Chapter Twenty-Six
Do You Love Me?
Two and a half weeks later…
I watched Luci flip her phone closed as I worried my lip with my teeth.
“Well, that’s done,” she murmured, her eyes sliding away.
We were having lunch in Kingston at Luci’s favorite restaurant. It wasn’t the first time we did it but, after hearing her end of the phone call where she accepted an offer on her house, I feared it would be one of the last.
“You okay?” I asked quietly and her eyes slid back to me.
Then she pulled in a breath, I thought she would speak but her gaze drifted away again.
“Luci?” I called and she took her time but she finally looked at me.
“I’m having second thoughts.”
I pressed my lips together in order not to shout, “Yippee!”
This was because, since Luci realized she needed to come to terms with the loss of her husband and look to her future, I was never sure about that meaning she needed to move back to Italy.
This was partly selfish. She was my only friend in North Carolina and we’d grown super close.
This was partly because of what Sam told me about her before I even met her.
She was, of course, sultry, exotic, glamorous and beautiful.
But she wasn’t only the kind of woman who was just as comfortable drinking a beer on a deck as drifting in elegant clothes through posh events. She was actually more comfortable drinking beer on a deck than she seemed drifting in elegant clothes through posh events.
Sometimes home wasn’t where you grew up. Home was where you were meant to be.
And I sensed Luci was meant to be here.
She’d changed. The sorrow wasn’t gone but it was nowhere near the intensity it used to be. Her smiles were more genuine. Her laughter came more easily. She never tried to fake anything. And she seemed more at peace.
At the very least, I didn’t think she should shake up this process by moving to a different country even if it was the nation of her birth.
“Talk to me,” I urged, she pulled in another breath then she leaned into me and I was shocked to see it was with excitement.
“Okay, cara mia, I… it’s hard…” she trailed off, her eyeballs slid to the side then she looked back at me and declared, “Travis ruined me for other men.”
Uh-oh.
Were we back to this?
“Luci, honey –” I began but she shook her head and her hand darted out to capture mine.
“No, what I mean is… Kia, you know. They, men like that… you can’t find just any other man. You have to find a man like that.”
This was not good.
Carefully and gently, I said, “Luci, there isn’t another Travis.”
Her head tipped slightly to the side and she replied, “I know, Kia, I mean an American.”
I blinked.
“Italian men don’t wear baseball caps,” she went on.
What?
Baseball caps?
She kept going.
“Or say ‘fuckin’ this’ or ‘bullshit that’ or take so much pride in their pickup trucks you’d think they were their children.”
It was then I had to stop myself from laughing.
She wasn’t done.
“I mean, Travis wore baseball caps and had a pickup truck, though not as big as Sam’s, but I don’t need a man who wears a baseball cap or owns a pickup truck. I just mean a man who’s a man. And I know Italian men or French men or whatever can be men. But only American men can be, well… so… very… American.”
I couldn’t help it, I started giggling.
She let my hand go and sat back looking adorably disgruntled.
“I wasn’t being amusing,” she told me.
“Yes you were,” I replied. “But I can’t say you’re wrong. American men are the only men who can be American.”
She rolled her eyes.
I kept giggling.
Then I sobered and it was me this time who reached out and grabbed her hand. I held it tight and when her eyes came to mine, mine locked on hers.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to take that offer on your house. You don’t have to go home. If you go home, you can come back. You can do whatever you want to do, Luci. Your whole life is in front of you.” Then I gave her my Dad’s advice. “Listen to your heart and find your happiness.”
Her face grew uncertain and she asked, “I know that, Kia, but what do you think I should do?”
I was learning that Luci needed a lot of advice. She ciphered this and went her own way but to cipher, she needed input to cipher through and asked for it.
“If I were you, I’d keep that offer, sell the house you shared with Gordo and look for smaller properties here. You already own two homes and can afford it. That way, you have your options open. And, if your preference runs to macho American men, you’ll find a lot more of them here than you will in Italy so you need a base from which to launch your offensive.”
She grinned.
I let her hand go and sat back
But Luci surprisingly didn’t cipher and decided right away. “I will do this. I will call my real estate agent when I get home and set up viewings.”
Excellent!
“Good,” I murmured.
The waitress came with our bill and we did our usual arguing over who was going to pay for it. I finally convinced her of the truth that it was my turn, I paid then we gathered our purses, left the restaurant and headed to our cars.
Her Corvette was parked in front of my Cherokee and I asked something I’d wanted to know since before I met her.
“What is with your cars?”
