The Best Man Read online

  Samuel breathed heavily into my mouth and pulled my bottom lip with his teeth. I felt the pressure building inside me as we moved together. One more grind of his hips caused me to gasp and arch against him. My muscles contracted strongly, and he released my hands to wrap his fingers around my waist. Samuel held me tight while he threw himself into me. Once...twice before he tensed and came undone.

  Shaking slightly, Samuel slumped on top of me. I welcomed his full weight as we struggled to catch our breath. He turned his cheek to rest on my thundering chest, and I pulled my fingers through his damp hair. We didn’t speak. We held each other. And sometime after, I fell asleep, still holding him tightly.

  I woke the next morning and stretched my arms up lazily from under the covers and over my head. Twisting, I felt my muscles loosen and my bones settle into proper alignment with a series of small pops in my knuckles and joints. I sat up with my sheet tucked around my chest. My naked skin and the two towels on my bedroom floor were proof that my time with Samuel last night had not been some random and beautiful dream.

  The faint smell of breakfast food cooking alerted me that Dad was home and awake. I quickly jumped from the bed and picked up the discarded towels on my way to the bathroom. After getting ready for the day, I hurried down the stairs to greet my father and have breakfast.

  My feet skidded to a stop beneath me when I turned the corner to enter the kitchen. My father sat at the table with a newspaper held in his hands. He took a sip from a mug of coffee while he read. Samuel stood in front of the stove, flipping pancakes while wearing the same clothing he had worn the night before. Both men looked up at me at the same time.

  “Emmy,” my father greeted me. His eyes darted right back to his paper.

  “Good morning, Emelia,” Samuel offered quietly.

  “Good morning, Dad. Samuel...” I stammered. I did not expect to see both men in my kitchen. I certainly didn’t expect to see Samuel making breakfast. My father’s plate was pushed aside, evidence that he had already eaten. I picked it up and moved to put it in the sink. I shot Samuel a questioning glance as soon as my father was behind me.

  “These are ready if you’re hungry.” Samuel tipped his head toward a stack of pancakes on a plate by the stove. He seemed perfectly comfortable with his domestic duty and ignored my relative awkwardness. With a smile, he took two pancakes from the top and placed them on a new plate which he handed to me. I took the breakfast with a confused frown and turned to sit at the table. Samuel moved the pan from the burner he used, turned the dial on the stove, and brought the rest of the pancakes to the table while he sat beside me.

  Without a word, I poured syrup over the lightly browned circles on my plate. Samuel took the bottle from my fingers and repeated the process. He cut into the warm food and brought a large, dripping bite to his lips while I still sat, mostly stunned. I watched him lick the sticky-sweet syrup from the back of his fork before I turned my eyes away. My cheeks were pink as I cut a small piece from my own plate and brought it to my mouth.

  “Last night turned out to be a nice evening,” Dad spoke from behind his paper. I choked, and Samuel hurried to pour me a glass of milk from the pitcher on the table. “Nice of Samuel to give you a ride home,” my father finished. I drank my milk, feeling thankful when it pushed the offending piece of pancake on its way.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “I was just telling Samuel that I might see if his dad wanted to go down to the river for a few hours this morning.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that,” Samuel said.

  “What time do I need to get back to take you out to the airport?” My father lowered his paper to look at me, and Samuel dropped his fork noisily against the side of his plate. I turned my head to look at him. Samuel stared down at his food with a frown pulling at his lips.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, picking up the errant utensil.

  “Um...my flight leaves at five thirty,” I answered my father. “I guess we should leave around two?”

  “Hmm. I better get going, then. It doesn’t give me much time.”

  “I can take her,” Samuel said quickly. “That is...if you don’t mind.” Samuel looked over at my father and pushed his plate away. “I can drive Emelia to the airport. Then you and my father don’t have to hurry home.”

  “That sounds real nice.” Dad smiled. “You don’t mind. Do you, Emmy?”

  “No,” I mumbled. My own breakfast sat before me, virtually untouched. I stared at it miserably.

  “I should go,” Samuel said then. He stood and made a motion to remove my plate along with his. I nodded to indicate I was finished eating, and he took both of our plates to scrape the uneaten food into the garbage before placing the dishes in the sink. “I have a few things I need to take care of. But I’ll be ready by two.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. It hadn’t escaped my attention that Samuel had not looked at me since my father mentioned my return trip to Florida. Maybe he was shocked by news of my immediate departure. But he already knew I had originally planned to leave days earlier. And it wasn’t like we had taken the time to sit down and talk about anything in the last several days. Even last night, as perfect as it was, had been wrapped in protective silence.

  I flinched as the screen door hit its frame loudly, signaling Samuel’s exit. My shoulders dropped, and I sighed unhappily. “Dad...I...”

  “You’re a grown woman, Emelia,” my father commented softly. “And I love Samuel like he’s my own son. We don’t really have to discuss this.”

  “Thanks,” I breathed.

  “I’ll probably head on out pretty early.” Dad changed the subject. “You know how I feel. It’s never easy seeing you go. But...it’s not like we won’t get to see each other again.” A severe frown pulled at his lips. “You take care of yourself. Keep yourself safe. And promise you’ll come back and see me...just as soon as you can.”

