Chapter Nine

They sat next to each other at a little table in the huge lobby of the Grand Hotel, generously decorated with burgundy mums.

Noah drank a Crown on the rocks, and she sipped a pretty pink cosmopolitan. With olives.

“Tell me about your job,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’s really not all that interesting.”

“Is that so. Well, let’s see. You get to travel a lot.”

“Travel is overrated.”

“She said to the pilot.”

Savannah laughed. “Right. No offense intended.”

“None taken. You know a lot about prescription medications.”

“I know a lot about psychotropic medications.”

He nodded. “You specialize.”

“There are so many meds out there, you almost have to.”

“So you only visit psychiatrists?”

“I prefer psychiatrists and medical psychologists, but Alabama doesn’t recognize medical psychologists yet. I’ve visited a few in Louisiana and one in New Mexico. I’m a very strong advocate. They have their act together. I believe in medication. I have to. But I believe it works best with psychotherapy.”

“I take it that doesn’t go over all that well with general practitioners.”

“I rarely even bother to mention psychotherapy to primary care providers. They don’t have the time or energy to do more than prescribe a pill and send the patient on their way.”

“That’s unfortunate. I had a friend who tried the full range of SSRIs and finally landed on Lexapro. He pretty much had to figure out his own dosing regimen.”

“Higher functioning patients can do that. But those are few and far between. Believe it or not, my most recommended SSRI is Prozac.”

“Why Prozac? Isn’t that the oldest one?”

“It has a built-in titration schedule. If the patient stops taking it all of a sudden, it stays in their system long enough to not cause any side effects from withdrawal.”

“What about something like Xanax?”

“Ah. The benzos are wonder drugs. But docs don’t like to prescribe them.”

“I heard they’re hard to get. What’s the problem with them?”

“Unlike the SSRIs, they have to be titrated off. If not discontinued properly, seizures can occur. Also in the elderly, they can cause dizziness and falling.”

“They’re OK in low doses, though, right?”

“I take Klonopin to help me sleep sometimes. Xanax works well, too, but it doesn’t stay in the system long.”

“You have to know all these drugs.”

“I also know their systems like the neurotransmitters GABA and serotonin. It’s not required, really, that we know all that, but it seems to impress some of the docs, and it’s a good way to establish rapport. Besides, if I’m gonna be selling something, I want to know how it works.”

“I can see why you’re good at what you do.”

“What makes you think I’m good at it?”

“You may recall that I heard you speak at a national conference.”

She winced. “Right. You did, didn’t you?”

“It’s OK to be good at your job.”

She swirled her drink; enjoyed the relaxed pace.

“Is it true?” he asked. “What they say about drug reps?”

“What is it that they say?”

“That they’ll do just about anything to get a doctor to agree to use their medications.”

She scoffed. Refused to answer. “What about you? How good are you at your job?”

“I’m OK.”

“OK, my foot. You’re with a major airline. Which I understand is hard to break into. And.” She held up a finger. “You’re good enough that you’re thinking you can give that up and go out on your own doing contract work.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his chin. “It’s a hard decision with a daughter in college.”

“It’s weird to picture you as a dad.”

“Hard to imagine, huh?”

“Not hard, just weird. In my head, you’re still the college senior who wanted to grow up and be a pilot.” She picked up a napkin and held up the two sides. “Here’s the Noah I knew on this side and on this other side is the Noah you are now.” She put the two opposite corners of the napkin together. “It’s like all this,” she swept a hand around the bottom of the napkin. “never happened. This is where all the mystery is.”

“I’m still me,” he said.

“Maybe. To some extent. But life has molded you, changing you in perhaps small ways. But in my head, it’s more like time-travel. It’s like. . .

Noah watched her with a skeptical expression on his face.

“Maybe you should get another drink.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Are you good?”

She placed her hand over the top of her glass. “Good.”

He took his empty glass with him to the bar.

Savannah was enjoying her pretty pink cosmopolitan, but it was making her a little light-headed. A little bold perhaps.

Or perhaps it was just from sitting here in the Grand Hotel. From the movie she’d watched over and over as a teenager. As a result, she’d developed a huge crush on Christopher Reeve. She was actually here where the movie was filmed. It was almost like the movie had come to life.

She was smiling when Noah came back to the table.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Me too.” He put his hand over hers. “What were you saying?”

For a moment, gazing into his clear blue eyes, she forgot what she was thinking, her thoughts scattered.

