This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel) (23 page)

Taking on the theater restoration had been risky but it had become a passion, and she’d never really thought about not succeeding. She’d loved it so much, the idea that the project could fail had never seriously occurred to her. The idea that they could fail when they were
this close
was even more of a shock.

Lukas, on the other hand, had always been a risk. But there again, she thought love would be enough to see them through. She knew better than to get involved with him. But she had anyway and he’d broken her heart again.

Sam’s grandma answered the door of her apartment at Assisted Living with pink sponge rollers in her hair and wearing a pink fuzzy zip-up robe and orthopedic slippers.

“Why, hello, dear,” Effie said, immediately taking in the look on her face. “What is it? Did somebody die?”

“I know it’s late but can I come in and talk?” Sam took a big breath. “Lukas is leaving, Effie. He’s taking Stevie with him.”

“Oh.” Effie grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door. Then she led Sam to the couch and sat her down, taking a seat beside her.

It didn’t take long for Sam to spill tears and her story, just as she had so many times before when she was much younger and her problems weren’t nearly so tangled. Effie listened with the same endless patience she’d always had, rubbing her back and holding her hand like she was ten again. “He’s booked for months with a tour and a record contract and . . . I told him I wasn’t going to quit my job and follow him. I came this close to doing that for Harris. I can’t give up my identity for someone else. Even if it’s Lukas.”

Effie squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry, dear.”

“I love him, Ef. But I don’t think he’s capable of committing. And maybe I’m not capable of compromising.”

Effie frowned. “Do you love Lukas?”

“Yes! Of course I do. But he hasn’t said it. He can’t. It’s just not in him.” Well, she was right to expect nothing short of love, and he should want to say it, right?

“Life’s a game of chance and sometimes you’ve got to risk it all. I wish I had.”

“What do you mean?” What was she telling her? That she hadn’t given Lukas everything? Because she had. Hadn’t she?

“Samantha, I’m not as sweet as I seem. I’ve had my trials like everyone else. You know I was only thirty when your grandfather died. I was young and lonely and . . . eventually there was a man.”

“A nice man?”

“A very nice man.” She smiled a bit wistfully. “He worked at the bank and we dated. Secretly. I was so afraid not to expose your mother to any more trauma after your grandfather died. I didn’t want her to get attached to someone who might not be around.”

“I worry about that with Stevie all the time,” Sam said.

“Well, things happened as they did, seeing as Lukas and Stevie entered your life at practically the same time. But in my case, I went to great lengths to hide my relationship. My mother encouraged me to. Of course, she flaunted her own widowhood like a banner her entire life after my own father died when I was nineteen. She never was able to move forward.

“One day my friend got a promotion. He asked me to pick up and move with him to another city. I was terrified. Everything I knew was here. I was worried about uprooting your mother, of leaving my family and my support system.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?”

“No, but I bet he would have if I had compromised. He wanted to meet your mother, be a part of her life. He waited for me for a long time after he moved. But I always had some excuse or another. I was so afraid, and so guilty, as if loving somebody else would have desecrated your grandfather’s memory. Anyway, I was a fool.” She made a dismissive gesture.

“The point is, Samantha, sometimes you have to have the courage to go out of your comfort zone. I must admit, getting rid of that Harris was a good start. But don’t stop there, if you really love this man.”

“What happened to—er—your friend?”

“He married someone else and had a handful of children.”

“I’m sorry, Effie.”

“That’s okay.” She patted Sam’s hand in that gentle way of hers. “Just be braver than I was.”

“I think you’ve been plenty brave, raising us, working as a nurse for all those years.” Effie just shrugged in that humble way of hers, always hating to call attention to herself. She knew it had taken her a lot to tell that story. “The Buckhorns withdrew their donation. We’re
two
million short now, and if we don’t match the state funds we don’t get the grant. The caterer and the party planner Mrs. Buckhorn hired pulled out. The benefit tomorrow’s going to be a disaster.”

Effie shot her a look.

Tears welled up fresh. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” Effie asked in her innocent voice.

“Your I-didn’t-teach-you-to-ever-give-up look.”

