Winter Hopes (Seasons of Love) (27 page)

“She's just a generally kind, lively, strong person,” Lydia said to Sam, in an attempt to sum it all up. “She's the best.”

“That’s nice. But so are you,” Sam said pointedly. “I have to say, I find it a little strange—perplexing, even—that you would make her sound… like something more than you are. I certainly don’t think of you that way."”

“Oh, I'm no shrinking violet,” Lydia chuckled dryly. “Jane's just much more… dynamic than I am. She makes an impression.”

“Again, so do
you
," Sam said plainly, shaking his head. “You
sure as hell made an impression on me when we met. I mean, hey, here we are. Right?”

“Okay. Yeah, I guess so.” Lydia smiled and lifted her martini for another sip.

“It's funny,” Sam said. “We have that in common: we're the younger siblings, and same gender siblings—you have an older sister, I have an older brother. Both of whom are very forceful, full of
life, not easy to
ignore kind of people. Both of whom were probably tough acts to follow growing up, although they were always there for us… and
they still look out for us, no matter how old we get.”

Lydia merely gave a cool smile. The mention of his brother, Alec, brought back a quick flash of unpleasantness for her: the memory of
when Alec had caught her tiptoeing back to her hotel room from Sam's room, the morning after their first night together, after
Melanie and Ryan's wedding. Alec had savored the moment, his smug expression
clearly signaling his delight at her discomfort. Then he’d thrown some really nasty comments at her before letting her get away,
making sure she knew in no uncertain terms what he thought of her. If she never saw him again, she'd be fine with that. She shoved the memory out of her head with a long swallow of her drink.

Sam saw the look in her eyes. “Well, you and Alec… hmm,” he
said,
hesitant, cautious with his words. "You know all too well what I
mean about his looking out for me."

“Oh yeah. I imagine he's had a few choice things to say about our dating,” she said.

Sam made a face, disgruntled, dismissing the notion. “I don't talk about us with him.”

Lydia's eyebrows arched, and she said nothing. A chill ran over her skin. Was he… ashamed of her after all?

Almost as if he’d read her mind, Sam shook his head vigorously. “No, no, not for the reasons you think. Don’t even go there. Look, I
know you don't like him, and I totally understand why,” he said, obviously remembering the same incident. Lydia scowled as she
recalled how Alec’s sneering comments had shaken her confidence enough to convince her not to go down to the wedding brunch. Sam had gone
to search for her. She'd nearly left the hotel before he'd had a chance to talk to her; she'd gone into self-protection mode, and it had taken real work for him to get through to her that morning. Thanks, in
large part, to his bigmouthed brother.

Sam sighed. “Alec can, on occasion, be obnoxious and overbearing, which is why I’ve rarely talked to him about who I go out with. So it's not that I haven't discussed
you
with him,
specifically—I don't discuss
any
of my dating life with him, in general. At all. Okay?”

Lydia exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Okay.”

Sam took a quick sip of sake. “I have to tell you, though, that although my brother can be a jerk sometimes—and he'll be the first
one to agree
with that, he knows who he is—most of the time, he's a genuinely great guy. He's just very protective of me, and has been our whole lives. Textbook Big Brother mentality.” Sam leaned in and added,
“With an older sister like Jane, how she sounds… surely you can understand what that entails at times?”

“I can,” Lydia conceded. “But I don't think she's ever purposely
belittled someone on my…” Her voice trailed off and her cheeks
flushed hotly. She released a slightly strangled sound, something like a sardonic laugh.

“What is it?” Sam asked, watching her with curiosity.

“I was about to say,” Lydia said slowly, “that my sister never purposely belittled someone on my behalf, that she never obviously got off on someone else's embarrassment, like your brother did that morning with me. But you know what? It's not true. And I just realized that.”

She chuckled as she revealed, “She does it to Matt all the time. She tried to restrain herself when he and I were married, but even
then, sometimes she just couldn't resist taking a shot. He and I fought over it once in a while. He knew damn well that she never
liked him. So you can only imagine how she's been to him since we split up.” A twist of a smirk curved Lydia's mouth as she admitted, “She's been brutal. She doesn't have to hold back anymore, and she doesn't. She is outright cold to him, and nasty too when she sees fit.”

