Fools Rush in(32)

Oh, he was sweet! Fixing a little old crippled lady’s back steps! The warmth in my chest bordered on painful. How I loved Joe Carpenter!

“Okay, see you guys later,” Joe said, rising from our table and glancing back at the bar.

“Good night,” we called after him.

Sam drove me home, as I was in no shape to operate a vehicle more sophisticated than a tricycle. My mom or dad, both early risers, would no doubt take me back to get my car in the morning.

As I unbuckled my seat belt, Sam leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You did good tonight, kiddo,” he said.

“Thanks, Sam.” I squeezed his arm fondly. “Thanks for the bad-cop thing. You’re such a natural.”

Sam laughed. “Sorry he was such a jerk.”

“What are you gonna do?” I climbed out of the cruiser and tripped inside.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A WEEK LATER, MY THRILL at putting Lorenzo of the Crabs in his place had significantly faded. Sure, it had been a moment, and Joe had seen me in that moment. Beside that, I had stuck up for Katie and my other fellow Cape Codders. But I was still alone. No interim boyfriend. No Joe. No closer to getting Joe.

I had lost count of how long it had been since I’d been properly kissed. A long time. More than…I hated even to think it…more than a year. It had been in Boston. A first date with a nice radiology tech. We’d had a really great time, dinner and a stroll down Newbury Street. He kissed me good night at my apartment door. Kissed me very well, as a matter of fact. The next week, I’d seen him smooching a nurse in the ultrasound room, and that was that.

With Memorial Day, tourism season hit full swing, and I saw happy families everywhere. Thousands of couples. Lots of hand-holding. Lots of laughter. Sure, they were on vacation, so what wasn’t there to smile about? And every time I saw such a couple, whether they were sixty-five or twenty-five, with kids or without, I felt a familiar hollowness echoing in me. My heart had a lot of room. I had a lot to offer. Friendship. Love. Loyalty. Humor. Free medical care. Whatever. When, I wondered late at night, was I going to be able to give it away? When would I have a guy laugh at my jokes? When would someone bring me a cup of coffee, fixed just how I liked it? When would I have a little sticky hand in mine as a child looked trustingly up at me?

A few times, Joe and I ran into each other…the post office (he usually went around 4:30); Fleming’s Donut Shack (10:30—he always got a coffee roll and a light coffee with three sugars); the grocery store (this one was a genuine coincidence, since I had been unable to stalk this out). When I was checking patients at the senior center, I’d linger in the parking lot, watching for Joe, hoping our paths would cross.

Each time I saw my golden boy, he was friendly, sweet—and brief. Each time I would get a “Hey, Millie, how are you?” Each time I would will him to notice my more attractive state, certain that if he just paid attention, he’d fall crazy in love with me. But Joe was the same, pleasant and cheerful, always on his way somewhere, and if he noticed me in a special way, he hid it well. I was at a loss. Short of molesting him in the parking lot, I didn’t know what my next step should be.

As for my other little project, Katie and Sam, that was going nowhere as well. Twice we’d planned a night out, and twice our plans had fallen through, once because Corey had a cold and once because Sam had to cover a shift unexpectedly. We’d been unable to reschedule yet. Granted, Katie was busy. Actually, busy wasn’t the right word. Busy sounds like she had a bunch of errands to do, when in fact she was raising two children, which is a bit more than that. Busy is when you need to do your grocery shopping, clean the bathroom and go to work all on the same day. Raising two children, especially without a husband, was a holy mission.

This was all the more reason that I wanted my friend to be with Sam. I could just see them together, Sam with another chance to be a father, Katie finally with someone to take care of her. Not that her parents didn’t help…they did. But Sam…he was such a wonderful father. I’d seen him with many kids over the years, giving a talk to Danny’s Boy Scout troop or lecturing on bike safety at the Visitors Center. What woman wouldn’t want to be married to a guy like that?

But there he sat, spinning his wheels while Katie blanched at the slightest thought of a relationship with anyone. And yet they’d be perfect together. They were both on the serious side. They were both parents of boys, both attractive, quite so. They both had hearts of gold, if not platinum. And, of course, they both liked me, so they had that in common.

I had the chance to bring up this subject more bluntly, since it was apparent that bluntness was called for. As I grimly huffed up the hill between Coast Guard and Nauset Light beaches one sunny day, I glimpsed a fellow runner behind me, taking the hill without apparent effort and gaining fast. Digger began leaping with glee. I looked again. It was Sam.

“Looking good, Millie!” he called, grinning. How people could smile—or speak—while running was beyond me.

“Hey…Sam,” I wheezed. I lurched to a stop—this was my third mile after all—but Sam loped to my side.

“Don’t stop, Mil,” he said, smacking me on the shoulder (the pain meant to distract me from my respiratory distress, perhaps?). “You’re doing great! How far have you gone?” He now turned around, running backward, quite easily keeping pace with me.

“Keep going,” I panted. “Nothing…to see. Move along.”