“YOU’RE TOUCHING POOPERMAN’S CAPE,” Sam said the next morning, aghast. He had come into the kitchen to find Allie hunched over the table.
“Pooperman’s cape?” She glanced up at him, a needle in her hands.
He was pretty sure she was in her pajamas. The outfit was not what you would call sexy—it looked like she was wearing a man’s shirt, that was rolled up bulkily around her arms, and ended above her knees.
But the shirt had fallen off one shoulder, and her legs were totally exposed and undeniably gorgeous.
Somehow the shirt was more sexy than the damned bathing suit.
Or maybe sexy was the way she was looking at him, her tongue caught between her teeth, her eyes luminous.
The cape in question was spread across her lap, a needle and thread in her hands. There was a pair of scissors there.
Sam had to fight an itch to pick up the scissors, and cut those black tips out of her hair—what remained of Tempest.
“That’s what Adam and I called his cape. You can’t touch it. I have to sneak it into the laundry when Cody is sleeping.”
“I just added an American flag lining to it, for the parade. We can take it out again after.”
“You can’t add things to Pooperman’s cape!”
“It loses its magical powers?” she said drily.
“You have no idea what you are playing with,” Sam said. But looking at her, sitting there, so adorable in her men’s shirt and messy hair and bare feet, he wondered which of them had no idea what they were playing with. Had he really invited her to spend the day with them?
“I can take the lining out in a jiffy if it upsets Cody.”
There was a neat stack of flag-patterned squares beside her.
“And what’s this?” he asked, picking up the top square. The square unfolded into another cape. He frowned. “You’re not expecting me to wear one, are you?”
She gave him a disparaging look, as if she had already figured out he was too much of a poor sport to play along. Why would he feel vaguely insulted by that?
“I made one for each of the kids.” She looked away, and said, softly, as if she didn’t want him to think she was an idiot, “And one for Popsy, too.”
He stared at her. “Were you up all night?” he finally asked.
“Just half of it.”
“Who has this kind of stuff on hand?” he asked, incredulously. “Like what? Fifty yards of American flag material?”
“My grandmother was a quilter. There’s tons of fabric here. She taught me how to sew when I was just little. It reminds me of her, in the nicest way, when I sew.”
Sam looked at the perfect little stack of capes, and at the look on her face. It was that luminescent look again, her eyes shining, a contented little smile drifting across the plumpness of her bottom lip.
It occurred to him that Allie was excited for the day. Isn’t that what he’d wanted when he convinced her to come? To get her to reengage in life, instead of hiding? He wanted her to let go of the notion she was the one who had something to be ashamed of over the whole American Singing Star fiasco.
Still, there was something about the enthusiasm in her that was a little dangerous.
“You can’t just add stuff to Pooperman’s cape,” Sam said again, just to make sure she knew there were rules that couldn’t be ignored.
“Sorry, I didn’t know.” She didn’t sound very sorry. Well, she hadn’t seen one of the famous meltdowns.
Come to think of it, there still hadn’t been any famous meltdowns. Not since they’d arrived. That had to be a record. That would probably all change when Cody awoke to find his cape was not only not within reach, but had been altered.
On cue, Cody came out of his bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Astonishingly, he seemed not to notice his cape had not been on the floor beside his bed this morning. He stopped when he saw them at the kitchen table with the cape in between them.
Allie flipped the cape off the table and went and sank down on her heels in front of him. “Look,” she said, “I added something to your cape just for today. And I made Popsy a matching one!”
With a flourish she put the cape around his shoulders. And then she called the dog and put the matching cape on him.
The two of them—make that all three of them—stood frozen, looking at her in disbelief.
“You look amazing,” she declared.
Cody looked to Sam for reaction.
“Like you could vanquish evil with a simple wave of your hand. And paw,” Sam said solemnly.
Cody obviously had no idea what vanquish meant, and probably not evil, either, but he fingered the shiny new lining of the cape, deciding. Then he smiled. It looked as though he was pretty sure he had been bestowed with a superpower he had not possessed before.
“Allie made Nicole and Bryan capes, too,” Sam said, and that was the final reassurance Cody needed. He smile deepened to a happy boyish grin, and he spread his arms like a plane and flew out the back door onto the deck, with Popsy on his heels. Their rambunctious running around the deck made the whole house vibrate.
“Did we just dodge a bullet?” Allie asked.
“We did, but that’s nothing for a family of superheroes.”
A light went on in her face, at the word family. That was a bit of a mistake to make it sound as if they—him and her and Cody and Popsy—were family. But still, Sam faced the truth about his invitation. It wasn’t just about getting her out of hiding, assuaging some pain that had stolen her dreams from her.
Somehow, he wanted her to know that those dreams, the ones she had sworn she had given up on, were attainable.
Staying up all night to make the capes was a perfect example of the kind of life she yearned for and was suited for: dogs and kids and costumes. Family. Fun. Laughter.
