Sands of Time Read online

  And what am I thinking here? What is my motivation for coming in? I don’t even know. Is it sex? Am I really considering taking advantage of a guest at my inn? A beautiful, sexy female guest who is clearly upset and vulnerable?

  Or am I just so desperate for human interaction with someone who doesn’t feel sorry for me? Or someone like Nat who is constantly judging me.

  Maybe Natalie was right about my sudden fascination with Emily. Maybe it was wrong to be here and I should just walk back out the door. Just then, Emily bent over to pick up a pen off the floor. The sudden appearance of the soft valley of her breasts before me chased away the thoughts of Natalie and how wrong this was and ushered in a burgeoning erection.

  As I did my best to think unsexy thoughts, I walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room and took out two glasses. I retrieved the bottle opener from the basket and proceeded to open the bottle of merlot. Emily sat down in one of the high-back chairs in the sitting area of the suite, with her legs folded up underneath her. I could see the tops of her knees peeking out from underneath her skirt. I was so distracted I almost spilled the wine while pouring it into the glasses.

  I walked over and handed her a glass. “For you, my lady.” I offered her the wine with a smile. I sat down and sipped my wine, but she did not return my smile.

  “So, what’s the trouble tonight, darling?” What was that? Was I attempting some poor man’s Valentino impression? Weak, even for me—I’m cheesy, but not usually this cheesy. What about her was making me act this way?

  I looked over at what had previously been a warm, welcoming face, but tonight it was dark, troubled, and lost. She stared down into the dark, rich liquid and drank the red wine as if it were water to quench her thirst. She still hadn’t looked at me since I sat down. And she appeared to hold the wine in her mouth for a long moment, savoring its rich warmth and welcoming flavor. I leaned forward, tried to look into her face and was about to speak when the words just shot out of her.

  “I don’t know where to begin or what to say. It’s… I was…” She stopped herself, closed her eyes and took another drink, steeling herself to broach a subject that was apparently a sensitive and difficult one.

  “I am married.” The look of shock on my face was clear and instant.

  “I mean, I was married for five years.”

  Okay, really, when I thought about it, it made sense. She probably could have been married for ten years but it hadn’t really occurred to me.

  “He… I loved him so much. He was…” Another drink, and her glass was empty. She continued to stare into it anyway. “I loved him so much…”

  I got up, grabbed her glass, and brought it over to refill it. As I picked up the bottle, she began to cry again, this time loud and almost violently.

  “Oh, why do you care? You don’t even know me.” She practically screamed through her tears. I stopped for a moment and then continued to pour.

  Her loud cries turned into muffled sobs. I turned slowly, almost unsure of how to proceed. Was I doing something wrong? I was trying to behave myself and be helpful. Slowly, I walked back to the chair, where her blonde hair was softly bouncing with her sobs. I knelt down before her, placed my finger under her chin, and lifted it gently until her eyes met mine. She sniffled and looked right into my eyes. I handed her the glass and wiped the tears from her face with my other hand.

  We stared at one another for a long moment, and I could see how much she was hurting as her eyes bore into me. They grabbed a hold of me again.

  Suddenly I was speechless and had to remember to breathe. At that moment I wanted to touch her and make her feel safe, warm, and cared for. Wanted to press her face against my soul and let her know she wasn’t alone. Because at least for tonight, she wasn’t.

  Finally, I found my voice as she continued to sob.

  “Emily, I don’t know what you are going through, but I’ll sit here and listen.

  For as long as you need to talk, you have someone here for you.”

  Her expression took on a look of wonder and disbelief.

  “You… Why?” And she drank the entire glass in one gulp. How ladylike; maybe she’d belch in my face now. But her expression quickly went from disbelief to an almost self-satisfied look.

  “Emily, I’m not sure exactly…” I began, but she cut me off.

  “No, I know why you’re here. You’re just like him.” Her mood had quickly gone from desperate sorrow to anger. Mental note: When coming to the aid of a crying woman, skip the wine.

  “You…” she stammered for a second. “I know why you came in.” Now she was repeating herself and I didn’t like where this was going. “You just want to fuck me, isn’t that it? We throw our bedroom eyes around, flirty smiles, a touch here and there, and you show up to my room in the middle of the night…

  So now you think you can just waltz in here and I’ll just drop my skirt to the floor and wrap my legs around you? Is that it?”

  I stood up to face her and just stared at her, speechless, the shock evident on my face. I mean, the imagery was pretty erotic, but that’s not exactly where my mind was at the moment. She stared back up at me, but I couldn’t read the look on her face. My sudden movement had at the very least startled her, but I wasn’t sure if her misplaced anger had abated. But I did know that I wasn’t going to sit here and be attacked.

  “Emily, maybe I should just go.” I drank my wine and turned to leave. I got about halfway to the door when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

  “Sam.” Her voice was suddenly soft and quiet, barely audible, and I stopped. Knowing I shouldn’t, I turned to face her.

  “Emily, really, I can see you are upset and I’d like to help, but I guess being helpful is just something I’m not very good at.”

