CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Angela had never told anyone to wash their hands before dinnertime, and her family had never eaten dinner together. She’d done both tonight, starting when Sawyer’s mother asked her to call the men to dinner with instructions to remind them to wash their hands. That made Angela laugh. Sawyer too.
When she was young, Angela ate mostly meals prepared by a nanny. As she grew old enough to take care of herself, she ate alone unless at a friend’s house.
It fascinated her how the Cabots fell into place when Susan said it was time to sit down. The meal was served family-style. Clearly, they were used to company, folding Angela into the serving, passing, and talking as though she were any other friend of Sawyer’s.
“There was this time in”—Susan paused to think back—“Sawyer was in eighth, ninth grade. I don’t know. But he and his best friend Jimmy had these inflatable wrestler guys. Nearly life-sized.”
Sawyer shook his head. “This whole night can’t be about me.”
Sam slapped the table. “Oh, I remember that—”
“He and Jimmy would blow these things up. Get all the kids in the halls chanting, ‘Fight, fight, fight.’”
“The teachers, the principal, they’d all run in, blowing whistles, breaking it up.”
Sam howled. “Old Mrs. Jessup had to be a hundred years old, throwing kids to the side to break up these fights.”
“You weren’t even there,” Sawyer pointed out, trying to keep a straight face.
Sam clucked. “He’s acting so innocent—and speaking of blowing whistles—”
“What did I get myself into?” Sawyer dropped his head back, barely hiding his laughter. “I should’ve warned you.”
“No, no, no. I want to hear,” Angela shushed him. “Don’t stop, Sam.”
“Now, first, you have to understand that I’m the football coach. Always was. So Sawyer knew what he was doing.”
Susan beamed. “He and Jimmy—if you see a theme, you’re right—Sawyer and Jimmy, all the time, always in trouble—”
“The good kind of trouble,” Sawyer asserted.
Sam made a face. “The boys ran laps all summer to stay ready for football. I was proud of them.”
“But,” Susan took over, “what we didn’t know was—”
“Bear in mind,” Sawyer interrupted, “this was all Jimmy’s idea.”
Sam and Susan both pooh-poohed him before Susan continued, “Those boys ran laps around the football field with pockets full of birdseed and whistles around their necks. They blew the whistles, tossed the birdseed—they must’ve run a hundred miles that summer, whistling and throwing seed and making quite a group of feathered friends.”
“Then I show up,” his dad said, “ready for summer drills, ready for tryouts, blow my darn whistle and”—Sam raised his arms toward the ceiling—“it was like birds fell from the sky. They rained onto the field. I’d blow my whistle again, and you’d have thought I was a pile of peanuts.”
Sawyer held up his hands. “Harmless prank.”
“I could’ve died from bird flu.”
“But you didn’t.” Sawyer filled his mouth with the last bite of his potatoes. “And you got a hell of a story to share.”
Susan pushed from the table. “Who wants something sweet?”
Both men raised their hands. Angela laughed. Everyone got up from the table to clear their plates.
“I have a new box of Popsicles in the garage freezer. Sawyer, go get them.”
“Not the ones with the cartoon on the front of the carton. They’re terrible,” Sam said. “We need to throw them out.”
“I like them. Let them be.”
“I’ll find the right box,” Sawyer said over his shoulder as he went to find their dessert.
“We shouldn’t have told stories.” Susan groaned. “My Popsicles are in danger.”
Laughing, Angela followed Sawyer. “I’ll make sure they’re safe.”
They walked out of the happy house and into the sweet smell of a warm summer breeze. The sun hung heavy just behind the trees, leaving long shadows on the grass and a sky filled with oranges and reds.
Sawyer hooked his arm over her shoulder. “I really should have warned you.”
“Nothing you could’ve said would have prepared me for dinner with your parents. They are fantastic.”
“I know. They’re good people.” He kissed the top of her head and then led her into the garage.
She wandered toward the tool wall and oversized saw on the workspace. “What were you doing in here with your dad?”
