This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel) (12 page)

His catalogue of children’s songs was . . . nonexistent. He could have messed around and made some shit up but he was a little self-conscious doing that in front of Sam. So he sang the first song that popped into his head.

As soon as he sang the first few bars, Sam’s expression changed from one of concern for Stevie to disbelief. One delicate brow rose and she shot him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

“‘Edelweiss,’” she whispered. A la Christopher Plummer, when he sings it for the kids in
The
Sound of Music
. Lukas couldn’t help grinning. He’d surprised her, all right. Well, maybe it was more like he’d shocked the hell out of her. He loved this song—it was sweet and sad and nostalgic and beautiful. All the things he felt about Sam and couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t help meeting her eyes as he sang the full, soft notes. He could tell she was feeling the music, too—and maybe something a whole lot more.

Well, he always tended to think music swept everyone away. It certainly worked its magic with him.

Halfway through, Stevie leaned his forehead against Lukas’s shoulder and curled up and was fast asleep before the end of the song. Even Sam was starting to drift off.

He nudged Sam’s arm. “Hey, I know I have the voice of an angel, but falling asleep in my bed . . . I mean come on, a guy’s got an ego, you know?”

She lifted her head and propped up on her elbow. “I wasn’t falling asleep. I was enjoying it, Captain von Trapp.”

She smiled, and oh, boy, there was something in that sweet smile of hers that signaled serious danger. She got up and so did he, taking care to cover Stevie with a light blanket before tiptoeing out of the room behind her.

“You do have the voice of an angel,” she said quietly once they’d reached the kitchen, which was lit only by the dim light above the stovetop. “But how does a tough guy like you know the soundtrack to
The
Sound of Music
?”

“It was one of only two G-rated songs that came to mind.”

“Is that right?”

“The other one was ‘Old MacDonald’ but that’s totally not as sexy.”

She laughed softly. After a minute, she said, “You know, I had nightmares after my parents died. Does he do that a lot?”

He shrugged. “A couple times a week. Stevie tosses and turns and talks in his sleep, but this is the first time he screamed.” Lukas rubbed his neck. “He’s got this thing with his backpack, too.”

“The one with the toothbrush on top and the shoes lined up in a row against the wall? I couldn’t help noticing it was very tidy for a five year old.”

“He won’t unpack anything. He takes his clothes right from the dryer and stuffs them back into the backpack. Keeps his toothbrush and toothpaste packed. And he’s been hoarding change, too. It’s like he’s worried I’m going to kick him out or something.”

“Or he thinks his dad is coming back for him.” That made Lukas’s blood turn to ice water.

“His father’s in no shape. I mean—” Lukas sighed. “I need to talk to someone about legal protections. I don’t want my brother thinking that he can come back anytime he wants and—”

No. He couldn’t go there. Stevie wasn’t going back to Nico. He would make sure of it.

Lukas leaned against the kitchen counter. “The first time I saw Stevie, he was grabbing on to that blanket so tight his knuckles were white. I took one look into his eyes and do you know what I saw?”

Sam shook her head very slightly. She was staring at him with those big green eyes of hers, listening intently. Somehow he needed to tell her this. He needed her to listen.

“Myself. I saw myself as a kid, scared, alone, not having anything or anyone to count on. I knew in that one instant that I’d do everything in my power to prevent him from having the childhood that I had. It’s the least I can do for Stevie—and for Nico.”

He saw her puzzled expression. “He was the oldest. The one who stayed in that house with our parents the longest. He never had a chance.”

“Oh, Lukas.” Sam smiled kindly. Her eyes were soft and warm and just looking at her made him feel a little better. “Maybe someday you can help Nico. And you’re doing a great job. Just don’t be afraid to ask for guidance. For Stevie’s sake. Anyone in his position would need some help dealing with all the frightening changes in his life.”

Lukas cracked a small grin. “Not the least frightening being that I’m the one in charge of him.”

It was never Lukas’s forte to ask for help. No one had done him any favors as a kid. He’d had no real friends. Anything he’d accomplished he’d done on his own. But maybe it was time for him to get over being a loner. He’d do whatever it took for Stevie to be happy. Anything. “I’ll ask the pediatrician. I have an appointment with her on Wednesday.”

“Well, I should be going. Thanks for saving me from eating all the ice cream alone.”

