CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Dad, I’m so sorry I haven’t called you in a
while. I really have been busy. It’s not some lame excuse,” Lily
said in a mock plea. She was in the middle of grading papers. She
had Sandy over to her house for dinner and he had her for
dessert.
“Oh, sure. Just forget about your old Dad in
his time of need.”
“What time of need?”
“Huh… Did you forget about grape harvesting
time or has that cowboy stolen your memory along with your heart?”
Sam laughed long and heartily.
“Jeez, Dad, I am so sorry! When do you want
me up there? I have a three-day weekend coming up. Could I bring
Sandy? He’s been asking to meet you?”
“Absolutely. He’ll probably want to
officially ask for your hand in marriage. Has he gotten down on one
knee like all the gentleman do in your Jane Austen books?”
“You need to go out on a date once in a
while, Dad. The world has changed since 1813, although maybe not in
Naples,” she conceded. “And no, we haven’t made those kinds of
plans – yet.”
Lily immediately had a vision of her darling
Sandy in his leather chaps and big old cowboy hat, climbing down
off his golden horse and kneeling in front of her in those great
talking boots.
“Still there?”
“Yes. How about this coming weekend? We could
fly up.”
“Please do. I haven’t seen you in way too
long. And your beau is very welcome too.”
“… Beau? You’re worse than I am about being a
hopeless romantic.”
“See you soon, precious daughter.”
“I love you, Dad,” Lily sniffed.
“Love you too, sweetie. Can’t wait to see
you.”
Sam hung up the phone and that nagging
thought kept coming forefront. Sandy Johnson. Johnson…. No, it will
be fine. Just fine.
* * *
“A grape harvest? Are you kidding? And in
what ways are you not like Lucille Ball? Do you have a bandanna for
your head? You’ll need one for the grape stomping.” Sandy rolled
his smiling eyes at her.
“For one thing,” she huffed, “I don’t have a
best friend named Ethel. My best friend is named Sandy and he can
be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”
“What I’d really like to see is the assembly
line scene in that one episode. Remember when Lucy and Ethel worked
at a candy factory, the assembly line was going too fast and they
started stuffing chocolate in their mouths,” he poked her arm.
“That was a comedy high point and you do like chocolate.”
“Let’s see. What is it I like about you so
much? Oh, I know. It’s your smart mouth,” Lily poked him back.
“At least I don’t go around fainting in the
sheriff’s office.”
“Technically, I knocked myself out, remember?
You laughed your socks off at me.”
They were in the kitchen at her house,
laughing, and Sandy was helping her make fudge. Mixing all the
ingredients together, Sandy stirred the molten chocolate as it
bubbled away. The aroma of fresh cocoa was heavy in the air.
“That smells incredible! Where’d you learn to
make fudge?”
“…From my mother,” she smiled. “Margaret was
always cooking something in the kitchen that smelled heavenly. Dad
would say she was the best cook in three counties. She would look
at him and say, ‘Only three?’ and they’d laugh.”
“Sounds nice.”
“When I was little, I’d pull up a chair to
the stove and watch her work. Those were happy times.” She tried
not to sigh.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“You’re going to owe me lots of money if you
keep saying that,” she teased. “I was thinking about the new poem I
wrote last night. Want to hear it?”
“You bet. I’ve been working on a new one
myself.”
Sandy poured the newly made fudge into a pan
to cool and set it on the table.
“Come on,” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go
into the living room and talk about our poems while the fudge
cools. Want to?”
What a guy! He cooks, he cleans, he
writes, he’s funny.
“Sure.”
“I feel like Robert Browning to your
Elizabeth Barrett.”
She thought about that for a minute, shaking
her head.
“You know, Elizabeth’s father didn’t want her
to marry Robert Browning. They had a sweet love story and loved
each other very much.”
“Wonder why her father objected to him.”
Sandy sat on the sofa and tugged Lily down with him. “Will your
father like me?”
“Dad will love you and I know he wants me to
be happy.”
“Are you, sweet Lily? Are you happy?”
“Let me count the ways…”
* * *