A Summer in Sonoma (20 page)

So they rolled out the bags, shed their boots and jackets and crawled in. Once they were settled side by side, he grabbed her bag and pulled her up against him. Then he put a big, meaty arm under her head and snuggled her close. “Stay warm,” he said.

This was more than body heat. His face was awful close to hers. He cradled her head atop his arm and his other arm was draped over her waist on top of the sleeping bag. He gave her just a moment and then slowly pressed his lips toward hers, gently giving her one of his tender, lovely kisses. Then another one. And then, for the first time since they'd met, he kissed more firmly, parting her lips with his and she couldn't help herself—she let her tongue think for itself and do a little exploring, bringing a deep moan of pleasure out of him. His tongue joined the party, and it was strong, hot and fabulous. Her arms escaped the sleeping bag and held him closer against her, kissing him deeply and wonderfully for a long, long moment. Many long moments, in fact.

When she finally escaped his lips, she said, “I don't think we should be doing this. We're supposed to be friends.”

He laughed at her, a soft and gentle laugh. “Take it easy. You've kissed guys before without being engaged first,” he said.

“I have,” she admitted. “I've done more than this without being engaged.”

“Then relax,” he said. “I'm not going to take advantage of you, you know that. You're completely safe with me.”

“You just don't know how nice that feels,” she whispered. “I think it might be the first time since I was fourteen I haven't been all worried about everything. All the complications, the expectations, where it was going, all of it.”

“You shouldn't have to worry. But I like kissing you.”

“You know, my other best friend Marty—she's just about insane that her husband won't shave before getting in bed. You have a lot of hair and whiskers and it doesn't feel so bad.”

He grinned against her lips. “I do own a razor,” he said. “I'm rationing blades.”

She giggled. “You like that three-day growth,” she accused.

“That's partly true. It's kind of antisocial, don't you think?”

“It is.” Then she kissed him a while longer. And kissed him and kissed him. Mouths open, tongues wild, penetrating, positively erotic kisses that went hard and soft, deep and shallow. “Phew. I haven't made out like this since high school. I had forgotten how great it feels. Tell me if I'm leading you on, Walt,” she whispered against his lips. “Because this isn't going one inch further. And if we should stop…”

“Not an inch, huh?”

“For sure not on a beach in the possible presence of dune buggies,” she said. “And I'm pretty sure nowhere else. I'm not looking for anything serious, you know
that. But I'm also not a mannequin. I like to feel sweet and cozy like anyone else…and I have to admit, you've got kissing down.”

“Even with the whiskers?”

“Maybe especially with the whiskers….”

“It's okay, Cassie. If you want to, we can make out all night long. I like it, too.”

“You think this is a terrible mistake? I mean, we're just pals. Buddies. We have so much to talk about, to do together. We're not, you know…”

“It's not a mistake,” he said, going after her lips some more. “In fact, I think it's a great idea.”

 

Oh, God, Cassie thought. I
like
him! Really,
really
like him. It wasn't just his kissing, which was incredible. It was all of him—his take on life, his tenderness, his simple wisdom, even his stupid, nutty hobby of riding all over the place on a motorcycle. And, of course, making out most of the night didn't exactly help diminish the strength of her emotions. They had kissed a long while, dozed, awakened to kiss more, slept, awakened to fix up the fire, and before going back to sleep, of course there was more cuddling and kissing. Deep and powerful, soft and sweet.

When she awoke in the early morning, dawn just breaking, with a huge urge to pee, he escorted her to an isolated place behind a big rock, turned his back and kept her safe from Peeping Toms and whatever. He cleaned up their campsite, got them ready to roll, but before they got situated back on the bike he lifted her
chin, put a very chaste kiss on her lips and said, “Last night was one of the best nights of my life. Thank you.”

“Walt,” she laughed self-consciously. “If last night was one of your best ever, you're deprived. Seriously deprived.”

“No,” he said with a smile. “I'm a guy with a glass half-full. I'm optimistic.”

