18. Sam
CHAPTER 18
SAM
I t was time to tell Lana the whole ugly truth. Past time to tell her, but no sense in regrets. I’d done what I’d done, and now I had to own it, and hope Lana could still see my feelings were real.
I’d rehearsed the whole thing, planned it out in my head — how I’d explain Dad to her, and the deal he’d pushed on me. How I’d had no idea I’d love my life here. I couldn’t have known the people I’d meet, or how they’d touch my heart. How she’d steal it entirely. If I’d had any inkling, I’d never have lied. I’d have told Dad to shove it and come here as Sam.
“My name’s Sam,” I said. “Sam Elkins, as in?—”
“What?” Lana leaned out the window and I nearly went flying, which would’ve been bad, given where I was sitting. I’d come out to the back steps to think through my speech, and I was perched at the top of them, at the edge of the landing. Now I gripped the rail to stop my heart pounding.
“I said, uh, I’m?—”
“Hold on. I’m coming out.” Lana vanished from the window and I heard her footsteps, and a few seconds later, she plunked down beside me. She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Who were you talking to? Or were you singing?”
She hadn’t heard, then. Or, not enough to make sense of it. A wave of relief hit, but I still had to tell her. I willed myself to start talking, just get the words out, but Lana was already bouncing to her feet.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I said we’d walk Wiener.”
I groaned. “Wiener? Why?”
“It’s Mrs. Schneiderman’s knitting day. Mr. Schneiderman can’t do it because he’s got the store.”
Lana ran back in to grab her beach shoes. The resolve I’d summoned was ebbing away. It was a beautiful Haverford day, the sky blue and cloudless, the ocean calm. I’d spend this one last perfect day with Lana, showing her who I was and who I would still be… then tomorrow, I’d tell her. I’d come clean first thing.
“All ready,” chirped Lana, and we headed downstairs. And we did have a perfect day down by the beach, playing with Wiener, tossing his ball. Lounging in the club’s beach chairs when we’d tired him out. We ran into Chester and Rex with their poles, headed out to the pier for some afternoon fishing.
“We had our grandkids by yesterday, and Dora’s cousins from Lowell,” said Rex. “Everyone kept asking us, who did your deck?”
I smiled. “In a good way, I hope?”
“In the best way. Dora was glowing. Don’t be surprised if she brings you a pie.”
“I’d love a pie.”
“Damn right you would.” Chester winked at me. “Cathy’s a fine baker, and I’m all right myself, but Dora’s peach pie’s in a class all its own.”
Heading back up the beach, we ran into Joyce from the library. She was out jogging, and she bounced up to greet us.
“I blame you for all this,” she said, gesturing at her tracksuit. “I never jogged a day till you did that fun run, and it did look like fun, everyone getting in shape. So I joined Orla’s jogging group, and now I can’t quit. I’m jogging everywhere, jogging to work. Jogging to the corner store to grab my TV snacks!”
“Well, you look great,” said Lana.
“Thanks. So do you.” Joyce cocked her head, taking her in. “No, really, you do. You look fantastic. It’s so good to see you with a smile on your face.”
Joyce ran off. Lana watched her, and I watched Lana. She really was glowing, full of purpose and life. Tomorrow, I’d tell her. Tomorrow, first thing.
I’d made Lana breakfast to go with my speech — French toast with syrup, just how she liked it. But she came out frowning, glued to her phone, and strode straight past the table toward the back door.
“Hey, Lana, wait!”
She stopped. “Oh, hey Brad!”
I gestured at her phone. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just Alice. Her mom sprained her ankle. They’re still at the hospital, so she can’t come to work. And today was?—”
“Oh, right. You’re restocking the shelves.”
Lana blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s fine. It’s just, the grand opening’s next week. We’ve got so much new inventory thanks to the fun run, and it all needs to be shelved and keyed into the system. It’s a two-person job, but?—”
“Hey, we’re two people.” I took her hands and held them, and stroked her palms with my thumbs. That always calmed her, a simple kind touch. It worked this time too, and I felt her relax.
“Are you sure you don’t mind? You didn’t have plans today?”
I stifled a grimace — I’d had one plan. But Lana needed me now, and she didn’t need drama. The truth could wait one more day, while we shelved her books.
We made a good team setting the shop to rights, Lana on the computer, me on the shelves. She’d enter a product code, then I’d grab the books, and she’d tell me where to shelve them, and I’d pile them up. When a pile got big enough, I’d arrange it all pretty, placing the bestsellers with their covers turned out.
