Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey (7 page)

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay away from her, if
that’s the way you feel.”

“Please, go ahead. I want to see this new
friendship
thing,” Sam insisted.

“Fine,” Peter said, closing the drawer a
little too hard.

“I’m glad you’re rid of Bianca. Maybe now
you’ll find someone worthwhile.”

“Maybe I will, if you’ll stop looking over
my shoulder.”

* * * *

An attractive, slightly older woman was
waiting for Sam when he came out of Jim Caterson’s house after
visiting with Lara.

“Dr. Caldwell, can I speak to you for a
moment about Lara Stewart?”

Sam Caldwell, a widower for the past seven
years, was six feet one inch tall, slim, athletic build, with
thick, stone-gray hair and keen, bright blue eyes, like both his
sons. At age sixty-four, Sam found his face, browned from the sun
and wrinkled from years of smiles, didn’t seem to turn off the
ladies around his age. On the contrary, he had no trouble getting
dates.

“Sure…and you are?” Sam stooped a little to
be more level with the woman speaking to him.

“Dr. Patricia Weiss. I’m working with Lara
Stewart.”

Dr. Weiss was a short, slender woman about
sixty years old with auburn hair, green eyes and perfect ivory
skin.

With a quick glance, Sam spied the absence
of a wedding band. He always checked the ring finger first with
attractive women.

“Would you like to have our discussion over
a cup of coffee?”

Dr. Weiss’s gaze traveled up to his face.
“Good idea. There’s a diner not far from here, Cozy Corner. We can
walk if you want.”

“Great, I need the exercise,” he said.

They settled into a corner booth where they
could speak privately. Sam ordered coffee and fruit salad. Dr.
Weiss did the same.

“You’re treating Lara?” he began, stirring a
little sugar into his coffee.

“She needs help to recover from the attack.
The university, actually your son, Mac, called me in to work with
her.”

“Leave it to Mac. Yes, she needs help, a lot
of help.”

“Your friendship means a great deal to her.
I hope it isn’t too much of a responsibility for you.” Dr. Weiss
poured milk into her coffee.

“I enjoy my time with Lara,” Sam said,
spearing a piece of melon with his fork.

“You remind her of her father. She had a
close relationship with him.”

“Is there anything specific you want me to
do while I’m with her?”

“You’re doing fine. She’s been seriously
traumatized. It will take her some time to recover from the fear.
Of course the blindness doesn’t help. If she could see, then she’d
recover faster,” Dr. Weiss said, spooning a grape into her
mouth.

“When will the blindness go away?”

“I don’t know. Positive relationships help,”
she explained.

“Not happening at home.” Sam added extra
milk to his coffee

“What do you mean?”

“Her future aunt, Fran, is hostile to the
girl. Peter and I have overheard unpleasant conversations between
Lara and Fran. Fran would like Lara out as soon as possible.”

“Fran tries to hide it, but I see. You’re
right, it’s not good for Lara.”

“Why doesn’t her uncle get rid of Fran?”

“I don’t know. It’s not my place to
interfere, even though it does have a negative impact on Lara.” She
popped a grape into her mouth.

“Too bad.” Sam signaled the waitress for
refills of their coffee.

“Who is Peter?” Dr. Weiss nodded at the
waitress when she brought the coffee pot to her cup.

“He’s my other son. He and Lara have become
friends.”

“Wonderful! How old is Peter?”

“He’s thirty-four. To be frank, doctor, I
believe Peter would like to take their friendship to the next
level, if you get my drift.”

“Please call me Pat. How does Lara feel
about that?” Pat bit into a grapefruit section.

“Can’t say. Seems a bit soon. I advised my
son to wait. What do you think?”

“Good advice. She mentioned a man friend. I
didn’t know who she was talking about. Now I know. You and Peter
can make a big difference in her recovery, Dr. Caldwell.”

“Sam, please. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Could I call you from time to time to
discuss Lara’s progress?”

“Of course. She has a lot of spunk.”

“She’s survived major traumas before. I
think she can come out of this and have a normal life.”

They finished their food and Sam raised his
hand to the waitress for the check. When she brought it over, Sam
took the bill.