“You shouldn't get ideas….”

“Come on, Cassie, even you had ideas.” He ran a big hand down her black hair. “We just stuck to kissing. And it was damn good kissing. At least from my perspective.”

Oh, God, she was going nuts. Nuts about him. He was sweet and good and gentle and so frickin' polite! She hadn't been out with a man in twelve years who would hold off like that, let her decide, be that much of a gentleman. Never! He was the absolute best!

And it was totally impossible. She'd had many a vision about her life as it would be when it finally shaped up. Her man would be about five-ten to six feet, he'd be well-groomed and polished, he'd make a decent living and have the potential to go as far as possible in his field. A firefighter or paramedic would be just great—solid, clean-cut, doing admirable work…. She'd dated a few of them with no results.

Walt was not like any of her friends. He looked like a social outcast, like he said. She couldn't imagine how Beth, Julie and Marty would find him. For that matter, she predicted that Billy would think she was out of her mind. And as far as the good living, he was a wrench. He had no potential at all.

Yet, every minute with him was so good….

Is this what Marty went through with Joe? she asked herself. A lovely, seductive man during the courting period, then the second you gave in, he became an unbearable slob who couldn't care less about your feelings? Walt looked like the kind of guy with so many rough edges that counting on him could be disastrous, totally disappointing.

But her lips were ruby red, her cheeks and chin a little chafed and all that romantic contact put her in a very pleasant frame of mind. She loved riding with him, stopping now and then for views, for food, for conversation. When he finally dropped her off at home and gave her that terrific kiss goodbye, she smiled into his eyes and said she'd had such fun.

She drove over to Julie's to pick up Steve and when Julie asked her how it was, she said, “It was terrific. We had great seafood, he packed Duraflames so we'd have a fire all night, it was peaceful and…and I think maybe I'm a camper, after all.”

“Is he nice?” Julie asked.

“Oh, Jules, he's very nice. But unfortunately, he's just not my type.”

“Is that windburn on your face?”

Cassie touched her tender cheeks. “Uh-huh. Maybe some sun.”

“You look kind of…healthy. Or something.”

“Do I?” she asked. “Well, it gets pretty windy and sunny out there, on a bike for two days.” And beside the fire, she thought. Kissing and cuddling with a
whiskery man all night. A man she was sorry wasn't going to be around much longer.

 

Billy came home from the fire department in the middle of the afternoon. He went to the kitchen and threw some forms on the counter, then sat down at the table. He could hear Jules in the bedroom with Clint and Stephie—it sounded as if they were just getting up from quiet time or naps or something. There was the sound of small children's laughter and his wife snuggling them, singing little songs, laughing and tickling. Obviously there was some bed jumping going on—that would be Clint. Billy's shoulders shook with laughter. He was a live wire.

The sounds of his wife and children brought a sentimental ache to his throat. She complained about all these crazy surprise pregnancies and he didn't blame her, but she was so good with the kids, the family. It was as if she was born to do this. Even in the hardest of times, she nurtured and cared for them as though they were the only things that mattered in her life. It wasn't as if he had much of an impact; he was hardly around. It was all her, and she was amazing. So strong and beautiful and wise.

He'd just come from a two-hour meeting with the financial counselor and wanted to talk to Julie before going back to work. The guy had declared her a genius—said it looked as though she'd kept the wolf from the door a couple of years longer than should have been possible. It must have been like carrying a hundred-
pound boulder on her back every day. She deserved so much better….

“Daddy!” Stephie screamed when she saw him, racing into his arms. “Daddy!”

It almost brought tears to his eyes, the way they loved him. He wasn't sure he deserved this kind of adoration from his kids. What had he done for them lately?

“What are you doing home?” Julie asked, coming from the bedroom with her arms full of kids' dirty clothes.

He gave Stephie a loud smack on the cheek and let her climb down, sending her off with a gentle whack on the butt. She ran into the family room and bounded over the back of the old sofa. Billy put his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands in front of him and, head lowered, he said, “I have to talk to you, Jules.”