  “I promise.” I stood quickly and gave my father a hard hug. He pulled himself away, brushing off the urge we both had to hold on too tightly for too long.

  “You keep thinking of what you want to do when school is done,” my father said with a wink while he pulled his fishing hat down on his head by the door. “You know this place is your home. You are always welcome here.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

  My father turned with a sad smile and shut the door behind him. I watched out the window as he strolled across the lawn to the house next door. After a few minutes, Larry emerged with him, and they both jumped into my father’s truck and pulled away. I ran water in the sink and made a quick chore of cleaning the dishes. And then I wiped my hands on a dish towel and frowned toward the white house beyond my window.

  Before I knew it, my feet had carried me to the Daltons’ back porch. I knocked on the faded doorframe. Joy came to the door immediately with a sweet smile on her face.

  “Emmy? Samuel isn’t here. I think he went down to the beach for a run...”

  “I came to see you,” I said quietly. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course, honey.” Joy opened the door and stood aside for me to enter.

  I took the steps that carried me to the center of the kitchen but then stopped and let my eyes travel around the room. I saw Andy at the kitchen table, eating a popsicle. He stood near the sink while his mother washed his face. He sat on the edge of the counter and twirled the long ivory phone cord in his fingers while he talked to a friend. I closed my eyes and sucked in a harsh breath.

  “I feel terrible for not coming to see you sooner,” I admitted in a rush. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Joy had lowered herself into a kitchen chair. I pulled out the chair opposite her and sat too.

  “Emmy, there is no reason for you to feel bad.”

  “But I do,” I said hurriedly. “You’ve always been so wonderful to me. I shut down. I wasn’t here for you, and I’m so very sorry.”

  “You’re here now.” Joy smiled. She reached forward and put her hands around mine. “I knew you were hu
rting too. Everyone grieves in their own way.”

  “I wish I had your strength,” I admitted. “I don’t understand where it comes from.”

  Joy leaned back and brushed a piece of hair away from her forehead with the flat of her hand. And then she smiled tiredly. “Faith,” she offered. “It comes from faith.” I stared at her blankly, and she continued. “My son was a wonderful, strong, and loving man. I have faith that I’ll see him again someday. Between now and then, I can’t imagine a better angel to have on my side.”

  My breath caught in my throat at the conviction stamped on her face and laced through her voice. A spark of hope flared inside me again as I wrapped my heart around her words.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I’ll miss him every day,” Joy added. “We all will. But Andy didn’t waste his time on this planet being sad. He wouldn’t want us to do that either. I think the best thing any of us can do to honor his memory...is to truly live. Live as he would have. Love...and laugh...” Joy’s voice cracked. I knew it was harder for her than she wanted to admit. It would take time.

  “What were you doing before I came over?” I asked quickly. She blinked in surprise at the sudden turn in conversation.

  “I...I was just getting ready to roll out a crust to bake a pie. Mr. Carter brought over a couple jars of apples his wife put up last fall...”

  “Want some help?” I asked. Joy sighed and smiled widely.

  “Why don’t we bake two? I can take one over for your father later.”

  The scent of warm apples, baked sugar, and cinnamon floated heavy in the air through the Daltons’ open kitchen window when I finally said my goodbye to Joy at the back door.

  “I’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” I promised.

  “You better. I’ll need your help cooking for all these men!”

  With a kiss and a hug, I turned to go. Then, on a last-minute whim, I walked deeper into the yard toward the tree house. Hand over hand, step by step, I climbed up into the small wooden room suspended in the tree.

  The objects I had carried up on the evening of Samuel’s party were gone, and the tree house was empty. I wrinkled my forehead and wondered who might have removed the simple sleepover items. With a sigh, I lay back against the hard, rough wood floor. Andy and I never did get to have one last sleepover as we had planned.

  But I remembered another time we had slept together under this roof.

  Andy had munched on Cheetos and wiped the orange dust from his fingers onto his sleeping bag. I yawned loudly and shifted my back against the hard floor of the tree house. I was tired. It had taken longer than usual for us to get settled in for the night.

  We had stayed up late on the Daltons’ floor, watching a comedy on television with Andy’s parents before making our way outdoors for our sleepover.

  “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” I asked Andy. I was still thinking of the movie we had watched and the silliness of all the wedding plans the characters had been making.

  “Probably.” Andy shrugged and threw the bag of snack food into the corner away from him. “Most people do when they get old.”

  “It looks like fun,” I admitted. “After you get married, you can stay up as late as you want, and you can go to work and stuff instead of going to school.”

  “You just want a big white dress,” Andy teased. I scrunched up my face and stuck out my tongue.

  “You can be in my wedding,” I told him. “You can wear a tuxedo...and you can be my best man.”

  “The best man can only be on the man’s side,” Andy scoffed at my lack of ceremonial knowledge. “The men stand on the man’s side. The women stand on the woman’s side. That’s the rule.”

  “So?” I asked. “We can break the rules if we want. I say that you can be my best man.”