“Please, let me take it,” Pat said. “I
approached you.”

“Nonsense! I asked you to join me for
coffee.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning a little
pink.

They walked out of the diner and back to Jim
Caterson’s house.

Sam turned to face her. “Would you like to
have dinner with me this Friday night?”

Pat got visibly flustered. She gazed at Sam
then at her hands and blushed bright red.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Where do you live?”

They exchanged addresses and phone numbers
and agreed on a time. Then Pat got in her car and drove away. Sam
grinned. He hadn’t been in Willow Falls more than two weeks and he
already met a woman he liked.
Pete’s not the only ladies man in
our family.

Sam dated in South Africa, but it was hard
to find attractive, interesting women around his age. He’d had a
few affairs after Ellen died. Still quite interested in sex, he
thought a lively and fulfilling sex life, like he’d had with Ellen,
was a thing of the past. Maybe he was wrong. He had found himself
staring at Pat’s lovely pink lips during their conversation,
wondering what it would feel like to kiss her. Perhaps he’d find
out Friday. Now he needed a restaurant to take her to and figure
out how to dress appropriately in this town. He’d have to call
Mac.

* * * *

“You have a date? With a woman?” Mac asked,
putting down the papers in his hand and training his full attention
on the phone conversation.

“This isn’t my first date since your mother
died. It’s a dinner date and I need a restaurant recommendation,”
Sam said.

“With who?”

“That’s my business.”

“Not if you want a restaurant recommendation
from me. You’re going to have to come clean,” Mac said. He’d picked
up techniques for worming information out of people from
Callie.

“That’s blackmail!” Sam stopped short.

“So?” Mac said, trying to sound cooler than
he felt.

“It’s Pat Weiss, Dr. Weiss?”

“I know her, I know her. You’re going out
with Pat Weiss?”

“That’s what I said. Now, give me the name
of the restaurant.”

“It’s La Côte d’Or, run by Pierre and Edie
Balmain, a nice couple. Danny took Eliza there…and now they’re
married with a kid…”

“Very funny. I’m not getting married, only
having dinner.”

Mac could hear paper rustling, and figured
Sam was scribbling the name on a piece of paper. His father was an
organized man.

“Cut me some slack, Dad. This is the first
time…you dating…it’s weird.” Mac sat back in his big, leather
chair.

“Look, I’m still a man, as well as a father
and a grandfather, so get over it.”

“Still a man? What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means, Mac? You’re not
stupid, figure it out,” Sam said, and hung up the phone.

* * * *

Sam got lost picking up Pat, but ended up
being only a few minutes late. Pat lived in the posh Linden Lake
section of Willow Falls.

“This is a beautiful neighborhood. Live here
long?”

“My husband insisted we live here and I’ve
grown used to it, though it is far from the University.”

Under Pat’s directions, Sam made it to the
restaurant without getting lost a second time and pulled into the
ample parking lot.

La Côte d’Or was in an old Victorian house.
What had once been the living room, parlor and library were now
intimate, cozy dining rooms. Creamy beige walls, brightened by
white trim, indirect lighting and lots of candles created an
elegant and romantic atmosphere. The tables had beige tablecloths
and napkins, real silver, good crystal and small vases of pink and
white flowers.

The atmosphere impressed Sam.
Hope the
food is good.
They were seated at a table in front of a tall
window. Sam ordered a bottle of wine.

“Are you divorced?” Sam asked, taking a sip
of his chardonnay.

“I lost my husband three years ago. He was
an attorney.”

“I’m sorry. Not a long time. My Ellen’s been
gone seven years now. She was a musician, a pianist. Quite
accomplished, actually. Do you have children?”

“I have a son living in California. He has a
son, Bobby.”

“That’s far away…do you go out to visit
much?” Sam gave the waiter their order.

“Not much. I have patients here who need
me.”

“You must miss Bobby.”

“I do. I’ve been trying to get them to come
here. They live in San Francisco. I promise them a country winter
holiday…with snow, sledding and snowmen every year, but they
haven’t made it yet.”

“Have you dated much?” Sam said, refilling
their wine glasses.

