Bed of Roses

CHAPTER FIVE BREAD AND BUTTER

CHAPTER FIVE

brEAD AND BUTTER

T he walk home wasn’t as calming as Sam had hoped it would be. As she and Nibbler headed up the hill, she kicked small branches out of the path and tried to do the same mentally every time her mind wandered back to Noah. Nothing helped. Guilt hung like a wet weighted blanket around her shoulders.

The screech of the lift greeted her when she opened the front door, and Kathleen and Loretta hurried out of the kitchen—both panting.

“No damage upstairs. The basement is dry,” Kathleen said on her way out the door. “I have to check the roses. Damn storms.”

“There’s one good-sized maple blocking the road. We climbed over it on the way here,” Sam said, “but other than that, I think we’re in the clear.”

The fact that her cell phone rang surprised Sam, but she sat down on the first step of the staircase and answered, “Hey, Mama, how are ya …”

“Are you alright?” Wanette’s worry was loud and clear in her voice even through the static. “We haven’t heard a word about a tornado up in that area.”

“Everything’s fine,” Sam assured her mother. “I was in the bookstore when the whistle blew. Noah and I rode out the storm in the basement.” She went on to tell Wanette all about the old speakeasy.

“Uh, huh, that’s good. When are you coming home?” Wanette finally asked.

“Two days after I quit being happy here,” Sam answered. “Mama, I like the place. I’m making friends. I’m even saving up, and Buster, down at the auto shop, is looking at auction lots for me for a newer Mustang model.”

“I don’t like you being so far from home.” Wanette sighed. “But you’re a grown woman. And I learned a long time ago that you gotta do what you gotta do. You don’t ever listen to me once you’ve made your mind up, anyway.”

“I wonder where I get my hard head from?” Sam teased, and swore she heard her father’s gruff laughter in the background before she lost connection again. “I love you, Mama, but I’m only catching half of what you’re saying, my phone’s going in and out. I’ll call you back on the home phone in the morning, okay?”

“That’s a good plan. Me and your daddy love you,” Wanette said and ended the call.

Sam met Kathleen in the kitchen and dropped the books on the counter. “Your literary carrier pigeon has brought you some goodies. Noah found some more books about Cleopatra for you to gorge yourself on.”

“Oh behold the great Queen Cleo! I’m gonna start with”—Kathleen grinned widely as she pulled a book out with Cleopatra’s stone statue adorning the front—“this one.”

“How are the roses? Did they lose a lot of blooms?” Sam sat down on a stool at the butcher block and rested her elbows on the weathered wood with her chin on her hands.

“They didn’t suffer too bad,” Kathleen assured her. “Speaking of something blooming, what is happening with Noah?”

“What about him?” Sam’s voice caught at the sound of his name.

“Is there something brewing between y’all?” Kathleen asked.

“No! Of course not. He’s with Laura, and I’m not a homewrecker.” Sam felt like she was a kid clutching a baseball mitt in front of a broken window.

You haven’t done anything wrong , the little reassuring voice in her head reasoned, yet.

“Okay.” Kathleen’s tone suggested she didn’t completely believe Sam.

“I would never do to anyone else what was done to me,” Sam declared.

Kathleen nodded and dragged a stool to the other side of the butcher block and sat in front of Sam. “I know that you ain’t the running around kind, but you get a certain light in your eyes when you’re with him. And Noah seems to be keen on you too. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t making a decision you would regret later on—that’s all.” She reached across the table and patted Sam’s hand.

“We’re just friends … That’s all we are … and that’s how we’re keeping it,” Sam stammered.

“Okay, honey. I’ll hold ya to it.” Kathleen left it at that.

“Yes, ma’am, and now I’m going to bed.” She slid off the barstool and headed up the stairs to her room.

“I haven’t done anything wrong; I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of,” she murmured as she clicked off the lamp beside the bed.

The darkness didn’t seem to agree. After lying in her bed for what seemed like hours and chanting mantras to rid her thoughts of Noah, he met her in her dreams that night.

