ALLIE MADE A point of not being up when Sam got back from the store. He’d made it clear he wished that brush of lips between them had not happened.
And it was humiliating that she felt the opposite. As if she would like it to happen and happen some more.
Embarrassing! In the morning, anxious to avoid more embarrassment, and the longing being in the same room as his lips was going to cause her, she was up and out the door before Sam and Cody were even out of bed. She took her guitar and some peanut butter sandwiches, and headed away from the beach—way too crowded in light of tomorrow’s Fourth of July celebrations—and toward the hills that overlooked Sugar Cone.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t liked what Sam said to her but that she had liked it way, way too much. She needed to start crossing days off her calendar, a countdown to how many days before Sam and Cody would be gone.
Her life would be back to the way it was before.
Yawningly empty, a little voice informed her. And worse, all about her.
She found a favorite overlook with a bench and set up. By late afternoon, she had eaten her sandwiches, watched butterflies, listened to birds, talked with six strangers, petted several dogs and done a few yoga stretches.
What she hadn’t done was made any progress on her jingle. Last night, she’d thought the creative block was over. Her guitar had been speaking to her again, humming like a living thing under her flying fingers as she sang to Cody and Sam.
Today the instrument was stubbornly and silently back on mute. The lyric part of the exercise was no better. Every time she thought of Paul’s Steakhouse, the only thing she could think of that even remotely rhymed was make-out.
Which led her right back to the feel of Sam’s lips on hers.
She couldn’t concentrate. It had nothing to do with the taste of his lips. Or those words, those tender, beautiful words: The world needs you.
Oh, who was she kidding? It had everything to do with that kiss, and especially those words.
It felt to Allie as if those words were in some way pivotal. They were the words she had needed to hear her entire life. That there was not just a place in the world for her, but that it needed her.
And how was she repaying the kindness of those powerful words? Hiding. Just as he had accused her of doing.
Hiding from the world.
Hadn’t she been hiding, even when she was in the competition? Hadn’t she denied that, with each level that she moved forward in American Singing Star, she’d moved further and further from herself, willingly trading her identity for fame and accolades? Hadn’t she hidden who she really was in order to gain approval? In order to fit in? In order to be loved?
Today, Sam was meeting Cody’s aunt and uncle and cousins. They were probably doing it right now.
How was it going? Was he going to be okay? What if he needed someone to talk to about it?
Who was she really?
The safest thing was to run away from him, to hide in these hills, possibly right up until his departure date. To go back to making the world all about herself: her pain, and her betrayals and her challenges, how unfair the world had been to her.
But had that preoccupation brought her one single thing to like about her life? Had it moved her any closer to a satisfying existence?
Her grandmother had always known who she was. And her Gram would tell her, in no uncertain terms, to go home to the beach cottage, and be strong enough to offer Sam exactly what he had seen in her.
Her compassion, her creativity, her sensitivity.
As she packed up her things and headed back to her car she felt as if this might be the bravest thing she had ever done. It felt as if she was honoring the person her grandmother had always known she was.
This was her lesson, her legacy from Gram. Bravery was not stepping out in front of a live audience of thousands and a TV audience of millions.
But bringing the gift of herself to another human being. Believing that she had a gift to offer. She missed her grandmother so much in that moment, and felt so grateful for her that Allie thought she might weep.
Cody and Sam had already returned from meeting the Australian relatives when she got back. Popsy greeted her as though she had been gone for years instead of hours. Was it her imagination or was Popsy more lively?
Even with Cody having his nap, and Sam with his feet up on the back deck, her house felt full in ways it had not felt before they had arrived in her life. Taking a deep breath, ordering herself to be brave, Allie grabbed a water and joined him on the deck.
“Hey.” She suddenly felt shy, and wondered if she was intruding.
Do not look at his lips.
She looked. Good grief, he was gorgeous.
But he nudged a chair with his foot, an invitation, a confirmation she had done the right thing. She took it.
“How did the family reunion go?” she asked.
“Actually, really well. The whole family has this kind of laid-back vibe. We built sandcastles on the beach. I took verbal orders from two pint-size people, and hand signals from another. Tears from all as the tide came in and swept it all away. Nap time.”
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You look…pensive.”
Actually, sad would have said it much, much better.
“The little girl, Nicole, just took Cody under her wing as if she was a mother hen. Bossing him around, playing with him, teasing him, teaching him little songs, ignoring the fact he didn’t sing one word back to her. There was a kind of instant connection between him and both those kids.”
“Cousins,” she said. “They often have those bonds.”