  “I know.” She looked down at the floor and put her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, that was wrong of me. I’m very upset and I’m not… I’m not thinking straight.” She turned, walked back to the chair, and stood in front of it with her head down and back to me. The Jekyll and Hyde routine continued.

  “Sam, I loved my husband. And he… he left me for another woman. Or maybe it was women; I don’t even know.”

  Suddenly I had the urge to walk back and put my hands on her small shoulders that sagged in defeat.

  “Emily, I’m so sorry…”

  “Sam, I don’t need pity. It was a while ago, and I… I thought it wouldn’t hurt anymore, but tonight, I just… I can’t seem to get a hold of myself… It is, or I mean, today would have been our anniversary. “

  “Emily, I’m so sorry…”

  My voice trailed off. I didn’t know exactly how to finish that sentence without sounding cheap and condescending. I mean, who the hell am I to be consoling anyone with the way I handle—or avoid handling—things? Should I introduce her to Jack? I’m sure they’ve met before. Jack is very popular.

  I could feel her shoulders slowly rise and fall under my hands. She stopped, drew in a deep breath, and held it for a long moment.

  All at once she spun around, threw her arms around me, and pushed her lips up against mine in a violent kiss. Jekyll was back; or was it Hyde? Which one was the good one again? She held me tightly against her as she shoved her tongue deeply into my mouth, and I just stood there accepting her warm tongue in my mouth, shocked and confused until I finally pushed her away. Not sure what to do, I just stared down at her.

  “Sam.” She breathed heavily. “We both want this—you know that you do, and I’m telling you I want you.” She pressed herself up against me, harder this time. I could feel her hands begin to make their way down the front of my shirt towards my pants. Her hands reached my belt and began to unfasten the button on my jeans when I grabbed her hand.

  “Emily, you’re upset; you just said yourself that you aren’t thinking clearly.”

  “Sam, please,” she said plainly, not pleading, “you want me, I want you; let

  me take you into me and ease your pain… and mine.” She took her han
d back, stepped back just enough so I could see her begin to loosen her skirt.

  “Emily, you are drunk!” I said forcefully.

  Her demeanor instantly changed. She quickly took her hand away from the waist of her skirt and her face flushed. She looked like a wounded puppy as she slowly backed away from me.

  “I’m sorry, I just felt… I was in the moment, and I really thought… Oh,

  God, I am so embarrassed.” She slumped down into the high-back chair again and covered her face with her hands.

  “I can only imagine what you’re thinking.” No, I don’t think she could imagine that my mind is pretty much blank right now, in spite of my obvious erection. Did this kind of back and forth constitute foreplay for me? How pathetic is that?

  “I didn’t invite you in to do that,” she said with an even monotone.

  I continued to stare down at her. As I stared at her sitting there looking defeated, I was unable to look away and unable to speak.

  “Sam, say something. Say anything, but don’t just stare at me like that…”

  Her voice cracked slightly as her emotions started to bubble up again.

  “I… don’t… know what to say, Emily. I just don’t know, I didn’t expect this,

  I didn’t come in to sleep with you.”

  “When I found out that Scott was cheating on me, I was angry. I was hurt and all I wanted was to know why, and he couldn’t tell me.” She stood and walked to the table with some conviction, then picked up the wine bottle by its neck and looked out the window. She put it to her lips and took a big swig from the bottle. More ladylike behavior—that was kind of hot.

  “Really, I don’t… you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

  “Sam, you don’t have to say anything—just sit and listen.”

  So I did. I sat down and listened, almost as if I couldn’t get up and leave.

  She had me, and I couldn’t let go for that moment.

  “I was so angry… I said I was going to go out and fuck all of his friends and anyone I could find with a big dick… but I didn’t. He left me almost a year ago and before I could even grieve the loss of my marriage or even figure out how to file for divorce, he was dead and I didn’t know what to do with that.”

  She walked back and sat down. “I still don’t.” She laughed sardonically.

  “The only thing that I really know is that she was blonde. Wasn’t I enough blonde for him?” She took another big drink from the bottle, and all I could think of was here we were, two people who had lost the loves of their lives… had the one person in the world that was supposed to always be there stolen from them, and by what? By whom? God? Fate? Cruel fate. At least Sandy wasn’t sleeping with someone else… right?

  “I knew this weekend was going to be hard for me, so I thought it would be good for me to get out… get away… so I came here. I thought it would help.”

  She paused and finished the bottle. She began to sway a little, wiped at her eyes, and finally flopped against the back of the chair.

  “Sam,” she slurred, “thank you for sitting here…” Her speech was slowing down; apparently the wine was starting to kick in.

  “It’s no trouble at all; I can listen any time.” But I still couldn’t get up. She was slumping into the chair with her blonde hair tossed forward onto her shoulders, her arms flopped over the arms of the chair and her legs spread slightly to keep her balanced. I was so drawn to her; I felt like a Weight Watchers deserter standing in front of a Chinese buffet fighting myself not to go inside.

  “Yeah,” she laughed, “maybe next time I’ll keep my hand out of your pants.”

