Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (10 page)

“Me too, Lydia,” he said, equally quiet, equally intense. “Me
too.”

LYDIA FIDGETED WITH
the cord of her iPod as she stared out the train window. She was more excited than she could remember being
about anything in a long time. Her insides were churning with
adrenaline and anxiety, yet at the same time soaring with delight and anticipation.

Sections of Queens whizzed by outside in a blur as she sat back and tried to keep calm. She nudged her black duffel bag to wedge it more securely between her feet on the floor, nervously running her fingers through her hair for about the eighty-sixth time. She pushed the buttons on her iPod until she got to her Jack Johnson selections. Listening to Jack always helped her relax, chill out, feel better. When
the song started, she took a deep breath, then another, closed her
eyes, and willed herself to try to settle down.

She thought about the day before. When Sam had landed at JFK Airport, he’d texted her right away:
The eagle has landed!
Headed into
NYC. Will text you later.
She’d been at school, and had checked her
phone in between groups of students. She continued to do so
throughout
the day, and Sam had kept her informed—and smiling—with a
flurry of texts.

At the hotel. It’s nice. Wish you were here. Is it tomorrow yet?

Headed into meetings. Yawn. Text you when I’m free.

On a break btwn mtgs. Can’t stop thinking about you. Very distracting…

On her ride home, headed to Jane’s to pick Andy up, Sam had texted her yet again:
Have to do dinner w/work peeps. Not sure how late it’ll go. Will call if not too late, will text if it is.

At the next red light, she’d quickly texted him back.
Don’t care how late it is, call me anyway. Want to hear your voice. Have fun!

He’d answered her almost immediately.
Yes ma’am. Will call. :)

He’d called her at 10:45 p.m., as her eyelids were beginning to get heavy. She could hear the noise of a crowded restaurant in the
background. He'd explained that he was still out with his co-
workers, would probably be out until midnight, and didn’t want to call her
that late and risk waking her and Andy up. “But I promised I’d call,
so I just wanted to say good night. And I wanted to hear your voice too.”

“Aww. Good night,” she’d said, suppressing a yawn. “Go have fun.”

“They’re a decent bunch of folks,” Sam had said, “but I’d much
rather be with you. Damn work, getting in the way. I can’t stand
knowing you’re only an hour away from here. I just want to see you already. I’m getting antsy, I can’t focus—I feel like a kid the night before Christmas.”

“Me too,” she’d admitted, smiling to herself.

And now here she was, on the train, heading into Manhattan to see him.

She suddenly wondered how she should greet Sam when she saw him. Handshake? Hug? It was a strange situation. This was
someone
she’d been all but naked with already, and had spoken to almost every day since, but she didn’t know what the etiquette was for
actually seeing him again—technically, for their first real date. The thought of that made her chuckle to herself.

She wondered what he had planned for their day together. Then, for the millionth time, she wondered how spending the night with him would go. She knew what would ultimately happen—what they both wanted to happen—but it would be interesting to see how they got there. She tried not to overthink that part, knowing she’d only freak herself out.

The train pulled into Penn Station at ten till noon. Lydia slung her duffel bag over her left shoulder, her pocketbook over her right, and made her way through the crowds to the ladies’ room for a last minute touchup. She examined herself in the mirror. Underneath her chocolate brown corduroy coat, she wore one of her favorite tops.
The brown silk blouse was flowy and long, with a V-neck that dipped low but not too deep. She felt good in her favorite, most
flattering pair of jeans. As she stepped, she silently applauded her decision to wear her broken in but still attractive brown leather boots, with a low heel made for walking.

She powdered her face, touched up her lip liner, dabbed the tiniest amount of perfume behind her ears, and combed her hair.
One last
look. She knew she looked good, she even felt pretty… but would
Sam think so? She had to admit she cared more than she wanted to.

