Never Too Late (30 page)

“I heard,” George said.

“She isn't ready for that, I guess. It's up to her. But no matter what she does, I'll stand by her. You should know that.”

“You'd better,” George said. “Weren't you seeing my other daughter?”

“Well, that. That was over before this…It turns out that Clare and I were only friends. Not—Well, suffice to say, this situation could not have occurred with Clare. Believe me, sir, I was never seeing two sisters at the same time.”

George gave a nod. “That's good. Because I might have to kill you for that.” Sam sat up straighter, kind of surprised. “Okay, maybe not that. I might have to file a complaint or something. It has to be against department policy.”

“I'm pretty sure it would be frowned on,” Sam said.
He stood up. “I just wanted you to know that I intend to act responsibly toward your daughter. I hoped that at some point we could be friends.”

“I'm not quite ready to be your friend,” George said. “She's still my little girl.”

“I understand.” He shuffled a little uncomfortably. Mission accomplished, he told himself. Sam didn't expect him to be happy. “I'll say good night.”

Sam turned to go and to his back George said, “Maybe someday.”

He turned around.

“Lot of adjustments to make right now. But maybe when the dust settles, we'll get along all right.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said. And took his leave.

B
ob Traviston gave Maggie a diamond necklace for Valentine's Day and she was moved to tears. Maggie had been getting consistently more emotional since Lindsey's and Hillary's escapades, and since Sarah had gone public with the pregnancy. And, he thought secretly, there might be a little something else going on with her.

Maggie had been asking Bob to see the doctor about his apparent lack of interest in sex, but Bob—being a man—preferred to see a doctor only if a limb were actually falling off. “I've been to the doctor,” he said. “I'm in perfect health.”

“But you've never mentioned this,” she argued.

“How do you know?” he returned. But he was thinking, of
course
I never mentioned this! Besides, it wasn't as though he didn't have erections. Well, in reality, he rarely had them anymore, and they were usually those early-morning events that went away pretty quick.

But because Maggie had been getting a little tearful lately, and Bob had to admit that he'd almost completely
lost interest in sex, he made an appointment. For a checkup. The prospect of telling the doctor he wasn't getting it up anymore surpassed daunting. He could face Congress with less tension.

At the doctor's office, all his vitals were checked, he peed in a cup, an order for routine blood work was written up. “Anything else we should check?” the doctor asked.

“Hmm,” Bob said. “Let me think….”

“Anything your wife wants us to check?”

Bob sighed deeply. “My wife has been complaining about the infrequency of…” He couldn't go on.

The doctor flipped through the chart. “How infrequent?” he asked without looking up.

“Never,” Bob admitted. What the hell, he thought. It's going to come out eventually.

“Hmm,” the doctor said. “Hmm. Here's one thing. Let's change that blood pressure medicine you've been taking the past couple of years. And if there's no improvement, we'll get you to the urologist. You're too young to give up erections.”

The prospect of going to the urologist for this problem filled Bob with dread. If there was one thing a man never wanted to own up to, it's that he was having trouble getting it up. Anything else, okay. But not that.

The whole thing just depressed him. Quieted him out. He was starting to come out of his denial, aware that it wasn't the job, the hours, the pressure. That perhaps accounted for his blood pressure being elevated, but not the rest. He began taking the new blood pressure medicine, knowing in his gut that he was going to end up dropping his drawers for another doctor pretty soon, admitting the unadmittable.

But at least things were getting a little easier in the family arena. Hillary had a soft cap of new hair on her head and announced she was trying out for cheerleading. Lindsey brought home a progress report from school that boasted straight A's in all honors classes.

He thought a lot about how much he actually loved his wife. He found her incredibly attractive; he considered her his best friend. No matter how hard this situation was, he made a decision he would pursue a cure.

He got into bed with his book while Maggie scrubbed her face and brushed her teeth in the en suite. He could hear her in there, changing. It was cold in the room, so he turned on the gas fireplace with the remote at his bedside. She came out of the bathroom wearing her long, concealing, decidedly unsexy flannel nightgown. She's given up on me, he thought. I've given up on me. She's going to have an affair before long, if she hasn't already.

