A Dream to Cling To (18 page)

They walked slowly over the hunks of extended roots that laced their path until Sam stopped. “Life is like this path, Brittany. Look.”

The path split into two from where they stood, one part winding to the left, the other to the right. “Just like in the poem, there’s one less traveled, and the other heads back home.”

“And that’s the one to take.”

“The safe, sure path … always?”

She nodded.

With warm fingers he cupped her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. “You worry too much, Brittany. Take life more as it comes.”

“I tried that once, Sam. I was carefree and spontaneous and free.” Her voice dropped. “And it didn’t work. At least not for me.”

He saw the sorrow slip back into her. “No more sadness for today, my Brittany. We’ll deal with it all in its time.” His hands held her head back and her lips were ready when he covered them with his own, softly at first, and then with a fiercely tender passion that arose from the center of him.

Finally he pulled back and smiled down at her with desire glazing his eyes. “But this once—just this once, mind you—you’re right about the short path. Because if we don’t take it, I’m going to have to lay you down in the snow right here, and who knows what the squirrels and bunnies will think?”

“They might think we’re taking a chance,” she said with all the lightness she could muster, and clung to his hand tightly as he pulled her through the darkening shadows of dusk toward the cottage.

“I don’t want to go back, ever.” Brittany slid her head into the tight stretch of denim that was Sam’s lap and watched the fire dancing brightly in his eyes. She felt ecstatically spent and wanted to savor the feeling forever.

“I’m all for it.” he murmured, his fingers blazing hot trails across her face and down her neck. She wore nothing but an oversized shirt she’d pulled from a closet when she got up to make coffee, and Sam wondered if it were possible for anyone to look lovelier. He didn’t think so.

“Sam.” Her eyes grew wistful and she rubbed her cheek against the smooth nakedness of his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. So … so completely full.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Does it frighten you?”

Her question surprised him. It
did
frighten him, he realized, but not in the way she meant. What frightened him wasn’t the incredible feeling of love, or the warmth that flooded through him when he looked at
her, or the desire that overwhelmed him at the most unexpected moments. These things were what dreams were made of, and far too precious to be tarnished by fear.

But what frightened the bejesus out of him was what would come next.

The thought of living without Brittany wasn’t an option. She’d become the stuff of his life, whatever it was that made his heart beat and his soul soar.

The thought of marriage caused a tightening in his throat that he couldn’t explain to anyone; he felt it might possibly choke every breath of life out of him. And then what good would he be to Brittany? He’d be a nothing, able to give her nothing, and she deserved so very much. Thoughts of the baby she’d lost flooded his mind, and he felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes. He clenched his jaw.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Brittany saw the shadows darken his face. He suddenly looked so sad that she wanted to cradle him in her arms and assure him it would be all right, that they could vanquish whatever it was that was pulling him away from her into a private pain.

“Nothing, my love. Come here.” He slid his hands beneath her head and lifted her up. The hot press of her lips made his worry slip away. “Ahh, that’s better.”

She nipped lightly at his bottom lip. “Better than what?”

“Mmm …” He brushed her moist, parted lips. “Better than just about anything.”

She dug her hands into his hair, clinging to him, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I’d say you’re looser these days, Brittany, and that pleases me immensely.” Frances Sullivan patted away a wrinkle from her handsome wool dress. “It’s good for you, you know.”

Brittany pushed the rabbit cage over to the side of the lounge and straightened. “Loose?” she wondered. Brittany Winters, a loose woman? Hmmmm, well, she could live with that. She swallowed a smile and looked back at the stately woman. “So ‘being loose’ is good for me, Miss Sullivan? Last week it was laughing.”

“Yes, certainly, and it’s true you know. Does wonderful things for the chemical balance in your body. Norman Cousins helped cure an illness by laughing. And you are laughing more, yes.”

“Will it cure my illness?” Brittany mused, half aloud.

“It will help considerably, dear. And your illness happens to be one we should all suffer from.” With the gentle care she afforded her Lalique sculptures, she picked up the rabbit named Delilah and glided grandly across the room.

Brittany watched her leave with a bemused smile.

“She’s right for once.”

Brittany spun around. It was Eustelle Cleaver, leaning
on her cane and waiting for Piggy to bring back the ball she’d rolled across the floor. “Mrs. Cleaver, good morning! I see you have a new cane.”

“No, I don’t think it will rain. But even if it did, your nice smile, Brittany, would be all the sunshine we’d need around here. It’s good for you, you know.”

Brittany lifted one eyebrow, and said loudly, “So I hear. Why do I get the feeling, Mrs. Cleaver, that there’s a conspiracy regarding my health around here?”

The remark tickled Mrs. Cleaver, and her laughter tinkled like wind chimes. “Oh, you. It’s your
mental
health, we care about. You know”—she thumped one hand against her breast—“affairs of the …”

Brittany shook her head and laughed lightly. “Well, it’s nice to know there’s all this concern about me.”

“What’s the matter with your knee?” Mrs. Cleaver’s thin brows lifted in concern.

Brittany smiled gently and slipped her a dog biscuit to give to Piggy. “My knee’s just fine, thanks, Mrs. Cle—”

“And where
is
he, anyway?” cut in Mr. Aldrich. who, ever since the dance, seemed to be trailing close behind Eustelle.

“Piggy?” Brittany asked.

“No. Sam, Sam. You know.”

“Oh, him.” She smiled. “Do you need him for something?”

“I need some books he promised me, and we need some more scripts for the playreading group. And he owes me a checker game.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll tell him. He’s been working hard on finishing a game, but I’m sure he’ll drop those by if he said he would.”