Sam, of course, knew he was the worst possible person to be letting anyone know their dreams were attainable.
Especially wholesome, garden-variety kinds of dreams.
But Kathy and Bill, with their somehow perfectly imperfect little family, could show Allie how it could be. They could give her hope. He was certain of that.
He practically herded them all out the door and down the beach, as if he could reassign some of the responsibility he had taken on to others.
And from the moment they all met, Sam felt the relief of a plan going well. Nicole and Bryan made a fuss over Cody in his flag cape, and then threw themselves on Popsy, squealing even more about the almost unbearable cuteness of the dog in a cape. Popsy lapped it all up, while Cody looked pleased as punch to be the owner of such a marvel of a beast.
With a certain endearing shyness, Allie gave Nicole and Bryan their capes, too. Their eyes went round with the wonder of it. Soon the excitement had reached such levels that Kathy kicked them all—children and dog—out on the deck and shut the door firmly behind them.
“What a wonderful gift,” Kathy said, and looked askance at Sam. He realized in all the hoopla of the cape presentations, he had not made introductions.
“This is Allie,” Sam said. “She’s my—”
He hesitated. Only a few days had gone by. How had she come to be so much? His roommate. Confidante.
“Landlady,” he said, taking the safest route.
“You can’t be a landlady,” Kathy said, eyeing Allie after introductions. “You are much too young for that.”
“Accidental landlady,” Allie said, and explained briefly about the mix-up.
“Did you make those precious capes for everyone?” Kathy asked, apparently not finding their living arrangement worthy of any more attention.
“You don’t think I made them?” Sam asked.
They all laughed at that.
“Yes,” Allie said shyly.
“They are so adorable,” Kathy said.
“Not too loud,” Sam warned her. “Cody does not want to be adorable. I don’t think Popsy does, either. Superheroes are not adorable.”
And then all the adults were laughing again, with a kind of ease, and Sam felt as if they had all known each other for a long time.
It soon became evident Bill and Kathy loved Allie. As they walked to the parade, Kathy and Allie talked easily. And Nicole, Bryan and Cody took turns squabbling over who got to hold the dog’s leash and who got to hold Allie’s hand. Well, what wasn’t to love about someone who arrived with a child and a dog and all-American superhero capes?
Allie’s initial shyness dissipated rapidly and she fit seamlessly into the lovely dynamic of this family. It was evident to him that Allie was a girl who needed to be loved. Who would thrive on it. Who would come into herself.
He wondered if he was playing with fire encouraging this transformation of Allie.
But as he stood beside her at the parade, looking at her shining face, he decided it was worth the risk.
This was what he was aware of since arriving at the beach. Basically, he’d been alone with the enormity of his grief, with the enormity of leaving his carefree bachelor days behind and becoming a parent.
That was not to say people had not been around him and that sympathy had not been plentiful. His coworkers, his staff in particular, shared his grief. Adam had belonged to all of them, after all.
And yet, the huge emptiness of his new world Sam carried alone.
The insecurity he felt about Cody, he carried alone.
Allie made him feel not alone with it, as if the touch of her hand, and the look in her eyes, the way she listened, took some burden from it, made it lighter.
He made Cody surrender Popsy’s leash to his cousins, then lifted him up on his shoulders so that he could see the parade better.
And felt the shine of the moment as the parade started and the children squealed with delight and excitement as the clowns danced out in front of them, passing out candy to the crowds.
They were followed by a band and cheerleaders doing amazing gymnastics. Then a wagon pulled by a pair of donkeys, who appeared indifferent to the local fire engine that followed them, sirens blaring.
The floats came next, from wonderful, like Fun Florist, to almost embarrassingly bad, Phil’s Steakhouse. That float was blaring some awful song about so delicious you can’t miss us, and had a man dressed as a large steak waving at the crowd.
“Did miss really become mish? You can’t mish us?” Allie groaned and buried her face in her hands.
“Look at it this way,” he said, “you can’t do worse.”
“My fear is maybe I can.”
He put his hand around her shoulder, reassuringly. He squeezed. He should have let go. But somehow, one hand stayed holding Cody steady on his shoulder, and one stayed around Allie. She beamed up at him.
There had been so little happiness. What could it hurt to give himself and his nephew over to the day? To the days they had left here at Sugar Cone Beach?
Before he had to make a terrible decision about what was best for everyone involved, even if it left him more alone than he had ever been in his entire life.
Sam pushed that thought from his mind. Just for today he would be carefree in a way that he thought would never be possible again.
* * *
Allie was not sure when—if ever—she had experienced such a perfect day. When the parade ended, they joined the crowds that went to the street fair. People stopped them to admire the kids’ American flag Superman capes and to pet the dog. They had their faces painted, and they ate hot dogs. The kids all had red, white and blue candy floss.