“It’s like the neurons,” she said, finding a thread of her previous thoughts.

“The neurons?” He glanced at her drink. Frowned.

“When we have new experiences, we form new neuronal connections. Different experiences lead to different kinds of connections. These connections basically make us who we are. You’ve been married, you’ve had a baby, all sorts of things in the last twenty years. All those things have given you new emotions, new experiences. They’ve made you who you are.”

She swirled her drink and took a sip.

He was watching her closely. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Me? No. Why would I be nervous?”

“I don’t know. But you’ve only had about a fourth of that drink, and I’ve seen you be unaffected after drinking a whole lot more.” He slid the drink over, sniffed it, slid it back.

“Is my drink OK?” she asked, with a mischievous smile.

“There’s nothing wrong with your drink.”

“Good. Because I’m enjoying it.”

“I haven’t seen you like this since. . .”

“Since when?”

“Never mind,” he said. “There are probably some things we need to talk about.”

“Oh no,” she said, leaning forward. “Listen. I understand the whole concept of being in the moment. I’m into the moment. Let’s not look into the past, and let’s not look forward tonight.”

“OK,” he said. “I thought you wanted to look into the napkin.”

“I changed my mind.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Sure.”

“Look where we are,” she said, sweeping her hand upwards. “Did you have any idea that we’d be thousands of miles away from home tonight on this beautiful historic island?”

“No, but technically we were thousands of miles away from home two nights ago, too, when we were in New York.”

“And that was lovely. But it was planned.”

“Planned for you, perhaps.”

“Aha.”

“Aha what?”

“No, we’re not talking about that tonight.”

His eyes narrowed and she smiled.

“Tonight we’re on the same page. We’re doing something together that neither one of us planned.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “So what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I just want to be with you,” she said. Then she smiled broadly. “We can do whatever we want because neither one of us has any expectations from the other.”

 

Noah downed the rest of his drink.

Savannah knew exactly what she was doing.

She was getting him off guard. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he knew she wasn’t intoxicated and she wasn’t blonde. However, at the moment, she could easily have passed for either.

He figured she wanted to talk about their past. Wanted to so badly she could taste it. She was toying with him. Making him think she didn’t. Making him think she was not concerned with their future. He was pretty sure she was very concerned with their future.

Her being here was quite a leap of faith. Savannah Richards didn’t do anything lightly. And she was not spontaneous. She was a planner. He knew that if he checked the electronic calendar on her phone, she would have meetings scheduled and trips laid out for the next few weeks, conferences planned for the next year, and who knew what else.

This lack of structure, this ambiguity was enough to drive her over the edge. She did nothing without purpose, but she would deny it. Yet she believed she was spontaneous.

At least, he reminded himself, that was the Savannah he had known before. Perhaps it would be interesting to test his theory. To see if that had changed.

“When’s the last time you had free time like this to do whatever you wanted?”

She pursed her lips. “It’s been a little while. Why?’

“Just curious. I feel lucky that you were able to get away with me.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” she said.

“I know. That’s why I feel lucky. When is your next conference?”

“There’s a three day at New Year’s.”

“You have a conference on New Year’s?” He ignored the flash of disappointment.

“Technically, it doesn’t start until the day after New Year’s, but I usually go early. They always have some sort of New Year’s Eve party.”

It was worse than he thought. Even her New Year’s Eves were planned months in advance.

“How often do you see your daughter?”

“At least once a week.”

He also knew that she did not want to talk about his daughter. But she wouldn’t be able to resist it. His daughter represented everything she had missed out on with him.

But she didn’t realize yet that it didn’t have to be that way.

“What about you?” he asked. “No children?”

She shook her head. Gave him the canned response. “My lifestyle didn’t really allow for it. I always thought there would be time someday.”

“So you never got around to it,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“Savannah.” He held her gaze. “You always told me you wanted two kids and a cat. You said you wanted everything normal in life.”

“I do want everything normal in life.”

“You say that, but you don’t have those two kids. You don’t even have the cat.”

“I could have a cat.”

“Your mother has a cat. You don’t. You’re gone too much, and you wouldn’t do that to a pet.”

“You’re analyzing me now.”

He laughed. “I’m a pilot. I don’t analyze people. You do.”

“I push medications. I don’t analyze.”

“How many conferences have you attended on psychology? To learn how to analyze people and push their buttons to make them want to choose your drugs over someone else’s? Why do you think you’re so good at your job?”

