CHAPTER FORTY
Sam and I both had high hopes, thinking we could hang out here in the apartment until Amber and Ty got back from Japan, but it’s just not happening. It’s been three days, but Sadie is still more than a handful; she’s ten of ’em. She’s on a warpath from the minute she wakes up until the moment she falls into an exhausted sleep, refusing to nap, refusing to eat anything healthy, refusing to take baths. Any fantasies we had about her dealing calmly with her mother’s death have gone right out the window and landed splat on the sidewalk fifty floors below us. She’s not doing well at all.
After finally getting her down to sleep, Sam and I are sitting on the couch having a glass of wine together. He’s not even drinking a beer, too exhausted to do anything but grab the nearest alcohol. He looks into the glass and sighs. “You know my life is complete shit when I’m drinking white wine at seven o’clock at night, wondering if I can sneak off to bed without having sex with the gorgeous girl sitting next to me.”
“What are we going to do?” I whine, shaking my head. I’m too exhausted for sex too, and that’s just criminal when we’re so damn good at it together and we have more than enough bedrooms with locks on them to ensure our privacy. I try to run my fingers through my hair but stop when they hit a knot. I don’t remember the last time I used a brush. Parenting a child in mourning is way too much work.
“Why does she hate it here so much?” he asks, sounding bewildered. “She’s usually so easy.”
“I don’t think it’s this place. Or maybe part of it is this place, because it’s all new to her, but I think it’s her mom. She misses her. Her behavior is totally normal.” I think.
“You’re right.” He sighs distractedly. “I shouldn’t be so hard on her.” He gulps half his wine and winces, glaring at the glass. “Jesus, this stuff is terrible.”
I nudge him with my toe. “You haven’t been hard on her at all; you’ve been incredibly patient.” I really admire him for that patience, too. There have been times that I’ve wanted to rip my hair out of my head, and yet he just calmly steers her in another direction to distract her. Unfortunately, none of the distractions he’s come up with have lasted more than ten minutes before she’s out looking for trouble again.
“I think she just needs more space to spread out or something,” he says. “It’s just been so rainy here . . .”
I look around. “There’s lots of space in the apartment, but . . .”
“Yeah, but everything is breakable.” He points with his glass over to the vase we tried to glue back together. Despite our best efforts, it’s going to be permanently lopsided. “That’s probably going to cost half my paycheck to replace.”
“I don’t think Amber or Ty are going to care about that thing, but I get your point,” I say. “She’s going to bring the house down around our ears if we don’t do something.”
“Maybe I should get a hotel room.” He looks pained at the idea.
“No, that’s crazy. The hotels around here are way too expensive, and it won’t be any different from here other than being much smaller.”
He shakes his head and sighs, slowly sinking deeper into the couch. “I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t know what to do.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against the cushions.
I take the glass of wine out of his hand and put it on the table next to mine. “I know exactly what we’re going to do.” The idea comes to me like a flash of lightning, brightening up the sky. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. The question is whether Sam will see it as me asking for more commitment. I don’t think I am. It just makes sense . . . way more sense than staying here watching Sadie become more and more miserable as the hours tick by.
He opens one eye to look at me. “Just tell me what it is and I’ll do it.”
“We’re going to the farm.”
He turns his head toward me and opens his other eye. “Say that again?”
“You heard me.” I lean over and push on his shoulder. “We should go to the farm. Why not?” I stand up, quickly warming to the idea. I pace back and forth in front of him. “We have all the room in the world, twenty other adults who can help keep an eye on her, and the animals. She’ll love it.” My heart beats quickly with excitement. This could work. I know we’d be so much happier there. Why was I resisting before? I’ve already made a commitment to being with them during this mourning period—this is the first time I’m officially acknowledging that to myself, actually, but it feels right—so why not be with them in a nicer place? Once Sadie has settled down and Sam is ready to go back to work, we can move on and go our separate ways or whatever. I’m not going to think about that right now, though; we have plenty of time for making those kinds of decisions. “The animals will keep her busy. She won’t even think about destroying things because she’ll be having so much fun playing with them.”
“Is that safe?” He leans forward, his gaze more intense.
“Safe? Of course it’s safe. Chickens aren’t going to hurt anybody.”
“What about the goats? Don’t they like to headbutt things?”
“Yeah, sometimes, but we have pygmy goats. They can’t do a whole lot, and we’ll keep an eye on her.”
“It’s going to be an awful lot of work,” he says hesitantly, sounding like he’s warming to the idea.
“Believe me, we have kids out at the farm all the time. My sisters and I were born and raised there. Everybody who comes to Glenhollow is used to children being around and getting into trouble. It’s no big deal. We’re hippies, remember?” I give him my biggest smile.
“What about . . .” He looks around the room.