He opened the deep freeze and examined a box of Popsicles—held up the one Sam had banned—but tossed it back in for the less offending box. “Making new shelves for the laundry room.”
“Of course you were.” The far wall was an altar to Sawyer’s youth. Pictures of sports teams and trading cards, fading from over the years, papered the wall. Laminated headlines celebrated youth league wins. “Oh my gosh. You were so cute.” All that blond hair and those blue eyes screamed mischief. “I bet you and Jimmy kept your mother up late at night.”
Interspersed with the sports pictures were school photographs and candids with friends. The same little boy appeared over and over with Sawyer. “That’s Jimmy, huh?”
He laughed quietly. “Yup.”
Then she saw the same girl over and over too. Most of the pictures were casual. But, in a few, Sawyer wore a suit. The beautiful girl in stunning dresses was always by his side. They looked so young and terribly in love. “That’s Penny.”
“Yup,” he said in a much quieter voice.
She studied the old photos, all faded after so many years in a garage. “You two made a gorgeous couple.”
“She was the pretty one.” He stepped close to the wall of pictures, letting his gaze drift. “It’s funny how, when you’re growing up, all you want to do is be a grown-up. And then you’re a grown-up, and life isn’t the fairy tale you’d thought it’d be.”
“That’s the truth.”
“But it’s great to look back at those memories.” He shook the box of Popsicles. “Let’s go before they melt.”
Angela thought she ought to say something more, but the silence was oddly comfortable. Sawyer hooked his arm over her shoulder again. When they returned inside, Sawyer doled out the Popsicles, and if Sam and Susan had noticed Angela and Sawyer were the slightest bit muted, they didn’t let it show.
Thelma yipped from her crate. Sawyer scooped her out and cradled the little wriggling mess of wrinkles in the crook of his arm.
“We need a dog,” Susan proclaimed.
Sam choked. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Sawyer, back me up on this. Tell your dad we need a dog.”
“I don’t need my son to tell me anything about a dog unless my son plans to move back, wake up each morning, walk the dog, feed the dog, and do all the dog things that I have no desire to do.”
Susan cocked her head. “It would be nice to have you home.”
Sawyer snorted. “So you can get a dog? No, thank you.”
“Angela, tell him to stay.” Susan held her Popsicle stick between her praying hands. “I really want a dog, and I really don’t want to take care of it.”
“I wish I could,” Angela said. “But I like him back in Abu Dhabi.”
“Oh, you’re out there too. That’s great. We never meet Sawyer’s friends anymore when they’re on the far side of the world.”
“Gee, I wonder why, Mom. It wouldn’t be the night’s worth of stories at my expense.”
“There are no secrets in this family,” Susan replied. “Besides, funny stories are like oxygen. You need them to breathe.”
“That’s her plan for longevity,” Sam added. “She’ll outlast us all.”
Susan collected the Popsicle sticks and tossed them in the trash. “Sam, help me with the dishes.”
“I’ll help,” Angela volunteered.
“Not a chance. I’m not making you work on the first night under my roof.”
“What am I?” Sawyer asked. “Chopped liver? I had to help Dad with shelves.”
“Not your first night under my roof. Go take Angela outside. Show her the stars. You can’t see them like this where you two live.”
Angela’s heart warmed at the family banter. If her parents were one end of the spectrum, the Cabots were all the way at the opposite end.
“I love your parents,” she said as she slipped outside with Sawyer. Angela took Thelma from him and waited for him to return from the garage with a blanket. “They’re the best people.”
“I know,” he agreed.
“I’d be mortified to bring you to visit my parents. Not that they’re ever around each other.”
He threw the blanket on the ground. “This probably smells like a campfire. Sorry.”
Seriously. Who were these people? She couldn’t get enough.
Thelma ran on and off the blanket before deciding to bite a corner. They sat down and watched the little pup growl and tug.
“I keep trying to get her to play fetch, but I think tug-of-war will be her thing.” Sawyer jiggled the corner of the blanket and sent Thelma into a fit of growls. “It’s still too early to see all of the stars.”