  I smiled, and we were quiet for a while. Emily’s quiet moment seemed to allow the alcohol to really affect her, and she began to drift off. With her hand draped over her face, she looked like she had fallen asleep as the bottle trailed out of her slender fingers. Finally I was able to stand up and get out of the chair.

  I jumped and caught the bottle before it fell to the floor and placed it on the table.

  I walked back to the chair and gathered her slight frame into my arms, then carried her over to the bed and put her down.

  “Sam…” her voice was soft and still slow and drawn out, “stay… lie with me? Please? No sex, just…”

  We must be kindred spirits; she gets drunk and wants someone to lie in bed with her and not have sex, too. And before she could finish or I could answer, she passed out.

  “Emily?” She didn’t answer, so I turned out the light and shut the door softly behind myself. I made my way to my room, realizing that my headache was long gone but my head didn’t feel any clearer. What was I supposed to do with this new information? Did it matter? Would I even see her again? I should make it a point to find her before she checks out tomorrow, make sure she’s okay. A dead cheating husband… I wonder what happened. And what was that comment about not being sure if he was sleeping with more than one woman? It was an odd thing to say.

  Maybe she could be that person I talk to and the shrink could go away… she’s a lot prettier and probably a lot cheaper—even with the wine.

  I finally made my way to the cottage, flopped into bed, and fell right to sleep.

  Everything was happening in slow motion. I could see Sandy standing in front of me, pursing her lips and shaking her head. She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. Her eyes tore through me with anger and disappointment. What was it? Why was she so angry… what had I done? I don’t know….

  I can’t think straight. She turns away from me and puts her head in her hands. She is still speaking, saying something, but now I can’t even see her face. Then she spins and marches toward me, pointing a finger in my face and screaming. I know I’m saying something to her, but I don’t know what it is; I’m mad and I can feel that I don’t mean what I’m saying, but it comes out and her face is stricken… I might as well have smacked her. Every time she shakes her head and her blonde hair swings back and forth… Her eyes are closed, yet the tears still stream down her cheeks.

  And before I knew what was happening, she was out the door with the kids in the car. And she was gone. I ran out the door after her and watched the taillights stream down the street.

  March 10th (after sleep)

  The sunlight finally roused me out of bed after eleven. The dream still haunted me. I couldn’t hear what Sandy was saying, but I knew… I knew exactly what she said during that last fight. And I would never forget it. I had hurt her in a way a man should never hurt a woman… she loved me, and I struck out at her and said unthinkable things that night. There are some things that once said, can never be taken back… some words that can’t be unsaid.

  But how did the kids get in the car? She had already planned on leaving, even before the fight. It was crystal clear to me now. Check-out was at noon, and I wanted to try and catch Emily on her way out… talk to her, even just say goodbye. I felt like things were left incomplete… undone. I quickly showered and dressed and made it out to the lobby. Bonnie was at the front desk and helping a guest with something. I went behind the desk, nodding at Bonnie.

  “Good morning, Mr. Shepard.”

  Bonnie was a cute teenager Natalie was mentoring at her church. She had asked me if she could hire her to work part time to help Bonnie earn money for a mission trip. I think they were going to New Orleans or Mississippi. Bonnie also did a good job and was great with the guests.

  “It’s Sam—please call me Sam, Bonnie. Mr. Shepard was my father.”

  Wow, did I just say that? How goofy can you be?

  “Okay, Sam…” and Bonnie giggled a little as I quickly typed Emily Noble in the computer. Damn. Already checked out… and at eight. That was awfully early, especially after that late night and the wine.

  “Bonnie, did you check Miss Noble out this morning?”

  “No, Sam,” I think she giggled again, “I didn’t get here until nine. Natalie must have helped Miss Noble.” Teenage girls sure giggled a lot.
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  “Thanks…” I shuffled out from behind the counter with a little extra weight in my step and decided to get a bite to eat in the pub. The pub was busy today, almost full, in fact. I could see that Curtis was hopping behind the bar… and who was sitting at the end of the bar with a cup of coffee in front of her but sweet

  Emily. Why did I just call her sweet? She was kind of a bitch last night. Kind of? Actually, she was very bitchy when I was just trying to be helpful. It’s almost as if when it comes to her, I don’t have control over myself. Just like when Jack is around—no control.

  I walked up behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at me.

  “Hi,” she offered quietly.

  “Good morning; how are you feeling?” I sat next to her and her eyes found me again. And I couldn’t look away, just for that long moment.

  “My head hurts, and I really couldn’t get any sleep. I thought I’d partake of some coffee before I hit the road back to Philly.” She appeared increasingly uncomfortable, sitting there and looking at me. She stared down at her coffee and bit her lip.

  “Sam…” she began hesitantly, “about last night.” Ah, the classic words.

  What a cliché. But since we didn’t actually get all sweaty together, I found them slightly inappropriate.

  “Emily,” I interrupted, “I told you last night, I will be there to listen to you. I am here for you. Just always know that… and remember, you can call me.”

  She smiled a small smile… was it pleasant surprise, or that self-satisfied smile again?

  “Thank you,” she offered and took a sip of her coffee.

  “Eat yet? I was going to have some breakfast.” Curtis overheard that.