A Dream to Cling To (19 page)

Two weeks ago Bertha had mentioned to Sam that she was worried about Billy, who had been having problems finding a job. A few days later Sam had hired him to take care of the plants in his office.

“He’s done great things with my plants,” Sam whispered proudly to Brittany. “I’d swear they’re multiplying daily! The gang has promised me they’ll keep him on permanently.”

Brittany’s head jerked up. “What—what do you mean?” Her voice was so soft Sam didn’t seem to hear her, and instead of answering he ushered her toward the empty seats.

“Lights are blinking, Brittany. We’d better sit down.”

Her heart was pounding in her ears. What did he mean
they
would keep Billy on? Why not him? Where would
he
be? His talk of moving on had become something she purposely paid little attention to. After all, he never elaborated, and had always made it sound so indefinite. Besides, in her world people settled down at Sam’s age, didn’t “move on” to other ventures, other cities, other
countries
, for Lord’s sake! The thoughts were jumbled in her head and she breathed deeply, willing them away. She’d probably heard him wrong anyway. She pushed a smile back into place and looked up toward the front of the room.

A half-dozen sheets had been carefully sewn together and threaded on a wire so that they fell in soft folds, separating the audience from the forward part of the social hall. In front of the sheet was a podium and a microphone. “Do you know anything about this?” she whispered to Sam.

He gave her a secret smile and squeezed her leg playfully, then let his fingers rest lightly on her thigh.

“Is that a yes or a no?” She played fire with fire and returned the caress until she saw Sam’s jaw quiver.

“Brittany Ellsbeth, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions if you continue to molest me in this manner,” he muttered between his teeth.

“I’ll take full responsibility, Mr. Lawrence. Now, confess to me, what’s going on here tonight?”

“You brought me, remember?” He slid his hand beneath hers and separated her fingers, twining his own between them until their palms were flat together. “I did help dig up some skits for them and threw out a few ideas here and there, but I haven’t seen it all together. Satisfied?” He bent over and kissed the end of her nose.

She nodded, wanting to kiss him back in a manner totally unbefitting the opening act of a senior citizens’ variety show, but was saved from temptation by the
resonant sounds of rolling drums coming from behind the curtain.

The crowd noises dimmed to a soft hush as a slim, elegant figure swept toward the podium from a hidden spot in the shadows. It was Frances Sullivan at her regal best. A long shimmering gown covered her graceful frame and it sparkled in the lone spotlight that lit her face. She reached for the microphone and greeted the eager audience.

“Good evening, friends and relatives,” she began, her eyes and smile rippling over the rows of people.

She paused when she came to Sam, or so it seemed to Brittany and her poised smile broadened just a tiny bit before she went on.

“I think Frances likes you,” she whispered to Sam.

He held her hand tightly in his and moved it slowly back and forth across his thigh. “I think Frances knows you’re doing crazy things to me back here.”

“Sam!”

“Shh.” He gestured to Frances. “You’ll miss something.”

Frances’s golden voice continued from the far end of the room. “We have a wonderful surprise for you all tonight. Why, some of our own residents don’t even know about this yet.

“Due to the kind generosity of a dear friend, and the unstinting efforts and wonderful talents of some of our residents, we are unveiling tonight an addition to our Elms Home that will bring hours of joy into all our lives.”

“That’s what you do for me, you know,” Sam whispered into her hair. “Hours and hours of joy.”

Her eyes were glassy but stayed glued to Frances.

“If Mr. Fitzgerald will please come out and help me with the cords, the unveiling shall take place.”

Dressed in his sedate wedding and funeral suit, and looking as handsome as an Irish rogue, Jerry Fitzgerald gripped the rope that had been tied to the top of
one of the center sheets. Frances did the same to the other, then paused just long enough to excite interest in every last soul in her audience. Then she nodded her head slightly, and she and Jerry walked in opposite directions, slowly pulling open the curtain of sheets.

“Oh, my,” Brittany whispered, as first a hush, and then a chorus of excited ohs and ahs filled the room.

