Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1) (14 page)

Joel’s hands explored her body, stroked her back, cupped her buns and pulled her against him.

Manda parted her legs and lifted just enough for his hard bulge to press against her sweet spot. When she squeezed, his breath came out in a burst of pleasure. That woke her up. “Geez, Joel, are we out of our minds?”

Joel’s head came up in shock. He pulled back too quickly and moaned with the discomfort of it. “I am sorry. This is my fault. I’m supposed to be the mature one here.”

Manda laughed and gave him a playful punch on the arm. “Well, thanks!”

Joel ran a finger down her cheek and looked into her eyes. “Mature in terms of sobriety, I mean. Obviously, I have no brain.”

“Me, too,” Manda breathed and felt her face flame.

Joel leaned against the sewing table, and it held his weight.  “I like making you blush,” he teased.

Manda moved closer, and he pulled her to him. She rested her head in the curve of his neck.

He told her, “I may be old-fashioned, but I am trying very hard to keep my hands off you until you’re in a position to decide if I’m someone you want to be dating, which should come before groping in the attic. The way I see it, you’re someone that’s meant for a loving, committed relationship.”

“I can’t tell you how good it is to hear that.” Manda eased back with a happy smile.

Joel reluctantly let her go. “Got an idea,” he proposed. “I’ll take the sewing machine and this very sturdy table down to your place, while you hunt for fabric. And I’ll get my act together as a mature, sober alcoholic who happens to think your body is spectacular.” He gave one last longing look at the curvy beauty standing a foot in front of him. “And I have never enjoyed a kiss so much in my life.”

“Thank you,” Manda grinned.

Joel nodded. “My pleasure.”

Manda straightened her sweatshirt and looked around to get her bearings. She turned back to him with a saucy smile. “For the record, I enjoyed that hugely.”

“Really? I had no idea,” he quipped.

She tossed a lampshade at him.

Chapter 5

Manda realized she’d been burying her head in the bottle and her nose in her books for four years. As a student she’d rarely set foot in the city of Tompkins Falls. Most of her time was divided between the campus on the southwest corner of the city, the Manse southeast of the city, and Cady’s Point several miles farther south along the lake.

Now her route to and from AA meetings took her through old residential streets, past half a dozen elegant homes, through middle class neighborhoods, and even into a few pockets of poverty. She saw some small industries, but Manda was willing to bet the economy was mostly fueled by tourism.

Tourists flocked to Tompkins Falls and Chestnut Lake, just as they did to all of the Finger Lakes. Camping, boating, and swimming were popular half the year. Motorists enjoyed drives through the countryside dotted with vineyards and picturesque Mennonite farms, complete with horse-drawn buggies. Limos took tourists on wine tasting tours year-round.

The name of the lake made no sense her until an AA old timer heard her ask, “Why is our lake Chestnut Lake and not Willow Lake or some Indian name?”

He told her about the American Chestnut trees that had been plentiful in the area more than a century ago. They’d been the tallest trees on the east coast, growing to more than a hundred feet; they had all but disappeared, destroyed by the chestnut blight.

The name of the city still eluded her. In all her routes through Tompkins Falls, she had still not found a waterfall. Nor did she know if a Tompkins family had founded the city and the college or if the city derived its name from the college or the other way around. Either way, they seemed to be long gone like the American Chestnut. All Manda knew for sure was that—with a population of about twenty thousand, plus one thousand college students—Tompkins Falls was on old U.S. Route 20, just a few miles south of the New York State Thruway, making it easily accessible for tourists from Canada, New York City, and anywhere else. And it was becoming home for her, now that she was sober.

For Manda, living on Lakeside Terrace meant she could walk along the lakeshore anytime she wanted. From her perch at the top of the bluff, she walked downhill and around a large marina to the public park. There a two-mile, willow-bordered bike and walking path stretched along the north end of Chestnut Lake.

While it was not the largest or the prettiest of the Finger Lakes, Chestnut Lake was magical in Manda’s eyes. The color of the water constantly changed, the winds and breezes blew as they pleased, and the quality of the light sparked her imagination. It was dramatic like her recovery —always fresh, always revealing new truths and possibilities.

Her personal recovery might be constantly changing, but her AA program was a rock-solid foundation, like the rocky bluff that Lakeside Terrace was built on. One Friday in April, Manda worked too late to drive to the women’s meeting in Clifton Springs. She grabbed a salad instead and made her way to the Friday night meeting at the Lutheran church.