“It can be just for a few days, to help her work out whatever she needs to work out. You can come back when the band returns from Japan. You’ll be right on schedule, writing music and everything, just like you agreed.”
He looks down at his hands, rubbing his palms with his thumbs. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” His question confuses me.
“What are you going to do? Are you going to stay there or come back here after?”
“I’m going to stay there.” This seems like a question he should already know the answer to. “Why would I come back here? I don’t live here.”
“Oh.”
I realize when I hear the defeat in his tone what he’s saying. He’s worried it will mean the end of “us,” whatever “us” is right now. A part of me is thrilled to know he’s thinking of a future with me in it, but the other part of me is trying to be realistic. Is it fair to imagine moving forward together as a couple when there are so many unknowns? When our futures seem to be going in different directions?
I go over to sit next to him, putting my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about me. Everything is going to be cool; you’ll see.” I have to trust that everything is going to work out the way it should. It’s the belief system that our mothers raised us within: the Universe provides. We just need to go with the flow and be open-minded.
“Yeah, sure.” He stands and walks over to the kitchen, taking a beer out of the fridge. He pops the top off and takes a long drink.
I twist around to look at him. “What’s wrong? Why are you angry all of a sudden?”
“I’m not angry.” Sam walks over and leans on the edge of the counter, the couch maintaining distance between us. “I’m cool.”
“You’re not cool.” I get up and walk over, taking the beer away from him and putting it on the counter. “Tell me what’s going on in your head right now. A nickel for your thoughts.”
He stands up straighter, his presence dark and smoldering with emotion I can’t translate. “They’re going to be more expensive than a nickel this time.”
I lift my chin. “Fine. A quarter for your thoughts. A dollar.”
“Whatever it takes?” He looks like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite get there.
“Yeah. Whatever it takes. Ten million bucks for your thoughts.” My heart lurches at the idea.
He leans in and kisses me on the mouth, the dark emotion he was sending out dissipating into nothingness. “Don’t ever do that. Don’t sell your soul to the devil for me.”
I take him by the chin, wiggling it a little, trying to shake the melancholy out of his silly brain. “I won’t have to if you’ll just confess.” I let him go and wait, staring at him, trying to tell him silently that he can trust me.
It takes him a long time to finally answer. “I was just kind of hoping you could stick around with us for a little while. Things are good between us, you know? That’s new for me. I like it. I don’t want to lose something when it’s this good.”
My heart does flips inside my chest, cartwheels of happiness. Sam is not the kind of guy to expose his feelings to just anyone. I think this is the Universe talking to me through him. “I could do that.” My ears burn with the idea of what we’re actually saying . . . that we both have feelings for each other and that we aren’t ready to say goodbye.
“But I don’t really like the idea of begging you to do it.” Sam looks disgusted with himself.
“You’re not begging me, silly; you’re just telling me how you feel, that you want to hang out with me. That’s cool. I want to hang out with you too.”
“That’s going to be pretty difficult if you’re in Maine and I’m here in New York.” He looks sad.
The solution comes to me immediately. It seems crystal clear now. He wants to be with me . . . I want to be with him . . . it doesn’t need to be this difficult. “You’ll just have to stay at the farm, then.” I grin big. My heart feels like it’s going to explode. I have never been so daring in my life.
“How’s that going to work?” He picks up his beer, looks at it, and places it back down on the counter, folding his arms over his chest.
“Doesn’t writing music require a quiet place?” I have no idea if this is the case, since I’ve never been around anybody writing music, but it makes sense to me. I could never paint in a loud environment.
“Yeah, generally speaking. At least in the beginning of the process, for me.”
“Well, you’re in luck, because that’s pretty much all we have out at the farm—quiet spaces. You can use my studio. It’s a painting studio, but it’s very private. There’s plenty of room for you in there.”
“I’m pretty sure the band wants me to be here with them, to be in on some jam sessions and whatever.”
“When you’re done doing what you need to do with them, you come back to the farm and work on more songs. It’s not like they’re hurting for money. They can pay for you to fly back and forth. People in business do that all the time.”
“I don’t like taking advantage of people like that.”
“Listen.” I put my hands on his shoulders and stare him right in the eye, shaking him a little. “According to Amber, you’re a hot commodity. They need you, so they’re going to have to do whatever is necessary in order to make this work.” I pray that everything Amber says about those men is true . . . that they’re kind people and interested in having a relationship with us. Because I’m not above using that potential relationship to help Sam and Sadie. “It’s not just about you anymore. You have Sadie to think of. When you made this original deal with the band, you didn’t have a little girl full-time in the picture. You were just going to be here for a short while, for a temporary gig. That’s not the case anymore.” I shake him again. “You told Patty you weren’t going to stay in LA. Why don’t you just move out here permanently? You couldn’t get any farther from California than the East Coast. You could be totally anonymous in this giant city.” My pulse is pounding wildly over the fact that I just asked a man I’ve only known for a very short while to move out to the East Coast . . . where I am. Talk about bold!
