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“Don’t give me a hard time. You can’t blame me for wondering. I’ve been trying to talk you into settling down forever. But maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. It looks like you might have already found someone.”
“Slow down, sis. Samantha is my neighbor. And since she’s a single mom, I thought she deserved a night out. We’re just friends.”
“She’s not pregnant with your baby?”
“Nope. ‘Fraid not.”
He could hear the disappointment in her sigh, and he decided to set her straight. “If the woman I got involved with was expecting my baby, my family would definitely know about it.”
“I guess you’re right. But you can be so secretive at times.”
“Relax. Samantha’s a nice woman. But no, we’re not involved.”
“I’m actually sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Recently, Hector’s parents had joined his sister in pressuring him to remarry, to start a family and to enjoy the fruits of his labor. According to his brother, Diego, they were proud of him and his Horatio Alger success, but they were worried about him and his nonexistent social life.
He’d tried to explain to them that a woman and kids didn’t fit into his life, which was why his first marriage didn’t last.
“Samantha is a beautiful woman,” Yolanda said. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in her?”
A bit too much, he realized. “Come on, sis. She’s pregnant.”
“I guess that means you’re not attracted to expectant mothers, and I can see why you wouldn’t be. I was looking in the mirror one morning and realized I was as getting to be as wide as I am tall. I started to cry—I do a lot of that these days—but Chad was such a sweetheart. He told me he loved me and said that I was more appealing to him now than ever before. He seemed sincere, so I sure hope he meant it.”
“He did mean it,” Hector said. “I can’t imagine how exciting it must be for him to know that a baby was created out of your love for each other. And looking at you, seeing that the baby is growing and getting ready for birth, has to be a real thrill for him.”
“Thanks, Hector. I needed to hear that.” She paused for a moment, as if taking it all in. “So I guess that means Samantha’s pregnancy is a turnoff to you since it’s not your baby.”
It certainly should have been, but for some reason, it wasn’t, and he had no idea why. But since he didn’t understand it himself, he certainly couldn’t explain it to someone else. So he decided to change the subject. “Hey, I’ve got a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Even though Samantha and I aren’t dating, do you still plan to give her a call?”
“I told her I would. And she seems like a nice person. Do you have a problem with us having lunch together?”
“No, not at all. I think it would be nice if you did. Her mother died recently, so she’s pretty much alone.”
“What about the baby’s father?” she asked.
“He’s out of the picture—completely.”
“And so you’re looking out for her?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Hmm. Now, that’s really interesting, Hector.”
He blew out a sigh. “Stop trying to read things into this.”
“Okay, I won’t. But don’t you wish you had someone in your life again? Someone to come home to?”
“Not if she’s like Patrice.”
“You see similarities between Samantha and your ex-wife?”
Actually? Not a single one. But if he gave his sister any idea that he was interested in Samantha—well, he wasn’t; he couldn’t be. So he couldn’t let Yolanda jump on an idea like that, or he’d never hear the end of it. And neither would Samantha, if the two women did end up having lunch together.
“So you’re glad to be footloose and single?” his sister asked.
“Of course.” He scanned his living room, which was cluttered with this morning’s newspaper, a copy of Golf Digest, an empty beer bottle he’d forgotten to take to the kitchen a couple of days ago, a golf scorecard he was rather proud of.
If Patrice were here, she’d be bitching about how messy he was. Not that he didn’t like a clean house; he wasn’t a slob. If he spilled something, he mopped it up. And he never let the trash pile up until things smelled rotten.
He just didn’t always pick up after himself. But he had a maid come in once a week, and she did the things he didn’t have the time or the inclination to do.
And she never complained.
“You don’t miss having a wife?” Yolanda asked.
“Why would I? I take my dirty clothes to the laundry, and my shirts come back starched the way I like them. I eat at my favorite restaurants, and for the most part, my house is clean. It’s easier that way.”
“But you’re also missing out on love and companionship.”
“I’m happy,” he told his sister. “You’ve never heard me complain.”
But he had to admit, at least to himself, that it wasn’t all that fun coming home to a dark, empty house.
Or sleeping alone in a king-size bed.
Odd, he thought. Before Samantha moved back home, he hadn’t given either much thought.
Chapter Four
The next morning, as Hector walked out to get the morning newspaper, he noticed quite a few of the neighbors had taken their recycling bins and their rubbish to the curb, which was a reminder that it was trash day.
Samantha hadn’t yet taken out hers, either. And the truck always came early.
Maybe she’d overslept. Or maybe she’d completely forgotten it was Thursday.
Hector hated to think of her struggling with the bins and cans, especially in her condition. So even though he’d made up his mind to put a little distance between them from now on, he would offer to take her garbage out to the street for her.
He carried the newspaper with him, strode to her stoop and rang the bell. When the door swung open, he braced himself to see her wearing a robe, her hair tousled from sleep. But she was dressed for the day in a pair of black slacks and a light green blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which made her look a bit younger than she had last night. A bit more vulnerable—and sad.
“Did you forget what day it is?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed. “No, I haven’t forgotten. But how did you know?”
“Because everyone else has already carried their garbage to the curb. I was just about to drag mine out and thought I’d offer to take yours, too.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice a gentle wisp. “You mean, it’s trash day.”
“What did you think I was talking about?”
“It’s.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, today was my mom’s birthday.”
Oh, crap. No wonder she seemed so down. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I guess this is going to be a tough day for you.”
“I don’t want it to be, so I’m going to drive out to the cemetery for a while this morning.” She gave a little shrug and went on to explain. “It seems like the right thing to do. Then I’m going to go shopping. I’d like to buy some wallpaper for the nursery, which will give me something else to think about for the rest of the day.”