Angela rolled onto her back. The sky had become a moody purple black. “Where’s the moon hiding?”
He scanned the night sky. “Maybe we’ll luck out. It’ll be even darker.”
Thelma ran across the blanket and attacked another corner. Sawyer lay next to Angela, folding his hands behind his head. “There’s a bat.”
In the air, a dark blur skittered this way and that before Angela lost track of it. She bet Sawyer had lain in the yard and stared at the stars, watching the moon and bats so many nights before. “Do you know what we did in high school for fun?” she asked.
“What?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing like this.”
“I bet you did something.”
“Not a chance. I racked up extracurricular activities for my college application and practiced for SATs.”
He laughed. “That can’t be all you did.”
That was what she mainly remembered. “I certainly didn’t experience life the way you did.”
“That doesn’t make it bad.”
“But maybe not as memorable.” She pursed her lips and searched for bats. “Ever since I moved to Abu Dhabi, I have been figuring out how to live my own life.”
“How’s that going?”
She smiled at the sky. “Pretty good lately.”
Thelma wriggled between them and curled into a ball. Angela petted the puppy. “Kind of crazy that Jared has a dog.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Right?”
“Even crazier, he gave me his puppy and told you to take me here.”
“Boss Man has an unconventional sixth sense. He knows what works.”
“That he does.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Like his secret notes.”
Angela glanced over, trying her best for a dubious expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. You’re the woman behind his plan, aren’t you?”
She didn’t want to play games tonight. “What would you say if I said yes?”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “I’d want to know why he does it.”
“Oh, you can figure that out. He was forming a new team in a foreign country and needed you guys to get behind a common problem. Bro it out and all that good stuff.”
Sawyer laughed. “Unconventional.”
“Just like you said. Boss Man has a sixth sense.”
A bat zigzagged overhead. She pointed. “There’s another.”
The bat jerked from side to side and disappeared. The dark purple night was now an inky black. The sky was so different here from anywhere she’d ever lived.
“Are you going to be okay when we get back?” Sawyer asked quietly. “When life returns to normal.”
She wouldn’t need an occasional bodyguard much longer. Angela would return to the administrative helm. They would hang out as friends. No, her heart would not be okay. But after knowing about his past and seeing the pictures of the life he’d started with Penny, Angela wouldn’t ask him for more. He’d been crystal clear. He couldn’t give what he didn’t have. But that wouldn’t prevent her from being truthful. “I’ll miss us,” she admitted, scared that if she looked at him, her voice would break. “But I’ll be fine.”
She waited for him to say something. For the longest time, he didn’t. “Follow my finger.” He pointed toward the stars right above the tree line. “That’s Deneb.” His hand moved to the right. “Altair.” Sawyer pulled her attention high. “Vega.” He pointed at the area where he first started. “And back again to Deneb. It’s the Summer Triangle.”
“I thought the constellations had names like Orion and the Little Dipper.”
“It’s an asterism. Not a constellation.” Sawyer sat up and retraced his fingers along the stars. “The three brightest stars in three different constellations: Cygnus, Aquila, and Lyra.Focus on the brightest stars you see.”
Angela propped on her side, studying what had so easily popped out to him. She pointed. “Right there?”
“Yeah. Deneb.” He guided her hand. “And this is Altair.”
She focused on the bright light. “Oh, I see it now.”
Sawyer guided her hand up. “Vega.” Then, they went back to where they started.
“Deneb,” she said.
“That’s right.” Sawyer pulled her back onto the blanket. His arm slipped under her neck. Angela moved closer to him and rested her head on his chest. “There looks like a million little stars between those two bright ones,” she said.
“A river of stars.”
“Yeah.”
“The Milky Way.”
How had she gone this long in life without ever looking for the Milky Way? She couldn’t believe that she had known it existed and hadn’t run outside on a dark night to search the sky. “Talk about awe-inspiring.”
He stroked her hair. The even cadence of his breathing soothed her soul. If she was smart, she’d yawn and say it was time to go to bed. But when it came to Sawyer, she was hopeless.