Joel watched her walk into the fellowship hall, looking a little unsure. One of the old timers yelled across the room, “Hey, Mandy, where ya been?” He could see her blush all the way across the room. Friends from another meeting spotted her and drew her into their conversation. Joel started toward her but was pulled aside.

Barb dug her fingers into his arm and whispered loudly in his ear. He listened, smiled politely, and continued his path to Manda.

Manda saw him coming and gave him a big smile.

Joel asked her, casually, “First time at this meeting?”

“Someone I know suggested it.”

He held her eyes and once again everything blurred for him into happy swirl of movement and conversation.

“Are you okay talking to me at a meeting?”

She nodded.

He touched her elbow. “I just learned something new about you,” he said and raised one eyebrow.

She raised both eyebrows, “I can’t wait to hear this!”

He chuckled. “Barb just told me, and I quote, ‘She’s my sponsee, she’s new, she’s off men for life, and in case you didn’t get the message she’s off limits’.”

Manda’s face got red, this time from anger, he thought.

“So is it true you’re off men for life?”

“I can’t believe she repeated that. To answer your question, since other women suggested I keep an open mind about men, I’m thinking of it as ‘not interested for a good long time.' Present company excepted, since you know all of my secrets.”

Joel grinned, “We have, after all, shared your bed."

Manda punched his arm playfully. “That is so wicked!”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice “For all of fifteen minutes during a storm. And you’ve slept under my roof as well.”

“You didn’t tell that to Barb?” she implored.

“Young lady,” a gravelly voice intruded, “it won’t do for you to keep secrets from your sponsor.”

Manda’s eyes widened. She turned to see an older man with twinkling eyes. “I know that voice,” she realized. “You’re—"

He grinned. “I’m Joel’s sponsor Phil, and I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

Manda held out her hand. “Manda. So you’re the one that keeps him in line.”

“From what I’ve heard, you do a better job of that than I do. Catch you later.” With a wink at her, he disappeared into the mix of meeting-goers.

Manda turned to Joel, puzzled by Phil’s statement.

Joel was looking into his empty coffee cup. “I told him about you calling me on my behavior and making me get some sleep. Remember?”

Manda nodded.

“He commended me for apologizing to you and for taking your good advice. Apparently I don’t do enough of either, and he’s been trying to point that out to me for a long time. Somehow you got through.”

“I do remember talking to him while you were sleeping. That’s how I knew his voice. I should have known from what he said that he was your sponsor.”

“Why, what did he say? I don’t remember.”

“He wanted me to remind you to pick him up for the corrections committee or meeting or something like that. I don’t know what that means.”

Joel explained. “We take a meeting into the prison every other week.”

Manda put a few more pieces together. “You’ve been sober a while?”

“Coming up on fourteen years.”

“Seriously? How old are you?”

“Thirty exactly. I got clean and sober when I was sixteen.”

“Holy moly. That must have been hard.”

“In the beginning, yes, but being miserable made me ready to do the work.”

“You mean to get into the twelve steps, do the personal inventory, clean up your act?”

“Exactly. I hope Barb is giving you good support with that.”

Manda rolled her eyes.

Joel simply said, “Phil is a tremendous support to me. I can talk to him about anything, and we’re totally open and honest with each other. I can’t imagine going it alone without a good sponsor, even after fourteen years.”

From the quiet nod and the serious look in those big blue eyes, he could see that she got his message.

He wished he could talk with her all night, but he noticed a migration to the folding chairs set up in the middle of the hall. The meeting was starting. “Listen, I celebrate my anniversary here next month, if you want to hear my story.”

“I do, yes.”

“And some of us are going out for coffee and decadent desserts after, if you’d like to join us. It’s an annual celebration.”

“Does that mean I get to see the guy that eats dry toast dig into a no-kidding dessert?”

He laughed and nodded. “Once a year.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She gave him a wave and headed to the beginner’s meeting in the back room. Joel watched her walk through the crowd, greeting people by name, exchanging hugs with men and women who had supported him for many years.

A voice said in his ear, “Off. Limits. Joel.”

“You do know she works for me,” he told Barb.

Barb fixed him with a look. “Cassie has the men watching her back. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“Yes, I’m the guy that told her to go to Cassie.”

Barb cocked her head.

“I’m not the bad guy, Barb. Manda’s story is for her to tell you.” Joel stopped short of saying that, if Manda had not told Barb where she worked, let alone opened up with Barb about the sick situation with Kristof, she and Barb were not a good match for working through the steps.