Bill and Sam became quite competitive throwing baseballs at a target. Bill won a huge stuffed bear which he gave not to Nicole who wanted it, but to Kathy. There was something about the way they looked at each other in that brief moment that made Allie feel all squishy inside.
And then Sam won the same bear, and gave it not to Cody, but to Allie.
Of course, she told herself, it was probably because Cody already had his hands full with the dog’s leash, and the bear was too big for him to carry anyway.
Still, there was something about a man winning a stuffed animal for you at the fair that was part of a perfect all-American dream and all-American day. And she felt even squishier inside.
The children turned the corner from happy to cranky in the blink of an eye, and they walked back through the July heat and the packed streets to Bill and Kathy’s rental.
The beachfront rental could have been intimidatingly posh and a reminder of the life Allie had so briefly glimpsed with lots of glass and steel and marble, but somehow the glamour of it was overridden by flip-flops in various sizes at the door, toys out, colorful beach towels, children’s books in leaning stacks.
Somehow, Bill and Kathy had, without trying, given the place a sense of home. Anticipating a struggle to separate children, Kathy just put mats on the living room floor, and the kids all flopped down together. Nicole and Bryan protested, crabbily, they weren’t at all tired.
They were given the stuffed bears to sleep with, and then, still muttering protests, Cody tucked under one of Nicole’s protective arms, one bear tucked under the other, and Popsy tucked under his.
As if it was second nature to him, Allie watched as Sam leaned into the heap of sleeping children, the dog and the huge stuffed bears, and gently loosened all the cape strings from around sweaty little necks.
“I should go,” Allie said, feeling suddenly as if she had overstayed her welcome, as if they were all family, and she was not. An interloper somehow. The adults would want to relax, they would want to read books or snooze in the sun. Her perfect day was over.
“Nonsense,” Kathy said. “The monsters are sleeping.” Monsters was said with an abundance of affection. “It’s our turn. The guys can have a beer, and you and I will have a glass of wine and put up our feet. I’ve bought shrimp to put on the barbie tonight, and I’ve heard this is a great place to watch the fireworks from. There’s a fire pit built into the deck. Let’s make a day of it, shall we?”
Really, she should have insisted on going home.
But Allie was not strong enough to pull away from the circle of warmth she found herself in.
And so she sat on a lounger, with a crisp glass of white wine in her hand, watching as Sam and Bill, now shirtless and shoeless, threw a football back and forth on the beach.
Their voices floated up to the women: masculine, laced with laughter. Were they showing off just a bit, just as they had been when they won the teddy bears?
“Ah,” Kathy said, watching them, “I can’t tell you how good this moment is for my heart. I wondered if either of them would ever let themselves have moments like this again.”
“It’s been a terrible blow to all of you,” Allie said. She looked over at Kathy. She saw a tear sliding down her face as Bill leaped high in the air to catch a ball Sam had deliberately made nearly impossible to catch.
“Life is beautiful, isn’t it?” Kathy asked softly. “And sad, and hard and heartbreaking. And then, beautiful all over again.”
Allie suddenly saw her own life in a different light, and realized how true Kathy’s words were.
The talk between them turned lighter, a universal language between women. They discussed the latest book of an Australian author they both liked, and movies they had enjoyed, which actors made them swoon.
The children woke up, and the guys took them swimming, and Kathy and Allie got salads ready, and finally, as it got dark, put shrimp on the barbecue.
After a fabulous grilled dinner, they took lawn chairs onto the beach, joining the crowds of people there. Somehow, Sam was beside Allie, and they oohed and ahhed as much as the children. She could feel him there, a scent coming off his sun-warmed skin, his presence making the warm evening and the explosions of light, the effect doubled as they reflected in black water, absolutely and utterly enchanting.
At the first explosion, Popsy came out from under Sam’s chair and leaped on Allie’s lap. She watched Sam’s hand play in the dog’s fur, and felt a tickle of desire, completely inappropriate for such a family-friendly event.
After, they retreated to the deck of the rental, with its built-in fire pit. Allie felt as if everything was fading, save Sam and her awareness of him.
The way he looked, the way he laughed, the way he was in the world. He teased the kids, talked to his brother-in-law, tickled the dog’s ears, looked after the fire, supervised Cody, who had discovered the delight of swirling a red-tipped stick, fresh from the fire, against the night sky.
Each of those small things spoke to who he was: so strong, so sure of himself, so able to be himself in the world, whether he was aware of that or not.
She watched as he knelt beside Cody, whispered in his ear, hugged him briefly and tightly against his chest.
This is a good man, Allie found herself thinking. The feeling she had for him was so strong, she felt that desire, once again, to leave, to run away, to hide.
To protect herself from something that had hurt her before and could hurt her again. Looking back on the whole day, it filled her with a sense of longing.
Yearning.
She had a little war going on with herself. She needed to leave. She needed to stay. She needed to be cautious. She needed to be bold.
Kathy brought out a guitar. “This was in the unit,” she said. “Does anybody play?”