by Holly Jacobs
"If it is, it's casual. Like you said, he's leaving in December, it can't be anything but casual, so why stress about it?" Carly asked.
"I don't know how to casually date a man," Samantha admitted. "I mean, the last man I dated was Phillip, and we ended up married for fourteen years. Harry would be temporary to the nth degree. I don't know how to manage that."
"Is it really managing something? An old friend who will take you out on the town," Carly asked.
"Samantha," Michelle finally said, "Brandon came to live with me right after I got out of college, and I'll confess he's my focus. So my dates are few and far between. But Carly's right. This sounds perfect. It doesn't matter if it's a real date or just a dinner. You're two old friends. You don't have to call him, he doesn't have to call you afterward. There are no expectations, beyond this one dinner. And if you go out after that, then you know there's an expiration date in the not-so-distant future."
"But like I said, I've never casually dated before. I mean, how many dates can you go on without. . .well, I mean, I'm not sure I'm ready to be intimate with a man I'm not serious about."
"And nothing says you have to be," Michelle said gently. "You can date someone without having sex."
"You can?" Carly gave a cynical little laugh, then sighed. "That was my attempt to sound worldly. When in actuality, I've been out of the dating pool so long, I'm not quite ready to even try dunking my toes in, much less diving into the deep end."
"So, if you find out it is a date, tell Harry that you'd be happy to dunk your toes with him, but you're not ready for the deep end either," Michelle counseled.
"Do you think he'll be okay with that?" She felt like one of her kids, asking questions, needing reassurance.
"I think that if he's not, he's not the kind of man you want to date." Michelle seemed so much older than Samantha knew she was.
"So when is this dinner?"
"Tomorrow." Her stomach did a little flutter at the thought. "Phillip's taking the kids for the whole weekend. He picked them up today after school, and I don't get them again until Sunday. He's taking them again next weekend, then planning to try every other weekend after that. I'm just so happy he's taking an interest in them again."
"He didn't take them for a year. He can afford to be accommodating now," Carly said. "So are you splitting the holidays? It took a long time for my ex and I to figure out how to manage that. We didn't part on good terms."
"We've both really worked at being civil. I guess that's the word to describe the end of our marriage and our divorce—civil."
And since Samantha loved the kids, civil wasn't hard while sorting out Phillip's visitation. "The holidays weren't difficult to arrange. Halloween will fall on Phillip's weekend, so he'll take them trick-or-treating on Friday, then bring them home Saturday so that I can take them to the school's party. I'll get them Thanksgiving Day. He'll pick them up that evening and keep them through the break. Christmas we'll divide the same way."
"It sounds amicable," Carly said.
Amicable, just another word for civil.
Both were synonymous with passionless. Was that lack of passion why their marriage faltered? Maybe it was why their divorce was going so well?
"You're a good mother," Michelle said. "I don't think it goes that smoothly with all divorced parents."
"Anyway," Carly said, "we're not worrying about my lousy ex, but your upcoming date."
Samantha's stomach did another flip at the thought. "Don't call it that."
"Dinner," Carly substituted.
"I'm so afraid I'll screw up. I mean, do I tell him up front I'm not looking for an intimate relationship? How many dates can a woman go on without putting out? Do they even say putting out anymore? I'm thirty-three. I expected to feel more worldly, but the truth of it is, I feel as uncertain as when I was in my teens. When I agreed to dinner with Harry, even though I knew he was leaving, did he think I was agreeing to. . ."
"Put out?" Carly added with a grin.
Samantha laughed, despite her nerves. "Yes."
"My advice?" Michelle said in her quiet, unflappable way. "Take a deep breath. You don't have to decide anything now. If he's the kind of man you want to date, he'll cut you some slack and understand that you're taking it slow. And if he doesn't understand, dump him."
Michelle's words settled something in Samantha. "You're right."
