A Dream to Cling To

by Sally Goldenbaum

  And old Mrs. Cleaver, her knotted hands cupped beneath a trembling chin, left not a dry eye in the house as she sifted through her memories and shared her days of joy, and her life’s pallet of color.

  The crowd was still as the brand new velvet curtain danced shut across the stage. The spell was broken when the lights went on, and the audience rose to its feet en masse. They cheered the variety show troupe with ringing applause until finally Frances Sullivan swept back onto the stage and announced that punch and pastries would be served in the lounge momentarily.

  Brittany wrapped her arms around Sam and hugged him tightly. “Oh, Sam, it was wonderful!” She tipped her chin up and their eyes met. “You should have told me, I could have donated.”

  His head moved from side to side. “No, love, this one was mine. They’ve been so terrific to me, and the money wasn’t a problem. I wanted to do it. The idea came so naturally that Frances and I wondered why it had taken so long for me to think of it.”

  “You’re wonderful. And I love you so very much.”

  He wove his fingers through the fine curls at the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Any chance we could skip the punch and pastries?” he whispered huskily.

  Her head moved against his lips. “No, but we can certainly eat fast.”

  They were separated at the reception by the crush of people wanting to tell Sam how wonderful his gift of a theater was, and it wasn’t until he slipped his arm around Brittany’s waist and pulled her into the shadows of a deserted hallway an hour later that they were able to make their escape.

  The trip back to her house was silent, filled with an urgency that electrified the air in Sam’s small car.

  “Brittany, we should talk.” His hand slid over and up onto her lap.

  “No, Sam, not just yet,” she whispered, lifting his fingers to her lips and kissing them gently. She needed to love him desperately, right now! Before talk crept in and robbed her of her happiness. Her mind flashed crazily with images, Sam leaning on the fireplace mantel in her parents’ home … Sam and Miss Sullivan waltzing across the floor … Sam with tiny Missy Plunkett balanced on his knees …

  And Sam, her Sam, holding her, loving her, making her whole again.

  The engine died in front of the carriage house just in time for her to blink back her tears and flee up the steps with Sam a shadow at her back.

  “Brittany, honey, you’re way ahead of me,” he said, breathing heavily as they slipped through the door. “I know there’s a fire burning inside of me, but is there another one I don’t know about?”

  She snapped the door shut behind him, then turned slowly and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s one right here, Sam, right inside me,” she whispered. “Shall we match flame for flame?”

  Sam’s body was already alive, and when he saw the love and desire that brimmed in her eyes, his heart swelled.

  His mouth came down forcefully on hers, his lips grinding against hers until they parted and welcomed the greedy exploration of his tongue. His kiss was hot and fierce and she responded with an intensity that stunned him.

  “Oh, Brittany,” he moaned, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re making me crazy. But do you … suppose … we could take off our coats?”

  Wordlessly, she let her heavy coat fall to the floor, her eyes never leaving his face. While he shrugged out of his and dropped it onto the chair beside the door, she kissed him again, then slowly unhooked the pearl buttons running down the front of her dress. She stepped out of the dress, then took Sam’s hand and lifted his fingers to the lacy camisole that barely covered her quivering breasts.

  “Love me,” she said simply.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” His words were labored. “I thought you’d never ask.” He bent his head until his lips found the damp skin beneath the wisp of lace, and he dropped tiny kisses along the rise of her breasts.

  Her head fell back and she whimpered with longing, feeling the moist rush of desire flood her. Nothing mattered tonight, nothing in the whole world but joining herself with Sam and loving him with a fervor she couldn’t seem to control. “Come, Sam.” She shuddered, and managed to clasp his hand and pull him urgently through the darkened living room and into the bedroom, lit softly by a single shaft of the moon streaming through the window.

  She leaned against the brass bedpost in her lace briefs and camisole as she waited for him to slip out of his clothes.

  He piled them in a heap and turned toward her, then stopped abruptly, rooted to the spot, his breath tight in his throat. For as long as he’d live he knew he’d never forget the vision of Brittany at that moment, her lips swollen and moist from his kisses, her breasts straining against the silky material, and her gold-flecked eyes loving him completely. Slowly he walked toward her.

  “I love you, Brittany. I love you so much.” He framed her face with his hands, holding it still. “So very, very much.”

  He kissed away the tear that escaped her eye and fell slowly from the golden lash, then slid his hands down her arms. “Here, we don’t need this.” With sure fingers he lifted the delicate lace camisole and peeled it away, then pressed his hands inside the silky panties and slid them easily down her legs. “Now we’re equal,” he whispered into the darkness.

  She answered with a feathery touch, her fingers running lightly over his chest and circling each nipple slowly. Lowering her head, she licked each light brown point, nipping and sucking until Sam’s groan of desire filled the still room.

  Embracing her, he slid his hands down her back until they cupped the warm flesh of her buttocks and pressed her forward.

  “Oh, Sam,” she said breathlessly as her breasts were crushed against his chest and the full strength of his arousal pressed hotly against her. She knotted her hands in his hair, clinging to him as he moved slowly until her body throbbed painfully with desire.