Her head snapped to me and the way it did, I realized she wasn’t quite there and I’d messed up. I should have been more sensitive. This had something to do with Gordo and she wasn’t ready for me to blurt the question like I did.
Then she looked at her car and her face grew pensive.
God, I was such an idiot.
“Luci, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked like that. It wasn’t nice.”
Her eyes came to me.
“Travis would hate this car.” Her gaze moved back to the Corvette. “I hate this car. It is not me.”
“It’s a cool car,” I said softly and she looked back at me. “But you’re right, it isn’t you.”
I didn’t know what was her but she wasn’t about flash and dazzle or the need for speed.
She was… well, like me.
“Maybe…” she said quietly, pausing then, “maybe I thought, if I did something he hated, he’d show up and stop me. He worked hard for his money, he didn’t come from it. Although I had it and he made a good salary, the way he grew up, he didn’t throw it away. He would dislike me doing it. Clothes, shoes, bags, makeup, things like that he didn’t mind.” She smiled sadly at me. “They made me pretty and he liked me pretty. They made me happy and he liked me happy. But this,” she tilted her head to the car, “was just madness. It would not make him displeased, it would make him angry. And maybe, well, maybe I was angry. Angry at him for leaving me. So I wanted to make him angry too.” She looked at the car and whispered, “Foolish.”
“Understandable,” I whispered in reply and she again looked at me.
Then her face changed and the way it did, my breath caught.
“I love you, Kia Clementine,” she said suddenly and I closed my eyes.
Then I opened them and moved into her, folding my arms around her and holding her tight.
“Right back at you, Luciana Gordon.”
She gave me a squeeze. I returned it.
Then we broke apart but leaned in and touched cheek to cheek. She got in her car and I hoofed it to the Cherokee and climbed in. I started it up and headed home to Sam.
Then I smiled.
After our blowout three weeks ago when I almost decided to leave him, Sam changed and stayed changed. We were back. Things were good. No more mysterious outings and long workouts.
Two days ago, we even had a chat about my future. I liked Kingston. I liked clothes. I liked handbags. I liked jewelry. But, although Kingston had some fun shops, it didn’t have a cool women’s clothing and accessories shop. It didn’t even have an uncool one. It was a female clothing and accessories wasteland.
So Sam told me there was a community college close by, I could take business courses, get an associate’s degree but before that, pick his Mom’s brain and learn from the master. He even suggested we fly out to California and I work with her in her shop for a couple of weeks to see if it was my thing.
I liked this idea. It was something to explore. Something exciting. Something I may or may not be good at but it was something. A direction. A possible future.
As for Sam, although the mysterious outings had disappeared, the private phone calls didn’t.
I had chosen to ignore this. They didn’t put him in a bad mood that he took out on me or a bad mood at all. They didn’t take him away from me for hours on end. And they didn’t send him off to do stuff unknown.
He didn’t want to share, okay. Maybe one day he would. Maybe he wouldn’t and one day it would get to me.
Now, it wasn’t.
I was going with that.
It was part of Sam and I was accepting what he could give to me since the dark days were gone and we were back to everything he gave me being beauty.
And that was definitely something I could go with.
I drove home and a couple houses down from ours I hit the remote for the gate then hit the button for the garage. By the time I was ready to pull in both were open. I did the button thing again the minute I cleared the gate then shut the garage door behind me after I turned off the car.
Then I went up the stairs to the kitchen.
I thought I’d hear the game but I didn’t.
And Memphis didn’t yap at me.
Hmm.
“Honey! I’m home!” I called and that was when I heard Memphis yap.
It was coming from upstairs.
But nothing from Sam.
I rounded the stairs and looked through the living room.
No Sam.
“Honey?” I called and got another yap from Memphis; I looked up and saw her at the top of the stairs. She yapped at me again. “Hey, baby,” I called as I moved up the stairs.
Memphis yapped her reply.
Three steps from her, I leaned in and she bounced into my arms.
Cuddling her, I was heading toward the office but heard something in the bedroom so, brows drawing together, I moved there.
Then I stopped dead in the doorway.
Sam was packing his big black leather duffle. The duffle he used when he went to Italy then went with me to Crete and Indiana.
I didn’t get a good feeling about this.
“Sam?” I whispered, my eyes going to him to see his movements were economical, practiced and swift.
He dumped something from the dresser into his bag, what, I didn’t care and his eyes came to me.
“Baby, got a gig I gotta do. I’ll be gone three weeks, month tops.”
I froze.