"Dating is a time to get to know someone," Michelle continued. "To have fun. And seriously, listening to you and Carly dealing with kids and exes, I think you're both due a bit of fun."
"Not me," Carly proclaimed adamantly. "I'm done with that kind of fun. I'm going to concentrate on my kids, work and finishing my degree. I don't have time for men."
"What about fun for you?" Samantha asked Michelle. She was the youngest of them. Michelle should be out partying with friends and having the time of her life. Instead, she talked of taxes and her nephew. "You need to have fun, too."
"My sister was the fun one. I was always the serious bookworm. And I guess that's how I'm most comfortable. Now—" she wore an expression that said the part of the conversation where she was in the spotlight was over "—it's time for a serious conversation. . .anyone want to split another éclair?"
All three women laughed, and they finally stopped talking about Samantha's date, and focused on the Thanksgiving Pageant. "I think Mrs. Tarbot and I have it all under control. She's scheduled it for the twenty-fifth. That's our last day of school before Thanksgiving vacation starts. They're doing a play this year. There's not much for you two to worry about. The fourth grade is singing a song before the play, and the second- and first-graders are singing one at the end of it. The big part is the third-grade play. If you wouldn't mind helping backstage at the actual pageant, the rest should be fine."
"Great. I've started classes. Only two more credits left before I get my nursing degree. It's been a long time coming," Carly said.
Samantha spoke up, "And I meant to tell you, Dr. Jackson said you're welcome to come into his pediatric office one day and shadow me. Interning at St. Vincent's Hospital is one thing, but it's a whole different feel at a private practice."
Samantha liked working in a private practice so much better than a hospital and wanted to be sure Carly got a taste of the difference.
"I'd love to shadow you, tell him thanks. And I'm so glad you have most of the pageant under control. Between the kids, the classes and the hospital, I'm crazy busy. I keep telling myself that I'll have my degree in December and that all this will be worth it then."
"Don't wish away my fall," Michelle warned. "Accountants love fall because we know that when winter starts it's almost tax season." She groaned for effect.
Samantha and Carly both laughed.
"Oh, one more thing," Michelle added. "Heidi asked if we'd be willing to help her with the school's Halloween party. Halloween's on a Friday, so they're doing a Saturday afternoon thing. We don't have to plan, or do anything, other than show up at school that day and follow orders."
Samantha was pretty sure that was her Saturday morning off, and if it wasn't she could wiggle out of work for the day. Dr. Jackson was a firm believer in family first, and tried to accommodate everyone on the staff. "Sure, I'm in."
Carly and Michelle agreed, as well. Business done, they all started talking about their kids. The three had no trouble keeping that particular conversation going for an extended period of time. Any mother—or aunt, in Michelle's case—usually could. So, it was an hour later when Samantha left. She purposefully sucked in her stomach to hopefully compensate for the éclairs. She felt better, and it had nothing to do with her sugar high.
No, it had everything to do with discovering two new friends.
Accept your right to be happy, the book had said.
Phillip stepping back into the kids' lives made her happy.
Two new friends made her happy.
Dinner with Harry? That made her nervous, but underneath that, she was pretty sure it made her happ
y, as well.
Maybe she was ready to start Chapter Three?
THE ENTIRE WEEK PASSED at a snail's pace for Harry.
He'd been looking forward to Saturday, but now that it was here he was nervous.
He kept reminding himself that he was a grown man. That this was merely dinner with an old friend.
It didn't help.
He surreptitiously glanced at his watch, hoping his classmates didn't notice. One of his reasons for taking a sabbatical was to finish the last classes he needed for his Education Administration degree. This was why he'd come back to Western PA. Edinboro had a great program. Though try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on the class. Images of Samantha kept getting in the way.
Mingling with the nervousness over tonight's dinner was a sense of anticipation.
It was just a dinner. But it didn't feel like that. It felt like a date. And dating Samantha would be a mistake. They were both getting over failed relationships, and he'd be going back to Columbus, while Samantha would be staying here.
