Somewhere Between Black and White (8 page)

“Do you have any idea how often I think
about you?” he asked.

“You do?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this is going
to work out.” He knitted his brows together. “See, I just can’t concentrate on
my work anymore. The kids are always sayin’. . . .” He switched to a falsetto.
“
Mr. Collins, would you
please
stop daydreaming about Miss Cook? We
have so much learning to do! We need you to mold our eager minds!
”

Sophie rolled her eyes and snorted.
“Good God!”

“It’s true.” His lips grazed her skin just
above the scoop of her tank top, then slowly his kisses traveled up her neck.
She closed her eyes and smiled, wrapping her arms around him.
Damn, taking
things slow is going to be rough!

It wasn’t long before the innocent
dallying led to his body pressing against hers. She moved beneath him, in spite
of herself, her hands on his lower back, pulling him closer.

Oh, how she wanted him! Right then and
there. His exploring led him to her bare shoulders, her collarbone, her chin.
As their desire rapidly grew in intensity, her mouth eagerly welcoming his,
Sophie willed herself to cool things down—unsuccessfully. Maybe it was okay to
throw caution to the wind, she thought, just this once. Just about the time she
had surrendered to the idea, Sam forced himself to break off their make-out
session, going listless and letting his arm hang to the floor. 

“You’re killing me!” He moaned.

“Me?” She tapped his shoulder to let him
know she wanted up, then rose from the couch and started fanning herself. “
You
started that!”

He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“You are ignoring our agreement,” she
said with a pointed finger. Given that they worked together, they both thought
it a good idea to postpone any serious intimacy until they felt confident this
was going somewhere. Sophie had expressed how difficult it would be for her to
see him on campus if they ever broke up, after doing the deed. She realized
there were no guarantees, but at least wanted to attempt
some
restraint.

She wasn’t prepared for how quickly she
had become attached. They had only been seeing each other for about a month,
but they had been spending nearly every moment of that month either texting, on
the phone, or together. It was all rather gooey.

“You’re right. You’re right.” He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” His nod gradually turned into a shake of the head with a grin.
“Actually, no. I’m not sorry.”

She sat down next to him and gave him a
playful shove.

“What’s going on with Abby?” Sophie
asked, eyeing her sprawled next to the couch. “I can’t believe she wasn’t
jumping in when you were tickling me. She’s just been lying there the whole
time.”

He got down on the floor next to Abby to
pet her. “Yeah, I hate to say it, but I think she may be on her way out. She’s
been having kidney trouble for the past few months. I’ve been giving her
medicine for it, but I don’t think it’s doing a whole lot for her now.”

Sophie joined him on the carpet. “Sam,
I’m sorry. Poor Abby.” She laid her face next to the dog whose eyes were half
closed. Abby didn’t seem to care that they were both doting on her as she tried
to nap. Sophie ran her palm down the length of the dog’s body. There was no way
to describe or express it, but there was something about this aging pooch that,
at times, intensified the connection she felt with Sam. She couldn’t put her
finger on it; it was just an odd sense. Maybe it was because she had been here
so often, Sophie was beginning to see Abby as much her dog as his.

A Cole Porter tune rolled in, and with
it, the thought of an Australian Shepherd at her feet, trotting alongside her. She
caught a glimpse of her saddle shoes and the hem of her navy skirt, as she
pushed open a door—what appeared to be a barn door. And this door opened to the
same golden grass, the same saturated hues. Someone was there with her. Well,
not exactly
with
her, but not far ahead. His back toward her, working on
something. Was it a tractor? 

The touch of Sam’s fingers in her hair
pulled Sophie back to the present moment. “Are you okay? You look like you’re
having some kind of telepathic moment with Abby,” he teased.   

“Oh.” Sophie sat up, pretzel-style.
“Guess I was kinda zoning out there.” She patted her cheeks, but couldn’t
disguise her discomposure.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Just tell him!
What are you so afraid of anyway?  

Uh, that he’ll think I’m some sort of
fruit loop! 

But he said he’d seen something, too,
that first time you kissed. Why are you so scared to talk to him about it?

“So are you ready to tell me about that
tattoo?” She changed the subject.  

Sam leaned back against the couch and
stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you
take a guess at what it means?”

“Hmmm. You mentioned something about it
being corny. How about
Mother
?”

“Nope.”

“Ummm. . . .”  She tapped her finger to
her chin. “
With great power comes great responsibility
. That’s from
Spiderman, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But that’s strike two.”

“Uh. . . .” She thought a little longer,
uncrossing and crossing her legs. “
Do or do not. There is no try
,” she
said in her best Yoda voice.

Sam smirked. “What the hell was that?”

“What? Everyone knows Yoda has the best
quotes.”

“Those are really long guesses. You
think this one little symbol is going to say all that?”

“How should I know? I don’t know how to
read Chinese. I thought one of those little lines could be a whole word.”

“One.”

“One?” she repeated.

“The symbol means
one
.”

“
Ohhhhh!
” She nodded her head, before
frowning with confusion. “One what?”

“We’re all one,” he said, briefly
twirling his finger in a circular motion. “Everything’s one.”

She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “That’s
very deep,” she commended. “And cool. How old were you when you got the tattoo?”

He peered up at the ceiling and thought
for a moment. “I think about twenty.”

“So. . . .” Sophie crept over to him
along the floor and took his arm and wrapped it around her. “How long have you
been this complicated, reflective guy? Were you like that as a child?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself complicated.
I consider myself very
un
complicated. But reflective?” He tilted his
head, as if he would agree with that term. “Let’s just say I was a very inquisitive
kid. Always observing.”