They were cooking supper in a whitewashed, cottage-style kitchen with a window over the sink. She didn’t see him approach but rather felt him. Noah’s arms slid around her from behind, his hand running along the curve of her hip and landing against the softer curve of her tummy. His lips hovered near her ear, she could feel his warm breath on her neck as his arms tightened and pulled her back against him. When his lips finally touched her neck, Sam bolted upright in her bed, blinking wildly, not knowing where she was for a moment.

She flopped back onto the bed and groaned as her alarm sounded: 8:01 a.m. She hurried to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her hair, and then ran down the stairs. She needed coffee and conversation to get Noah off her mind.

“I hope that delivery boy gets here by noon,” Loretta was saying when Sam reached the kitchen. “I got a half a dozen early orders of Easter lilies that must be delivered today or we’re gonna catch hell on Easter morning.”

Kathleen opened the back door for Nibbler. “We’ll figure out something if we need to. I can chip in today if I need to, so don’t worry, Rett, just drink your coffee.” Kathleen returned and poured batter into a waffle iron. “I bet the First Baptist and Methodist churches would be fine with us dropping them off early in the morning if we have to.”

Loretta grumbled at Kathleen as the older woman pulled a pan of scrambled eggs off the front burner. Loretta was already at the door, calling Nibbler in with her thermos in hand and purse in her arms. “I haven’t got time for breakfast. I’ll get an energy bar at the flower shop.” She hollered her goodbyes and had disappeared before Sam made it to the coffeepot.

“Good morning, Sam. Noah called earlier.” Kathleen flipped the waffle iron over. “He said he’s changing his hours. He’s gonna be closing the shop at five now. Laura wants him home earlier in the evenings, I reckon.”

Sam’s heart fell into her stomach. She gulped down coffee and headed to the shop, skipping breakfast and leaving Nibbler begging at Kathleen’s feet. When she opened the back door, Loretta’s bouffant hairdo bounced around from behind a beautiful bouquet. She added some baby’s breath and stepped back to admire the huge arrangement. “What do you think?”

“It’s stunning, Loretta. Is it for one of the churches in town? It’s pretty enough to be a wedding arrangement.” She reached out and softly cupped a white hydrangea, marveling at what masterpieces Loretta could create with just flowers.

“Nope. Noah put in the order the first thing this morning to be delivered to Laura at the courthouse. I asked him what the occasion was, and he said he just wanted to do something nice for her. He’s a catch, that one.”

“Oh.” Sam felt like a rusty spatula scraped her heart off the bottom of her stomach and flipped it over onto burning coals. “Does Noah send flowers to Laura often?” she asked even if she didn’t want to know the answer.

“No, I think he’s more of a jewelry guy when it comes to buying for her. This is the first time he’s sent flowers from here, so I tried to make it real nice.” Loretta’s smile said she was proud of her work.

“Are they ready to go?” Kathleen came through the back door with the keys to the delivery van in her hand.

“I just need to get them settled into the tote box,” Loretta answered and nodded toward a book lying beside her. “Looks like we’ve got an easy day after all—at least until the delivery guy gets here with the lilies. Unless someone dies and we get a dozen or two orders for a funeral on Monday, I’m claiming that red chair in the back of the office, and I’m reading till closing time. Sam, you will have to entertain yourself until our flowers come in.”

Today of all days, Sam would’ve given her left foot to be so busy that she couldn’t think straight. Loretta helped Kathleen carry the tote outside while Sam stared a hole into a thick pad of sticky notes on the counter in front of her.

He must feel guilty. Why else would he send a giant bouquet to Laura if he had never done so before? Maybe ordering flowers for Laura was his subtle sign to Sam that he was indeed taken and off-limits. If Kathleen was observant enough to see her crushing on Noah, did he notice it too? He must have. Or Laura did. Or maybe everyone in Homestead knew.