And Samantha was a mother of four.
Harry had vowed to never let himself fall for another woman who had kids. Not because he didn't like kids, but because if a relationship failed, you didn't lose just the woman, but you also lost a child you'd given your heart to.
With Samantha, he risked losing his heart five times over. As much as he liked her, he wasn't willing to go through that again for anyone.
No, dating Samantha Williams was out of the question.
This was dinner, he assured himself.
Unfortunately, he didn't believe it.
He glanced at his watch again. Twenty-five minutes till class got out.
Little Sami Burger.
She'd been two years younger than him, and cute in a puppy dog sort of way. He hadn't shared that analogy with her because he was pretty sure she wouldn't find it flattering, but it was the truth.
She'd had a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She'd worn glasses and pigtails. And she was forever bumping into things.
There was no puppy dog cuteness about her anymore. She'd been doggedly protective when she'd come to his office that first day, the expression she'd worn had said that she was willing to take on anyone who messed with her kids. She'd battled Tooly the year before, and had been willing to battle the new principal for her boys' sakes.
He found that fierceness so very attractive.
Harry glanced at the clock on the far wall. Twenty minutes to go.
Even when he was twelve, Sami Burger had been hard to figure out. He didn't expect Samantha Williams to be any easier. He hadn't been sure she'd say yes to dinner. She'd been ready to say no, he thought. But something had changed her mind. And he was glad of it, because he liked her a lot.
He liked her kids.
He liked her concern for her kids.
Liked the fact she was willing to work with her ex for the kids' benefit.
He liked her pumpkin pie.
He even kind of liked her one-eyed cat. Well, as long as he didn't have to pick the thing up, he kind of liked it.
All of which made him nervous about tonight's da— Dinner.
He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go.
SAMANTHA GLANCED AT THE mirror next to the front door. She fluffed her hair, and didn't think the new cut was half-bad. She'd gone to the salon as soon as she'd finished work at Dr. Jackson's. She'd planned on having a trim, but she found herself asking for a whole new look.
Rachel had practically cackled with glee as she juggled two other appointments so she could spend the next two hours working on Samantha's do.
Samantha had endured the foils, the smell of the bleach and heat lamps, all of which had given her the most subtle highlights. If that wasn't enough, she then had to sit for the cut, and at Rachel's insistence, she'd even endured a manicure.
Now, looking in the foyer's mirror, she sucked in her stomach and realized this was as good as she got. And she looked pretty good.
She wouldn't worry about whether or not this was a date. She wasn't going to worry that she hadn't been out to dinner with any man other than Phillip in over a decade. She was simply going to enjoy herself.
The doorbell rang. She jumped and she adjusted an imaginary wrinkle on her sleeve to stall for a moment before she opened the door. "Hi, Harry."
"Hi, Samantha." He paused, then said, "Wow."
It was exactly what she needed to hear. Some of her nervousness eased and she finally relaxed. "Come in. I just need to grab a jacket."
He stepped into the foyer and she reached into the coat closet.
"The house feels different without the kids in it."
Samantha paused. The only sound was Grunge, doing his patrol-cat growl because Harry had entered the premises. "It does. Before Phillip started taking the kids, I never had to deal with it. Now that I do I'm not quite sure how to manage it. The first night was nice, a treat. But I'm not sure it will always feel like a treat. I don't know what to do with myself."
She'd been the one to push for Phillip to spend time with the kids, and she was genuinely glad that he was, but she missed them. Missed the chaos and noise.
She understood what Harry meant. "Sorry. Not the best way to start a d—" Date? Dinner?
Harry paused, as if waiting for her to define what tonight was.
"Dinner with an old friend," she said, settling for the description she had used with Carly and Michelle.
He looked disappointed, but then he laughed and said, "Hey, we're not that old yet."
Samantha decided she must have imagined the negative expression. "You're right, we're not."