“Do they? Is this from your expertise file on early childhood development?” There was an edge to his voice.
“Did Cody seem happy with them in a way he isn’t with you?” Allie asked with soft caution.
“I want his happiness,” he snapped.
“Tell me what happened, Sam.” She realized that he was trying to hide the sadness from her, that he didn’t know it was so apparent in the lines of his face.
He looked at her as if he was going to tell her to go to hell, and then he ran his fingers through the dark waves of his hair, looked out to sea and looked back at her. Debating.
When he spoke, his voice low and pained, she realized she had stopped breathing, recognizing this as another pivotal moment.
He would trust her with his deeper self, or he wouldn’t.
“Bill is so much like my brother-in-law, Adam, that it hurts. You think the ragged edge has come off grieving and then, there it is.”
“They look alike?”
“It’s that, but it’s more. So much more. The accent, the humor, the way of being. Adam was my best friend. I met him when I was just starting my company. He came to work for me. I introduced him to my sister.”
He smiled, possibly the saddest smile Allie had ever seen. “I used to call him a dumb Aussie. He was the greatest guy I ever knew. Losing one of them would have been more than I could bear, but both? If it wasn’t for Cody, I don’t know how I would have continued to get up every day.
“But I look at that poor kid, and I think, if it’s doing this to me, a full-grown man, supposedly with a few coping skills for life, what’s it doing to him?”
He took in a long, ragged breath. “Cody took to Bill immediately. And the cousins. And you are probably very right. Seeing him with a family—a real family—made me aware of all the things I haven’t been able to give him. I do want his happiness. I want it with all my heart. I just wish more of it came from being with me.”
She contemplated that. And then she said, “You know what I see when he is with you? You are his rock. In a world that has shown him it is not always safe, you are his safe place. The place where it’s okay for him to grieve in whatever way his three-year-old self needs to grieve. He doesn’t feel pressured to be happy around you, to talk, to meet your needs. He knows you are the adult and it’s your job to meet his needs. He trusts you completely. He knows you are in this together. And you are so sure that he saw his father in his father’s brother, Bill. Of course he did.
“But don’t you think he sees his mother in you? Every single day?”
“I doubt that. We looked like we came from different parents. She’s the one Cody got all those blond curls from.”
But I bet he got those soulful liquid-brown eyes straight from your family line, Allie thought.
“It’s not so much about looks,” Allie said, slowly. “Though I’m sure you have resemblances to your family you are not aware of. And mannerisms. Like Bill has some of the same quirks as Adam, I bet you, unknowingly, have some of your sister’s. Maybe the way you tilt your head when you listen, or the way you throw back your head to laugh.”
Oops, letting him know she was observing him way too closely, but getting Sam to hear this seemed far more important than protecting herself.
“I’d be willing to bet,” she continued, “that you shared a value system with your sister, a kind of bone-deep decency, a courage for facing life, a determination that Cody sees in you every day, and is reassured by.”
“Stop it,” Sam growled, “you are going to make me choke up. Very unmanly.”
Allie was gratified by the spark being back in his voice, gratified that somehow she had stumbled on just the right words. “Go ahead. Cry. As if there could be enough tears.”
“To be honest? I don’t think I have any left.”
This was exactly why she had come back from her hike, some instinct—or perhaps all that was best about Gram alive in her—drawing her here, to where she was needed. She didn’t say anything. She just sat with him, the silence comfortable between them as they watched the waves in the distance, and the crowds on the beach.
Children playing in the sand, teenagers shoving each other near the water’s edge, women who had undone the back strap of their bathing suit tops, shirtless guys throwing footballs and posturing for those women who pretended not to see them. There were sounds, waves crashing, and birds cawing and shouts and laughter, mommies calling after their children.
Life, really. Ordinary life, unfolding before them on the beach. A simple scene that was so reminiscent of the kind of happy, carefree days of lighthearted spirit that summer brings.
“They’ve got a full day planned tomorrow,” Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “They’re quite excited about being here in the States for the Fourth of July celebrations. There’s a parade on Main Street in the morning, some kind of festival after, and then fireworks on the beach tomorrow night.”
“I always wanted to be here for Fourth of July,” she said. “But that was always the week my grandmother went away to visit my great-aunt Mildred. I usually came toward the end of the summer, when my mother needed to get ready for the fall semester. I can’t even tell you what coming here meant. Such a sense of being accepted, of being home, of being loved.”
Allie sighed. “I miss her so much.”
He looked at her. “You should come with us.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’ll be missing your grandmother. It feels like one of those family celebration kind of days that you should share with someone.”
