“That’s it?” she asked, relaxing a bit.
“Not quite,” I said. She stiffened in my arms.
“Listen to me, Devon,” I continued. “There was something else. He woke up half an hour ago and had… oh crap, well…a meltdown.”
“What?”
“He cried, Devon. You said you’ve never heard him cry. Well, tonight he thought your Mom was back. When he woke up and found it was me instead, I guess he couldn’t dodge it anymore.”
She pushed back far enough away from me that she could look me in the eyes, brushed her hair off her face.
“Crying, Sam?” she said. “For real?”
I nodded, tried to smile. “He needed to, I think. I guess that’s what woke you up.”
I could see her assessing, judging.
“Listen to me, Devon. I’m not trying to steal your dad from you. And I’m not trying to replace your mom, ’cause nobody could ever be Jessica.”
She looked at me, more calmly, but still a bit wary.
“I love you, girl,” I continued. “You know that. But here’s the thing. I think he needs somebody with him tonight. It’s been a tough night for him and nine years is ‘way too long.
“The way he clung to me, Devon – he needed company. No, more than that. He needed somebody to hold him, be gentle with him, help him get through this.”
I tried to smile at her. I found I couldn’t and carried on anyway.
“He still does, Devon. I think he’ll need somebody with him when he wakes up.”
Her expression didn’t change. I took a deep breath.
“So, unless you take a baseball bat to me, Devon, I’m going back in there. Now.”
Her body tensed just a hair for a moment, relaxed gradually as her decision solidified. Her eyes turned away, came back.
“OK,” she whispered. “OK then, Sam.”
I turned, stopped when she said my name again.
“You sure…?”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.
I nodded. “It’ll be all right, Devon. G’night.”
I could hear her as I closed the bedroom door behind me.
“G’night, Sam.”
Paul was fast asleep when I quietly re-entered the room. In the dim light, the look on his face seemed happier. I looked at my nightie, thought for a moment, then dropped it on the floor as I moved to the bed. I slipped in behind him and was asleep almost instantly.
+
The clock on the side table said 7:33. We were spooning. His back against me felt warm, solid. I lay quietly, treasuring the feeling.
I felt his breathing change.
“Good morning, Paul,” I said softly.
He rolled back to face me, became aware of our nudity.
“Sam,” he whispered, “you can’t be here! Devon…” There was fear in his voice now, but it was fear of hurting her. How he loved that girl.!
I leaned up a little, pulled him down, kissed his forehead lightly.
“She knows, Paul.” I saw the dismay on his face.
“Devon and I talked, Paul. Last night, no, this morning. She’s OK with it.”
“You talked. To Devon. Today.” He spoke very slowly, very carefully.
I tried to sidestep, get to the heart of it.
“Who am I, Paul?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m Devon’s friend, yes?”
He nodded, unsure where this was going.
“You’ve known me since I was a kid, right?”
Another nod. His eyes turned away from me.
“For as long as you’ve known me, Paul, I’ve always been ‘Devon’s friend’ to you, just a little girl, somebody you let throw sticks for your dog, played silly board games with Saturday afternoons, hosted at sleep-overs, that sort of stuff. Just a kid.”
His eyes were on me now.
“Well, I’m not eight years old anymore, Paul, and you can stop treating me like I was. Please.”
His face was expressionless, but he’d stopped trying to move away from me.
“Paul, last night, you let me comfort you, let me hold you. Do you remember that?”
He didn’t move, but I could see that memory battling his sense of propriety. Old men shouldn’t…
I tried to break through that line of thought. “Last night, Paul, you needed a hug. Right now, I need one. Would you do me the favor of bending that far? Just a hug? Please?”
I turned my best pleading puppy eyes on him and, after a moment’s hesitation, he moved an inch towards me, lay down on his back, his right arm up and out of the way.
I slid over to him, lay down with my body against his, put my head on his shoulder. I smiled as I felt his arm come down around my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said gently.
I smiled again as I felt him relax a little.
“And thank you for being such a great friend to me all these years, when I really was a kid. And for being such a great father to Devon, Paul. You did a great job, really.”
He was silent. I could hear his heart under my ear, felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed. I stroked his chest with my fingers, watched the hair curl around my fingertips. I spoke gently.
“Just so you know, Paul, you’re one of the best men I know — patient, kind, wise… I’d put ‘handsome’ on the list, but you’d go all silly-weird embarrassed on me.”
I could see I’d been right with that last. He was smiling a little now. It was good to see.
“I know one thing, Paul – it’s no good being alone.”
“Sam…”
I could see where this was going. I cut him off.
“Do you know what I told Devon last night, Paul? When we talked?”
His sudden silence was so loud that it almost echoed.
“I told her that unless she took a baseball bat to me, I was coming back in here, and be like this with you, just as we are now, cuddling each other. I told her you needed it.”
His eyes swept over my bare body, returned to my face. I tried to meet it with a solid smile.
“When I told her that, Paul, Devon wished me luck. She knows, Paul; she approves. She doesn’t want you to pass any more lonely nights.
“So, for right now, how about you just relax, maybe get some more sleep? It’s OK. Really.”
I could feel the hesitation, the uneasiness in him.
“Samantha…”
“Please don’t be mad at me for saying this, Paul, but unless you call for Devon with her bat, I’m staying here for right now. It’s your call.” I hugged him again and again swept my hand over his bare chest.
There was a long pause.
“I’m not angry at you, Sam.” He paused again. “But it’s strange, waking up in bed with my daughter’s best friend, who’s wearing…”
He sniffed slightly, gave a wry grin.
“… what smells like a very good shampoo.”
I giggled. It felt like I’d broken through. To some extent, anyway.
“Maybe. But hugs are therapeutic. I’m a nurse, so don’t argue with me about that.”
I hugged him, hard now, smiled inwardly at his one-armed hug in return.
It was a good start.
I counted heartbeats, waiting, then reached over with my free hand, took his left wrist and pulled his arm over me, put his hand on my hip.
“That’s better,” I whispered. It felt good.
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
Time to play that hole card…
I pulled out of his arms, pushed myself into a half-sitting position. He tried to be polite, but his eyes dropped to my boobs, flipped back and forth between them and my face. I could see the fascination in his eyes. I counted to three, lifted his chin.
“You’re a nice man, a good friend. And it feels good to be here with you. But if it upsets you, say so and I’ll leave.”
He was silent, his eyes locked on mine. I gave a long five-count, allowed myself to fall back to his side, my head on his shoulder again.