Before Samantha could swing her jacket on, Harry took it. "Let me help you."
Part of her wanted to protest that she was capable of putting her own coat on, that, in fact, she'd spent the last year taking care of herself and her kids. But the other part that had spent the last year taking care of herself and her kids relished the small gesture of someone taking care of her. She felt cherished.
She allowed herself that moment as Harry slipped her sleeves up over her bare arms and pulled the collar up against her neck. She felt a wisp of air against her neck's exposed skin and wondered if it was from the motion of pulling the coat on, or if it was Harry's breath, offering her a small caress.
"Uh, thank you."
As if he'd read her mind, he said, "I know you could have done it yourself, but every now and again a man likes to play the gallant. Seriously, look at it from a guy's point of view, it's hard to know what to do. Open the door for a lady, or let her open it herself? Hold a chair for her, or not? I tend to err on the side of gallantry."
That said, he gave a bow, opened the door with as much flourish as she'd ever seen, and waited for her to go through.
She laughed, a bit more of her tension easing off.
Harry was really getting into the courtly swing of things, and continued his chivalrous treatment as he opened her car door and gently shut it behind her, before getting into the car himself.
"So, where are we going?" she asked.
"I was talking to a friend and he had a suggestion. He paused. . . "It sounded good at the time, but it seems a bit. . .well, over-the-top now. I wanted to impress you and he insisted the La Bonne Vie Steakhouse was the way to impress a first date."
"Harry, you don't have to impress me. I'd have been happy with fast food, as long as I got some adult conversation."
"See, that's what I was afraid of. It was overkill. So when we get there, pretend it's not, okay?"
"Okay."
Harry had been as anxious and confused as she'd been, Samantha realized.
He'd said he'd almost married and she wondered how long ago the almost was? She wanted to ask, but it seemed too abrupt, so she didn't. She just sat back and enjoyed the ride as they drove towards 1-90.
There was something so lovely about this time of day. Not quite night, the dusk growing heavier by the minute. They drove up Old French Street.
She and Harry didn't talk, but it wasn't one of those awkward silences. It was comfortable.
The sky was darkening as the sun brushed the western treetops, sinking behind them. "I love this time of day, when it's somewhere between daylight and night," Samantha murmured.
"It's a bit too ambiguous for my taste," Harry muttered. "I like things more straightforward than that."
"Are we still talking about dusk, or something else?" She cracked the car window, allowing the cool evening air to flood the car.
Harry glanced over at her, before looking back at the road. "Listen, Sam, I haven't done this in a long time."
"This?"
"Dinner with a woman. Well, not with a woman I wasn't committed to."
He was leaving her an opening to ask, so she obliged. "You said you'd almost married, and I'd wondered, was the breakup recent?"
He nodded. "We were together for seven years."
"Oh."
He'd said something before about a relationship that had ended. As he told her again, she could see the pain in his expression.
He shrugged, maybe trying to look nonchalant, but it didn't work. Samantha could see the hurt. "I'm sorry."
"I am, too. You asked why I took the sabbatical and I said to finish my graduate classes. That was the truth, as far as it went. More than that, I took it because I needed to get away from all the concerned looks and hushed questions. And though friends have called, it's somehow easier to handle their sympathy long-distance."
"I've noticed that. I'd like to hear what happened, if you'd like to tell me."
"I'd wanted to marry Teresa for a long time. She'd married young, had a son. . ." he hesitated, then continued. "She went through a rocky divorce. Teresa said she'd never go down that path again. I could either deal with that, or walk. So, we lived together. A family in every way, except a marriage certificate. I dealt with it because I loved her. Her son was like my son. Lucas was three when Teresa and I got together. He's ten now. I missed being with him on his birthday. I took him to his practices, watched him when she worked weekends. I was the one who held his hand when they put a cast on his leg. It's not fair. I lost her, and I lost him. When she turned down my proposal last spring, she dumped me and moved with her son Lucas back to her hometown."