After lunch, Lana set to work reshelving her old stock, and I got creative with the window displays. I found a pair of romance books with opposing covers, a woman on one and a man on the other, each with a hand outstretched to some unseen partner. I placed two long lines of them like a hall of mirrors, so it looked like they were reaching forever for each other, never quite touching across the display. I topped off my artistry with some roses from the garden, and Lana caught sight of them and burst out laughing.
I grinned. “Too cheesy?”
“ So much cheese. But, remember stuffed-crust pizza? Or those two-layer pizzas with the cheese in between?” She added another rose, right in the middle. “People love cheese. The more cheese, the better.”
We had pizza for dinner (with extra cheese), then we worked through the evening and into the night. I was fixing some streamers to a hook on the ceiling when I glanced down and saw Lana peering back up at me.
“What? Am I crooked?”
“No, it looks great.” Her cheeks had gone pink. “I was just thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“You remind me of Christmas. Of hanging the mistletoe. I was just considering stealing a kiss.”
I winked. “You can’t steal what’s freely given.” Then I leaned down and kissed her, and… tomorrow, for sure. Tomorrow, I’d tell her. She’d understand, right?
The next day, I woke up to find Lana baking, the smell of banana bread sweet in the air. She smacked my hand when I made a play for the first loaf, then she turned so red her freckles disappeared.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hit you. It’s just, that’s for Alice’s mom.”
“Oh. How’s she doing?” I backed off, shamefaced.
“Pretty sore, but she’s resting. And she’s got her TV. I want to drop by with this before her soaps start.”
The timer went ping and she grabbed her oven gloves, and pulled out another loaf baked to perfection. “ This one’s for us,” she said. “But it’s too hot to eat. It should be cool by the time I get back.”
“Let me drive you.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.” I didn’t want to let her go by herself. These moments were precious, while I was still Brad. Precious and precarious, as they might be our last. If she couldn’t forgive me, or understand what I’d done, our story would end, and that would be that. It was bad to imagine how that might hurt, worse to imagine how it might hurt Lana. She’d let herself trust me, let me into her life?—
“Hey. Are you coming?”
I snapped back to the present and followed her out to my truck, and soon we were joining what looked like a party, half of Haverford gathered to see Alice’s mom. Most had brought food, and a few had brought supplies, ice packs, water bottles, a big, cozy blanket. Alice was running around handing out cookies, and Lana went bounding to help her friend out. I stood in the doorway still holding our banana bread, and people came in and out, and most of them greeted me. Most of them smiled and asked how I was doing. How Lana was doing. How I liked Haverford.
I held tighter to my serving tray and all I could think was, I loved it here. I loved the town and the beach and the people, the sense of community. Their easy acceptance. From the first day I’d come here, they’d made me feel welcome, but soon I would have to tell them goodbye. That would be true no matter what Lana thought, no matter how she reacted when I told her the truth. I’d still have to leave here and go back to my life.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, an unwelcome intrusion. I set down my tray and checked the screen: Dad.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, heading outside. Silence hung on the other end, then he grunted.
“ Hey, Dad? Is that how we’re talking now, like factory workers?”
I rolled my eyes at him, though he couldn’t see me. He made a tutting sound.
“Where are you, anyway? It sounds like a party.”
I pulled the door shut behind me. “I’m delivering baked goods. And, before you start, no. That’s not my job. A friend sprained her ankle, so we brought her some bread.”
“It seems awfully early to be delivering bread.” I could hear Dad pacing, his shoes on the carpet. Then his chair creaked as he sat down. “Still, I suppose it’s philanthropy, at least on a small scale. And that’s why I’m calling, about this grand reopening. Should I come out for that?”
My heart stopped. “No! Don’t.”
“Well, that was emphatic. May I ask why not?”
I sighed, trying to get my pulse under control. My palms had gone clammy with nervous sweat. “The grand opening, it’s more of a… community event. There’ll be kids there. It’ll be noisy. It’s not a press op, so you don’t need to be there.”
“No press?” His voice hardened. “Then what’s the point?”
“I didn’t say no press, just…” I fumbled for a reason Dad couldn’t come. I couldn’t have him buzzing around Lana. Getting ideas about snapping up her shop. “We did most of our press around the fun run. The day of the opening, it’s going to be busy, so the coverage?—”
“Got it. You’ve had it prewritten.”
I hadn’t, in fact, but I agreed anyway. Whatever would keep Dad away from the relaunch. That would be Lana’s day, her crowning triumph. And I knew in that moment I couldn’t risk spoiling it, or tainting it with even the slightest tarnish. Lana deserved her big day to be perfect. She deserved to have that, at least, to look back on and treasure.
I’d tell her right after. The very next day.