“If you get tired of just standing there, there’s a beanbag in the back,” Loretta said when she walked in and found Sam in the same spot. “That was Vivian’s napping corner. I can’t count how many times I had to help her up out of it before she gave birth. That girl looked like she swallowed a watermelon near the end.”

“Do you have kids?” Sam asked.

“No, darlin’, I was married for a short while. I figured out pretty quick that I had hitched my wagon to the wrong horse. A mean old drunk horse.”

“Kathleen was married for a long time, and she had two boys, right?”

“Two sons, the elder is Andrew, younger is Bubba. Well, we all called him that. Andrew moved to New Orleans. He’s a chef down there. Bubba? Well, nobody knows what he is up to these days.”

“Do they ever visit?”

“Heavens no. Those boys thought their daddy hung the moon. When Thurman died, they stopped coming around. Andrew calls on the holidays to check in on Kathleen. Bubba calls her when he needs some more money.” Loretta fussed with the Oasis blocks under the counter until all the green squares were in a tidy stack. “Thurman poisoned them boys against Kathleen and then blamed Kathleen when the boys both left Texas. He was the kind of man who didn’t have to drink to be vicious. He could do that pretty well when he was sober.”

“I can’t understand how a man could be cruel to Kathleen,” Sam mused.

“A mean enough man will always be cruelest to the ones closest. You remember that.” She looked back at Sam with a serious expression. “Kathleen will tell ya, neither of us have ever been good with picking men, but we’re good with flowers. That’s our calling—our bread and butter. I stick to what I’m good at, and I leave the rest for the other women in the world to figure out. I’m gonna order pizza for lunch. You want some?”

The abrupt change of topics now closes the door to that particular conversation , Sam thought and nodded.

Nibbler was sprawled out beside Kathleen on the chaise longue out in the backyard and didn’t budge when Sam walked out with his leash in hand. Kathleen rubbed his head with one hand, a book in her other. One look from Nibbler told Sam that she was on her own tonight. She thought it odd that he would rather stay with someone other than her. That was a first.

“Looks like you’ll be taking your walk alone tonight.” Kathleen chuckled. “Don’t worry. We are the best of friends now. Cleopatra and I will take good care of him. Oh, and if you see Marsha Hubbard at the candle shop when you go by, will you please tell her I have that order coming in first thing in the morning?”

“Of course.” She went back in and picked up her purse, thought better of it and put it back, taking only the flashlight before leaving. She had meant to return it to Noah but never had. The heavy weight in her hand brought back memories of the night he gave it to her. The sparks that flew down her arm and through her body at the slightest touch of his fingers came back full force, and her stomach clenched. She should’ve never gone back into that bookshop. If she was a better person, she wouldn’t have struck up a friendship with Noah after that. His cell phone number was written on a strip of duct tape on one side of the metal grip, almost rubbed off from the time the flashlight had lived in her purse. She twisted the handle until it was hidden in her palm.

The bouquet was her wake-up call. Between the mountain of snow-white hydrangeas and him changing his hours, her gut told her it was time to back off. After the hard talking-to and a few shed tears in the shower when she got home, she figured it was best for everyone involved if she stayed away from Noah—after she gave him back his property. She took off in a sprint, Noah’s flashlight clutched in one hand, the other fist clenched as she ran down the hill. I’m making the right decision , she told herself for the thousandth time.

If I was Laura, this is what I would want. It’s better this way . She repeated that over and over as her legs started to burn. When she reached the sidewalk’s edge, she felt as if she were stuck at a crossroads. Her plan was to walk on the opposite side of the street after she either handed the flashlight to Noah or else left it in the mailbox. But the light flowing out of the bookstore’s windows and pouring onto the sidewalk drew her like a mouse to a trap.

Maybe he changed his mind about updating the store hours.

The devil tap-danced on her shoulder and shrieked with glee. Music trickled through the storefront. Sam was drawn to the glow of the bookstore like she had been on the first night she arrived in Homestead. Before she realized she was about to go inside when she stopped herself. No, she couldn’t go there anymore, she reminded herself firmly.