This time, Effie’s eyes welled up. “You know me too well. You see, I don’t even have to speak anymore.”

Samantha wrapped her arms around her grandmother and squeezed. “I love you. You were a good mother to me.”

Effie hugged her back, her warm arms surrounding her tightly, the smell of Chantilly strong and old fashioned and familiar. “You’ve always been a sweet girl, and I love you with all my heart.” She patted her cheek. “But right now you have to find the strength to go save our theater. And as far as Lukas is concerned, remember, there’s no such thing as perfect anything. You make your own future out of the chaos life hands you. Life is a giant slot machine, and honey, God only gives you so many pulls.”

CHAPTER 19

“I hate you, I hate you, I
hate
you!” Stevie stomped his feet and planted them in the middle of the front aisle of the grocery store. Thank God it was Friday afternoon before rush hour and not too many people were around.

“Stavros! Geez, cut that out!” Lukas said. They’d just walked in. Actually, it was not really walking. It was more like something out of a cartoon, with Lukas trying to tug Stevie into the grocery store and Stevie putting the brakes on, and they were getting a thousand dirty looks.

“I’m not going. I wanna stay here.”
Here
was the entrance to the store, but Lukas knew what he meant. He wanted to stay in Mirror Lake. How the hell was he supposed to tell this kid that everything he’d come to love would now be taken away? He’d screwed up everything in a big way. More proof that he wasn’t cut out for relationships of any kind.

Yet who else did Stevie have? No one. Just Lukas. So Lukas released him and dropped down to Stevie’s level. “I know you do.”

Stevie turned big watery eyes on him, making him feel even more like shit. “Then why can’t we stay? I miss Sammy. Why didn’t she come over last night, Uncle Lukas?”

They hadn’t seen her for two days, but if felt like two years. “She’s just . . . very busy. She said for us to stop by the theater before we leave.” The big theater benefit was tomorrow. The bus was already packed. They were about to head out today for the Stones’ concert tomorrow.

“I miss Sammy.”

Yeah, kid, tell me about it.
“Look, Stevie . . .”

“Are
you
going to leave me?”

Lukas pulled him into a hug that was probably a little too tight. “Never, Stevie. Never. I love you and love is forever. It’s just that I have this job, and the job is telling me we’ve got to go back on the road.”

Love is forever
. Geez, did he just say that? He couldn’t even take his own advice.

“Tell the job no.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

“I have friends. And Sam’s like my mom and you’re like my dad.”

“Look, we’ll be able to come back after the tour. Besides, you like the bus, don’t you? We’ll see fun places and get McDonald’s and you get to have a top bunk.”

He could tell from Stevie’s expression that he wasn’t buying it. And he just couldn’t tell him the whole truth, that Sam and he had broken up and that they weren’t coming back to Mirror Lake for a long time. “Right now we just need to go into the store and grab a couple groceries. Okay?”

Just then, a nicotine craving hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d reached the end of his rope. He had to have a cigarette. One or two or twenty, if he could just survive this.

At least no one was hounding him for a picture, or taking one of Stevie tantruming. As if reading his mind, Gertie, the owner, who was manning the central register, pulled out her iPhone and pointed it his way.

“Don’t you dare,” Lukas said. “Or I’ll tell everyone that you and Hank Masterson used to get it on after hours behind the vegetable displays.”

“Sorry, Lukas, old news.” She waggled her left hand so he could see her diamond ring. “We’ve been married for three years.”

“Come on, Gertie. Give me a break. I’ve just got to get a couple things for dinner.”

She put down her phone and sighed. “Oh, all right. Being as you were a decent bag boy way back when, I’ll have mercy on you.” She walked over to Stevie, putting on her glasses, which dangled from a bejeweled neck strap.

“Hey, Stavros,” the buxom gray-haired woman said, stooping down and looking at Stevie through her bifocals.

Stevie stood sullen and red faced, with arms crossed. Royally pissed.

“This grocery store always brings out the worst in babies and children. How about we get some ice cream while your Uncle Lukas gets what he needs.”