“I have to confess, you are my first date
since Elliott passed away,” Pat said, her cheeks flushing
slightly.

“Really?” Sam said, raising his
eyebrows.

“Things are so different these days.”

“Maybe not so different for those of us who
are a little older.”

“I don’t have a biological clock ticking
anymore. I have different needs now, as do you, I’d guess.”

“A man’s needs rarely change,” Sam said,
chuckling.

“Sam!” Pat said, blushing and laughing.

“Companionship. Men are still looking for
companionship.”

“I’m not naïve, Sam. It’s not exactly
companionship causing lover’s lane to be so crowded these days,”
she said, her eyes twinkling.

Sam took her hand and she smiled.

“A man of my age should have different
expectations of me than of a much younger woman.” Pat stabbed a
piece of boeuf bourguignon with her fork.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked in between
bites of his chicken cordon bleu.

“Well, at sixty, the body isn’t the same as
it was at thirty,” she said, lowering her gaze.

“Firm bodies are great but so are sharp
minds, a sense of humor and affection. The same is true of men.
What was once part of my chest seems to have traveled south. But
love and sex at this age aren’t as much about body type as about
other things,” Sam explained, taking a sip of wine.

“Like what? I never heard of a man wanting
to sleep with a woman because she had a good personality,” Pat
said, choking back a laugh.

“True. Having things in common can be an
aphrodisiac. Although looks don’t hurt,” Sam said, smiling at his
pretty companion.

“I’m glad to hear that. I dropped the word
‘firm’ from my vocabulary over the past ten years,” Pat said,
laughing.

After the meal was over, Sam brought Pat
home.

“Next Saturday, they’re having a Cary Grant
festival at the university. Would you like to go with me?”

“What fun! I’d love to go. What’s
playing?”

“
Only Angels Have Wings
and
Mr.
Lucky
. Not his best or even my favorites, but I’d be happy to
see either one. Your choice.”

“Let’s see
Mr. Lucky
, he’s sexier in
that one,” Pat suggested. “What is your favorite Cary Grant movie?”
she asked.

“I like
Bringing Up Baby
. It’s funny
and has Katharine Hepburn too. Do you have a favorite?” Sam asked
her.

“I love his lesser known one,
Holiday
, also with Katharine Hepburn.”

“I’ll check on the time. Would you like to
grab dinner first?”

“Delightful,” she said, putting her hand on
his arm.

“I’ll call you with the time. Goodnight,” he
said.

“Goodnight. Thank you for a lovely evening,”
Pat said.

Before he turned to leave she got up on
tiptoes to kiss him. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her
again, with more finesse, slowly parting her lips and gently
probing her mouth with his tongue. She gasped, so he backed off,
stepping back from her. Pat’s wide-eyed stare made her look like a
deer in the headlights.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rushing you,
but that kiss…”

“I know. I started it. This is all so new to
me…I hope you’ll be patient with me. I don’t know what I’m doing,”
she confessed, heat evident in her cheeks.

He smiled at her. “You’re worth waiting for,
Patsy,” he said affectionately.

“No one has called me that since I was
twelve!” she said, laughing.

“Is it okay?”

“It’s fine…more than fine,” she said,
smiling.

“Goodnight,” Sam said, kissing her hand and
returning to his car.

Sam kicked himself all the way home.
Here
I criticize Peter and look what I did. I rushed her! Like a bull in
a china shop, I came charging in.
He liked her honesty and her
sense of humor…her kisses and her breasts were pretty terrific.
Knowing she liked Cary Grant pleased him, although Sam suspected
all women over a certain age had a “thing” for Cary Grant.

When he returned home, Peter was up.

“How was your date, Dad?” Peter asked,
turning his attention away from the television news.

“Fine.”

“Did you score?” Peter teased, his eyes
twinkling.

“If you were any smaller I’d slap your face
for asking me that,” Sam said, taking off his sports jacket.

“Why?” Peter said, feigning ignorance, his
eyes wide.

“If you don’t know what’s an appropriate
question for your father, then I haven’t done a very good job
raising you,” Sam said, angry and embarrassed.

“Can’t you take a joke? You’re becoming a
prude.”