In spite of his resolve to distance himself, he just couldn’t do it. Not today. Not when she would be thinking about her mother and realizing how alone she was. But her plan to focus on the baby, on the future, was a good one. In fact, he suspected that had been her reason for getting pregnant in the first place. She probably wanted to re-create a family for herself.
“My sister chose a jungle theme for her nursery,” he said, wanting to keep her mind on the baby instead of her mom. “You ought to see it. She and Chad had a lot of fun setting up everything.”
Great, he thought. He’d just tossed out a reminder that she didn’t have a husband, either.
“I’ll bet it’s really cute. I’m not sure what kind of theme I’d like. I’ve still got a lot of time to decide.”
He couldn’t help glancing at her belly, noting the size of the mound. She seemed to be even bigger today than she had been last night, although that was probably only a result of the clothing she’d chosen to wear. But still, he doubted that she had as much time to prepare for the baby as she thought she did—probably only a couple of months or so.
“If I find some prints that I like, I’ll probably bring them home and think about it. Maybe you can help me decide which one to use.”
Picking out baby stuff was the last thing he wanted to do, but under the circumstances, how could he tell her no? “Sure, I’ll do that. It sounds like fun.”
Fun? How lame was that comment? Hector wasn’t into shopping, unless it was at Home Depot. He could hang out there all day. But looking for wallpaper with baby ducks and chickens? It would be pure torture.
“You could go with me,” she said, “if you want.”
Shopping? No way. He could still remember the time Patrice had dragged him to the mall to look for living-room furniture. It had been a pain in the butt, and they’d had a big fight that had landed him on the sofa for two nights.
He forced a smile. “I would, but it’s a work day.”
“Oh, yeah.” She smiled wistfully. “I forgot.”
Probably because her late husband was so wealthy he hadn’t needed to work. It was a good reminder of the different lives they lived, the little they had in common.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to show me some samples,” he said. “I’ll be home after five tonight.”
She nodded and offered him a smile that made him feel like some kind of hero, when he felt like everything but.
So he nodded toward the road. “If you’ll open your garage, I’ll carry your trash to the curb.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that now.”
Samantha went back into the house, and before long, the garage-door opener sounded. Moments later, she was showing him where she kept the recycle bins.
“The trash cans are on the side of the house,” she said. “But there’s just one, and it’s only half-full.”
He noticed a large number of boxes that had been lined along the east wall of the garage. Each was marked Salvation Army. “I see you’re recycling clothes and things, too.”
“Those were Peter’s. I decided it was time to get rid of them. I’d like to see someone else get some use out of them.”
The guy had always been impeccably dressed, so someone looking for secondhand clothing was going to get a heck of a bargain.
Still, he was happy to see she’d cleaned out the closets. That had to be a sign that she’d moved on.
Or maybe she was only trying to get over her husband and start anew. Maybe moving on was more of an effort than a reality.
He stole another glance at Samantha, saw her willowy shape, as well as a whisper of sadness in her eyes. Again he was struck by her beauty and the waiflike aura that seemed to envelop her, and something tugged at his heartstrings. She was expecting a baby and didn’t have the support of either a husband or a mother, like Yolanda had.
So he would do whatever he could to make things easier for her, especially until the baby was born. At that point, her life would be full of wonder and awe, rather than grief and loneliness. Then he would back off.
“Well,” he said, “I really ought to get moving. I’ve got a meeting first thing.”
“Thanks for all your help, Hector. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” He carried her trash and recyclables to the curb, then returned home and got ready to head to the office.
Life was short and unpredictable, he supposed. People divorced, spouses died and loved ones struggled to carry on.
Maybe Yolanda had been right. Maybe he needed to find a nice woman and settle down. But he had no idea where to look—or when he’d find time to do so.
A car engine started up, and Samantha backed her Jag out of the garage and into the street. Then she hit the remote to lower the door.
As she spotted Hector, she waved, and he gave her a nod.
No doubt she was a nice woman. And if a man got involved with her, he’d certainly have to settle down. After all, he’d soon have a little one underfoot.
But taking on a ready-made family?
Hector wasn’t up for the task, especially when it meant raising another man’s baby.
Samantha had decided to get the visit to her mother out of the way early, since she’d be thinking about it all day if she didn’t.
So after Hector came by and offered to take out her trash, she’d driven twenty-three miles to Hastings, where her mother had been born. Then she continued on to the little cemetery on the outskirts of town.
She parked and purchased a bouquet of pink roses from a vendor who sold flowers and pinwheels for people to place on grave sites. Then she made the short walk to the grassy knoll where her mother had been buried. Once she reached the familiar marble stone, with its carved cherubs, she took a seat on the lawn, which was still damp from the morning dew. There weren’t many people out and about yet—just two women bearing a container of red carnations and a lone man in front of a double-size headstone, a baseball cap in his hands and his head bowed.
Birds chattered in the treetops, and a family of ducks swam in the nearby pond, reminding Samantha that life went on.
She sat in pensive solitude for a while, basking in the loving memories she had of her mother.
She remembered the day they’d spent at the seashore when she was fourteen. The picnic lunch they’d eaten, their romp in the waves, the sandcastle they’d made. The chat they’d had about Samantha remaining a virgin until the right man came along, a man who would treat her with love and respect.
Several years later, while in her first year of college, she’d found that man in Peter Keating, a graduate student. He’d fallen for her quickly—and hard. With time and patience, he’d eventually convinced her that they were meant to be together.