Sam smirked too. “Remind me not to get on her bad side, then.”

Lydia laughed lightly. “I don't think you'll have to worry about that. She's already championed you to my parents, and she hasn't even met you yet. I'd say you're in good standing.”

Sam froze, and the grin slid off his face. “Wait a minute. Is
that
what your fight with your father was about? On Thanksgiving? You told them about us, and he didn't like it?”

“Shit,” Lydia muttered, looking down into her drink. She'd told Sam about the fight, but not what had actually started it. She had been purposely vague in the details she'd given him. She gnawed on her bottom lip, mad at herself for the slip. “Well… yes. Something like that. It doesn't matter. I don't care what he thinks.”

“Lydia. Ah, crap…” Sam grabbed both of her hands, willing her to look at him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Why
would
I tell you that?” she said fervently. “So you could get upset, like I did? So you could have a negative preconceived
notion about my parents without ever having met them? Of course I didn't tell you that part.”

“Fine. I get it. But tell me now,” he insisted.

Anxiety simmered in her chest. “Why?”

“Because I want to know,” he said softly. “If it hurt you…”

She shook her head with fierce resolution. “You know enough. Trust me. Please.”

He watched her for a few seconds, then gave in. He squeezed her hands and looked at her with soft resignation. “Okay, look, I'll
let it go. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that, over me.”

“Don't apologize, and don't worry about it,” she said, but her
voice had a slight edge to it. “Seriously. It's far from the first fight my father's picked with me, and it'll be far from the last. You were just the newest catalyst. He finds reasons. So don't even think about it,
okay?”

The walls of their private booth opened again, and a waiter came to silently refill their water glasses. Sam realized his headache had dissipated and breathed an inward sigh for the reprieve. The waiter vanished as quickly as he'd appeared, closing the screens again.

“Tell me what we're doing tomorrow night in the city,” Lydia said, purposely taking advantage of the interruption to change the subject and hoping he would follow along.

Sam swallowed some more soup before he answered in a jaunty
tone, “Nope.” He grinned as he set his spoon down. “Then it
wouldn't be a
surprise
, you see.”

Relief settled over her. New topic. “Can I have a hint?” she needled.

He chuckled. “Well, we're going to dinner, and then I'd like to do something horribly touristy and cliché. Ready?”

“Hit me.”

“After dinner, I want to go see the big tree at Rockefeller Center. With you. Just you.”

Warmth suffused her at the earnest look in his eyes. “That sounds nice.” She could easily imagine the scene in her mind, having experienced it several times in her life: the tall, white angels that
dotted
the path to the ice skating rink, where the colossal, sensational Christmas tree would be standing. She could picture it sparkling
with colorful
lights in all its glory—dazzling and magnificent. She could imagine the frosty chill of a December night in New York City, much like
tonight, but with the aromas of burning chestnuts, pretzels, and sugary nuts floating on the air…

Then she added to that magical picture taking it all in from the comfort of Sam's warm embrace, and her smile grew much wider. “That sounds really, really nice, actually. I’d love that.”

BRIGHT SUNLIGHT FLICKERED
through the windshield,
warming the interior of Lydia's car. Sam was glad he'd remembered to bring his sunglasses.

From behind the dark frames, he glanced at Lydia's profile as she drove. She also had her sunglasses on, and her lips were softly pressed together. Her manner was quiet and her posture a drop rigid as she gripped the steering wheel. The nervousness came off her in
soft waves. He felt like he finally knew her well enough to be able to read her, at least to some degree. Definitely not all the time, but at
times like these, he could easily guess what she was thinking. She was taking them to her sister's house, getting ready to introduce the first new man in her life since her separation to her family. And to her little boy. She was trying to appear calm, putting up a good front, but he could tell she was freaking out a little. Hell, more than a little.

“You okay?” he asked, putting his hand on her knee.