Barb narrowed her eyes, pushed past him, and found a seat in the third row.

Joel poured another coffee and made his way to the chair Phil was holding for him. Phil—not Barb—was the one to hold him accountable, and he was doing his level best not to rush his relationship with Manda. He had something lasting in mind, and Phil was right that Manda needed time to get a foundation in recovery.

Manda persisted with “her step work” as the women called it, but she was struggling without the guidance of a good sponsor.

Joel was away the next two Fridays, but Phil made it a point to talk with Manda at the Friday meeting and to ask how it was going with her sponsor.

She dodged the question.

At the first dodge, he emphasized that the sponsor’s main focus for the newcomer was working together through the steps.

Manda mumbled something like, “Yeah, I know, thanks.”

The next week, he posed the same question, got the same dodge, and repeated his caution, but this time he also invited her to join him at a Wednesday evening Big Book meeting. “Plenty of newcomers and old timers. You’ll feel right at home.”

Manda took him up on it, and after just two Big Book meetings she began to see how drunks had used the steps to clean up their “wreckage” and live well without dependence on alcohol and without returning to their old dysfunctional behavior and self-centered thinking. She went back to her fourth-step inventory with renewed dedication, but still wished she had a sponsor’s help.

The first nice day in April, Manda abandoned her desk for a walk in the sunshine.

“Want company?” Manda turned to see Joel catching up to her on the path. “Hope I didn’t scare you,” he apologized.

She shook her head. “I was aware you were back there; I just figured you were doing the same thing I was—getting some fresh air to clear my mind.”

“Hey, if you need some space?” he tested.

“No, I’m over-thinking my fourth-step inventory. Glad to have a break from it. I really like walking on these paths,” she told him. The Manse had added fitness trails to the property last fall, just before the winter weather closed in. Neither Joel nor Manda had used them until the snow melted a few weeks ago. They were quickly becoming favorites with the guests and with the staff.

He fell into step with her and they walked in silence for twenty yards. He was obviously uncomfortable about something. “So what’s up?” Manda asked him.

“Something’s been on my mind, and I wanted to mention it to you. When I saw you at the meeting a few weeks ago on Friday night, it was obvious Barb didn’t know anything about your…”

“History with Kristof?” Manda supplied. “Is that why she asked me after about the guys watching my back at meetings?”

“Guilty. She was concerned that I was hitting on you and she wanted to know if I was the reason the guys were watching your back.”

Manda laughed. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Thank you. And I didn’t tell her your story.”

“I haven’t talked with her about it yet. She mostly wants to talk about her history with men, and I’m really discouraged trying to bring it around to the inventory I’m working on and how to use the steps in my life.

“But at Phil’s Big Book meeting, the experienced men and women are always saying we have to be honest about our own issues instead of always focusing on the other guy, ‘the bad guy.’ Help me understand about acknowledging my part. I feel like my part was I drank to cope. I don’t feel like I’m responsible for what happened.”

“I agree, you’re not responsible. I tell my sponsees, when they do their inventory, to look for any take-aways that can make their life better. Usually it’s something they can practice or be aware of going forward.”

“I’m definitely planning not to drink to cope from now on. And I want to be on guard about getting isolated.”

Joel stood still on the path, hands in his pockets. “Good. There’s a reason we’re given the herd instinct. Those both sound like good take-aways.”

Manda let out a big breath of relief. “Thanks, that really helped.”

Joel continued, “And I know I’m jumping the gun, but I think your experience puts you in a good position to reach out to other women who come into the program with abuse in their experience.”

Manda’s face showed the dawn of a new understanding. “Wow. Is that what they mean when they say our experience can help others?”

“Yes, that’s what they mean.” Joel prompted, “So, how are you exercising the herd instinct lately?”

“By getting connected in the program,” she said automatically.

“That’s exactly what I see you doing. When we finished our conversation at the Friday meeting, I watched you cross the room and give at least a dozen people hugs, and you knew their names and they knew yours. Good people. People you can trust and count on.”

“So I am getting better; I’m not just kidding myself?” she said with a bright, beautiful smile.

Joel’s throat tightened and his eyes watered.

Manda reached up to kiss his cheek and told him, “I’m so numb most of the time, but when I’m with you, I can feel a little. It feels like the ice cube trays in my heart are melting. It gives me hope.”

Joel drew her close. When he could trust his voice again, he told her, “It means a lot to me that you’re getting better.”