“Jeez,” she said, looking at him in worried confusion. “You get fired or something?”

He straightened. “Get rid of that laundry and come here a minute, baby.”

She dumped the clothes in the laundry room and went to him. He pushed a chair out from the table with his foot and she sat, facing him.

“I just met with a debt counselor,” he said. “I'm sorry, baby. It looks like we're at the end of the line. It's not good news.”

“What?” she asked in a frightened breath.

“What we knew, but just couldn't face. We can't pay the bills. We're probably going to have to file for bankruptcy.”

Tears gathered in her eyes in spite of her wish to stay
calm. Her tears were more for his situation than hers; she knew how this would make him feel around the guys. “Oh, Billy. Just tell me what he said.”

“Well, he said you were incredible, for one thing.” He smiled a small smile. “He doesn't know how you managed for so long. The bottom line looked the same when he added and subtracted as it did when I ran the numbers. There isn't enough income to cover everything. And on top of that, even when you did manage to pay a little something on all the bills, there wasn't anything left. Not anything.”

She pursed her lips. “Are we going to lose the house?” she asked in a whisper.

“I don't think so,” he said. “The two things that can't be touched are the house and the pension, such as it is. Jules, I'm sorry. This is my fault. If I'd done this sooner, maybe—”

“Stop it,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I was in charge of bills—I could've gone to some debt counselor. I thought we
had.
”

“No, we went to the bank. Twice. And twice they fixed us up with more loans to pay the bills we couldn't afford to pay in the first place.”

“When is this going to happen?”

“I don't know,” he said, shaking his head. “He said we're not there yet, but it looks like that could happen soon. We have to go back. We have to fill out a little paperwork, meet with him together, and he'll get in touch with all the creditors to see if they want to offer us any kind of compromise. He generally doesn't do that unless
it's almost too late. He said usually if he can see a way we can budget, scrimp a little and make it, he can help us set up a payment schedule that will get us out of trouble. But we're way past that. At this point, he either strikes some deals with everyone we owe, or we file. It's that simple.”

“And then?”

“We live on cash. We'll be able to keep up with necessities, like food and clothes, the kids' stuff. But it'll take seven years to recover our credit rating.”

“Seven years,” she repeated. “That's not forever….”

“It's gonna seem like it. Both our cars are ready to fall apart, and there's no way to get a new car loan. It's not going to be easy.” He grabbed her hand and held it in both of his. “At least we're done paying bills….”

“What do you mean?”

“He's got everything,” he said with a shrug. “He pulled a couple hundred bucks out of his drawer—a hundred for me, a hundred for you. You have to buy food the rest of the week, I have to put twenty-five in the grocery fund at the firehouse and I'll keep gas in the cars, then he'll duke us again until this is resolved. We'll have to give it back, of course—as soon as this gets settled he'll take it out of our bills. Right now what he needs is for us to each fill out this form. Then we go back on Thursday. You have to be real careful on the form, Jules—you can't forget anything.”

“What kind of form?”

“Costs. Expenses. You do the household list—everything from food and clothes to incidentals, like snacks
and drinks for Jeffy's team. Everything—co-pays for the doctor and pharmacy, field trips, anything. And on your list, don't put down the cheapest you can get by. He says he can't do much with that—you've been getting by so cheap, there's no room to cut anything. You write down your usual expenditures at the regular price. Real food—no cereal for dinner. You don't have to buy filets, but write up a reasonable list. Then if you manage to save money, you'll have a little extra to roll over to the next month. Can you do that in two days?”

“Sure,” she said. “It's not going to be easy. I'm not sure I even know everything. I'm always scrounging a couple of bucks here, a couple there—”

“Put McDonald's twice a month on your list,” he said. “I'm sick of my kids being told no to everything. It's all they hear—no. When they do get something, it comes from my mom or yours.” He ran a hand through his hair. “God, I let you down, Jules. I always told you it was going to be all right. You must have wanted to hit me in the head with a brick!”