balcony where he’d paused earlier. “You’re going to catch a cold out here,” he said as he joined her. “Where is your shawl?”
“It’s inside. But I’m not cold.”
He shrugged his coat from his arms and settled it over her bare shoulders. “Nor am I.”
“I’d say you were in need of a cooling draft of air.”
Samuel leaned next to her. “I don’t like him.”
She grinned. “That much was obvious. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately no. We were once in school together.”
“Small world.”
Not that small, Samuel thought. He inhaled a long sip of air, shifting to look at the sky. “Look,” he said, pointing. “Stars. I’ve not seen stars since I arrived in Seattle.”
She raised her head, exposing the moonlit column of her throat. A slender golden chain glittered against her flesh, the charm it held hidden beneath her dress. Before he knew he would do it, he touched a single finger to the chain. “Your jewelry is mild tonight,” he said.
She gave him her impish grin. “I left everything off but the essentials.”
“This is essential?”
“Definitely.” She tugged the chain from the neckline of her dress to show him an array of charms: a small oval medallion, a silver thunderbird with turquoise inlays and a wooden cross. “Homage to my ancestors,” she said. “St. Christopher is for my Italian mother, this thunderbird is for my Indian grandmother and the cross is for the rest of them. I figure it’s generic enough to cover anything else.”
He grinned broadly, delighted with the comfortable synthesis she had achieved. “But St. Christopher is no saint these days,” he teased.
“Oh, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, dropping the charms safely back below her dress. “You can’t take away a saint. All of my mother’s children wear St. Christopher. She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I see.” He tucked a foot into the slats of the railing.
Although being silent was not ordinarily her way, Lila waited now for Samuel. There was a caged feeling about him, about the way he shifted and the way the grooves alongside his mouth hardened. He looked, she thought, like the strained man she’d seen in his car the first day. A man with a cause, John had said. Maybe that was true.
“Do you miss your Oklahoma?” he asked suddenly.
“Sometimes,” she said. “After it’s rained for two weeks, I’m ready for sunshine.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you from, Samuel? Do you miss it?”
“I’m from many places,” he said, dodging again, but the dodge seemed to relax him. He smiled at her. “I miss several of them. But mainly I miss the vineyards near my grandfather’s home in France. It was a beautiful place.”
“Is that how you learned so much about wine?”
“Yes. He walked with me often, telling me this and that thing about the grapes and the fields, which vineyards would bring a good harvest and which would not.”
Lila smiled. “How wonderful.”
“Good memories,” he said. “He would have liked you, you and your motorcycle and your pillows.”
“Was he an eccentric?”
Samuel touched his chin with a thumb. “Something like that. He survived a great many trials. They taught him to celebrate little things.”
Lila felt his tension flowing away as he spoke, and she leaned her elbows on the rail to listen more comfortably. Her hair blew over his shirtsleeve, very dark against the white. It was oddly intimate, and she couldn’t quite decide whether to leave it or catch it. Silly to dither over it, she thought, and left it.
It was somehow easier to be with him outside like this, away from the company of others. His jacket on her shoulders smelled of cigarettes and cologne, a celebration of its own, and she decided she didn’t care if he was in trouble or if he’d be gone in a few months or if he was out of her league. Very rarely did a man intrigue her at all, and this one was riveting on every level.
“Did you spend a lot of time
“It’s inside. But I’m not cold.”
He shrugged his coat from his arms and settled it over her bare shoulders. “Nor am I.”
“I’d say you were in need of a cooling draft of air.”
Samuel leaned next to her. “I don’t like him.”
She grinned. “That much was obvious. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately no. We were once in school together.”
“Small world.”
Not that small, Samuel thought. He inhaled a long sip of air, shifting to look at the sky. “Look,” he said, pointing. “Stars. I’ve not seen stars since I arrived in Seattle.”
She raised her head, exposing the moonlit column of her throat. A slender golden chain glittered against her flesh, the charm it held hidden beneath her dress. Before he knew he would do it, he touched a single finger to the chain. “Your jewelry is mild tonight,” he said.
She gave him her impish grin. “I left everything off but the essentials.”
“This is essential?”
“Definitely.” She tugged the chain from the neckline of her dress to show him an array of charms: a small oval medallion, a silver thunderbird with turquoise inlays and a wooden cross. “Homage to my ancestors,” she said. “St. Christopher is for my Italian mother, this thunderbird is for my Indian grandmother and the cross is for the rest of them. I figure it’s generic enough to cover anything else.”
He grinned broadly, delighted with the comfortable synthesis she had achieved. “But St. Christopher is no saint these days,” he teased.
“Oh, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, dropping the charms safely back below her dress. “You can’t take away a saint. All of my mother’s children wear St. Christopher. She wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I see.” He tucked a foot into the slats of the railing.
Although being silent was not ordinarily her way, Lila waited now for Samuel. There was a caged feeling about him, about the way he shifted and the way the grooves alongside his mouth hardened. He looked, she thought, like the strained man she’d seen in his car the first day. A man with a cause, John had said. Maybe that was true.
“Do you miss your Oklahoma?” he asked suddenly.
“Sometimes,” she said. “After it’s rained for two weeks, I’m ready for sunshine.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you from, Samuel? Do you miss it?”
“I’m from many places,” he said, dodging again, but the dodge seemed to relax him. He smiled at her. “I miss several of them. But mainly I miss the vineyards near my grandfather’s home in France. It was a beautiful place.”
“Is that how you learned so much about wine?”
“Yes. He walked with me often, telling me this and that thing about the grapes and the fields, which vineyards would bring a good harvest and which would not.”
Lila smiled. “How wonderful.”
“Good memories,” he said. “He would have liked you, you and your motorcycle and your pillows.”
“Was he an eccentric?”
Samuel touched his chin with a thumb. “Something like that. He survived a great many trials. They taught him to celebrate little things.”
Lila felt his tension flowing away as he spoke, and she leaned her elbows on the rail to listen more comfortably. Her hair blew over his shirtsleeve, very dark against the white. It was oddly intimate, and she couldn’t quite decide whether to leave it or catch it. Silly to dither over it, she thought, and left it.
It was somehow easier to be with him outside like this, away from the company of others. His jacket on her shoulders smelled of cigarettes and cologne, a celebration of its own, and she decided she didn’t care if he was in trouble or if he’d be gone in a few months or if he was out of her league. Very rarely did a man intrigue her at all, and this one was riveting on every level.
“Did you spend a lot of time
Similar Books
