Fools Rush in(53)

“Sam, do you think there’s something else going on with Trish? Some other reason that she’s asking Danny to come down to New Jersey?”

Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Other than just missing him, you mean?”

“Other than that. I mean, sure, she misses him, he’s the greatest kid in the world. But I wonder if she really thinks that transferring out of Nauset senior year is what’s best for Danny. I think she’s up to something.”

Sam sighed, giving me a rather sad smile. “You two…I don’t understand how two sisters could be so different.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know, Millie. To tell you the truth, I never could tell what Trish wanted, and I sure as hell don’t know now.”

“Would you want her back, Sam?” The question rose unplanned from the depths of wine I had consumed. I had never really entertained such a thought before, wrapped up as I was in the old Get Joe plan. But now that I had asked, it was suddenly very important that he say no. Sam and I stared at each other across the table. He shrugged.

“Do I want her back? No, I guess I don’t.” He tried to refill his wineglass, but the bottle was empty. “Got any more of this?” he asked.

“In the fridge.” I sat back in my chair and listened as Sam uncorked another bottle. Ever the gentleman, he came back in and filled up my glass before pouring himself some more, then sat back down and slumped comfortably in his chair.

“No. I don’t want to be married to Trish again,” he mused, taking a sip of wine. “I wasn’t thinking about divorce, but the truth is we weren’t happy for a long time. I didn’t really want to admit that, but there it is. We had Danny in common, and that was about it. I don’t think she ever got over not having the life she thought we were going to have.”

“What about you, Sam? Were you disappointed, not becoming a football player?”

He laughed. “Not really, to be honest. I would have done it, if I’d been recruited, but it’s not what I wanted to do with my life.”

“And what did you want to do?”

He paused. “Well, pretty much what I’m doing now. I love being a father, love my job. I would have liked to have had more kids, maybe…I don’t know. Trish wanted something different. I think she always felt a little trapped. But I never did. Never felt like we missed out on anything too important.”

“So are you over her?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, I’ll always love her in a way, because she’s the mother of my son. Hell, she was the first girl I ever kissed. But I’m not in love with her anymore. Haven’t been in a long time, I guess. And yeah, things don’t feel so raw anymore.”

Looking at his soft, gentle eyes, I felt a strange, warm ache in my chest. “I know I’ve said this a million times, Sam,” I said, “but I always thought you were too good for her.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looked at me, then smiled. “Well. Thank you, Millie.” He took a deep breath and shifted in his chair. “This was an outstanding dinner.”

“I rented a movie,” I offered. “One of those spy-guy things…Robert Ludlum or Tom Clancy or somebody. Want to stay and watch it?”

“Sure. That would be great. And was that a pie I saw in your cupboard? A Nancy Barnes pie?”

“Good eye, Officer, good eye. Help me clean up, and we can make some coffee, too.”

We tidied up the kitchen, chatting about work and the summer season, then popped in the movie and drank coffee. I allowed myself a tiny slice of my mother’s incredible pie. Sam ate, no exaggeration, a third of it. Men, I thought, smiling fondly at him as Massachusetts hero Matt Damon defeated the bad guys onscreen. At the end of the movie, Sam rose to leave.

“This was really great, Millie,” he said, shrugging into his coat and bending to pet Digger.

“I’m glad you came,” I said truthfully. He stood up and gave me a hug, his chin resting on the top of my head for a beat.

“Thanks again,” he said. He opened the door, started to leave and then turned back.

“Millie?” he said.

“Yes?”

“You look beautiful, by the way.” With a half grin, he bounded off the deck. Digger and I watched him go, the fresh, damp air blowing into the kitchen.

I put the dessert dishes into the sink, shut off the lights and said good-night to my doggy. As I got into bed, my thoughts bounced between Sam and Joe. As always, I was completely dumbfounded that my sister could have left Sam Nickerson. He was so…whatever. He was, and she blew it, and someday she would be sorry.

In the meantime, I had my own problems. What had happened with Joe? What about my plan? What possible reason could there be for him not showing up? I hugged my pillow, swallowed and ordered myself to sleep. I’d think about it tomorrow. Me and Scarlett O’Hara.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I CALLED DR. BALA EARLY the next day and offered to take the daytime shift. He accepted, warned me that the EKG machine had a malfunctioning lead and hung up.

The clinic was hopping. Sunburn with blistering on a middle-aged man’s bald head; jellyfish sting on a ten-year-old boy; the old favorite, poison ivy, resulting from a boisterous bachelor party; and a mom who had slammed her finger in a car door. It was good to be busy. I x-rayed the lady’s finger, splinted it, admired her well-behaved seven-year-old daughter. The jellyfish sting was no problem, just a little itchy, so I gave the kid’s mom some cortisone cream. A prednisone prescription for the hungover bachelor, and some lidocaine cream for the sunburned baldy, with advice on wearing a hat.