“I see.”

“Now, I have something to ask you.” He
lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “How is it that you’re not married?
That someone hasn’t snatched you up. How old did you say you were? Fifty-two?
Fifty-three?”

“Very funny.” She knew this conversation
would eventually come, because she had the same question about him. “There’s
nothing deep and dark about it. For one thing, I haven’t really dated a whole
lot of people, so when you add that to the fact that it’s tricky finding
someone you’re compatible with, well, there ya have it.”

Sam pursed his lips with concentration
and nodded. “So, how many is not a whole lot?”

“Not a whole lot,” she repeated,
starting to feel weird about this discussion. “I don’t know.” She started
counting in her head. “Five . . . six . . . over the last ten years. And I
wouldn’t even call a couple of them
dating
—more like three or four
dates
.”
Why was this making her so uncomfortable? “Is that bad?”  

Did she really just ask him if that was
bad? Oy! Why was she seeking his approval?

“I don’t know!” He laughed. “It’s not
bad or good, I was just wondering.”

“Well, what about
you
? Why
haven’t you settled down?”

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for
you
.”

She straddled his lap and touched his
face, as if she were about to say something very sweet. “Nice try, but you’re
not gonna sidetrack me that easily.”

“Okay.” He exhaled, running his hands
back and forth over her thighs. It seemed like he was stalling. “I was engaged,
to someone I was with for years.”

Sophie’s heart dropped. She didn’t like
that. She didn’t like it at all. “How long were you with her?” she asked.

“Four years.”

“How long were you engaged?”

“A year,” he answered. 

Ouch, this was painful! The thought of
him almost marrying someone. Someone that wasn’t her. She climbed off of his
lap and sat beside him. “So what happened?”

He shrugged, staring at his hands. “We
wanted different things. I wanted kids. She didn’t. And each of us believed we’d
change each other.” He gave her a half-cocked grin. “Lesson learned, right?”

She tried to think of something to say
that wouldn’t reveal she was crushed, because she had absolutely no reason to be.
This heaviness inside was so stupid! “If I said I’m sorry it didn’t work out,
I’d be lying,” she said. “But I’m sorry if you were hurt.”

“It’s okay, Sophie.”

Now she just felt
blech
.
You’re
seriously going to let this ruin your evening? Let it go!

Sam wasn’t oblivious to her shift in
mood and squeezed her hand. “You know, this was quite a while ago. It was when
I was like, twenty-eight.” He kissed her on the nose. “Don’t start thinking
you’re a rebound girl.”

“I’m not.”

“So you’re not going to share anything
about your relationships?”

“Well, I’ve never been engaged, if
that’s what you’re wondering.” She felt sick about his revelation, and she so did
not
want to be this possessive, jealous girl over something that took
place before they even met.
Sophie, get a grip!

“Nothing serious in your past?” he
pressed.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” There
was James. He seemed perfect in every way, and she was completely infatuated
with him at the beginning. But somewhere along the way, she realized he wasn’t
someone she wanted to spend her life with. He was a wonderful person whose
company she adored, but that was all. “There was this guy I saw a few years
back,” she told Sam. “We dated for about nine months, but he just wasn’t the
one. You know?”

“No one mentionable since then?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Not
really. There was someone I was really into, but the feeling wasn’t mutual.”

“What the hell he was smoking?” Sam wondered.
“His loss, my gain.”

It was the story of her life. The men
who went for her, she had no interest in, and the ones she pursued barely knew
she existed. It had been that way for as long as she could remember. Until now.

Sam rose from the floor, then offered
his hand to Sophie to pull her up. “I’m gonna get me some coffee. Want some?”

“Sure.” She followed him to the kitchen,
then leaned on the bar and watched him. He was saying something about a meeting
at work, but she wasn’t paying much attention. Deciding to put the news about
Sam out of her mind, her thoughts wandered to Evie, wondering what had
transpired between her and Christian. They had spoken since their time at the
mall, which was about two weeks ago, but Evie had not said another word about
it. She longed to learn the details, but Evie was becoming increasingly private
and overprotective of Christian, and Sophie had been trying extra hard not to
start another argument. She was beginning to feel like Evie’s relationship with
him was pulling her further and further away, but deep down, she knew it was
her own doing.

“You got awfully quiet,” Sam said.

“I need some advice.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“So, you know about my sister and her
illness,” Sophie said. “And you know how I am not a fan of Christian.”

“Uh, yeah. You’ve mentioned it on more
than one occasion,” he kidded. Sam took a couple of mugs from an overhead
cabinet. Nice, wide mugs, the kind Sophie loved for coffee, but could never
seem to find in the stores. 

“I’ve never hated the guy or anything,
or thought he was a bad person, but—Evie and I saw something that made it look
like he
might
be cheating on her.” Sam handed her a full cup and rested
his arms on the counter. “And . . . oooh! If he is, I will have to hurt him.”

“That’s pretty rough.”

“And the thing is,” she added, her eyes
widening with frustration. “I think even if he did cheat, she’ll stay!”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” Sophie echoed.

“I guess I’m still waiting for a
question in there.” With coffee in hand, he walked toward the back of the house
and opened the French door. “C’mon. Let’s sit outside.” 

Sophie grabbed the lightweight hoodie
she had draped on a barstool, before accompanying him outside to make herself
comfortable in the cushioned sling rocker on his patio. “I suppose I really
don’t have a question. But Evie says that I judge her all the time. That she
can’t confide in me because of it. I don’t think I’m being judgmental, I just
want what’s best for her.”