“I’m good at my job because I work hard.”

“Yes, you do. And you make time for things that are important to you.” He’d pushed her too far. He could see it in her face. Oh no! Please don’t cry again.

She recovered quickly, though. “When I meet the right person, I’ll think about having a baby.”

“Aren’t you worried about the ticking biological clock?”

“I’m only thirty-nine. I’ve got another good five to ten years before I have to worry about that.”

“It takes a minute to meet the right person and get all that in place.”

There was that look again. That deer in the headlights look.

“I’d like another drink,” she said. “Would you get me a martini with extra olives?” She held out her glass with the unfinished cosmopolitan.

Noah took the glass and went back to the bar. He should feel pleased that he’d turned the tables on her, and now she was the one unsettled instead of him.

But he didn’t. He, too, wanted to talk about their past. He wanted to explain everything. Tell her everything about his life for the last twenty years. But he knew it would be painful for her to hear. He would have to continue to tell her little pieces at a time.

He also wanted to talk about the future. He wanted to be on her daily day planner. But before he could get to the future, he had to right the past.

He took the martini from the bartender, tasted it. It wasn’t bad. Not too strong. He wanted Savannah clearheaded. He wanted her to make good decisions where he was concerned. He didn’t want her judgment clouded with alcohol.

Well, maybe just a little.

The lobby was filling up now. They weren’t the only people staying here after all. Dinner would be served soon. Tomorrow they would go downtown and look around at the shops. They might even walk around the beach.

A few feet from their table, he froze.

She wasn’t there.

In fact, there was no sign of her. Her handbag was gone, too. He looked around frantically. The restroom door was next to the bar and he would have seen her if she’d gone that way. He’d brought her all the way to Michigan only to have her disappear?

His heart pounded in his chest. Had she left him? Had he pushed her too far after all?

Setting the drink on the table, he had the most bizarre sensation that she had been no more than a fantasy. He traveled alone so much, that perhaps it had gotten to him. Now he was imagining conversations with people.

He stood frozen at the table. Not sure whether to get himself home and admitted to a psych ward or to turn this island upside down in a frantic search for Savannah.

He turned, then, and saw her walking toward him. Relief flooded through him. When she reached him, he hugged her tightly.

“You missed me?” she asked.

“I was trying to figure out what I was going to tell your mother about your kidnapping.” She laughed. “You make it sound like having your dates kidnapped is a common occurrence.”

“I don’t date,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever dated.”

 

An elderly man in a dark gray suit came around to each table, one by one, to let people know that dinner was being served in the main dining room. “The meal is included with your stay, but you have to put on a tie, sir, and, miss, I’m sorry, but no denim allowed.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said. She had a suitcase full of formal attire. And knew that Noah had a tux with him. After all, they hadn’t repacked their luggage after returning from New York.

“Very good,” the man said. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“What do you think?” Noah asked. “Should we go or look for someplace less formal?”

“I think I’d rather put on a dress than venture out tonight. How about you?”

“Sounds good. Want to finish your drink first?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

It was a bit of a walk back up to the suite. Once inside, they went into their respective rooms and dressed for dinner.

Savannah put on her red high-low dress and black heels. Her floor length gown seemed a bit formal for the occasion. She felt a bit rushed as she ran a brush through her hair and reapplied lip gloss.

They met back in the parlor and didn’t waste any time hiking back down to the first floor.

The dining room was surprisingly crowded. The required formal attire gave it a different atmosphere than it had earlier. It looked less touristy now and more formal and historic. They were seated at a table with an excellent view of the water – just as the sun was setting.

Noah ordered a smoked salmon roulade for an appetizer and a bottle of pinot noir.

Savannah wanted to get back to their earlier conversation. At the moment, however, Noah seemed to be intent on distracting her with small talk.

“Did you know that the hotel has three hundred ninety rooms and no two are exactly the same?”

“I did not. That’s pretty impressive.”

“And,” he continued, “the front porch is the longest in the world.”

“Did you know that there’s a Somewhere in Time fan club that meets next week?”

“That’s unfortunate. We just missed it.”

“It’s OK. I think it would be distracting,” she said.

“I thought that’s something you would enjoy.”

“Maybe,” she said, “I’m in more of a low-key mood right now.”

The server approached to take their order. She ordered the roasted eggplant casserole, and he ordered the whitefish.

“We have to order one of those Grand Pecan Balls for desert. It’s their most famous dessert.”