Put the flashlight in the mailbox and keep walking, or else go inside and see him just one more time. The devil was mighty convincing, and Inez was offering no quick retort to slap sense into her. Her hand was on the doorknob, but when she looked up, she let go as if it were scalding hot.

The new hours were written in cursive on a paper taped to the bottom of the CLOSED sign in the window. Right there in the middle of the bookshop, in front of the desk, Noah held Laura as they swayed to the music coming from an old radio. There was no mistaking that they were in love because Sam had seen her parents dance just like that. And there was no doubt they loved each other more than anything in the world.

Laura’s head was on Noah’s shoulder, and his hand cradled her back as they waltzed in slow circles. Laura threw her head back and laughed at something Noah said, and a bucket of cold clear reality dumped itself over Sam’s head, waking her up. She staggered back from the door and quickly crossed the road, tears clouding her vision and blood pounding in her ears.

She ran until she felt like she might puke, stopping finally to bend over and heave in stilted breaths, her hands on her knees, tears hitting the pavement. One tear landed near a small dandelion at her feet, fighting its way through a crack in the sidewalk, and then another. Her grief watered the little straggler as her breathing slowed.

She wanted to call her mama, but she knew she couldn’t, not yet. Her mama and daddy would be in the car and coming Sam’s way before she could even explain the situation. And what would she tell her anyway? That she was this heartbroken over a taken man she had a crush on?

She wasn’t ready to head back to the B&B because Kathleen would still be up and asking why Sam was so upset. She had just vowed to Kathleen last night that she and Noah were just friends. How could she explain her puffy face without Kathleen seeing straight through her?

The backs of her heels burned, blisters starting to form where her socks had slipped down. She wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve and looked up and down the street. The candle shop was dark, and so was most of the street. The only place still open at this time of night was Scottie’s.

A drink would help . The devil had run off Inez as well as the angel who normally resided on her other shoulder. She made a beeline to the barred window and peered in.

She counted four or five folks sitting at the bar, a couple on the dance floor, and another in one of the booths. No Noah. No Laura. No Jack either. Her hand was on the door handle and yanking it open before she gave the idea of going in or staying out another thought.

“Hey, Samantha!” Buster yelled across the room so loudly that the folks at the bar turned around to see who he was greeting. He and the pretty brunette by his side waved. “What are you doing here? I thought you spent your evenings at Noah’s place with your nose in a book.”

“Sometimes books get boring.” She hoped that her voice didn’t tremble as badly as her hands.

“Amen to that, but according to my wife, Allie, right here”—Buster kissed the woman on the top of her head—“they are the golden ticket during deer season. If I wanna go hunting, I know to make a stop at Noah’s and grab enough books to keep her happy till I get back, don’t I, baby?”

“It took me some time, but I have him trained real good now,” the woman said with an impish grin and a wink at Samantha. “I’m Allie. Buster told me about your car. Oh, and your little pup! I want to meet him sometime. I love dogs, and Buster said he looked like he was some kind of terrier mix?”

“I don’t really know what all he is. Jack called him a Heinz.” Sam shrugged.

“Don’t listen to him. He ain’t a dog person. If he was, he’d know the best dogs are always mutts.”

“Amen again,” Buster agreed with Allie and took the final swig of his Miller Lite before pushing it forward on the bar to let the bartender know to bring another one.

“Rita cracked a new Miller Lite to slide Buster’s way and yelled above the music on the jukebox, “Hey there, Red, welcome in! I didn’t introduce myself the other day. I’m Rita Jo. What can I get ya?”

“A shot of Jack and a chaser of Coke, please.” Sam paused. “Hey, is that booth taken?” The red vinyl booth against the wood-paneled back wall looked like the best hiding place in there to lick her wounds.

“It’s all yours now, honey. Go on and have a seat. I’ll bring your order over to ya.” Rita poured and pushed a Guinness to one man to her left and handed an onion ring basket to a man at the other end.

