“Mom, I like it.”
“She brightened my day,” Meyer said in an angry and measured tone, “so it’s worth it.”
“What if she thinks costly gifts should be a normal part of her life.” Hands on hips, Joan slowly shook her head. “You don’t just show up and upset my world.”
“Upset…I bought her a sculpture and asked if you want help packing.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. There’s no future for us. My whole world is this little girl. That’s all I have time for. There is no place for you in our world. If I need a man, I’ll manage someone.” She boxed a painting and put it in her car, turned to me, and said, “You have your own wounds to heal. Find someone who has the time to help you.” Joan turned away…began stacking her paintings in the car.
“You want help packing?”
Without looking at me, she said, “I’m worn out. Yea. Please help.”
Her car filled, she suggested, “You should at least join us for dinner, for all the help you gave us today.”
“I won’t be invading your world?”
“You’re invited for dinner. Nothing more.”
I followed her to a three-bedroom townhouse located in a row of identical townhouses. She parked inside the garage. We moved her artwork from the car to shelves in the garage.
“All I have are leftovers,” she said.
“Fine with me.”
Samantha approached. “Will you open my sculpture and put it in my room?”
“Samantha…” Joan began but was interrupted by me.
“Right now, little lady. Show me your room.”
***
I offered to help with dinner, but Joan insisted she wanted to do it by herself.
Joan served blackened salmon over a Greek salad with an amazing raspberry-lemon vinaigrette dressing. The passage of time had certainly not dulled Joan’s culinary skills. The meal was an absolute delight.
“Thanks. Lovely meal.”
“Why are you leaving?” Samantha said. “Didn’t we have fun today?”
“We did but I don’t live here and I just came for dinner.”
“I have more books you can read me.”
Distant thunder boomed a warning.
Joan nodded toward the thunder and said, “Bad storm coming according to the weatherman. Maybe you should stay?”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“In the morning, you leave.”
***
I returned to the couch after helping Joan clean up and put away dishes. I was laying on my side with my head on the big padded armrest when Samantha came in wearing pajamas and holding her new book.
“I’m going to read to you,” she said in a motherly tone, “because you had nice manners at the dinner table.”
She read her new book to me and then scampered off to find another book for me to read to her.
It started to rain. The wind picked up as the rain was noisily beating against the windows and sides of the house. Joan came into the living room and sat at the other end of the couch. She started reading when I noticed she positioned herself so our feet and legs were touching, reminding me of when we were reading at the cabin many years before. Distant thunder boomed a warning.
Joan came to attention. “Samantha hates the thunder. She won’t sleep tonight if it gets loud.”
Samantha heard the thunder too and she came running into the living room with a child-size pillow under one arm and dragging a pink blanket with red satin binding in the other.
“I’m staying with you guys,” she informed us.
Joan quietly said we could put Samantha in her own bed after she fell asleep—assuming the thunderstorm passed by.
Samantha put her little pillow on the couch in front of me and then climbed up with her blanket. She asked me to read to her from my book, and as I was reading a book on topology, she was soon fast asleep. But then lightning struck nearby with a powerful kaboom and Samantha jumped nearly straight up. I threw my arm around her so she didn’t go flying off the couch.
“I don’t like thunder noise,” she said while pouting.
I explained to her it was loud because of a potential difference of the voltage in the clouds and the ground—the lightening had heated up the air so it expanded quickly and made loud noise.
“Okay—but I still don’t like it.”
She lay down again, but this time on her side facing away from me. I tucked her blanket completely around her, but she pushed one arm out from the blanket’s tight wrap and with her little hand held onto my wrist. There was more thunder, wind, and rain, but Samantha slept through it nestled into my lap.
About ten o’clock the electricity went out. Joan and I talked for a bit and then she took one of the small pillows from the couch and put it on the side of my hip. Lying on her side, she put her head on the pillow, then in the same way as many years before, she wrapped herself around my legs, pulled a blanket over us and went to sleep.
I was reminded of a great line from the movie When Harry Met Sally. Harry says, “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
When Samantha was sent to her room to get dressed the next morning, Joan made coffee. They sat on tall chair at her kitchen counter. She said Samantha was a shy and clingy child who never wanted to be out of her mother’s view. Even when Joan took her to the children’s story group at the library, Joan couldn’t wander around the library. She had to stay where Samantha could see her. Joan said she tried putting her in daycare, but Samantha just cried all day.
“She never would sit on anyone else’s lap but mine. And she never, ever lets anyone else hold her hand.”
“Samantha took my hand when we started over to the bookstore.”
Joan smiled at me for a few seconds, wrapped her hand around my wrist, and said softly, “She feels it you know. She feels it just the way I did when we were young.”
“What does she feel?”
“Remember in junior high, the first time we danced a slow dance and you held me tight against you? I loved the feeling of our bodies touching. I danced slow dances with other guys, and having my body against theirs felt great, but it was different with you. I know we were just junior high kids, but I felt safe and secure with you holding me. I remember thinking I didn’t want the feeling to ever end. My daughter sensed that as soon as you met.