He had a gig where he’d be gone three weeks, a month tops?
What.
The.
Fuck?
“Sorry?” I asked and my voice sounded strangled.
Sam didn’t repeat himself. But as he moved to the walk-in, he kept talking.
“I’ll text or call to let you know when to expect me home.” He disappeared into the walk-in and kept speaking. “But until then communication will be random and infrequent.”
He was suddenly and without notice leaving for three weeks and telling me communication would be random and infrequent.
Was he high?
Seriously?
I forced myself to come unstuck, wandered partially into the room and he came out with a load of jeans and shirts.
“You’re leaving for three weeks?” I asked.
He shoved the stuff in without folding it. I already knew this was why his shirts were so wrinkled. I didn’t try to break him of this habit before and, for obvious reasons, I didn’t mention it now.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“You’re leaving for three weeks,” I repeated as a statement this time.
His eyes came to me but only to skim through me before he looked down at the bed and I saw him pick up his passport.
His passport!
Then he repeated, “Yeah,” as he shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.
“You can’t be serious,” I whispered and he looked at me but this time he held my eyes.
“You might wanna take this opportunity to go home,” he suggested. “You do, let me know, just text me or leave a voicemail if I don’t pick up. You decide to stay awhile, when I’m done, I’ll go to you in Indiana.”
Then he went to the nightstand, picked up his watch and started to strap it on.
This wasn’t happening. He didn’t seriously think that I could leave him to have lunch with Luci, be gone a few hours, come back and find him packing, taking his passport and telling me he was going to be gone an indefinite amount of time with little to no communication, no understanding of where he was going and what he was going to be doing there and I’d be okay with that.
“Sam, honey, you need to stop a second and give me a little time,” I said quietly.
He looked from his watch to me. “Kia, baby, wish I could but I don’t have a little time. Wheels up in an hour and the drive is forty-five minutes. I gotta hit the road.”
“Wheels up?” I asked.
“The plane is taking off,” he answered.
I sucked in breath and tried to pull in patience with it.
Then I said carefully, “You’re telling me you’re getting on a plane in an hour, taking off to parts unknown to do deeds unexplained and, for me, this is all at the definition of a moment’s notice.”
He finished with his watch, eyes still locked on me and he confirmed, “That’s what I’m tellin’ you.”
“And you expect me to accept that,” I whispered.
He started to look impatient. “Kia, I told you, I don’t have time.”
He didn’t have time.
He didn’t have time.
My heart started hurting, like a lot.
“You need to make time.” I was still whispering when I gave my warning.
“I cannot do this now,” he muttered, definitely impatient, he moved then bent to his bag and zipped it up.
Then, Memphis in my arms, we watched him go back to the nightstand and tag his phone. Then we watched him shove it in his back pocket. Then we watched him haul up the bag by the strap and hook it on his shoulder. Then we watched him move to us.
Then I stood immobile as Memphis shook happily in my arms and Sam gave her a head rub. Then I stayed unmoving as his hand came up, wrapped around my jaw, he tipped my head back and kissed me hard and closed-mouthed.
Then he let me go and moved to the door.
He was leaving.
Just like that. He was leaving.
I moved then.
I turned to face the door and said softly, “I love you, Sam.”
He stopped and turned to me. I saw immediately that his face had changed. His features had been guarded, the shutters down, I was shut out.
Now his face was soft, his eyes warm and intense and his lips were tipped up.
He thought he still had me.
But it would be what he would do next that would tip the balance of my heart; he just didn’t know he was being tested.
He failed at the first hurdle by whispering, “Good.”
Instantly I asked, “Do you love me?”
The guard rose up, the shutters in his eyes slammed down and my heart split right in two.
He didn’t answer.
“Do you love me?” I repeated.
“Go home,” he whispered. “Be with your family. I’ll be in contact soon’s I can.”
“Do you love me?” I asked again.
“Soon’s I can, baby.”
I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t cry.
Maris was wrong.
It had happened.
Sam Cooper had broken my heart.
And Dad was wrong.
My heart didn’t guide me.
Not until it was too late.
When I had it under control, I said in a thick voice, “Be safe, honey.”
He jerked his chin up.
Then he disappeared.
Memphis yapped.
After long moments, I put my struggling dog down and she ran out the door after Sam as I heard the garage door going up.
I walked woodenly to Sam’s office.
I was sitting down at his desk when I heard the garage door going down.
I had the phonebook opened to movers by the time the hum of the gate stopped and I knew it had closed behind him.