“Do you feel sorry for me?” she asked, appalled she had let her wistfulness for those days with her grandmother be so apparent. “Because of what I told you about missing Gram?”
“I don’t think I would have said I felt sorry for you. It’s just that I know what it’s like to miss people.”
He actually ducked his head, looking faintly embarrassed. She realized, stunned, he felt connected to her. He wanted to share the day with her.
“I thought you weren’t anxious to have them meet me,” she reminded him, worried he would regret acting on this momentary connection brought on by shared confidences. “Your roommate.”
“Okay. Maybe you should forego the red bikini.”
She realized he was teasing her. It felt strangely and gloriously intimate. She gave him a little punch on the arm.
He pretended to be hurt. “Just for the parade part!”
“Okay. I’ll wear my black one instead.”
He threw back his head and laughed. The sun hit the column of his throat, and his laughter rang down the beach.
That felt strangely and gloriously intimate, also.
“No, seriously, come,” Sam said. “After spending the day with them, they just don’t seem like the type to jump to judgment. Plus, anybody who knew you for more than ten minutes would know how decent you are.”
She snorted. “At last count about two point four million people would disagree with you.”
He was silent for a moment, and then his voice low, he admitted, “I watched one of the American Singing Star videos last night. Part of it.”
She froze and stared at him.
“After you told me about it, I wanted to see for myself. You didn’t even look like you.” His eyes went to her hair.
She touched it self-consciously. Sometimes she was still shocked by how short it was. “This is my natural color. But they already had a blonde. So, they suggested one of us dye our hair so the audience would have no problem differentiating us. I’d like to say we picked straws, but eager-to-please me just wagged my hand in the air.”
“It was so long.”
“It was long, but not that long. Extensions,” she said. “They had stylists who did it all. Hair, makeup, outfit selection.”
“I’m somehow reassured that you didn’t pick that outfit for yourself. I just don’t see you as a black leather kind of girl.”
His simple statement made her feel validated in some way. While she had been growing increasingly uncomfortable with her talent show transformation, every single person she knew had gushed about it.
“I didn’t pick the song, either. Everything was choreographed. Even—” she heard the faint bitterness in her voice “—a romance.”
“I’m glad you weren’t seduced by it. I’m glad it ended in a way that made it so you would never want to go back. All that phoniness would have killed you.”
His words washed over her. For a blinding moment Allie stood in the truth. She had seen that show as the triggering event in a landslide of losses: her career, her love, her dignity.
But in Sam’s simple words, for the first time, she understood what the real loss had been.
She had lost herself.
“You in black leather,” Sam said with a dismayed shake of his head. “So wrong.”
It felt as if she needed to keep the enormity of her discovery to herself. She kept her tone light. “You haven’t seen the black bikini yet!”
He laughed again, but then grew serious. “Those people? All two point four million of them? They didn’t know you at all.”
She realized, looking back on that period of her life, she didn’t know who she was, either. So eager to please, so eager to gain the prize they held out for her, so sure somehow the real her could not accomplish that, a belief they had underscored with every request: change this, wear that, try this song.
She saw now that it wasn’t necessarily money.
Or fame.
It was approval they had held out to her.
And then snatched away.
“You should come tomorrow,” he said softly. “Bill and Kathy seem to know a whole lot about having wholesome family fun. When’s the last time you did that?”
“Wouldn’t that involve having a wholesome family?”
He laughed. “Come. Have fun.”
Quit hiding.
But hiding was oh, so safe. The last time she’d gone way out of her comfort zone, she’d auditioned for the show. With disastrous consequences, she reminded herself. It had been the end of her “wholesome” family dream, the one he had so clearly seen in the mist around her, the picture of picket fences and baby carriages.
What if a day spent like this triggered all those longings she had set aside?
But suddenly the appeal of spending a fun-filled day with him and his makeshift family was too much to resist.
Suddenly she saw herself as way too introspective, too serious, too safe. He wasn’t asking her to marry him and help him raise Cody. He wasn’t asking her to adopt his Australian family as her own.
He was suggesting she get out and have some good old Fourth of July fun: parades, ice cream, hot dogs, flags, fireworks.
What could be more wholesome—and harmless—than that? Besides, what would her grandmother tell her to do? She could almost feel Mavis giving her a little push toward Sam.
“Okay,” she said.
It felt as if she was closing her eyes and stepping off a high diving board.
But it felt as if she was doing it: the real Allie, not some imposter whose whole life had been created to gain ratings on a television show.