Shiver

Mom sounded excited. “Naomi Ett! You know, from my school.”

“I didn’t think you were that sort of girl,” Sam said. I thought he might be joking.

Mom continued, “She’s all married and everything now, and in town for just a little bit, so Dad and I are going to spend some time with her.”

I frowned at him. “I’m not. But with you, all bets are off.”

“So we won’t be back until late tonight,” Mom’s message concluded. “Remember there’s leftovers in the fridge, and of course, we have our phone if you need us.”

My leftovers. From the casserole I’d made.

Sam was staring at the phone as cell phone babe took up where Mom had left off. “To hear this message again, press one. To delete this message…”

I deleted it. Sam was still looking at the phone, his eyes sort of distant. I didn’t know what he was thinking. Maybe, like me, his head was full of a dozen different problems, all too amorphous and intangible to be solved.

I snapped the phone shut, and the sound seemed to break his spell. Sam’s eyes were suddenly intense on me. “Come away with me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“No, seriously. Let’s go somewhere. Can I take you somewhere, tonight? Someplace better than leftovers?”

I didn’t know what to say. I think maybe what I wanted to say was, Do you really think you have to even ask?

I watched him intently while Sam babbled on, words tumbling over each other in their hurry to get out. If I hadn’t scented the air at that moment, I probably wouldn’t have realized that anything was wrong. But coming off him in waves was the too-sweet scent of anxiety. Anxious about me? Anxious about something that had happened today? Anxious because he had heard the weather report?

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I just want to get out of town tonight. I want to just get away for a little bit. Mini vacation. A few hours in someone else’s life, you know? I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. And if you think that it’s not—”

“Sam,” I said. “Shut up.”

He shut up.

“Start driving.”

We started driving.

Sam got onto the interstate and we drove and drove until the sky grew pink above the trees and birds flying over the road were black silhouettes. It was cold enough that cars just getting onto the highway puffed visible white exhaust into the frosty air. Sam used one hand to drive and used the other to twine his fingers with mine. This was so much better than staying at home with a casserole.

By the time we got off the interstate, I had either gotten used to the smell of Sam’s anxiety, or he had calmed down, because the only odor in the car was his musky, wolf wood scent.

“So,” I said, and ran a finger over the back of his cool hand. “Where are we going, anyway?”

Sam glanced over at me, the dash lights illuminating his doleful smile. “There’s a wonderful candy shop in Duluth.”

It was incredibly cute that he’d driven us an hour just to go to a candy shop. Incredibly stupid, given the weather report, but incredibly cute nonetheless. “I’ve never been.”

“They have the most amazing caramel apples,” Sam promised. “And these gooey things, I don’t even know what they are. Probably a million calories. And hot chocolate—oh, man, Grace. It’s amazing.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was idiotically entranced by the way he said “Grace.” The tone of it. The way his lips formed the vowels. The timbre of his voice stuck in my head like music.

“I even wrote a song about their truffles,” he confessed.

That caught my attention. “I heard you playing the guitar for my mom. She told me it was a song about me. Why don’t you ever sing it for me?”

Sam shrugged.

I looked past him at the brilliantly illuminated city, every building and bridge lit bravely against the early winter darkness; we were heading downtown. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been there. “It would be very romantic. And add to your walking stereotype street cred.”

Sam didn’t look away from the road, but his lips curled up. I grinned, then looked away to watch our progress downtown. He didn’t even look at the road signs as he navigated his way down the evening streets. Streetlights striped light across the windshield and the white lines striped below us, marking time above and below.

Finally, he parallel parked and gestured to a warmly lit shop a few doors ahead of us. He turned to me. “Heaven.”

Together we got out of the car and jogged the distance. I didn’t know how cold it was, but my breath formed a shapeless cloud in front of me as I pushed open the glass door to the candy shop. Sam pushed into the warm yellow glow after me, arms clasped around himself. The bell was still dinging from our entrance when Sam came from behind me and pulled me to him, crushing his arms over my chest. He whispered in my ear, “Don’t look. Close your eyes and smell it. Really smell it. I know you can.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, feeling the heat of his body against me, and closed my eyes. My nose was inches away from the skin on his neck, and that was what I smelled. Earthy, wild, complex.

“Not me,” he said.

“It’s all I smell,” I murmured, opening my eyes to look up at him.

“Don’t be stubborn.” Sam turned me slightly, so that I was facing the center of the shop; I saw shelves of tinned cookies and candies and the glint of a glass candy counter beyond them. “Give in for once. It’s worth it.”

His sad eyes implored me to explore something I’d left untouched for years. Something more than untouched—something I’d buried alive. Buried when I had thought I was alone. Now I had Sam behind me, holding me tightly to his chest as if he held me upright, his breath blowing warm over my ear.

I closed my eyes, flared my nostrils, and let the scents flood in. The strongest of them, caramel and brown sugar, smell as yellow-orange as the sun, came first. That one was easy. The one that anyone would notice coming into the shop. And then chocolate, of course, the bitter dark and the sugary milk chocolate. I don’t think a normal girl would’ve smelled anything else, and part of me wanted to stop there. But I could feel Sam’s heart pounding behind me, and for once, I gave in.

Peppermint swirled into my nostrils, sharp as glass, then raspberry, almost too sweet, like too-ripe fruit. Apple, crisp and pure. Nuts, buttery, warm, earthy, like Sam. The subtle, mild scent of white chocolate. Oh, God, some sort of mocha, rich and dark and sinful. I sighed with pleasure, but there was more. The butter cookies on the shelves added a floury, comforting scent, and the lollipops, a riot of fruit scents too concentrated to be real. The salty bite of pretzels, the bright smell of lemon, the brittle edge of anise. Smells I didn’t even know names for. I groaned.