She smiled warmly and squeezed my wrist. “During our week at the cabin, when we were getting to know each other, physically, I remember thinking the times we were just reading or sitting together in front of the fireplace were always so precious. I felt peaceful and secure—we were always somehow touching, even when reading at opposite ends of the big swing on the porch.”
I sat quietly and gazed into her eyes.
“I always tried to make sure at least our feet were touching—remember the big overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace at the cabin? Instead of sitting on it, I always asked you to sit on the floor with your back against it so I could sit between your legs with my back and head leaning against your chest. I always loved it when you brought your knees up on either side of me so I could wrap my arms around your legs while we sat together—and of course I could easily lean back for a kiss any time I wanted one. I felt complete when we were touching. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and you’d still be holding me. I couldn’t tell you then, but I cried one night, as it was so beautiful that you held me.”
She looked deep into my eyes. “I’ll be honest. When we went off to college and during the time after my sister recovered from the car accident, I had a number of guys—but the secure feeling was never there. When I watched Samantha grab your hand and confidently walk off without me, I was shocked. It was as if a little switch in her head flipped. She knew she was safe. Then afterwards, she not only sat in your lap and read to you, but fell asleep. During the thunderstorm, when I watched her fall asleep on the couch holding your arm, I was
certain she felt it. When I was a little girl I knew there was no safer place than my dad’s lap, and it appears Samantha absolutely gets the same feeling from you. When we all shared the couch last night, I slept the entire night for the first time in years—even with my head on your bony hip. Thank you.”
“I loved it.”
She leaned over and kissed me. Her face turned sad. “I need to talk to you about the time after my parents died.”
“No, you don’t. I mean you can if you want to, but the Lord decided what would be best for us then. Believe me, I wasn’t exactly a happy camper when I came home from the army. You might not have wanted to be around me then.”
“Maybe it would have been better if we were together then.”
“Maybe, but we’ll never know for sure. We don’t always know why something happens in our lives, but it looks to me as if He’s put us together again and I’m happy as hell.”
Joan grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’m happy as hell about it too.” She grinned.
Just then, Samantha raced into the room wanting to know what we were going to do today.
“I think we should go see a Labor Day parade if you and your mom want to,”
Joan agreed. “We can make a picnic lunch and visit a park.”
Samantha enthusiastically showed her agreement by bouncing up and down.
I needed to shower first, so Joan sent me to her bathroom. I was just stepping out when she knocked on the bathroom door and came in carrying towels. She was wearing a white terrycloth robe and her ever present scarf was neatly wrapped around her head. She quietly closed the door; taking one of the towels she started wiping the water off my body. She dropped the towel on the floor, looking down at her feet.
Her voice quivering, she said, “I want you to see what I look like now.”
She took off her scarf revealing a nearly bald head with peach-fuzz, short blond hair. Then, still looking down at her feet, she untied her robe letting it fall open revealing an angry-looking scar where her right breast had been.
I’m not sure why, but I leaned over and kissed her scar, and then kissed her neck, and then her cheek, and finally her soft lips. “Joan, you’re still beautiful to me.”
She fastened her arms around my neck as if she would never let go. As I held her tightly, I realized the feeling of wanting to protect her had come back—full force. She slid one of her hands between my legs and began caressing me.
I looked at her with surprise, but she clearly understood what he was thinking.
“Samantha’s watching a video,” she replied to my unasked question. “Her favorite. She’ll be busy for at least twenty minutes. Now, sit on the floor.”
I did, and she took me inside her, wrapping her legs and arms around me. I told her I loved her.
She put her warm hand on my cheek, gave me a huge smile, and replied softly, “I know.”
* * *
Samantha and I voted for a quick fast food breakfast, which Joan didn’t approve of, but didn’t want to be late for the parade.
It was great—lots of marching bands, antique tractors, with the local dance, karate and soccer clubs marching down the street—and seeing as this was an election year, lots of politicians were out pleading for votes.
While Samantha collected candy the politicians were giving out she remarked, “This is almost as good as Halloween.”
As I helped Samantha get belted into my pickup truck she told me she thought I must be awfully funny because her mom smiled and laughed so much when I was around. We went to my house after the parade so I could change into clean clothes.
My tri-level home was on the side of a hill leading down to a large lake. The street level met the house at the top floor, so you couldn’t see the lower two floors from the street side. Joan became quiet as we walked up to the house. She and Samantha followed me down the top floor hallway to my office where I ran a one-man business from my home.
“This place…” Joan began.
“Has two more floors under this one.”
I learned later, Joan thought many of the walls were dripping with testosterone from the way I decorated the place—lots of black, red, chrome and glass. I hadn’t even decorated or furnished the lowest level which led out to the covered patio and swimming pool.
My office looked out over the lake and Samantha was pleased to see all the cruising boats. Joan noticed there was a pier leading from the back of my property to a couple of boats.