“I don’t suppose they have a treadmill.”

“With all the bicycling, walking, and such on the island, I doubt you’ll need it.”

“I guess I can count that as cardio.”

“I admire your health consciousness,” he said.

“With everything I know about biology, it’s hard not to take exercise seriously.”

“I need to follow your example.”

“I don’t mind the company.”

The server brought their bottle of wine, uncorked it, and poured a taste in Savannah’s glass. She sipped. “Wow. This is really good wine.”

“Only the best, miss. Is this your first time to the Grand?”

“It is,” she said, glancing at Noah. “We’re quite impressed.”

“Thank you miss,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

He filled their glasses, wiped the bottle with a white cloth, and went to check on their appetizer.

“We are impressed, aren’t we?” she asked, turning back to Noah.

“We are ecstatic.”

She smiled and glanced around before turning her gaze back to Noah. “I know we haven’t had a chance to explore the island yet, but based on your first impression, which do you prefer, New York or Mackinac?”

“That’s like asking me if I like apples or oranges. They’re both great, and I couldn’t possibly choose one over the other.”

“Aw. That’s a cop out and you know it.”

“I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I like you.”

She paused, her glass halfway to her lips.

“I certainly hope so, since you brought me up here to the top of the world.”

He laughed. “It seems more like you brought me.”

She smiled. Either way. “I hadn’t planned on taking a vacation right now.”

“Unplanned vacations are the very best kind.”

“I had no idea.”

The server brought their appetizer, and Noah tasted it first. “Oh wow. You’ve got to try this.”

She took a bite of the salmon with dill cream and caviar. “This is. . .hmm. Unlike anything I’ve had before.” She took another bite.

“You like it?”

“It’s like heaven.”

Noah beamed as though he had made it himself.

“You’ve had this before,” she said.

“I’ve actually made this before.”

“You? No way.”

“I did. I took a cooking class last year, and this is one of the things we made. You take some cream cheese and some dill and roll it up like a jelly roll.”

This was a Noah she did not know. And hadn’t expected. “Why did you do that?” Was all she could think to ask.

“I knew I was getting divorced, and it just seemed like something interesting to do.”

She couldn’t help the accusing tone that came next. “You wanted to attract women.”

“You’re attracted to men who can make salmon roulade?”

“That would be strange,” she said.

“Perhaps, but you avoided the question.”

“I do like a man who can cook and will cook,” she took another bite of salmon. “There is a huge difference between the two.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I might be.”

“Well, in my house, if there was cooking to be done.” He stopped himself in midsentence. Appeared to regroup. “Let’s just say that in my previous relationship, I’m the one of us who cooked.”

“You just kept something from me,” she said.

He sat back, sipped his drink. “Very perceptive, my dear.”

“I think that’s the problem,” she said. “You’ve been holding out on me for awhile. . . about twenty-one years.”

“Why would you think that?”

“At the time I didn’t notice, but in retrospect, you knew everything about me and my family, but I knew nothing about where you came from. I met your parents once. And they were not ordinary parents.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Noah,” she said, setting down her fork and leaning forward. “I know now why you kept me from your family.”

He shook his head imperceptibly.

The sounds of live musicians drifted from the other end of the dining hall.

“Looks like they have live music,” Savannah pointed out.

“No. No. Don’t change the subject. Why did I keep you from my unordinary family?”

“I was an ordinary girl and your father was a tycoon.”

“What makes you say something like that?”

Savannah knew she was on the right track by the way his eyes widened. “He had the tycoon look.”

“I didn’t realize tycoons had a look.” He glanced around the dining area. “Are any of these men tycoons?”

“No,” she said. “Besides the tycoon look, you obviously inherited enough money to use some of it to buy yourself an airplane. I can add, Noah.”

The server, dressed in black tie, brought a tray to their table, two plates covered with silver domes. He uncovered each one to serve their food. Heat from the white plates, elegantly presented, wafted between them.

Noah appeared relieved to have a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I apologize, Noah. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s OK,” he said, tasting his fish. “This is awesome fish!”

Savannah tasted her own food. It was, indeed, tasty.

“You’re right,” Noah said. “My father was a tycoon.”

“Noah. . .”

“No. I always tried to keep that from you. I wanted to be normal. Regular. In college. Even the boat. It was my boat. But I didn’t want you to see me that way.”

“Noah,” she breathed. “You should have known. It wouldn’t have changed anything. I loved you from the very beginning.”