“Sure,” she said, a bit too quickly. “Sure. We're almost there.”

Two blocks later, she turned onto a tree-lined side street dotted with attractive, expensive looking homes. There were big, older houses with wraparound porches; brick houses with ornate stone
staircases
and wraparound driveways; houses that obviously had major
redesign work done; and almost all of them had vast front lawns.

Sam surveyed the scenery as it passed him. “You know, this neighborhood reminds me a little of Evanston.”

“Really?” Lydia was curious at the mention of where he'd grown up.

“Yeah. Parts of it. It's got a similar feel.”

“Then you grew up in a nice neighborhood,” Lydia remarked. “And this is winter, so all the greenery is gone. You should see it around here in the warmer months. It's a really pretty town, lush with lots of green, flowers, landscaping, all of that.” She pulled her black Honda CR-V over in front of a large, brick house with white pillars on either side of the front door. A Honda Odyssey minivan and a Mercedes E350 sat in the long driveway.

“Here we are,” she said, turning off the engine. She jangled her keys in her hand for a moment and joked weakly, “Last chance to bail.”

“Nothing doing,” he answered. He leaned in to give her a light kiss. “So come on. Take a deep breath, and let's go.”

She took the deep breath, exhaled it loudly, comically mocking herself, and grabbed her bag. Sam reached to the backseat to retrieve a bouquet of colorful flowers.

“She's gonna think you're kissing her ass by bringing those,” Lydia wisecracked.

“I'm really not,” he laughed. “I really just wanted to thank her for taking Andy last night, and all of yesterday. I believe in demonstrative gestures.”

“She'll love them,” Lydia assured him. They walked up to the front door, but she didn't ring the bell; she had her own key, and let them into the house.

“Hello?” she called out as they entered the foyer.

“Hey!” a female voice called back. “Be right there!”

Lydia and Sam hadn't even had time to remove their coats when
the sound of small, pounding footsteps started. “Here he comes,” Lydia smiled. She crouched down, and sure enough, two seconds
later, a little boy came flying in and threw himself into her waiting arms.

“Mama, mama, mamaaaa,” Andy babbled, obviously overjoyed to see her. His arms locked around her neck and he glued his cheek to hers.

“Oh baby,” she cooed tenderly, wrapping him in a tight hug. She kissed his head a few times. “Mama missed you!”

“Mamaaaaa,” he singsonged with love. “Mamaaaa.”

Sam felt his heart melt as he watched the little reunion unfold. He couldn't decide what was more striking—how much the little boy clearly adored his mother, or the way Lydia had instantly morphed into a shining beacon of the purest love. It was like she had changed before Sam's eyes, morphing into her most loving self. It more than warmed him to see it, it astonished him. He had yet to see Lydia in
her most important role: doting mother. Now that he was, he
watched with attentive fascination.

“Did you have a great time here?” Lydia asked as she pulled back to look at her son.

“Yah,” Andy smiled. He added a vehement nod for emphasis. “Yah. Good.”

She gaped at him. “That's right, 'good'. You had a good time.
Great talking, Andy!” She swiveled her head to look up at Sam and said, “Another new word!”

“That's great.” He smiled down at her.

Andy's big blue eyes flew up and fastened with curiosity on
Sam.
He seemed to pause for a second, then broke into a huge smile,
apparently deciding the strange man was a friendly one.

“Andy,” Lydia said, “this is Mama's friend, Sam. He's my friend. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,” Andy said, quick as a shot.

“Hi, Andy,” Sam said, smiling warmly. Carefully balancing the bouquet of flowers, he crouched down so he could also be at eye level with the small boy. “It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you.”

Andy buried his face in his mother's neck and giggled.

“He's being shy now,” Lydia said. She kissed the side of Andy's head, the kiss falling on his thick bronze hair. “You're being a silly goose.”

Andy giggled again and peered out carefully. He looked at Sam
again, and they shared a second of intense eye contact. Sam kept
smiling,
his expression open and undemanding. Andy blinked, then smiled
in return. Lydia kissed her son's forehead.