“Yep, Sam’s a man of his word. Do y’suppose he’ll keep on coming by here, though, when the game’s finished?” He laughed and Brittany noticed his hand creep up and rest on Mrs. Cleaver’s shoulder. “That was his excuse, y’know—to get information from you.”

Brittany nibbled on her lower lip as she fished through
her mind for an answer. It was the kind of question she’d been avoiding zealously. What
did
happen when the game was finished next week? In the two weeks since the weekend at the cabin, she and Sam had both avoided the topic like the plague. She couldn’t face it. not yet. Shaking her head, she smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be back, Mr. Aldrich. If only to play that checker game.” Quickly she made her exit, slipping out into the hall to find the program director and force herself to deal with things she could control.

She spotted the tall, friendly redhead standing behind the reception desk and quickly walked over to her.

“How does this look to you, Sheila?” she asked, handing her the clipboard with the coming week’s schedule attached.

Sheila read through it quickly. “Looks great, Brittany. I’ve one favor, though …”

“Oh?”

“You know that playreading group Sam organized?”

Brittany nodded, smiling. “The one that likes to meet on a dance floor?”

Sheila nodded, and she and Brittany both glanced down the hall as loud hammering from the social hall broke into their conversation.

“Whatever they’re working on now certainly is noisy!” Brittany said.

Sheila only smiled mysteriously. “Right. Well, turns out they’re reading everything they can get their hands on, not just plays, and they’ve scheduled a ‘public’ performance. Any chance you and Sam could make an extra trip out here for it? Sam knows about it, but we hadn’t set the date when he was here last week.”

Before Brittany could answer, Sheila went on, intent on getting all her reasons in. “Now, I know Sam’s busy putting the finishing touches on your father’s game, but I also know he wants to be here for it. And it’d mean so much to the folks if you both could come.”

“Of course I can come, Sheila. I’d love to! I can’t speak for Sam, but …” Her voice trailed off. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She
could
speak for Sam, easily. Since the weekend up in the woods they’d been together every spare minute, and when they couldn’t be together, they were wishing they were. And when they weren’t wishing, Sam was calling her on the phone and whispering things to her that turned her bones to mush and ignited forest fires deep in her belly.

“Actually, I guess I
could
speak for Sam,” she said slowly. “After all, he is the founding father of this. He should be here.”

“Yes, he needs to be here.”

“Well, I’ll make sure he is. Don’t worry, Sheila. I’ll have him here in the front row.”

“Sirius is winking at you,” Sam said, pointing at the wintry sky as he and Brittany walked up the winding drive to the Elms Home a few days later. “Fitting.”

“We understand each other, Sirius and me.” She linked her arm through Sam’s and pressed closely to his side, her head tilted back to the starry sky. “I almost named Dunkin Sirius, you know.”

“But?” Sam looked down into her eyes and could see the flickering lights of the stars in them.

“Well, Dunkin was orphaned, you see. And we found him—”

“Let me guess. He was found on the steps of a doughnut store.”

Brittany beamed. “Exactly. Sam,
we
understand each other.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Well, since we’re talking serious …”

She groaned and burrowed her head into his shoulder.

“
And
since we understand each other so well, there’s a serious problem I’d like to discuss with you.”

Her smile faded until she looked up and saw the
teasing laughter in his eyes. “I see.… Well, yes, sir, Mr. Lawrence. What can I do to help?”

“Everything! You see, there’s this woman I’m crazy about, and for the past few days I’ve been working like a madman to finish a game job—for
her
father, in fact.”

She scratched her chin and deepened her voice in mock seriousness. “Yes, yes, go on.”

“And well, you see, we haven’t seen each other much for these few days, a phone call here and there, maybe—”

“Maybe?” Her brows shot up. “Here and there?”

“Well, actually there were a number of phone calls made, at odd hours occasionally. But they were necessary, you see …”

“Of course.”

“But phone calls don’t quite do the trick.”

“Trick?” She gasped. His hand had slipped beneath the opening in her coat and moved slowly to capture one full breast that was covered tantalizingly by a soft cashmere sweater.

“Yeah.” His voice deepened with the circling pressure he applied to her breast. “The problem won’t go away. I need help.” He pulled her into the shadow of a huge maple tree.

“Help …” Her breath was coming in short, tiny gasps now as she wound her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. Any strength she had ever had in her legs was gone, turned to putty as his mouth covered hers in hot, hungry kisses.

“Uh-huh.” He finally allowed a minute slice of space between them. “Seems this woman has cast a spell on me.”

“And?” She breathed the single word with difficulty.

“And I’m horny as hell!”

His outburst snapped the spell between them and she threw back her head and laughed into the cold wintry air. “Oh, Sam. You do have a way with words.”

He slapped his head and groaned. “I’m in terrible, body-racking pain, and the lady laughs!”

She wound one arm around his waist and hugged him tightly. “Sam, Sam—”

“The lecherous man,” he finished, breathing heavily into her hair.

“Not ever.” She looked up, her love for him shining in her eyes. “Now, come on, lover boy, calm yourself down. The curtain goes up in ten minutes and I
promised
to have you there.”

“Well, I hope the lights stay out,” he mumbled as he followed her up the stairs and through the wide front door. “My body can’t stand too much scrutiny tonight.”

She just shook her head and grinned, trying to calm her own fires that licked teasingly within her.

The halls were empty and they hurried around the corner to the social hall, where they were greeted warmly by Sheila.

“I think the show is about to begin,” Sheila said. “There are two seats right there on the aisle.” She pointed over several rows of heads.

Sam and Brittany nodded and made their way down the makeshift aisle, waving at the people who smiled up at them.

“Look, Sam, there’s Billy.” Brittany pointed down toward the front, where Bertha Hussey sat proudly between her grandson and his new girlfriend.