Right Next Door
“Just black, thanks.”
Robin normally drank hers the same way. But for some reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, she added a generous teaspoonful of sugar to her own, stirring briskly as though she feared it wouldn’t dissolve.
“I hope your trip went well,” she said, carrying both mugs into the family room, where Cole had chosen to sit.
“Very well.”
“Good.” She sat a safe distance from him, across the room in a wooden rocker, and balanced her mug on her knee. “Everything around here went without a hitch, but I’m afraid Jeff may have spoiled Blackie a bit.”
“From what he said, they did everything but attend school together.”
“Having the dog has been wonderful for him. I appreciate your giving Jeff this opportunity. Not only does it satisfy his need for a dog, but it’s taught him about responsibility.”
The front door opened and the canine subject of their conversation shot into the room, followed by Jeff, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Mom, could Mr. Camden stay and watch the movie with us?”
“Ah…” Caught off guard, Robin didn’t know what to say. After being away from home for several days, watching a movie with his neighbors probably held a low position on Cole’s list of priorities.
To Robin’s astonishment, Cole’s eyes searched hers as though seeking her approval.
“You’d be welcome…I mean, you can stay if you’d like, unless…unless there’s something else you’d rather do,” she stammered. “I mean, I’d…we’d like it if you did, but…” She let whatever else she might have said fade away. She was making a mess of this, and every time she tried to smooth it over, she only stuck her foot further down her throat.
“What movie did you rent?”
“We haven’t yet,” Jeff explained. “Mom and me had to come to an understanding first. She likes mushy stuff and gets all bent out of shape if there’s an explosion or anything. You wouldn’t believe the love story she made me watch last Friday night.” His voice dripped with renewed disgust.
“How about if you and I go rent the movie while your mother and Blackie make the popcorn?”
Jeff’s blue eyes brightened immediately. “That’d be great, wouldn’t it, Mom?”
“Sure,” she agreed, and was rewarded by Jeff’s smile.
Jeff and Cole left a few minutes later. It was on the tip of her tongue to give Cole instructions on the type of movie appropriate for a ten-year-old boy, but she swallowed her concerns, willing to trust his judgment. Standing on the porch, she watched as they climbed inside Cole’s expensive sports car. She pressed her hand to her throat, grateful when Cole leaned over the front seat and snapped Jeff’s seat belt snugly in place. Suddenly Cole looked at her; she raised her hand in farewell, and he did the same. It was a simple gesture, yet Robin felt as if they’d communicated so much more.
“Well, Lenny, what do you think?” Talking to her dead husband came without conscious thought. It certainly wasn’t that she expected him to answer. Whenever she spoke to him, the words came spontaneously from the deep well of love they’d once shared. She supposed she should feel foolish doing it, but so many times over the long years since his death she’d felt his presence. Robin assumed that the reason she talked to him came from her need to discuss things with the one other person who’d loved her son as much as she did. In the beginning she was sure she needed to visit a psychiatrist or arrange for grief counseling, but later she convinced herself that every widow went through this in one form or another.
“He’s grown so much in the past year, hasn’t he?” she asked, and smiled. “Meeting Cole has been good for Jeff. He lost a child, you know, and I suppose having Jeff move in next door answers a need for him, too.”
About ten minutes later, she’d transferred the popcorn to a bowl and set out drinks. Jeff and Cole came back with a movie that turned out to be an excellent compromise—a teen comedy that was surprisingly witty and entertaining.
Jeff sprawled on the carpet munching popcorn with Blackie by his side. Cole sat on the sofa and Robin chose the rocking chair. She removed her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. She was enjoying the movie; in fact, several times she found herself laughing out loud.
Cole and Jeff laughed, too. The sounds were contrasting—one deep and masculine, the other young and pleasantly boyish—yet they harmonized, blending with perfect naturalness.
Soon Robin found herself watching Jeff and Cole more than the movie. The two…no, the three of them had grown comfortable together. Robin didn’t try to read any significance into that. Doing so could prove emotionally dangerous, but the thought flew into her mind and refused to leave.
The credits were rolling when Cole pointed to Jeff, whose head was resting on his arms, his eyes closed.
“He’s asleep,” Cole said softly.
Robin smiled and nodded. She got up to bring the empty popcorn bowl into the kitchen. Cole stood, too, taking their glasses to the sink, then returned to the family room to remove the DVD.
“Do you want me to carry him upstairs for you?” he asked, glancing down at the slumbering Jeff.
