hair a little fretfully.

  “It’s great.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. I thought it was time for a change.”

  I got out the mayo and pickles from the fridge. “Been making a lot of changes lately?”

  When I reappeared from out of the fridge, my sister was staring. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I shrugged. “Just asking.”

  Something flashed across her face so fast I couldn’t quite discern the expression. “Don’t forget the mustard.”

  Lunch was, predictably, chaotic. The kids jabbered at Sam who fully won them over by answering every knock-knock joke with a game “Who’s there?” and laughing even when they made no sense. Craig, Jerry and my dad earnestly discussed finances and the market, both topics I knew I should pay attention to but couldn’t follow. Hannah and my mom discussed the town’s business, calling for my input now and again, though I usually had none to share. I had stories aplenty, but like a doctor I kept them confidential.

  We finished lunch and the traditional Frawley women cleared the table while the men wandered into the den to admire my dad’s new big-screen television. I squeezed Sam’s hand before he followed them, and kissed him, too, for fortitude. I hurried through the cleanup as I fended off my sister’s casually probing questions and my mom’s fussing over whether or not Sam had had enough to eat.

  “A big boy like that,” she said. “He’s got to have a big appetite.”

  “Mom, he’s fine. Seriously.” I filled the dishwasher with soap and turned it on to run.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…”

  Hannah and I exchanged looks and smiles, a rare instance when we were united against my mom instead of them against me. “Mom, let Grace go rescue Sam from Dad and Craig.”

  My mom nodded. “Good point. Go, Grace. Before they pin him down and start interrogating him. Oh, heavens, Hannah, remember when you brought Jerry home for the first time?”

  “Shit,” I said, ignoring my mom’s tut-tut. “I’d better get in there.”

  Yet when I found them all, Craig and Sam were talking about New York City, and my dad and Jerry had zoned out in front of the television. The kids had been booted out of their fort and were arguing over an ancient game of Clue.

  “Hey.” I sat on the edge of Sam’s chair and he put an arm around my waist. I kissed the top of his head. “Is my brother bragging again?”

  Sam laughed. “He lives around the corner from the deli where I worked when I first went to the city.”

  “Biggest city in the world and we both go to the same dry cleaner.” Craig shook his head.

  “Small world. Do you think you’ll go back, Sam?”

  Sam didn’t look at me when he answered. “I haven’t decided.”

  His answer twisted my stomach. I’d teased him plenty about going back to New York, but I didn’t really expect him to go. He wouldn’t now, would he? Not now that we were together.

  The conversation moved on to different things. The kids finagled Sam into playing Clue with them, and me too. We had cake and watched my mom open her presents, all of which she claimed to love and not deserve.

  I couldn’t stop from looking at Sam amongst my family. Like the way he fit on my couch and in my bathroom and in my bed, he looked at home between my niece and nephew. When he got up to help my sister gather the discarded wrapping paper she even let him help her with the garbage bag, and for my sister to relinquish any sort of domestic task without specific instructions on how to complete it was something like a miracle.

  I hadn’t been anxious about introducing him to my family, just a little wary, and it was a relief that everything had gone so well. Only my dad hung back from the conversations, and more than once I caught him looking at me but turning his eyes away when he saw me looking.

  The party hadn’t ended when we decided to leave. As usual, I had a service to oversee in the morning.

  “No rest for the wicked,” I joked as I made the rounds of hugs and kisses goodbye.

  My mom patted my back. “I remember that. It’s so nice to have your dad home on the weekends now.”

  My dad snorted. “Is that why you keep telling me to get a hobby so I’m out of your hair?”

  “During the week,” my mom said. “It’s nice to have you home on the weekends. And not having phone calls at all hours of the night, too. I don’t miss that.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” Sam said. “It’s like sleeping with a doctor. Always on call.”

  I don’t imagine it was a big secret to my family that Sam and I were sleeping together. I’m sure the gossip line had filtered to my parents about his car being there overnight. But put out there like that, it left a huge gap of silence in the conversation.
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  “Sam, do you sleep with my aunt Grace?” asked Simon innocently.

  More silence.

  “They probably don’t do much sleeping,” muttered Jerry, the comedian. Hannah slapped his arm, hard.

  “And on that note,” I said brightly as I took Sam’s hand, “I think we’re out of here.”

  More kissing, more hugging, though I’d probably see all of them again in the next few days. My mom even hugged and kissed Sam, insisting he come back again when she could feed him more. By the time we made it through the gauntlet of affection, I was more than ready to head home, put on a pair of sweatpants and collapse in front of the TV.

  My dad caught up to us in the carport. “Grace, wait a minute.”

  Sam and I stopped, but after a significant look from my dad, Sam excused himself and went to wait for me in the car. I waited until he’d disappeared around the corner before I turned to my dad. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, but I didn’t reach for it.

  “What’s that?”

  “Take it,” my dad said.

  I did and found money inside. A lot of money. I looked up. “What’s this for?”

  “Because I think you need it.” My dad held up his hands in refusal when I tried to press the envelope back into them.

  “I don’t want your money, Dad. I’m okay. Really.”

  “Grace, take it.” My dad’s stern voice cast me back to days of curfews and allowances. “I know you have…expenses.”

  “The business is fine,” I insisted, stubborn.

  “Personal expenses,” my dad said, for once looking uncomfortable. “Hourly expenses.”

  If I hadn’t picked it up by then, the way he jerked his chin toward the street would have clued me in. My fingers convulsed on the envelope, crumpling it. I tried to laugh, but the noise came out sounding strangled.

  “Sam’s my—”

  My dad held up a hand and looked pained. “Please, Grace. I don’t want to know any more than I already do.”

  “You looked at my personal accounts, Dad. Why would you do that? They have nothing to do with the business.”

  “There were discrepancies,” my dad said. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble, that’s all. And then when I saw the e-mails—”