  “Well, then...you can be my best man too.” Andy grinned. “Since we’re gonna break the rules anyway. We can be best mans for each other.”

  “Okay.” I grinned. “Pinkie swear?”

  Andy stuck his hand out, and I quickly wrapped my pinkie around his. We shook our hands up and down and solemnly vowed that someday, we would break the rules together.

  Then we lay back and nestled into our sleeping bags. The sound of the crickets outside acted as a lullaby, and I comfortably relaxed toward sleep.

  “Emmy?” Andy whispered. I barely heard him.

  “Hmmm?” I mumbled.

  “I was just thinking...”

  “About what?” I asked. I just wanted to go to sleep. I was so close...

  “If you want me to be your best man at your wedding, you might have to talk with Samuel about that. I mean, what if he wants me to be on the man’s side?”

  I didn’t even have time to contemplate what he meant. I was already drifting off to dream.

  I sat up and wrapped my arms around my bent knees. Rocking back and forth on my bottom, I grinned at the memory that had just come to me, and I stared at the painted letters on the back of the tree house door. Live for the next adventure.

  “Okay, Andy,” I whispered to the empty room. “I promise. I will.” I grinned and made my way out of the tree house.

  I only had about an hour to get ready to leave. I prepared Dad an easy dinner to eat when he returned from fishing and wrapped it before placing it in the refrigerator. A quick note written and left on the table gave him microwave instructions for his meal, as well as a promise to talk soon.

  My clothing was already packed, so I bustled around upstairs tidying my room and making sure that my bathroom essentials were stored away in my suitcase.

  And then it was time to go.

  I jumped back when I opened the door and was surprised by Samuel standing with one raised hand, ready to knock. He stood wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and a pair of jeans. His black sunglasses hid his eyes from me, but the crooked grin on his mouth caused me to smile in return.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied. Samuel nodded and bent to pick up my large suitcase. I slung my carry-on strap over my shoulder and followed him, closing the door softly behind me.

  I threw my bag into the back seat while Samuel stowed my suitcase in his trunk. Then we both got into the car and began the drive to the airport.

  “Nice day for flying,” Samuel finally said, breaking the silence between us with a polite conversation starter. I nodded and looked at the bright sunshine that filtered through the trees we drove past. “Are you looking forward to being back in Florida?”

  “Not really,” I offered. “I mean, I’m kind of looking forward to some time away. To get my bearings and figure out how to feel like myself again. But if I hadn’t promised Nan and Gramps that I would be back, I would be happy to finish the summer here at home. I love Astoria. And I love...everyone here.”

  Samuel tapped his fingers on the top of the steering wheel and frowned while he nodded and stared straight ahead. “It will be good for you...to get away,” Samuel agreed softly.

  “It was nice of you to offer to bring me to the airport.”

  “I thought it would be a good chance for us to have a little more time alone. To talk...”

  I bit my lip and watched him. Though he claimed he wanted time to speak with me, he remained oddly quiet. He navigated through the traffic near the airfield while remaining pensive and silent. I sighed when he pulled up to the faded yellow curb in front of the passenger drop-off area. Ironically, it was the same location Andy had left the car to idle when I traveled away to school for the first time. Samuel couldn’t have known that.

  I glanced over at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate what was on his mind. Instead, he seemed hesitant while he pulled his sunglasses away from his face and concentrated on bending the arms over each other before dropping them to rest between us. Confused by his lack of voice, I opened my car door and got out.

  Samuel moved quickly then, getting my suitcase from the trunk of the car while I got my bag from the back seat. I
t seemed that he wasn’t going to say anything. When I saw other cars pull up to the curb behind him, I knew we were running out of time.

  “Well, this is it,” I said with false brightness. I kicked my toe against the yellow paint on the sidewalk and stuck my thumb underneath the strap on my shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you at Thanksgiving...if you’re around.”

  Samuel frowned and stared down at the sidewalk. His refusal to speak was making this harder for me than I wanted. I hated the thought of turning away from him, leaving so many things trapped inside my heart that I wanted to say. I closed my eyes and considered promises made. Then I moved forward and stood on tiptoes to press my lips to Samuel’s cheek while my hand rested on his arm.

  “I’ll miss you. I love you,” I whispered near his ear before I turned. The parting words were the same that I would have shared with Andy, if given the chance to speak with him just one last time. I refused to let the words remain unsaid now, when the opportunity presented itself for me to finally tell Samuel about the place reserved for only him in my heart.

  My hand trailed down his arm as I moved to leave, but before my fingers dropped away, I was stopped by a strong grip that held me in place. I turned when I felt Samuel wrap his hand around my wrist. The expression on his face was torn and conflicted. But he tugged me to him and pushed his free hand into the back of my hair before tipping my face up and pressing his lips to mine.

  I moaned quietly against him and squeezed my eyes to keep the tears at bay. If I had to say goodbye to Samuel, I wanted it to be this way. I let him know I loved him. I knew he cared for me too. I could take the feeling of this moment away with me and cherish it always. A loud car horn broke us apart, and Samuel pressed his forehead to mine, breathing hard.