She made her way out of the bathroom, through the crowds
again, and up to Seventh Avenue to hail a cab. The line for taxis in
front
of Madison Square Garden was only about ten people long, and
from
experience she knew it would move quickly. As she took her place at the end of the line, she looked around and couldn’t help but smile. She’d always loved New York City. The energy here was a palpable
thing.

She glanced up at one of the gazillion lit signs on a nearby
building: it was 12:01 p.m. and the temperature was fifty-nine degrees. The air was cool but not cold, how she liked it best, and she breathed it in deeply. She could smell the burnt deliciousness of a nearby pretzel vendor and fumes from the cars that clogged the streets. The scents, mixed with the sounds of cars rushing and honking and the chatter of people as they hurried along the sidewalks, all bombarded her.
Quintessential Manhattan
, she thought as she got on the taxi line on
Seventh Avenue. The line was moving pretty quickly; she didn’t
have to wait long before it was her turn.

She smiled at the driver as she slid into the back seat with her bags. “Fifty-third and Sixth, please.”

Digging through her brown leather bag, she found her
sunglasses
and the mints she’d remembered to toss in. She put on her
sunglasses, then popped a red and white striped peppermint into her mouth as she looked out the window. It was a gorgeous autumn day. The pure blue skies were bright with sunshine, and the streets were packed, teeming with life. Lydia picked up on the unique, invigorating vibe
she’d only felt in Manhattan and had never felt anywhere else.
Excited energy hummed through her veins, and she tapped her hands on her knees in an impatient rhythm as the taxi made its way through the crowded streets.

She arrived at the hotel in under ten minutes. Her heart started a slow, heavy pounding as she walked through the grand main doors of the hotel. Heat and excitement flooded her insides.

She took off her sunglasses and slid them into her coat pocket as
she crossed the marble floor. Her eyes swept the majestic lobby,
searching. Across the wide space, Sam rose from an armchair, smiling at her. Their eyes locked, a glowing smile that matched his burst across her features, and she headed towards him.

She looked Sam over as she approached him, attempting to be discreet in her appraisal. Navy pea coat over a slate blue sweater and jeans. His dark, wavy hair was a bit shorter than she'd remembered,
perhaps cut since she'd seen him last. His warm, dark eyes were
fastened
intently on her, and there was that amazing smile.
My oh my
, she
thought.
Hello, gorgeous.
She stopped two steps in front of him and looked up, unable to keep her own smile from widening as she said simply, “You look familiar.”

“So do you.” He reached out and lightly slid the strap of her duffel bag from her shoulder. He placed it on the floor beside his feet and turned back to her with an expression of purpose. She watched
his eyes roam over her, taking her in fully, drinking her in. The
magnetic
pull was absolutely there, just as it had been that first weekend
they’d met, genuine and strong. No awkwardness between them, as she’d worried there might be. She felt completely comfortable despite the thrill and anticipation, and could see that he did too.

He very gently touched her cheek, and the corner of his mouth curved up again in that alluring half smile she’d recalled so many times since they’d parted. He cupped her face in both hands and lowered his head, softly pressing his lips to hers. Both surprised and delighted, her response was immediate, visceral. She reached up to
touch him as he kissed her, her hands fluttering at the back of his
neck.
He lingered sweetly on her lips, kissing her twice more before
pulling away to look at her again.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a bit husky as he smiled luminously. She
had forgotten the way his smile affected her, an actual physical
reaction. Open, radiant… something about it just captivated her. When Sam smiled at her like that, it made her feel almost giddy, and warmth spread from her head to her toes.

“Hi,” she murmured back. She bit down on her lip, almost shyly, and smiled too.

His thumb caressed her cheek once more before he pulled away, cleared his throat, and reached down for her bag. “Let’s get this day started. Shall we?”

They deposited her duffel bag safely with the concierge, then left the hotel. Earlier that day, when he’d gone out for his daily morning run, Sam had passed a small, appealing bistro two blocks over. He brought Lydia there for lunch. They nestled into a cozy corner table
and spent an hour and a half talking, eating, and laughing.
Afterwards, Sam hailed a cab for them and asked the driver to take them uptown.