  “Oh, Sam, please, I need you so …”

  Gently he lifted her onto the high bed, his fingers sure and solid beneath her, holding her to him, moving her hips until her legs slid apart and he pressed forward, entering her.

  She sighed. Then the sound was cut off as he began to thrust slowly in and out, and she could feel the pulsing of his blood within her. When her breathing became labored, she dug her fingers deeply into his shoulders, and then nothing was left but the weightless sensation of soaring off into the universe with Sam. She and Sam and a thousand stars. A rush of pure joy filled her, then exploded into the sky as she filled the air with a great gut-springing cry of love.

  The harsh glare of morning light woke Brittany hours later and she knew, even before Dunkin proudly sported the note tied to his collar, that Sam wasn’t there. But he’d left her with the afterglow of his loving that lifted a smile to her face and filled her with a warmth that warded off all traces of the chilly morning air.

  “Thank you, Dunkin.” She tousled the dog’s silky head and untied the note, then read slowly:

  My love,

  Your face speaks of dreams I don’t dare disturb, so I’m going to kiss you gently and go off to meet the printer.

  It’s our final run—and the game will be finished, ready for the grand retirement gala on Friday.

  You’ve brought me more happiness than a lifetime deserves—

  My love,

  Sam

  Eleven

  “Checkmate!” Dr. Frank threw his hands in the air, then slapped Sam jovially on the back. “Finally! And I’m not going to let the fact that you look like hell diminish my victory one tad.” He looked over his glasses at Sam. “What’s bothering you, Sam? Your look sure doesn’t match that of the princess. Do you know something she doesn’t?”

  “Oh, it’s just a cluttered mind, Doc. For a guy who sometimes makes his living solving puzzles, I’m not doing so well right now.”

  Dr. Frank leaned back in the chair and stroked his chin. “Other people’s problems I’m good at. Shoot, Sam, maybe I can help.”

  Sam shook his head. “Thank
s, Frank, but I’m not sure anyone can help. You see …” He reached across the table and lifted his pipe from the ashtray. There was an unusually perplexed look in his eyes as he gazed at Dr. Frank. “I happen to be hopelessly, head over heels—in love.”

  Frank nodded. “Okay, Sam, so what else is new?”

  “Frank, it’s serious. I love her.” He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “But I’m the wrong man for her, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

  “Hmmmm, that is a problem,” Frank said slowly. “Does Brittany know you’re the wrong man for her?”

  Sam shrugged. “I think we’ve both been too happy with each other to tangle with the facts.”

  “Perhaps you could tangle with those facts together? Give each other a little more time? Maybe you can’t see the forest for the trees, Samson my friend.”

  Sam smiled at Dr. Frank and pulled himself from the chair at the sound of Brittany’s van pulling into the driveway. “Maybe. I’ve kind of been thinking along those same lines. But right now the person I need to see is Britt—”

  “Sam!” She swept into the office like a March wind, throwing her arms tightly around Sam. She grinned a hello at Dr. Frank, who patted her on the shoulder as he exited from the room, then directed her full attention to the man she was still holding in her arms. “I thought you would have called yesterday.”

  “You got Dunkin’s note?”

  She lowered her head and blushed. “Of course. But that was a whole day ago.”

  “I needed to fight battles at work, get all the last minute printing snafus ironed out for the game. But it’s all coming together. Everything will be ready for the great presentation Friday night.”

  “And you’ll be there, Sam.”

  “Well, your mother seems to think I should be. She won’t accept the fact that I’m hired help.”

  Brittany half-smiled. There was more Sam wanted to say.…

  “Brittany, we need to go somewhere and talk. Right now.”

  “I’m scheduled—”

  “Have Dr. Frank’s assistant do it.” His voice was urgent. “Please, Brittany.”

  She searched his eyes. So this was it, she thought, the time for “talk.” “I guess we do need to talk, Sam.” Her voice was teasing, low-pitched. “But frankly, I’m not sure why. We communicate so well without words.”

  He laughed huskily. “Watch it, little lady. You know what that tone of voice does to me.” He began nudging her through the reception room and toward the door, then called back over his shoulder, “She’ll be back, Doc. Sometime.”

  “Fine, fine, take all the time you need,” Frank mumbled from the lab, pleased as punch that someone was finally taking his advice on something.

  Brittany shivered as the wintry wind fanned the chill already creeping through her. “Well, Sam, where to?”

  “I don’t know, anywhere.” He opened the door to his car and held it for her to get in, then hurried around to the other side.

  “Brittany, I—” He stretched his arm out and drew her to him until she was tight in his arms, her head nuzzled against his cheek and the clean smell of her filling his senses. “Oh, my, how I do love you,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I love you too, Sam,” she said softly, wishing that was all that mattered, but knowing in her heart this was just the beginning of the conversation.

  “I wandered around like a crazy man last night, trying to figure this whole damn thing out. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  She slid her hands to his chest and looked up into the eyes that looked into her soul the way no man had ever before. She shook her head slowly. “I know what I’ve been doing, Sam. I’ve been buying time with you.”

  “No, Brittany.” His fingers played with the hair at the back of her neck.