Then an idea occurred to him, for the first time in at least a year. She got into bed and turned off her light. She leaned toward him, kissed his cheek and snuggled down into the bed, her back to him.

He put aside his book, turned off his light, and lay down.

“Don't fall asleep with the fireplace on,” she said sleepily.

“I won't,” he said. His pulsed picked up. Hope I don't have a heart attack, he thought. But no, that heart rate was not a medical thing. It was caused by a vaguely familiar emotion.

He rolled over and spooned her. His hand crept under her arm and she snuggled against him. He cupped her breast, kissed her neck and voilá! The old boy sprang to life!

“Bob?” she asked, a little weakly, feeling something against her bottom. Something hard and strong, something she had greatly missed. She rolled onto her back. “Bob?”

He kissed her. One of those short sweet husbandly kisses that had become routine for them. And then, uncharacteristically, he covered her mouth in a hot and serious kiss. She opened her lips under his and answered in passion. Then he rose above her and said, “I've been to the doctor. Turns out, it was probably my blood pressure medicine, which I changed about a week ago.”

“You didn't say anything,” she said, startled.

“Well, I wasn't all that optimistic that the cure would be an easy one.”

“Oh my God, Bob! You did this for me!”

He kissed her again. “I did this for us,” he said, lifting that boring old granny gown and snaking his hand underneath. “I think we need to spend more time together,” he said.

 

Late February arrived and Pete was invited to Sunday dinner at George's. “Aunt Clare has a boyfriend,” Hillary said in awe.

“It is too totally weird, seeing your mother kiss the football coach,” Jason said, and Pete reached out and palmed his head, giving it a rough shake, making him laugh.

When it was just the sisters in the kitchen, Sarah put a hand on her still-flat tummy and said, “I'm going to have to trot my boyfriend out pretty soon. I should probably spring him on the kids before I start to show.”

“Which is just around the corner,” Clare pointed out.

“Did you know he came over here one evening and talked to Dad?”

“When did that happen?” Maggie asked, picking up plates.

“A few weeks ago. Right after I told Dad about the baby. He wanted to be sure Dad knew he wasn't running for his life, I guess.”

“How'd it go?”

“Well, there weren't any punches thrown,” Sarah said.

“Are you still skiing every Monday?” Clare asked. “Because I'm not sure that's such a great idea.”

“Sam worries about that, too. I'm just about done skiing.”

“I like the sound of that, that he's concerned.”

“He's a little overprotective,” she said.

Was it solicitude and courtesy? Sam just being responsible? Clare wondered.

“I suppose I could go a little easier. Tomorrow will probably be my last Monday chasing the ski patrol around the slopes.”

“I could wangle a day off from Dad,” Clare said. “I worked six straight days last week and I'm supposed to be part-time now, so I can work on the old house. Why don't I go with you? If you ski with me, you'll take it lots easier.” And, Clare thought, it's time to see them together. She believed she would be able to tell much from the way they interacted, the way they looked at each other.

“Have you gotten over your urge to end his life?” Sarah asked.

“I think I can control myself now.”

“Then okay. That would be fine,” Sarah said. “I might not go home with you, however.”

Maggie fluffed Sarah's curls. “Are you happy, honey?”

There was no hesitation. Her smile was quick and
genuine. “I am.” She shrugged. “My timing could be better, but my life couldn't. He makes me very happy.”

Clare took the day off from the store and picked Sarah up at ten in the morning. They stuck to the tamer slopes, skiing for a couple of hours without seeing Sam. Clare was looking for him, eyeballing every ski patrol who crossed their paths. “Did you ever wonder if they hire these guys by looks?” she asked Sarah.

“Ski patrol and firemen,” Sarah said. “Calendar boys. Here he comes,” she said, pointing up the hill. Sam was traversing down the slope in sleek, wide turns, punching through the powder, a rooster tail of white crystal flying up behind him. It was a magnificent sight. “The best-looking one out here.”

He came to a stop in front of them. He popped up his goggles and with that heart-melting grin said, “Hi, girls.” He leaned toward Sarah and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “You're behaving. That makes me happy.” Then, “Clare. How's it going?”