“Are those yours?”
I told her they were and I had taken the big one on the inside passage to Alaska over a period of a couple of months the previous spring. The smaller one was good for simple overnight trips.
“What does a boat like that big one cost?”
“Just under four million.”
“Damn,” Joan said.
I took them on a tour of the rest of the house. Joan was quiet and Samantha didn’t seem too impressed until she saw the bathtub in the master suite.
“Mom, you could swim in this!”
I made lunch for them by poaching a piece of sushi fresh blue fin tuna. I quickly made it into tuna salad with some finely chopped celery, shallots, and homemade walnut oil mayo, which I plated over a spring mix salad. After lunch, Joan put Samantha down for a nap and joined me on the balcony off the room where Samantha was sleeping. She sat on an adjacent chaise lounge, looking out over the lake.
“This is quite a place. It must impress the girls you bring here.”
“It’s great, but lonely...and I never bring dates here. As soon as they see this place, I’m never sure if they are interested in the house or me. I own a condo close to downtown which I use when I have meetings in the city—that’s where I usually take dates. And here I am,” I shrugged, “still single.”
Joan moved to sit on my lap. “We’ve started on different lives, Mr. Minkowski. I’m a single mom. I have huge medical problems and huge medical bills. For the next five years I’ll be scared to death every time I visit my doctor’s office to see if the cancer has returned.” She looked away. “Also I could be sterile from all the treatments.”
“Yes, but when we combine our lives your debts will be taken care of and Samantha will have a dad. If money can help the medical problems, that’s what it’s there for. More importantly, you’ll have a partner to help you through whatever comes along. I learned a long time ago that the things I own are merely a reflection of my financial success. Nothing else. Except for donations to charity, it doesn’t make me happier. My trip up the inside passage to Alaska was spectacular. I was lucky enough to visit one of the most beautiful parts of the planet and I didn’t have anyone to share it with. How sad is that? How incredibly sad is that?”
She nodded.
“The large boat has an office and a satellite link so I can still conduct business while on the water. I’m going to keep working when the three of us see Alaska from our own boat. I bought the boat for family trips—not just Meyer trips. Can you imagine the joy we will experience sharing the sights of the inside passage with Samantha? Joan, it is so beautiful—the sea, the mountains, the fjords, the glaciers, the seals, the whales, the sea birds, the golden eagles, and the bald eagles.” I sighed. “I know, from the bottom of my heart, sharing a trip with the two of you will be one of the highlights of my entire life.”
“I have my own business. I can’t just leave it.”
“I spend a fortune on tax accountants. I’ll buy out your business and you come to work with me.”
Joan spoke in an almost frightened tone, “This is too much change. You’re thinking way ahead of me. We both have been through so much. I know I care about you, but I just can’t commit to changing my life so completely.”
I tried to reassure her. “I think like an engineer. I’m a problem-solving kind of guy. I have no doubt we can solve nearly anything that comes along, as long as we’re together.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I just can’t be as certain. You’re miles ahead of me
.”
“It’s okay for now. You’ll catch up.”
Joan stared at me for a bit, kissed my cheek, and then put her head on my shoulder as we watched the boats cruising on the lake. An hour later we were startled by the sound of percussion instruments.
“Samantha is awake and discovered my drum room.”
* * *
As we were leaving my house, Samantha noticed my Sabbath candleholders. “You can’t do candle lighting,” she said. “It’s only for ladies to do.”
“So you must come to my house next Friday for Sabbath dinner to light my candles for me.”
“Okay. Mom?” Samantha turned enthusiastically toward her mother.
“Sounds good to me.” Joan beamed at her daughter and secretly poked me in the ribs. “Do you always try to get dates by inviting your potential date’s daughter to dinner?”
“Only for Sabbath!”
The next Friday Joan and I proceeded down to the wine cellar to find a kosher wine for Sabbath dinner.
“This is a cozy location. The little glass topped table with the wrought iron frame and matching chairs fits the decor. It feels like a little garden in here. Do you know about all the wines here?”
“I knew most of them.”
I pointed out the back wall of the wine cellar moved and there was another room behind it. She asked if she could see it and I opened it by entering a ten-digit pin into a hidden keypad. As the wall moved to the side, a light went on revealing my extensive pistol and rifle collection.
“I don’t know about this,” Joan said.
I tried to assure her this was a safe way to store guns and besides, she hadn’t been in the shooting range yet.
“Whoa, we need to talk. I don’t like this. Samantha’s an awfully small child to be in a home with all these guns—let alone a shooting range.”
“You’ve already walked past the entrance to the range three times and didn’t see it. It has a twelve-character password to get in, even if you did see the entrance. I learned from my father it was important to know how to shoot because my family was worth protecting, even if it cost me my life. I seem to remember you were the beneficiary of Dad’s teachings some years ago.”
Finding a Soul Mate (Meant to be Together Book 1) Page 8