“No,” she whispered. “When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll think you treated him like a little kid. Egos are fragile at ten.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
The silence seemed to resound. Without Jeff, awake and chattering, as a buffer between them, Robin felt clumsy and self-conscious around Cole.
“It was nice of you to stay,” she said, more to fill the silence than because she had anything important to communicate. “It meant a lot to Jeff.”
Jeff had told her Cole had an active social life. Heather Lawrence had confirmed it by casually letting it drop that Cole was often away on weekends. Robin wasn’t entirely sure what to think about it all. But if there was a woman in his life, that was his business, not hers.
“It meant a lot to me, too,” he said, returning the DVD to its case.
Robin’s fingers were shaking as she placed the bowls and soda glasses in the dishwasher. She tried to come up with some bright and witty comment, but her mind was blank.
“I should be going.”
Was that reluctance she heard in his voice? Somehow Robin doubted it; probably wishful thinking on her part. Half of her wanted to push him out the door and the other half didn’t want him to leave at all. But there really wasn’t any reason for him to stay. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Blackie.” Cole called for his dog. “It’s time to go.”
The Lab didn’t look pleased. He took his own sweet time lumbering to his feet and stretching before trotting to Cole’s side.
Robin was about to open the door when she realized she hadn’t thanked Cole for getting the movie. She turned, and his dark eyes delved into hers. Whatever thoughts had been taking shape fled like leaves scattering in the wind. She tried to smile, however weakly, but it was difficult when he was looking at her so intently. His gaze slipped to her mouth, and in a nervous movement, she moistened her lips. Before she was fully aware of how it had happened, Cole’s fingers were in her hair and he was urging her mouth to meet his.
His eyes held hers, as if he expected her to stop him, then they slowly closed and their lips touched. Robin’s eyes drifted shut, but that was the only response she made.
He kissed her again, even more gently than the first time. Robin moaned softly, not in protest, but in wonder and surprise. It had been so long since a man had kissed her like this. So long that she’d forgotten the wealth of sensations a mere kiss could evoke. Her hands crept to his chest, and her fingers curled into the soft wool of his sweater. Hesitantly, timidly, her lips trembled beneath his. Cole sighed and took full possession of her mouth.
Robin sighed, too. The tears that welled in her eyes were a shock. She was at a loss to explain them. They slipped down her face, and it wasn’t until then that she realized she was crying.
Cole must have felt her tears at the same moment, because he abruptly broke off the kiss and raised his head. His eyes searched hers as his thumb brushed the moisture from her cheek.
“Did I hurt you?” The question was whispered.
She shook her head vehemently.
“Then why…?”
“I don’t know.” She couldn’t explain something she didn’t understand herself. Rubbing her eyes, she attempted to wipe away the evidence. She forced a smile. “I’m nothing if not novel,” she said with brittle cheerfulness. “I don’t imagine many women break into tears when you kiss them.”
Cole looked as confused as Robin felt.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” She wanted to reassure him, but was having too much trouble analyzing her own reactions.
“No,” she said quietly. Adamantly. That was the last thing she wanted. “I’m sorry, Cole. I really am. This has never happened before and I don’t understand it either.”
“But…”
“The best thing we can do is chalk it up to a long workweek.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Probably, but I’d prefer to just forget it. Please?”
“Are you all right?”
“Emotionally or physically?” She tried to joke, but didn’t succeed.
“Both.”
He was so serious, so concerned, that it was all Robin could do not to dissolve into fresh tears. She’d made a world-class fool of herself with this man, not once but twice.
This man, who had suffered such a tremendous loss himself, was so gentle with her, and instead of helping, that only made matters worse. “I’m sorry, really I am,” she said raggedly, “but perhaps you should go home now.”
Four
“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Angela Lansky said as she sat on the edge of Robin’s desk early Monday afternoon.
“I certainly hope you’re going to say food,” Robin teased. They had shared the same lunch hour and were celebrating a cost-of-living raise by eating out.
“A shrimp salad,” Angela elaborated. “Heaped six inches high with big fresh shrimp.”
“I was thinking Chinese food myself,” Robin said, “but, now that you mention it, shrimp salad sounds good.” She opened her bottom drawer and took out her purse.
Angela was short and enviably thin with thick brown hair that fell in natural waves over her shoulders. She used clips to hold the abundant curls away from her face and looked closer to twenty than the thirty-five Robin knew her to be.