“Where are we going?” Lydia asked.

He grinned at her. “Just an idea I had. We’ll see how you like it. I think you might.”

She pressed her lips together to try to repress a full blown smile. It didn’t work.

He slid his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her
closer to lean against him. She felt a rush go through her that
reminded her of younger years: a burst of pure adrenaline. He invoked that kind of feeling in her. It felt a bit silly, but mostly wonderful. She tipped her face up to look at him, and he stole a few kisses.

Nestled comfortably against him, Lydia relaxed a bit and looked out the window as the city whirred by.

“You’re trying to figure out where we’re going, aren’t you?” he accused with a grin.

“Of course I am!” She gave him a playful smirk.

“It’s nothing huge,” he warned her. “Just something I thought
of…
you won’t guess. I’m not worried.” He reached for her hand and
intertwined his fingers with hers.

Soon they were passing Central Park. New York City was at its
autumnal peak, and the trees were glorious, each diverse one ablaze with grand color. Lydia gazed at the view as they sailed past sections of the park. Sam looked carefully at street signs, telling the driver, “You can pull over here, thank you,” when they got to 79
th
Street.

As the taxi pulled away from them, he smiled down at her, took her hand firmly in his, and simply said, “Come with me.” She tossed her hobo bag over her other shoulder and followed him with a smile, in content silence.

They strolled into Central Park. Lydia figured they were about
mid-park, and although she hadn’t been there in possibly two decades, she felt like she vaguely recognized some things.

“I know how much you like the fall,” Sam said, “so I thought if it
was a nice day, we could just walk around, take in some scenery,
hang out and talk, just play it by ear. So then the question was: what’s the
most beautiful, scenic spot in Manhattan? Where’s the best place to
geek out at the foliage?”

“Central Park.” She grinned and nodded approvingly. “Nice
idea. Big thumbs up.”

“Whew!” He smiled, but she could sense a bit of genuine relief. She saw it in his eyes; he’d been nervous she wouldn’t like his idea. Touched by the sweetness, she stole a quick kiss. He held her to him and kissed her again before he said, “Come on, let’s go this way.”

They went up a path, farther into the park. Many New Yorkers were taking advantage of the fantastic autumn day by walking, biking, jogging, skating, picnicking. Groups played Frisbee, catch, and soccer on the Great Lawn. The trees were splendid, their varying
hues brilliant in the midday sunshine. Sam and Lydia both put on
their sunglasses as the sun hit their faces directly, and they slowly made their way around the perimeter of the Great Lawn. Soon Sam was pulling her towards a building Lydia thought she recognized.

“Is that the Delacorte Theater?” she asked.

“Um… yeah. I believe so.”

“I went here once.” She smiled wistfully as she continued, “My grandmother brought me here to see a play. We came to the summer festival, Shakespeare In The Park, when I was eleven. I was fighting with my parents a lot at that point—adolescence had kicked in with a vengeance—and she wanted to give me some space from everyone, have a special Grandma-and-Lydia day. So she brought me into the city, took me out to an early dinner, and then we came here.” She looked up at the theater as Sam led her around it. “I remember… we
saw
Taming of the Shrew
. It was wonderful. I was completely
captivated
by it. The actors, the costumes, hearing those beautiful words
outside under the stars…”

“Sounds like it really made an impression on you,” Sam replied.

“Oh, it did. It was magical. So different from anything I’d ever seen or done. Seeing a fancy grownup play, and outdoors! In the city! And for Grandma to take only me, not bring Jane too… that was
so special. I only had my one Grandma—my father’s mother, the
original Lydia, died when Jane was one. I was named for her.”

Reflective, Lydia gave another wistful smile. “That was the last
time we got to do something like that, just Grandma and me. She
passed away about a year after that. Sudden stroke, and she was
gone.
But that memory… aww, that was such a great day, our day in the
city together. I’ll never forget it.”