“Good. And she's only behaving because she's with me. I just don't have any stamina this year. I'm already exhausted.”

“You'll get it back.”

The sound of distant twittering could be heard. Clare popped off her glove and reached into her snow pants to find her phone. She scooted away a bit to take a call from Pete. She put the phone to one ear and covered her other ear with her hand. While she listened, she watched Sam and Sarah. He looked down at Sarah and Clare saw her sister had his complete attention. She couldn't see Sam's eyes, but she thought if she could she would see something more than solicitude there. She watched as Sam took off a glove and touched Sarah's face, tilt
ing it upward to say something that made Sarah smile, then laugh.

“What?” she said to Pete. “What did you say?”

“I said, Jason cut school. The gossip is that he's up there, snowboarding.”

“How would he manage that?”

“Stan drove to school today. Did you tell him you were going up there with Sarah?”

“No. Since we haven't said anything to the kids about Sarah and Sam, he wouldn't know they're up here on Mondays. And I haven't seen him.”

“Well, if he saw you, he probably ran for his life.”

“Oh, he's in so much trouble!” she said. “Thanks for the tip.”

She put the phone away and went back to Sarah and Sam. “My confidential informant at Centennial tells me Jason skipped school and is rumored to be up here snowboarding.”

“I haven't seen him,” Sam said. “They groom the hills on Tuesday—so Monday's a pretty light day. Not that many people out there.”

“He'd be bored on these hills,” Clare said.

“That little brat,” Sarah said. “Bet I know where he is. Rest a minute, Clare. I'll be right back.” She took off for the lift on the other side of the intermediate hill she'd been skiing with Clare.

“You be careful!” Sam yelled after her.

“I'm always careful!” she yelled back.

Sarah moved quickly toward the lift. Jason would have headed for the harder, longer slopes, probably the expert runs or snowboard park. And Sam would have spent much of the day around them, too, so if Sam hadn't seen Jason there were only two possibilities. Ei
ther Jason saw one of them—Sam, Sarah or Clare—and left before getting caught, or went into the restricted areas to stay out of sight.

She looked over at Sam and Clare as the lift scooped her up and carried her upward. Good, she thought. Let them talk awhile. Get any unfinished business sorted out and behind them. They all had many, many years ahead of them as family. There was no point in being haunted by old romances. And Sam would have to be sure, once and for all, whether he could move ahead without having any feelings stuck in the past.

It was impossible for Sarah to love any two people more—Clare and Sam. She needed them both in her life, and without the slightest hint of complications.

She got off the lift at the crest of the hill known as the Crown, a challenging slope for advanced skiers and snowboarders. She looked around and down. She didn't see Jason's purple stocking cap anywhere. To her left were red flags and a warning sign, no ski patrols beyond this point. She had no intention of skiing in a restricted area—she just wanted to look down the slope and see if anyone was there. She moved cautiously across the ridge past a small stand of trees and scanned the landscape. Nothing. Thank God. Maybe he did have a brain.

Just as she was about to go back to the expert slope and make a run down to Clare and Sam, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. And it was purple. There were two of them. They were coming from the far south of a hill that when it was open was known as Big Bear. The stupid little fool. She was going to go get him and when she caught him, beat him senseless. He was about halfway down when she pushed off.

 

As Sarah neared the lift, Sam looked back at Clare, and she saw a wistful look in his eyes. She immediately thought, oh no! He can't still be pining! “My sister is very happy, Sam.”

“I think pregnancy agrees with her,” he said. “Want to go sit down for a while?”

“I don't want to keep you from your job,” she said. “I'm fine. I'll just wait here.”

“You look content. Happy. Life must be treating you well.”

I'm not real content at the moment, she thought. I don't know how to handle this. She looked in the direction Sarah had gone and saw her getting on the lift. “Yeah,” she said, somewhat absently. “Great. I'm great.”

“Okay, you're not that happy,” he said. “Well, I'm sorry about that, but I think we're all doing pretty well, considering how awkward this has been—me and Sarah. You. Maggie. Your dad. Did Maggie tell you she came to see me? At work?”