  “Shh, Sam, let me at least have my say. I knew from the very beginning what you were all about. You told me, remember?” She smiled sadly. “And you knew what you were dealing with also. You know my fears, my dreams. You know I want children, a regular life.”

  “Sure, Brittany, we both knew that, and in spite of it we fell in love. You’ve brought a life to me I never imagined possible, a totally unfamiliar joy that I don’t seem to be able to get enough of.”

  Then don’t leave me, Sam, she begged silently. Marry me. But she didn’t speak aloud. She only listened, and watched. She knew he meant every word of what he was saying. He did love her, with a power and intensity that filled her to the brim. And in spite of all the facts, what they knew about each other, for weeks now she’d nursed a secret hope that this love would somehow solve their differences.

  “I’ve always known what I was about, Brittany, until you. You’ve shaken it all.” He tipped her chin back until she had to look into his eyes. “I haven’t been able to solve this puzzle yet, but one thing I know for sure, I’m not ready to give you up.”

  She fought the tears that stung beneath her lids and tried to keep her gaze steady.

  “Brittany, I’d like you to move in with me.” His eyes spoke of his love, but all she could feel was the pain of his words as they slowly sank into her consciousness.

  “To move—” she began.

  He kissed the top of her head and rushed on. “I know, I know, it’s not the ideal solution, but until we can figure this all out, please, Brittany, we need more time.”

  She swallowed hard and bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. “Sam …”

  “I know it’s not careful and planned and secure, I know it’s a risk, but please think about it—until we can figure this out.”

  “I can’t, Sam, I can’t do that.” Her voice was harsh and each ragged edge cut through her heart. How could he ask her this? He knew—

  “Brittany, darling, I know what you’ve been through. But you and I are different.”

  Different? she thought. How different could this be? How could she have given her heart to a man who was so afraid to make a commitment? She felt the earth beginning to shake beneath her and her love contorted into a painful, searing sorrow.

  “Brittany.” Sam held her shoulders and spoke slowly, willing her to listen. “Sometimes you need to risk a little in order to gain in the end. Please, don’t turn away. Listen to me.”

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat and lifted her head slowly. “Sam, I can’t. I can’t chance it. I can’t do it. Without commitment all that’s left is risk … and I can’t base my life on that. I can’t.” Her voice broke as the tears began to flow unchecked down her cheeks.

  He tried to say more but she couldn’t hear it, not now while the pain was so choking. She fumbled for the door handle and slipped outside. Only at the last second did she look back.

  Sam was sitting motionless in the car, his head lowered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. But there weren’t any words left, and she turned and walked slowly back to the clinic.

  Brittany hung up the phone, then frowned at it.

  Please don’t ring again, she told it silently. That ringing made her think of Sam, and she would hear his voice in her mind and her heart would shatter into a million pieces all over again. So, Mother, and Sara and Gordie, she continued, don’t call to chat, or talk about the plans for Dad’s retirement dinner. Her life had fallen apart and she didn’t give a damn about menus and guest lists and whether to wear wool or winter silk.

  With great care she picked up the narrow-necked watering can with the sprinkle of painted flowers circling it and slowly soaked the soil of each plant in the sun-drenched living room. Pulling her brows into a frown, she snapped unsightly yellow leaves off one plant and stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans, then removed a layer of dust from another plant with the damp pad of her finger, rubbing the green oval to a waxy shine. Dunkin padded after her, his large eyes curious.

  There, she thought. Now she’d move those small begonias to the south windows for the winter, and that’ll be finished. She smiled, greatly pleased with the care she had given her plants, then slip
ped down quietly into the oak rocking chair near the fireplace, folded her knees up beneath her chin, and sobbed.

  They were wrenching cries that came from the very deepest part of her and shook her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks and collected in tiny puddles on the folds of her jeans. Why had she let this happen? How could she go through life like this, carrying this ponderous love within her? But she would, she knew. She’d bounce back somehow. She’d carry on and work at the Elms and help Dr. Frank. But she would never, ever love like this again.

  Dunkin sat down in front of her and lapped his tongue affectionately across her bare feet. Then, feeling as hopeless as his mistress, he hunched his body down and stuck his head beneath his furry paws.

  She groped on the side table for the tissue box. but knew before she hit the cardboard that it was empty.

  Painfully, she lifted her head. “Okay, Brittany Ellsbeth, this is it. Pull yourself together. There’s no more tissues, what choice do you have but to face the world?” Face the world … without Sam … The tears swelled again, but this time she held them in check, dragged herself up from the chair, and marched into the bedroom to get ready for work.

  These three days without Sam had been the most excruciating experience she had ever been through, and she knew one thing for certain—it couldn’t possibly get any worse. That thought was the only thing that pushed life back into her and forced her to ready herself for Windemere’s business-social event of the year: Gordon Winters’s retirement gala.

  Concerned with Brittany’s lack of interest in the party, Katherine Winters had taken matters into her own hands and the day of the party she sent over by special delivery a new gown from Saks.

  Brittany pulled it carefully from the layers of tissues and smiled sadly. Mother had magnificent taste. She held the soft black jersey dress up in front of her and looked into the mirror. It would do just fine. One less thing to think about. And that left … Sam.