“I didn’t know that then. I needed to know that it wasn’t my money you were after.”

Savannah lowered her lashes and set her fork down. Everything she knew about Noah shifted into place. Everything she had suspected after he went away. That his father had influenced him. It wasn’t just money, but a lot of money. Enough to guide the course of Noah’s life. Now that she knew, she expected it to matter. But it didn’t.

He was still Noah.

They finished their food in silence. Savannah ate a few more bites, but she had lost her appetite.

By the time the server removed their plates, one of the couples was dancing a few yards away. They watched as another couple joined them.

Suddenly, Noah got up, went around the table, stood in front of her, and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Savannah,” he said.

She shook her head.

“Come on. Don’t make me look foolish.”

She put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. He put one hand on her waist and, holding her other hand, led her into a waltz.

Another one of Noah’s secret talents.

“I went to a boarding school,” he said, when she looked at him questioningly.

“I have no idea how to do this,” she said.

“Just follow my lead,” he said, sending her into a twirl.

Noah was indeed a good dancer. So much so, that they drew a bit of an audience. After the first dance, other couples joined them until the area around them was crowded.

Then the music slowed, and he pulled her to him. Put his arms around her waist. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and she laid her cheek against his chest.

Safe.

Cherished.

Those were the two emotions that flooded her senses.

Noah.

She sighed.

Nothing in her life had made as much sense before or after him.

The years faded. Folded in until, although it may still exist, the time that had elapsed no longer mattered.

She was in Noah’s arms. The one place she had always belonged.

 

Noah swayed with Savannah in his arms. How had he let her go so long ago?

There must be a God, indeed, for him to have not only found her, but to have the honor of her allowing him back into his life.

A second chance.

He’d been granted a second chance. And he would not. Could not. Mess it up this time.

He slipped a hand up to her chin and gently tilted her face up. Her eyes were closed. He stroked her cheek, the edge of her lips. Her lips quivered ever so slightly. He groaned and pressed his lips against hers. She melted against him.

The room. He needed to get her to their room.

He reached down. Picked her up.

Her eyes flew open.

He carried her back to their table and slid her down against him. His body still pressed against hers, he swept her hair back and tucked it behind her ears. “What am I going to do with you, Savannah Skye?” he asked, his voice next to her ear.

“Is it so difficult to figure out?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Turns out I’m a little slow sometimes.”

He felt her laugh against him.

“You’re the smartest man I know.”

“Spoken by the girl who cavorts with doctors.”

“I wasn’t thinking of them.”

“You really know how to stroke a man’s ego,” he said.

“I think I had too much to drink,” she said.

He glanced toward the table at the glass of wine she’d barely touched.

“You didn’t even have half a glass.”

“Must be the elevation,” she said.

“Must be,” he agreed, releasing her enough to pick up her handbag, but still steadying her with his other arm. “How about we get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He took her hand and after a chaste kiss on the forehead, led her toward the elevators.

They walked in comfortable silence, only the sound of her heels echoing softly down the long hallway.

Noah wanted more than the chaste kisses on the cheek. He wanted more than kisses while locked in a four-point shoulder harness.

But he also wanted more than passion in the sheets. He wanted everything. And the heat was still there between them. Perhaps even more so. They were stoking a fire that had been smoldering for twenty years. But most of all, he wanted her heart back. Once and for all. They had waited this long. There was no reason not to wait a little longer before rushing into consummating their relationship.

“I need a minute,” Savannah said, once they were in the suite, and she went to her room.

Noah, knowing it would be more than a minute, went to his room, changed into a pair of warm sweatpants and a T-shirt, and washed his face and brushed his teeth.

He went back to the common area and stretched out on the sofa to wait.

A few minutes later, Savannah joined him, her face scrubbed free of makeup, she also wore a T-shirt and long pajama pants.

“It’s cold,” she said, as he gathered her into his arms on the sofa.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he said.

“OK,” she said, snuggling against him. He gently rubbed her back, then moved to make little circles at the back of her neck. She grew still against him. He shifted slightly. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly parted.

She’d fallen asleep.

He gathered her into his arms, carried her to her bed, and tucked her beneath the comforter. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, and then went to the sofa, stretched out his long legs, and pulled a fleece throw up to his chin. Tucking his arms behind his head, he watched Savannah’s door.

Guarding her perhaps.

Definitely struggling with the magnetic pull to go to her.