Buster guided Allie back to the dance floor, and they started into a two-step again. For such a big man, Buster was smooth on his feet, and Allie followed his lead like a slim reed swaying in the wind. The image of Noah and Laura dancing earlier flashed in her mind and bit at her.

Rita Jo returned with a heavy-handed shot of whiskey and a tall glass of Coke with lots of ice. “I hope you meant you wanted it this way. I can mix ’em if this ain’t what you meant.”

“No, this is perfect. My daddy drinks it like this. He says that you shouldn’t ruin good whiskey with a Coke, or good Coke by putting whiskey in it.”

Rita Jo laughed at that. “Smart man.”

“So, you like dark mysteries?” Sam asked.

“You remembered.” Rita Jo beamed. “I was raised on the Bront? sisters and Nancy Drew. I never grew out of it, and it’s always been my go-to.” Rita propped her hip against the side of the booth table and leaned in a bit. “You know, word around town is that you practically live at Everbloom these days. Are you a book addict or just … you know, sniffing around?”

Sam almost choked on a sip of whiskey. The burn traveled all the way to her stomach before she answered, “No, no, I’m just a bookworm. I worked at the library back in my hometown, and I miss being around books all the time, that’s all.” Sam took another sip and chased it quickly with a swig of Coke. “News travels fast in a small town, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does, but rumors travel even faster,” Rita Jo said and then lowered her voice and stooped even closer. “The latest gossip in town is that you and Noah have a thing going.”

“Sorry to disappoint the rumor mill but”—Sam finished off the shot in one gulp—“there’s nothing going on between us other than just a shared love of books.”

“Good, because I’d hate to have to whip your ass.” Rita Jo’s giggle was only half sincere. “Laura went to school with me and Kara. We still stay in touch even though she moved to Jefferson. We’re hoping that she’ll move back if Noah ever pops the question, so don’t go getting in the way of our master plan.” Sam wondered if it’d be a funny moment to tell the woman that she could probably deal an ass kicking back to her worse than she could give. Her dad had been a military brat himself and was now retired from the military and had decided that his children would know self-defense. Her sisters hadn’t particularly enjoyed it, but Sam loved the classes she took every summer.

“Never crossed my mind,” Sam assured her as she took a sip of her Coke.

“Well, holler if you need anything.” Rita Jo eyed the empty shot glass. “You want me to go ahead and bring you another?”

“Thanks, but I’m a one-drink pony.” Sam forced a smile.

She shoved the flashlight to the far side of the booth, leaned her head back against the wood paneling, and focused on thinking about anything but Noah, but she couldn’t think of anything else. They had never held hands or kissed, so why did this ache in her chest feel so very visceral, like it might tear through her from the inside out? She was such a damn idiot. And a hypocrite. She was Liza Beth in a different font, and that made her feel icky. She tried to think of the men in Homestead, any man her age that wasn’t Noah, but his brown eyes kept flickering across her mind like flies buzzing around a church buffet—always somewhere watching, never quite gone no matter how much you wished them to just leave you be.

The only men she met were guests at the Rose Garden, either on a newlyweds trip with their partners or headed through town on their way to somewhere else. Or the married men who would ring the flower shop for the occasional anniversary or funeral. She tried to rationalize the lump in her throat. She didn’t fall for him because they had a special connection or anything. It was because he was the only nice guy around who was steady and her age.

That’s it! Her brain greedily sank its claws into this explanation. She only liked Noah because she was a bit lonely and still grieving a past breakup. Homestead didn’t offer many distractions for a wounded heart. And crushing on someone completely unattainable was her wounded heart’s way of distracting itself from the loneliness.

She hadn’t made it to Mena, so Homestead had to do. And she wasn’t completely alone. She had Kathleen and Loretta, and as always, she had Nibbler. It was too soon to even think about going back to Rosepine, but if she really focused, she could move on from this silly crush on Noah and make Homestead work until she bought another car.

She was tired of running away from heartbreak. She had her dog. She had her books. But her brain snapped back to Noah like a tape measure slapping shut, and dammit if the heartsick pining brought his face back around to haunt Sam.