“But I don’t like the city. I don’t think it’s good for Sadie.” He searches my eyes, I think waiting for me to take another step forward.
In for a penny, in for a pound . . . “Great.” I swallow with effort, trying to force the lump out of my throat. “Come out to the country. Maybe after you visit our farm you’ll like it so much, you’ll find a place nearby.” God, it sounds like I’m asking him to marry me! I hurry to clarify. “Or maybe you’ll want to move to Upstate New York or Pennsylvania. I don’t know. But you’ll never find out if you don’t at least try.”
“What if . . . I’m . . . afraid?” He shrugs, looking embarrassed.
I step back, dropping his arms. “Are you kidding me? You’re not afraid of anything.”
“I’m afraid to perform my music in front of people.”
I know this fear like I know my own bones, but I can’t let it rule him like it so often does me. “Pish-posh. Baloney. Nonsense. You made a bet with me to do it, and you know you’re going to follow through. Don’t play games with me.”
He twists his mouth around in an almost-smile, making his beard move. “You gonna make me do it, Bossy Pants?”
I put my hands on my hips. “No. You’re going to do it on your own. And for your information, I’m a very non-bossy person with other people. You make me bossy.”
He stares at me long enough that it makes me uncomfortable.
“What?” I finally ask.
“Nothing. Just checking you out.”
“Well, stop. You’re making me nervous.” I resist the urge to fold my arms over my chest.
“Why would it make you nervous to have somebody admiring you?”
“Because. I don’t like it.”
“Tell me why.”
I shrug. “It feels weird to be saying this out loud . . . I don’t know.” I stare at the floor because his gaze is too intense. “I guess I imagine that you’re staring at me and coming up with a list of things you don’t like about me. All my faults, like being bossy.” I never before realized how much Amber and I can be alike. When I’m with her I let her take over because it’s easier, but when I’m with Sam, I feel . . . stronger. More independent and opinionated.
He laughs for a second before he realizes that I’m serious and stops. “That’s ridiculous. Why can’t I be looking at you and coming up with a list of things I do like about you?” His voice softens. “Like your bossiness, for example.”
My heart feels like he’s got his fist around it and he’s squeezing. “Because it’s not realistic?” I finally look up and see him gesturing at me.
“Of course it is. Look at you.”
I tip my head down and see my out-of-fashion hippie skirt and the raggedy top I probably should’ve put in a Goodwill bin a few years ago. “Yeah. So?”
“What do you see?” he asks.
“I see a tired wardrobe and a tired woman who’s been chasing after a four-year-old for three days nonstop.”
“Do you want to know what I see?”
I stand there facing him as my face turns pink. I can’t answer.
“I see a giving woman. Somebody who cares about other people more than herself. I see somebody who will drop whatever she’s doing at a moment’s notice to take care of somebody in need. I see somebody very sexy and smart. I see somebody who’s bold and rare. I see somebody who’s completely courageous and capable.”
“Wow,” I say, totally embarrassed, but in love with this vision he’s painted. I wish I really were this person; she sounds amazing. “You’re seeing a lot.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Pretty much the whole package.”
I wave him away and turn sideways. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”
He walks over and takes my hand. “If I take you into my bedroom, I’ll show you what I think about this body of yours, too.” He traces the outline of my exposed collarbone, giving me shivers. “Words can’t do it justice . . . what we do in the bedroom together is really something special.”
For two seconds I think about pulling away, but then I realize how stupid that would be. He’s right about how good we are together sexually. And he’s allowed to compliment me. He’s allowed to think nice things about me. He’s allowed to see the same things in me that my sisters and mothers see in me. It’s just such a revelation to know that there’s a man out there like him, and he’s standing right in front of me asking me to take a chance on him.
“I think I could be talked into that,” I say, finally facing him.
He looks into my eyes. “I like you. A lot. I’d like to spend some time with you in the place where you grew up. Can Sadie and I come out to your farm for a little while?”
“As long as you don’t mind pitching in, you’re welcome anytime.” I smile, imagining him shoveling horse poop out of the stables.
His eyes narrow. “Why do I suddenly get the impression I’m going to regret inviting myself over?”
I shrug innocently. “I have no idea. I’m sure we’ll find something you can do there that won’t be too difficult.”
He pulls me close and kisses me thoroughly, leaving me a little dizzy when he pulls away.
I put my hand up to my forehead. “I think I’ve had too much wine.”
He grins lazily, unbuttoning my top button. “I think you’ve had too little of me.”
When I see the bulge in his pants, I can’t help but grin. “I think you might be right about that.”