“No.” He gave Gertie, who wore a brightly colored flowered smock, a look like
who the heck is this lady
?

“A chip off the old block, huh, Lukas.” Gertie chuckled. “Rebel Mini-Me. Okay, I hate to pull out the big guns, but I’ve got ice-cream cake. Chocolate and vanilla, with a chocolate cake layer in between. What do you say?”

Stevie’s eyes softened even if his posture didn’t. Gertie must have seen it, too, because she winked at Lukas. Steering Stevie by the shoulders to her office in front of the store, she tossed Lukas a wave. “Take your time. See you after checkout.”

Lukas mouthed
thank you
and wiped his forehead. God, this parent stuff was tough. Stevie would probably eat no dinner at all after being bribed with the slice of ice-cream cake but he didn’t even care. He was grateful for the breather to get some sanity back. At the entrance, he grabbed a shopping basket from the stack but on impulse, got in the twelve-items-or-less line and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Then he headed to the back of the store and out the storeroom entrance, which he knew well from his bag-boy days. In the alley behind the store, he sat on an old metal folding chair—probably the same one from years ago—and lit up. He watched in fascination as the cigarette ignited and started to burn. Watched the gray ash form and build and flare as if he’d never seen it before. But for some reason, he didn’t put it to his lips.

Of course he loved Sam. She was the only woman he’d ever loved but he was so, so afraid. What did he know about love? About caring for another person? About sticking with that person through thick and thin? Everyone from his youth had let him down. He’d been rejected over and over by family after family, the kid no one wanted.

Maybe Sam was right. A part of him still saw himself as that unlovable, unadoptable kid. Too flawed to be loved. So he kept driving himself and driving himself. No matter how much success he found, it would never be enough.

He flicked the ash off the cigarette. Finally, in a gesture borne more of despair than of triumph, he tossed the cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.

“Excellent choice,
paidi mou.
You don’t need those filthy things anyway.”

“Jesus!” He turned to see Mrs. Panagakos standing in the storeroom doorway, dressed all in black—black hose, black dress, and a little black veil.

“You need a shave,” she said. “No foul language in front of the boy.”

“What boy?”

Stevie peeked out from behind Mrs. P. He had chocolate all over his face. And his mood looked considerably improved, thank the Lord. Gertie was there, too. Did anyone in this town mind their own business?

“Stevie has something to tell you,” Mrs. Panagakos said, “so we came and found you.”

“How did you even know we were here?” Lukas asked. “And why are you dressed like that?”

“It’s hard to miss that big bus of yours in the parking lot. I wear black when I’m depressed. I’m very saddened by the recent turn of events with you and Samantha. And I will miss you and Stavros terribly.” She started to choke up. “But right now, Stevie wants to tell you something. Go ahead, my precious.” She nudged Stevie forward. “Tell him what you just told me.”

“Uncle Lukas, I love you because you taught me to swim. And you tuck me in at night. And you sing to me and do cool magic tricks. But I love Sammy, too.”

Lukas looked down at his boy. He touched his soft smeared little-boy cheek. Everything he’d done for Stevie from the moment he’d eyeballed him sitting by himself on the steps of Lukas’s bus while the social worker told his story had been to prevent that little child from experiencing even an ounce more of pain. Not for any reason other than he loved him.

And Stevie loved Lukas . . . just because he did simple things for him. Not because he was famous or successful. Stevie didn’t care about his recording contracts or who the Rolling Stones were (although one day he probably would). And maybe that was enough.

Maybe he wasn’t a typical guy in a lot of ways—he’d grown up without a family or a fancy education, and his job was atypical. But he was sick without Sam and so was Stevie. Maybe chasing after success twenty-four seven was not the only way to ensure that he had a good life.

He loved her and maybe that would be enough to get him through all the things he didn’t know, that he had no clue or experience about.

He looked up and saw Mrs. Panagakos clutching her heart. Gertie was right behind her.

“Did you feed him that script?” Lukas raised a brow.

“I swear on my mother’s Bible that those words came out of his very own mouth.”

“Sure did,” seconded Gertie.