“Thanks for the crisis management help.”

“You didn’t really need me. You have great instincts.”

There went that smile again. The one that made other instincts of his chomp at the bit, ones that made him want to kiss the bejesus out of her and forget all this crazy stuff between them and just get lost in the feel of her lips, her velvety skin. He had to get out of her guest cottage as soon as possible. Because those same instincts were telling him that playing house with her was starting to feel a little too real.

CHAPTER 9

“I wish I could change my reputation,” Effie said from her perch on the red velvet settee that was tucked into an alcove on the second level of the massive old theater. Sam sat just feet away, poised with a paintbrush, eyeing her grandmother as she sat up straight in a blue tailored dress and string of pearls, surrounded by elaborate plaster carvings painted in softly washed shades of red, terra cotta, and green.

She was glad to be painting Effie’s portrait on Monday after school instead of thinking about her disturbingly handsome houseguest and how he’d sung so beautifully to calm his frightened little nephew. Not to mention what he’d said about their breakup—that he’d felt he had nothing to offer her. That was so far from the truth she almost cried.

Plus she was beginning to wonder if he was . . . lonely. Like maybe his life wasn’t all it was cut out to be, either. Could it be he actually regretted letting her go all those years ago?

Sam turned her full attention on her subject. “You’re the sweetest granny alive. Why would you ever want to change?”

“See?” Effie pointed an accusatory finger at her granddaughter. “I’ve had it with sweet and nice. It gets you nowhere, I tell you. Nowhere.”

“Do you want to talk about this?” Sam couldn’t have Effie being distressed. First off, she was fidgeting worse than a toddler in church. Which was not conducive to painting her portrait, the one she’d been begging for years to sit for. This was supposed to be a happy time, a bonding time, where they could have girl talk and relive happy memories.

“I’m fine. Why are you painting me anyway? Do you think I’m about to die?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, I do
not
think you’re about to die.”
But I just might kill you if you don’t slap a smile on your face and sit still.
“You’ve done a ton of work for this theater. I just think you should be recognized for that. Besides, I love doing portraits and I want to do yours. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m old and wrinkled. And I do not want my portrait hanging next to Lillian Donaldson’s. She saved this big old elephant in the eighties and hasn’t let anyone forget it since.”

“You’re different than Lillian, Gran.” Lillian was the wife of the CEO of the hospital, Dr. Donaldson, who had hired Ben a few years back. The same Donaldsons who owned the lake house where she was staying this summer. “You’ve never gone around tooting your own horn. I promise we’ll get you your own space to hang, okay?”

“Probably near the concession stand,” she grumbled. “God knows I’ve spent enough time working it over the years.”

“True. Remember how you used to bring us home popcorn?” No other popcorn could come close to that freshly popped, buttery, salty goodness. “I’m not going to let them hang you near the concession stand.”

“Hang me in front of the ladies’ washroom. Everyone goes there and chats. That’s a good place to be.”

“Okay, deal. Washroom it is. What’s got you so . . . troubled?” The word
agitated
came to mind but Sam knew using that word would just make her madder.

Effie took a breath and sat up straighter. “Nothing. It’s all right. Just that I’m tired of being Pushover Granny. Sometimes things need to be done for everyone’s good and I’ve never been one to rock the boat, you know? But I really think I’m going to start.”

“Are you upset at us?” Us, meaning Sam and her brothers Brad, Ben, and Tom.

“Of course not.” Effie rubbed her hands together nervously in her lap.

“Your girlfriends? Anyone at Assisted Living being mean to you?” She couldn’t imagine it. Her grandmother never held grudges and in general got along with everybody.

“Samantha, I’ve never interfered with your life, have I?”

That was a loaded question. She scanned her grandmother’s clear blue eyes and detected . . . worry. “Well, I think you did your share of disciplining me back when I needed it.” She didn’t want to go there, to talk about her last year of high school and what a sad disaster it had become. That was in the past, she’d gotten over it, and her life was so much better now.

“And I never would interfere, would I, unless it was for the best, right?”

She set the brush down for good. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No,” she said too quickly, and flicked her eyes back and forth, which was very suspicious. “I just wondered how you’re doing now that Spike’s back in town.”

“Lukas,” Sam said.