* * * * *
Four days later…
The movers arrived late. They were only now just leaving.
I was pressed for time. The car that was taking me to the airport was going to be there in five minutes.
I was packed; Memphis’s crate was at the ready with my bags at the door.
I was standing at the kitchen island staring down at the note I wrote to Sam.
It said:
Sam,
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. The answer is all.
I hope you find someone who can accept the beauty you can give how you can give it.
I guess I’m just greedy.
I’ll always love you,
Kia
There was so much more to say. Then again, I wished I could find some way to make it shorter. It took four days to get the note to what it was; I didn’t have any more time so that would have to do.
I folded it, slipped it into the envelope, licked the flap and sealed it. Then I wrote Sam’s name on the front and set it on the island.
I did this deep breathing. I’d cried enough the last four days while avoiding Luci, letting the one call Sam made go to voicemail, making plans and packing. I couldn’t afford more tears. I had a trip ahead of me with Memphis in tow, I needed my wits about me and I needed energy. Tears were exhausting.
I turned to Memphis who was sitting on the floor beside me, unusually silent as she had been for the last four days. She sensed her Momma’s mood, she sensed her Momma didn’t want to talk and she was a good dog.
“Before you know it, sweetie, we’ll be home,” I whispered as I was about to bend to pick her up but I caught something out of the corner of my eye and focused on it.
Damn.
Skip.
Just like he did the one and only time he came calling, he barged right up to and through the two front doors.
I bent, picked up Memphis and met him in the living room.
“You and Sam movin’? What’s the deal?” he asked by way of greeting.
I had no idea why he was there but I knew he saw the moving van.
“Sam’s not moving, I am,” I told him, walking right by him to Memphis’s crate.
“Say again?” Skip asked my back.
I turned to him and repeated, “Sam’s not moving, I am.”
Skip scowled at me then he looked around the space before his eyes came back to me and he asked, “Where’s Sam?”
“I have no idea,” I whispered, bent to the crate and gently placed an unresisting Memphis in it.
“Shit,” I heard Skip whisper in return. This surprised me, Skip wasn’t the kind of man who whispered so after I hooked the gate on Memphis’s crate I straightened and turned to him. He didn’t delay when he caught my eyes. “Is he still doin’ that shit?” he asked quietly.
So Skip knew about “that shit”.
Whatever.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t know what he’s doing. I don’t know where he is. All I know is one minute he was here, the next minute he was gone, off to locations unknown to do stuff unknown.”
“Kia –” Skip started and I shook my head.
“I know you’re gruff and rough and speak your mind but, no offense, Skip, this is not the time and this is also none of your business.”
“Don’t give up on him,” Skip said softly, surprising me again with his tone and the intent way he was looking at me.
Seriously, I couldn’t do this now, I didn’t have the time.
And seriously, I couldn’t do this now or ever, I didn’t have the strength left to do it.
“Skip, please, this is none of your business.”
“I told you, never seen a love like what Gordo had with Luci. I’ll also tell you, closest thing to it was how Sam was with you that night at the Shack,” Skip replied.
Oh God.
Seriously! I couldn’t do this!
“You have to stop, Skip, I can’t do this. And you have to go. The car is coming to take me to the airport, it’s going to be here soon and I need to secure the house and get Memphis and my bags to the drive.”
Skip ignored me totally.
“Didn’t think Sam could be like that. Not with anyone.”
Suddenly, my hands shot up and I pressed the pads of my fingers to my forehead hard.
Then I jerked them away, twisted them palm out and pressed them toward Skip, begging, “Please, stop. I can’t do this.”
Skip’s leathery face, if it could be believed, got soft (ish).
“That boy’s endured a lot,” he told me gently.
“I know that,” I snapped harshly, scratching at anger in the hopes it would see me through.
“You need to have patience with him. Don’t give up. What I saw of him with you, girl, he’ll –”
I shook my head again and cut him off, “No, he won’t.”
His voice got firmer and more insistent. “You have to have patience, girl.”
“You don’t know!” I cried. “You don’t know how it’s been.”
He went back to soft and gentle when he agreed, “You’re right. I don’t. I still know you gotta have patience.”
I’d had enough.
Really, could you blame me?