Beyond the sheets a permanent theater stage filled the entire end of the room, complete with a cranberry velvet curtain that fell in soft rippling folds to the stripped hardwood floor, and rows of lights positioned high on the new stage ceiling. There was a small orchestra pit, an apron on either side of the stage with steps on one and a short ramp on the other that led down into the “theater,” and built-in microphones in strategic locations.

“Sam, isn’t it wonderful?” She looked over at him, but even before their eyes met, a rush of understanding flooded over her. “Oh, Sam … you …”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

She laid her hand against his cheek. “Not nearly as nice as the ‘dear friend’ who made it possible.”

“What do you know about anything?” He leaned close and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Now, let’s keep our fingers crossed that it all works.”

To the sound of another drum roll, The Elms Home First Annual Variety Show began in earnest. The curtain swept back and Joseph Aldrich shuffled out onto center stage in an oversized white coat and regaled the audience with a rendition of the doctor scene from
The Sunshine Boys
. A lovely young blond volunteer filled in as the voluptuous, buxom nurse and Mr. Aldrich played the scene to the hilt, bulging his eyes at the sight of her straining bosom, and pushing his audience to the edge of their seats with laughter when he stumbled and his large nose wedged directly into her deep shadowy cleavage.

Sam laughed uproariously and beside him Brittany
wiped tears of delight from her eyes. Everyone in the room was laughing, and as she looked around her, she saw so many old faces lit with new life.

The mood switched quickly to a more controlled enjoyment as Frances Sullivan introduced the next act, a brief excerpt from
Our Town
. “Why, that’s Bertha Hussey,” Brittany whispered in amazement. The shy, quiet lady was perched on a tall stool, her hair brushed to a glossy sheen, and her voice resonant with near-Shakespearean thunder as she read through her lines.

“Look at Billy,” Sam said.

Billy was sitting on the edge of his seat, his hand holding his girlfriend’s, and fat tears were rolling down his face as he watched his grandmother’s moment of glory.

“Oh, Sam.” Brittany blinked back a tear.

Sam’s arm slipped over the back of her chair and held her close.

Our Town
was followed by several short but loud numbers from the Bronze Boys Brass Band, followed by a barber shop quartet, and then the finale.

The lights dimmed, then rose again, this time painting the stage in all the brilliant colors of an English garden and spotlighting a grouping of white wicker furniture and three elegant Elms Home women. They sat with their parasols in place, and their voices were full of a lifetime of loving as they thoughtfully, dramatically, recited a litany of poems that celebrated life.

The room was so still that the slightest rustle of the women’s graceful gowns were heard, as were the tiny breaks in their old voices that spoke with unbearable honesty of living and loving and dying.

Frail Betta Hopper’s voice quivered like a bird’s as she recited the words of Rupert Brooke. And Frances Sullivan’s melodious voice spoke of strawberries on summer afternoons in the Kilpatrick hills with a loved one as they laughed with life and love.

And old Mrs. Cleaver, her knotted hands cupped beneath
a trembling chin, left not a dry eye in the house as she sifted through her memories and shared her days of joy, and her life’s pallet of color.

The crowd was still as the brand new velvet curtain danced shut across the stage. The spell was broken when the lights went on, and the audience rose to its feet en masse. They cheered the variety show troupe with ringing applause until finally Frances Sullivan swept back onto the stage and announced that punch and pastries would be served in the lounge momentarily.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Sam and hugged him tightly. “Oh, Sam, it was
wonderful
!” She tipped her chin up and their eyes met. “You should have told me, I could have donated.”

His head moved from side to side. “No, love, this one was mine. They’ve been so terrific to me, and the money wasn’t a problem. I
wanted
to do it. The idea came so naturally that Frances and I wondered why it had taken so long for me to think of it.”

“You’re wonderful. And I love you so very much.”

He wove his fingers through the fine curls at the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Any chance we could skip the punch and pastries?” he whispered huskily.

Her head moved against his lips. “No, but we can certainly eat fast.”

They were separated at the reception by the crush of people wanting to tell Sam how wonderful his gift of a theater was, and it wasn’t until he slipped his arm around Brittany’s waist and pulled her into the shadows of a deserted hallway an hour later that they were able to make their escape.

The trip back to her house was silent, filled with an urgency that electrified the air in Sam’s small car.