“Oh, so now he’s Lukas, is he?” A smile broke through the crotchetiness.

Why did Sam ever think painting her portrait was a good idea? And this was only the first day.

“Alethea tells me he’s got his eye on you.”

“I doubt that but I certainly don’t have an eye on him, if that’s what you’re getting at. Harris and I are practically engaged.”

“
Practically
engaged. What does that mean? I was an OB nurse for forty years and I never saw anyone
practically
pregnant.” She lifted her shoulders and hands in a shrug. “I don’t understand couples who date for years and years without a thought of marriage.”

“We think of marriage a lot, Ef. It’s just Harris is building his career and—”

“Blah blah blah.”

Oh, my, she was saucy today.

Effie swept a hand through the air. “In my day, a man knew what he wanted. Anyone who wishy-washes around for six years without asking a girl to marry him . . . well. It’s just not right. Why should he buy the cow if he gets all the sex he wants?”

There she went, mixing metaphors as she was prone to do, but worse, she’d just said the word
sex.
This conversation was completely out of control. “How did my mom know she wanted to marry my dad?” There. A change of subject, one she was dying to know more about, but she had to be careful. Effie sometimes got sad talking about her mom. Maybe today wasn’t the day to bring it up after all.

“Oh, Daniel was a charmer. A lot like Lukas, actually. He was irresistible. We all fell in love with him. Your mother was a free spirit. Just like you.”

“I left my free-spirit days behind me a long time ago.”

“Samantha, my goodness, you’re too young to talk like that. Those high school bullies were cruel, but even they didn’t break your spirit. It seems that ever since Kevin died, you seem to want to . . . I don’t know, please everyone. You stopped taking risks, and love is a risk. Just remember you’ve got to please yourself. It’s your life and you’ve only got one.”

Sam set down her brush on her palette. Wow, and she thought
she’d
had an agenda. She hadn’t expected to get mowed over by her little white-haired grandmother. “I’m not a people pleaser,” she said defensively.

“Dating Harris pleases everyone but me. You took on the Historical Restoration to please Harris’s mother. And you banned sugar from your diet like Harris because he pressured you to lose weight, although God knows why, you have a beautiful shape.”

“Dating Harris pleases me. Maybe volunteering for the theater was partially because of Camilla Buckhorn but I fell in love with this place. You know I’m passionate about it. And being sugar conscious is healthy. Harris loves me the way I am.” Minus five or ten pounds, that is.

Effie dismissed all of Sam’s arguments with a flick of her wrist. “Your mother was lucky. She met her true love early in life. Her life was too short but she was very, very happy. It’s the one thing I take comfort in. That’s all a parent or grandparent wants. For their children and grandchildren to have a happy life.”

“I plan to have a happy life, too. No need to worry.”

Effie surprised her by standing up and walking over to her. “Are you really happy, dear?”

Oh, no. She’d wanted to have girl talk with Effie but not this. Not now, when her life seemed so upended.

Effie rested her veined hand on top of Sam’s wrist. That hand had done a lot of comforting. A lot of soothing and tear wiping. Suddenly, Sam felt herself getting weepy. “Oh, Gran, of course I am.” But her voice sounded weak. Cowardly almost.

“I may not seem like I’ve experienced much, being widowed at thirty and having those heart valve problems for all those years until I finally got my surgery. But I know when a person is happy. Maybe you’re confusing what you
think
you want with what you
really
want.”

“Lots of girls go through a bad-boy phase, and Lukas was mine. He’ll never settle down, Effie. It’s not in him. Harris is everything I’ve always wanted—stability, a real family, roots. He’s ambitious and our kids will have every opportunity. His family sailed on the Mayflower, for God’s sakes.”

“Remember, sometimes mutts make better pets than pedigrees.”

“Effie!”

“Harris may look the best on paper, dear, but is he the man of your heart? Just like our family may not look very traditional on paper, but we’ve love you with everything we have. Even Brad—”

“I know, Effie. I love our family. It’s just even if Lukas were capable of sticking around, I don’t want to live a celebrity life. I’m a simple person. I love teaching and I want a family.”

“Lukas and you are adults now. Maybe it’s time to stop seeing each other in black-and-white terms. Let the past go, and start getting to know each other in the present.”

