Finding Jessie: A Mystery Romance (11 page)

“Maeve Foster, next door, owns it. Her son used to live there, with his wife and Cindy, until they joined the military. What would you want that tiny place for?”

“Well, I thought I might buy it, with the insurance money if the price is right, and fix it up really cute for a little children’s bookstore and reading room. I haven’t seen the inside of it, but I am hoping there’s a decent bathroom and kitchen in it. So, I could live in it, too.”

“It does have a decent bathroom and full kitchen. But, you want to live across the street from me?”

“You’ve been so generous and helpful, but I can’t stay in your house forever, Sam.”

“Well…why not?” he asked, in spite of his good intentions not to let her know that he cared that much.

Tears sprang to her eyes and their eyes met. “Oh, Sam! Really?”

“Yes. You can stay if you want to stay.”

“But…but we haven’t even kissed!”

Somehow, her words propelled him forward and gave him both courage and encouragement.

“We should fix that right now.” Sam bent his head and she lifted her face to his so humbly that his heart was lost to her before their lips even touched. When their lips met, it was the softest, sweetest, longest kiss he had ever known. Her arms were at her sides and his hands came up and held her face to his, as he layered kiss upon kiss upon kiss on those curved raspberry-colored lips that tasted like there was honey on them.

She responded warmly under his mouth, returning every movement of his lips with her own in equal ardor, until they were both breathless and flushed. He was the one who finally broke their embrace, but he kept his hands on the sides of her soft face. Breathless and aroused, he kissed her forehead, her eyebrows and then the delicate eyelids until she trembled.

“You’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Her eyes shimmered with hopeful wonder. His kiss had done that to her.

“I promised myself this wouldn’t happen, Jessie. That I would make my feelings known so soon.”

“Soon? This isn’t soon!”

“It is for me.”

“I know you are a very private person, Sam. You’re a man who guards his heart. We have talked a lot over the past few days. I think you have a fear of intimacy.”

“I do, Jessie, and only someone astute would notice that is my problem, fear of intimacy, and not think that I am just a heartless jerk. A part of me knows that when you care for someone, you’ll care if they go away, that it would hurt badly, so I try not to care past the bounds of friendship with any woman because I don’t want to be hurt again. But that night when the nurse called me from the hospital and told me that you had nearly been killed—I’d only known you for a day then—I was nearly ill with the grief that I had almost lost you. I was out of my mind with regret that I sent you away from my house without a kiss when you said you wanted one. I kicked myself for not, at least, offering the couch. I wanted to kiss you that night, but, as you figured out, I was afraid to share even one kiss with you, lest I lose my heart and then lose you after I let you in. You are, after all, a traveler.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I want to grow roots again. Here. If I may stay with you in some sojourn of peaceful hearts.”

“Yes. Exactly,” he said and kissed her forehead.

She searched his face and brought her good arm up and stroked his cheek with the palm of her slender, warm hand. “I don’t ever want to go away from you. I mean, if you really meant what you said about me staying.”

“I do mean it, Jessie.” He reached up to take her hand that was stroking his face and kissed her fingers. “But I have to tell you right now that this is not a marriage proposal. I don’t believe in marriage. I think a couple should stay together without having to sign a legal contract to make their love manifest.”

“That’s a strange attitude for a lawyer.”

“I’m a strange guy.”

She laughed. “I know you are, but I want to be with you anyway. I love you, Sam Gold. Ten thousand and twenty-six books and all of it.”

“You remember when I told you how many books I own?”

“I remember everything you say.”

“Does it matter to you that I won’t marry you? No matter what?”

“I’m not looking to get married, Sam. I just want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Welcome home, then, Jessie. Welcome home.”

She swayed a bit at the enormity of what he had said. He helped her to the bed and drew the covers around her.

“You’re still not well. You’ve exhausted yourself with trying on and hanging up all of those clothes. Why don’t you rest while I get ready for bed?”

“Are you going to sleep with me and hold my hand tonight, Sam? As we discussed earlier?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from holding your hand tonight, Jessie Willcox Smith.”

A pang of regret showed on her face and he realized that it was some inner turmoil about her name.

“I’m so glad you’re coming up tonight,” she replied softly. “I mean, I could go sleep on the couch and you could have your bed back.”

“Not necessary.”

He grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from his dresser drawer and went to take a quick bath and shave his face. Instead of his usual electric razor, he got out an old blade razor and gave himself a closer shave, then clapped a bit of after-shave on his face, waking it up. When he came out of the bathroom, he felt clean and excited. His life with Jessie felt new and good, like a journey starting.

She had turned out the light and moved to one side of the bed, so that he could lie on the side of her with the uninjured arm. She was still wearing the dressing gown. He stood in the dark room in his bare feet and boxer shorts, looking at the shaft of moonlight that spilled on her face. Her hair was unbound from the braid and the shining waves were spread across the pillow. He could smell her soap and honey-like fragrance even while a few feet away from the bed. He could tell that her eyes were closed, and her regular breathing revealed that he had fallen asleep.