“Brittany, we should talk.” His hand slid over and up onto her lap.

“No, Sam, not just yet,” she whispered, lifting his fingers to her lips and kissing them gently. She needed to love him desperately, right now! Before talk crept in and robbed her of her happiness. Her mind flashed crazily with images, Sam leaning on the fireplace mantel in her parents’ home … Sam and Miss Sullivan waltzing across the floor … Sam with tiny Missy Plunkett balanced on his knees …

And Sam,
her
Sam, holding her, loving her, making her whole again.

The engine died in front of the carriage house just in time for her to blink back her tears and flee up the steps with Sam a shadow at her back.

“Brittany, honey, you’re way ahead of me,” he said, breathing heavily as they slipped through the door. “I know there’s a fire burning inside of me, but is there another one I don’t know about?”

She snapped the door shut behind him, then turned slowly and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s one right here, Sam, right inside me,” she whispered. “Shall we match flame for flame?”

Sam’s body was already alive, and when he saw the love and desire that brimmed in her eyes, his heart swelled.

His mouth came down forcefully on hers, his lips grinding against hers until they parted and welcomed the greedy exploration of his tongue. His kiss was hot and fierce and she responded with an intensity that stunned him.

“Oh, Brittany,” he moaned, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re making me crazy. But do you … suppose … we could take off our coats?”

Wordlessly, she let her heavy coat fall to the floor, her eyes never leaving his face. While he shrugged out of his and dropped it onto the chair beside the door, she kissed him again, then slowly unhooked the pearl buttons running down the front of her dress. She stepped out of the dress, then took Sam’s hand and lifted his
fingers to the lacy camisole that barely covered her quivering breasts.

“Love me,” she said simply.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His words were labored. “I thought you’d never ask.” He bent his head until his lips found the damp skin beneath the wisp of lace, and he dropped tiny kisses along the rise of her breasts.

Her head fell back and she whimpered with longing, feeling the moist rush of desire flood her. Nothing mattered tonight, nothing in the whole world but joining herself with Sam and loving him with a fervor she couldn’t seem to control. “Come, Sam.” She shuddered, and managed to clasp his hand and pull him urgently through the darkened living room and into the bedroom, lit softly by a single shaft of the moon streaming through the window.

She leaned against the brass bedpost in her lace briefs and camisole as she waited for him to slip out of his clothes.

He piled them in a heap and turned toward her, then stopped abruptly, rooted to the spot, his breath tight in his throat. For as long as he’d live he knew he’d never forget the vision of Brittany at that moment, her lips swollen and moist from his kisses, her breasts straining against the silky material, and her gold-flecked eyes loving him completely. Slowly he walked toward her.

“I love you, Brittany. I love you so much.” He framed her face with his hands, holding it still. “So very, very much.”

He kissed away the tear that escaped her eye and fell slowly from the golden lash, then slid his hands down her arms. “Here, we don’t need this.” With sure fingers he lifted the delicate lace camisole and peeled it away, then pressed his hands inside the silky panties and slid them easily down her legs. “Now we’re equal,” he whispered into the darkness.

She answered with a feathery touch, her fingers running
lightly over his chest and circling each nipple slowly. Lowering her head, she licked each light brown point, nipping and sucking until Sam’s groan of desire filled the still room.

Embracing her, he slid his hands down her back until they cupped the warm flesh of her buttocks and pressed her forward.

“Oh, Sam,” she said breathlessly as her breasts were crushed against his chest and the full strength of his arousal pressed hotly against her. She knotted her hands in his hair, clinging to him as he moved slowly until her body throbbed painfully with desire.

“Oh, Sam, please, I need you so …”

Gently he lifted her onto the high bed, his fingers sure and solid beneath her, holding her to him, moving her hips until her legs slid apart and he pressed forward, entering her.

She sighed. Then the sound was cut off as he began to thrust slowly in and out, and she could feel the pulsing of his blood within her. When her breathing became labored, she dug her fingers deeply into his shoulders, and then nothing was left but the weightless sensation of soaring off into the universe with Sam. She and Sam and a thousand stars. A rush of pure joy filled her, then exploded into the sky as she filled the air with a great gut-springing cry of love.