“It isn’t lost on me he has demons, Skip. I’ve put it together. A man doesn’t leave a professional football career to join the Army when his brother dies unless something is there, something deep, something profound. He has not shared this with me. A man does not lose his best friend and look after that man’s widow unless the bond between them is so strong death can’t break it. I know this too. He has not shared about this with me either. I’ve asked. I’ve not asked and waited for him to talk to me. We’ve fought about it. But that isn’t it. There’s a big part of his life I have no idea about. He walks away from me to have phone conversations. He leaves to meet people. I ask about this too, he doesn’t answer. He’s determined to keep those demons locked inside him, Skip, and he’s determined to keep his secrets. And I know one thing for definite about Sam Cooper. When he’s determined to do something, he’s going to do it. I tried to live with it. I tried to accept it, but I can’t. And the reason I know I can’t is, he’s gone, Skip, and it is also not lost on me that he’s not off on a goodwill mission to bring water, food and medication to drought stricken areas of Africa. He took his fucking passport. And he’s somewhere far away doing something dangerous. I know it. I’m not stupid. And I don’t have to know everything but I have to know something so I can be prepared. I deserve that. And if he loved me, he’d give me that. Whatever he’s doing means something could happen to the man I love and he should love me enough to let me decide if I want to live with that fear. And I’ll tell you what I would tell him if he’d loved me enough to give me the choice. The answer would be yes. But he should love me enough to allow me to make an informed choice, accept it and to help me learn how to live with it and prepare for the possibility that I whatever he’s doing may make me Luci. I’ve given him everything, Skip, and he’s given me so much it isn’t funny. But he’s kept important things locked away. That isn’t right. It isn’t fair. And it isn’t what a healthy relationship is based on. I can’t do it. I want it all and he won’t give it all. I asked for it and he told me I can’t have it. He told me it’s my decision and he’s right, it is so I’m making it.”
Skip took a step toward me and coaxed, “Wait it out, he’ll be back. When he comes back, I’ll talk to Hap and we’ll have a word with Sam.”
That was huge; I knew it, Skip talking to Hap to do that for me.
But I knew Sam. They would fail. If I couldn’t break through, they couldn’t.
“It won’t work,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“Woman, let us try,” Skip whispered back and my eyes locked with his.
“You know him, Skip, you know him. It won’t work.”
Skip held my eyes and I let him. This lasted awhile.
I was losing it and felt my lips tremble. Skip’s eyes dropped to them then shot back to mine.
“He gets home, I’m gonna kick his ass,” he bit off and I shook my head again.
“Don’t. Please. He thinks the world of you and he needs good people around him. You get in the middle of this, Sam won’t like it. You’re good people, Skip, and he needs you. Just let him be.”
Skip visibly clenched his teeth.
A horn honked in the distance.
The car was here.
Shit.
It was time to go.
“I have to go,” I told him quietly.
He scowled at me.
Then he muttered, “I’ll get your bags.”
I swallowed. Skip got my bags, I rushed through the house making sure the backdoor was locked, all the windows secure then I rushed back, grabbed my purse, the keys, the padded envelope I prepared and the remote on the bar. I snatched up Memphis’s crate, went to the security panel, punched in the code and hurried out, locking up behind me.
Skip and the driver were loading my luggage in the trunk when I arrived. I greeted the driver and loaded Memphis in the backseat.
Then I turned to Skip.
“Maybe one day I’ll come back and have another sandwich,” I said on a small smile knowing this was never, ever going to happen.
Kingston, North Carolina was a memory for me.
No, it was a dream, better than a memory but still, just as unattainable.
“Maybe, after I kick his ass, you will,” Skip returned.
“Skip –” I started.
“You do what you gotta do, girl, and I’ll do what I gotta do. Life’s too short to live with demons and life’s too short to miss one second bein’ with the ones you love. You gotta go, I see that. I gotta kick that boy’s ass when he comes home, I hope you can see that.”
This was Skip, I didn’t know him very well but I knew him enough to see that.
I nodded.
Sam wouldn’t like that but whatever. I’d never know. Sam said if it was all or nothing and it was my decision, he meant it.
I leaned in and kissed Skip’s cheek.
Skip surprised me again by folding his arms around me and giving me a tight hug.
I hugged him back.
“See you at the Shack,” he muttered gruffly in my ear.
I hiccoughed to swallow a sob.
Then, not looking back, I got in the car and gave the driver instructions. He did as he was told, waiting for Skip’s pickup to clear the drive, he followed and stopped.
I hit the remote.
The gate closed.
I put the remote and keys in the padded envelope, sealed it, got out and ran to the postbox mounted at the side of the gate. I shoved it through. Then I got back in the car.
I really didn’t want to, I really didn’t, I needed all my energy but as the driver drove away, I managed not to look back.
But I didn’t manage not to cry.