He carefully got into the bed with her, so as not to jostle or wake her, and pulled the covers up over both of them. She sighed in her sleep and turned towards him a little. Her eyes opened sleepily and she said, “Sam.” Just that. His name. No more. Then her eyes closed again.

He let her sleep. She was still not healed from her accident. And he was still cautious with his heart.

As you should be
, whispered the angel on his pillow.

He could hear the waves crashing on the stone breakers. They were like a woman’s sweet sighs, and that is what they became to him, as he heard them over and over in his mind. The crash of the waves were like Jessie’s soft and regular breathing and soon they became one and the same in his mind. Sam felt the physical warmth and the sweet nearness of her and was comforted by her slumber. There would be no decisions to make about whether or not to make love. His companionship was requested and that is what he would give her. Until the time was right. If it ever happened, he didn’t know what he would do.

“Night, Jessie,” he said at last, very softly, so that he wouldn’t wake her. He kissed her goodnight on the forehead, took her good hand loosely in his, and fell asleep beside her with ease. For the first time in Sam Gold’s life, he was not worried about a thing in the entire world.
Not a darn thing.

The angel whispered a lot of things to Sam in his sleep, so that he wouldn’t mess up his very last chance for true love.

Chapter Six

The days passed and Sam counted them in his mind as the most poignant, amazing days he had ever known. He strung their days together in his heart, like pearls of happiness that were all connected by the slender golden thread that was Jessie and him, together.

He loved living with her. She was so easy. Unlike other women he had had in his life, Jessie never asked him where he went, when he would be back, who he saw, or what he did. She took it for granted that he was seeing the things that he wanted to see and doing the things he wanted to do, when he wished to do them. He had never known such freedom in a relationship, such ease between two people. She was his friend, and yet, he loved her as a woman, too.

When the days became weeks, he realized that he still hadn’t made love to her yet. For some reason, he was holding off on completing that physical connection that was a validation of emotional ties. He didn’t press her though. Once she realized that sex wasn’t going to be a condition of staying at his house, she relaxed and backed off of her own previous sexual advances. It was a comfortable arrangement. He liked it. As for sex, he had always taken care of his own needs in the privacy of the bathtub, and he saw no need to stop doing that. In fact, it made him more relaxed in her presence and better able to assess where they were in their relationship if he wasn’t waiting for permission to be inside of her.

They went on like that for some time, sleeping together but not having sex.

Sam loved to come in the front door and see her happily reading on the sofa, dressed in her vintage long skirts and high-necked lace blouses, her slender, elegant bare feet tucked under her, and a steaming cup of Earl Grey at her elbow on the end table. She was truly at home in his home—no matter if she was reading or writing in the Moleskine journal that he brought her one day, to her utter delight. Her journal was a book into which he never peeked, out of respect for her privacy and also out of gratitude that she never pried about his private past or his own failings, but had kept things light and congenial between them. She was a joy in his life and growing to be his continual thought pattern:
What does Jessie want?

One day, Sam came in with boxes of books from an estate auction. He was excited at the good bids and buys he had made that day and was anxious to grade the books and price them for his online auctions.

She was at the stove singing a little sea chantey, and stirring a pot of something that smelled wonderful. He found it amusing that she did not stop singing the funny song, but waved hello and kept on singing until the song was done.

He laughed. “That was a very funny song. Where did you learn that?”

Jessie put the lid on the pot and came into the living room. “From one of your old books on auction. I stole a peek at the lyrics and couldn’t help making up my own melody to it. You know how much I like music.”

He stroked her cheek and kissed her mouth heartily, tasting what she had been cooking. “Yummy. Making beef stew tonight?”

“I thought I would. You bring groceries into the house but never tell me what you want me to do with them, so I just cook whatever I think you would like from the ingredients.”

“I do like. I’m afraid some five-star restaurant is going to steal you away.” He hugged her into the curve of his arms and ran his hands up and down her back until she pressed against him and lifted her lips for more.

Sam laughed and kissed her quickly, then pulled away gently. “Enough kissing, my fair lady, or there will be more things heated up than that delicious stew. You don’t have to cook, you know. I could cook. Or we could eat out at cheap places.”

“I want to cook for you. I love doing it in a beautifully appointed kitchen. And I love seeing you enjoy eating what I come up with.”

“I’m glad. I was going to go outside to the car and get the rest of the books I bought. How’s your arm and shoulder?”

She wiggled the arm that had been injured and raised it above her head. “All better I think, now, Sam, thanks to your tender care.”

“Then, would you mind coming outside to help me, Jessie? There are some lighter things that you could carry in. I wouldn’t ask you to help me, but it’s about to rain, so I’m kind of in a hurry.”