Lukas often thought he was alone in the world but maybe he wasn’t. The people here helped him for a reason—not because they wanted something from him but because they were good people who were trying to prevent him from screwing up. Whether they were scheming and conniving or not.

“What time is it, anyway?” Lukas asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Four o’clock,” Mrs. P. said.

“Think we can get to the tux shop before it closes?”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” Mrs. P. said, sighing heavily. “Now I can change out of this black. It’s not flattering on me at all.”

“What’s a tux?” Stevie asked.

Lukas grinned. “Something Sammy’s going to love.”

“Hey, Ms. Rushford,” Cal said, making his way through the massive theater lobby, which was teeming with people on one very busy Saturday night. Cal wore black pants and a white dress shirt with a black bow tie and carried a bottle of wine. At his elbow, Leo appeared holding a tray over one shoulder loaded with clear plastic drink cups half-full of wine.

“I know the wine glasses never made it but we sent Denise and Katie to Sam’s Club and found these. Not bad, huh?” Cal picked up one of the fat little drink cups and examined it.

She was about to tell them she wasn’t sure if eighteen year olds were allowed to serve wine. And warn them not to get plastered. And ten other admonitions that wavered on the tip of her tongue. But something held her back. It was the look in their eyes. They looked . . . proud. Concerned—for her. And they were smiling. Cal cleared his throat.

“We want you to know everything’s under control, see? Mr. Rushford brought in all the hors d’oeuvres and showed us how to carry them and the student band is setting up in the corner and . . . and everything’s going to be just great.”

She didn’t usually touch students but she grasped each one by the arm. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

“We’re going to make this work,” Leo said.

“We
are
making it work,” Teddy Lawrence said, carrying a tray of cake balls. He gave Sam a side hug and lightly smacked Cal’s wrist for sneaking one. “Hey, no eating the cake balls, you hear? I swear, these kids don’t realize they’re handling artwork.” He shot Cal a look.

“Just two, okay?” Cal said. “They were delicious. I couldn’t help it.”

“Teddy,” Sam said. “Thank you.” She looked around the lobby, which was built to look like a grand palatial entrance, with soaring ceilings and ornate walls decorated with intricate plaster designs painted blue, clay-colored, green, and yellow. Her students had draped lengths of silver tulle over the bannister of the grand staircase, hung shimmering cardboard stars on the walls, and had even hung them around the necks of some of the fancy marble statues.

The finishing touch was a giant hanging mobile of stars and planets suspended from the ceiling. “How did you—”

“Mr. Wolensky did it,” Cal said.

“Wow. It’s fabulous.” She waved to more of her students, who were serving the hors d’oeuvres from Brad’s restaurant, and a large crowd was milling about enjoying the grand lobby and having a great time.

“We sold every ticket,” Effie said proudly. “All thirty-five hundred seats are filled.”

“Impressive,” Sam said. Of course, they were still short the last two million bucks to get the matching state funds. She could only pray that some wealthy donors would come forward tonight to make up the difference. But if not, she would find some way to get that money—write grants, politick, send letters, go door-to-door. They’d come this far, and she was not going to let her town down. Everyone she knew was here, helping out. Giving her their all. Her wonderful students, family, and friends. No matter how broken her heart was, she would smile until her jaw was numb and give them her all.

“Have you been to the restroom yet?” Effie asked.

“No, wh—oh. You saw your portrait. How’s it look?”

“Well, you didn’t make me look younger but I must say, it’s quite lovely. I’ve been standing by it telling everyone how talented my granddaughter is. I’m very proud of you, Samantha.”

Sam hugged her grandmother. “I learned from the best.”

Jess cruised by. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I am. How can I not be when everyone’s been so wonderful?”

“I’m sorry about Lukas.” Jess gave her a squeeze.

“Me too.”

“Maybe you two can still work it out.”

Sam shrugged. “He left. But thanks.”

Evan, who was wearing—my gosh—a tux, joined them. His hair was cut and tamed. Jess smoothed it and his lapels. “Did you see the planetary mobile suspended from the ceiling?” she asked proudly. “Evan and his students made that.”

“It’s to scale,” he said, looking very pleased.