Voices from the grand lobby below interrupted them, thank God. Effie, the world’s worst portrait sitter, turned and looked. Of course. “Oh, it’s Jess,” Effie said. “Is that big hunka-hunka her new boyfriend?”

Sam stood and looked over Effie’s shoulder. A very large man in a tank top and shorts, whose biceps looked inflated even from this distance, trailed behind Jess, carrying several large boxes. “Oh, my. That must be Hugo, her new boyfriend. She said he was going to help her carry stuff for the benefit.” Sam waved out the carved opening that overlooked the lobby like a Juliet window. “Up here, Jess!” she yelled.

It was good to see one of her boyfriends helping out. Maybe Jess had finally done what Sam had recommended, found a guy who was kind and hardworking and not into himself. Ever since her broken engagement to a college football player named Trevor five years ago, Jess had dated a slew of good-looking idiots. But maybe Hugo was different.

Jess breezed by with her own load and beckoned for Hugo to go ahead into the office wing. “Everybody, this is Hugo. Sorry we’re late. We had to stop and eat a snack and grab a protein shake.”

“A snack?” Sam asked. What was a snack for him? A small calf?

“Tuna and almond butter,” Jess said, beaming at Hugo. “It was very . . . proteinalicious.”

Oh, man, Jess starting to take on the habits of her boyfriends was always a sign of trouble. Especially since Jess was a carb woman through and through.

“Hugo’s a bodybuilder,” Jess whispered. “And he’s
huge.
”

“We can see that,” Effie said.

“He made me breakfast this morning,” Jess said. “It was green and came in a glass, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Hugo made his way back from the office, his nylon shorts making swishing noises as his massive thighs rubbed together.

“Er—Hugo,” Effie said in that sweet, deceptively innocent voice of hers, “your muscles are certainly very . . . large. Your veins, too. You’d be a great example for our nursing students who rotate through the hospital.”

“Oh, yeah, Grannie. Give it here.” He did a fist pump with Effie. “I’d love to come model for some nursing students. My muscles always get me noticed by a lot of females, if you know what I mean.”

Effie joyously eyed the bulging cords of his veins as only a former nurse could. “Well, actually I was thinking they could use someone like you to help teach them to start IVs. You aren’t squeamish of needles, are you?”

The big guy actually startled. Sam shot Effie a look, which she pretended not to see.

“Hugo’s coming to the fundraiser on Saturday,” Jess said quickly. “He’s going to help us wash cars.”

He did a little biceps flex. “Put all this muscle to use for a good cause.”

“Great,” Sam said, finding herself the recipient of another fist pump.

“People think bodybuilders are vain and narcissists,” Hugo said. “But
I’m
not.”

“Glad to hear it, dear,” Effie said.

“It’s not the muscle—it’s the confidence that comes with it that counts.”

“Hugo’s a motivational speaker, too,” Jess said.

“Wonderful,” Sam said. “Are you two going out tonight?”

“Maybe after my tanning booth appointment,” Hugo said. “Or is it my waxing. I’ve got to check.” Hugo consulted his phone while Jess stood there looking a little uncomfortable.

“Well, we’ve got to get going,” she said. “See you all at the car wash, yeah?”

“Yeah. For sure.” Sam hugged her friend, maybe a little too hard. Dammit, Jess deserved better. Why didn’t she see that?

Effie waited until Jess and Hugo were out of earshot before she started in. “You girls don’t expect enough of the men you date. I knew after a few dates your grandfather was The One. We were married by the end of the year. All this fooling around before marriage. And you, coming up with a million excuses to delay getting married. You people make everything so complicated.”

“Love isn’t complicated?” Sam asked, happy to finally be cleaning up her brushes and calling it a day.

“No, dear,” she said, suddenly reaching forward and grasping her arm. “Love
isn’t
complicated. It’s very simple. You know it in your heart, and you never have to convince yourself to love someone. You simply . . . do.”

“Great. Thanks, Effie.”
And maybe in a hundred years I’ll have your portrait done.

“You can make me younger in this portrait, right?” she asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

She shot her granddaughter an obstinate look. “It must be like airbrushing,” she insisted. “You can do whatever you want. So make me look younger.”

“I’ll tell you what. Let me finish it and I’ll let you have the last word, okay?”

“Younger. And maybe blonde.”

On so many levels, this was a very bad idea.