4 comments/ 10533 views/ 1 favorites Sammy, Tammy, and Me By: HansTrimble From my seat at the computer, I could move my head a little to the left and see the middle of the back yard. That's where the lounge chair was laid out flat, and that's where Samantha was laid out flat on top of it. But there was nothing flat about Sam. I took a quick peek, and noted the little bumps in the skimpy bra, where her dainty nipples were standing up gradually straighter as a capricious breeze played over them. I yelled out, "Hey Sam, watch out you don't get dehydrated." She was carefully tanning the places where her swimsuit had left light patches when she went to the water park. Before she went out she applied sunscreen to the tan places and oil to the light spots and explained, "When I get back to Boston, I want everybody to look at me and wish they had an uncle in Arizona. It snowed right after I left, but I was here in the desert sweating and soaking up rays! All my friends look pale and sickly. Let 'em look at my tan and eat their hearts out!" At times like this, I considered the six foot high brick wall enclosing my backyard to be one of the best features of my house, maybe tied for first place with the eight feet of glass in the back wall of my office. I pulled my head back to focus on the monitor and type another paragraph, then looked up as the sliding door opened and Sam came in. "Time for a nice, cold bottle of water," she explained. "It gets hot out there. Forty degrees back home today! Hah!" "While you're at the fridge, how about bringing me a beer?" "Okay, but you'll have to twist the top off. Those things tear up my hands." "Not a prob. How's the sun worship going?" "Great! I wish I could do this in April back home. March and April are completely unpredictable. The TV says partly cloudy and we get six inches of snow. Try to plan a ski weekend and we get warm rain. One week we're worrying about a flood and next week they've got the snowplows out. We've got a nice big cedar closet in the attic, and I'd like to be able to take the winter clothes out of my bedroom closet and put 'em away up there, and get my spring clothes sorted out and hung in my bedroom closet. But no, I have to have clothes laid over the chair in my room so I can get up in the morning and put on whatever matches the weather forecast. Winter stuff in the closet, spring stuff on the chair. And it'll be like that on into May. You must remember that blizzard we had on Memorial Day. What a drag!" "I sure do remember. I don't miss any of it. It's all the Pilgrims' fault, you know." "What'd they have to do with it?" "They came across the north Atlantic late in the season on the Mayflower, a dumpy little sailing ship that bobbed like a cork in the big waves. The Pilgrims were seasick and had to stay on deck, in the fresh air. They built cooking fires right on the wooden deck, and they tore the ship's boat apart for firewood. They were supposed to be going to Virginia, but they got forced north by storms, and by the time they landed at Plymouth the ship was a total mess. The crew had their work cut out for them making repairs, just so they could get back to England before the fierce winter storms set in. The Pilgrims thought they'd seen severe winters in Holland, but that first winter here they lost a lot of their members. Between pneumonia and starvation, they were dying faster than they were reproducing, and their population didn't stabilize for years. When it finally did they decided it was a sign from God for them to stay on, but that was just spin doctoring. The truth was, they had no choice. They had no way to go anywhere. They didn't have a boat and couldn't have sailed it if they did. They were stuck in New England. "Of course, things are different now, and you and your family could escape, but you don't. What's that about, inertia? I'm sure glad I bailed out when I did, but you'd rather stay there and complain than move to a place with a decent climate." "But I have my job there. If I quit and move out, how can I make a living?" "Open your eyes. You work in an insurance office. You have years of experience, and you could run the place all by yourself. All over the world there are insurance offices. They're staffed by young women, who are always getting married and moving away or having babies, so there's constant turnover. Pick a place where you'd like to live. Go there and look it over. If you like it, check the help wanted ads. Do interviews, nail down a job, arrange to start in two weeks, go home and quit your old job, pack up, and move. If you go about it right you'll get a better job, a better place to live, and a chance to start your life over." "Sounds like a lot of work." "Everything worth doing takes some work. But it's not rocket science. If you're not willing to put out a little effort, then you can stay in your same old rut the rest of your life and be miserable. You'll complain to everybody you know and make them feel miserable, too. Then your friends will stop being friendly and instead of being just plain miserable you'll be miserable and friendless, a bitter old maid. But it's your life. You can make it better. You, as in Sam. The one standing here with the well tanned body. It's a free country, and you can do whatever you want to do, wherever you want to do it, but the only one who can make it happen is you." "Well, I like it here." "It gets hot in the summer. Really hot." "I know. I've been here in July, remember. It was hot, but I found summer in the desert a lot easier to take than winter in the northeast. So how do I get a job here?" "The way I just told you. Grab the newspaper off the coffee table. Find the classified ads. Pull that section out. Then take the rest of the paper and lay it out on the sofa before you sit your oily butt down, and look through the ads. Mark the ones that look good to you. Telephone to make appointments for interviews. You're not risking anything by going to talk with somebody." That afternoon Sam made phone calls, and the next morning she took my car to go from one interview to another, with all the addresses carefully entered in my GPS. By the time she strode into the house in the afternoon, she was smiling and confident. "Hey, Unk, this is a piece of cake. The first two interviews were rough because I was nervous and I didn't know what to expect. But from the third one on, it was more like me interviewing them. I've got more experience than most of the people who were talking with me, and they never asked me a single question that I couldn't answer. This is going to come down to getting a bunch of offers and picking the best one. I bet I'll have a job by the end of the week. Tomorrow morning I'm gonna call up and arrange to take my second week of vacation now. Can I stay here for a while?" "Long as you want. There's plenty of room. You'll need a car, but I don't think that'll be much of a problem. Your car in Boston is a pile of rust, as I recall. Give it to your sister and I'll start looking for something around here for you. Here in God's country there's no snow, no salt, no rust, so cars last forever." And so it went. Inside of a week Sam had a job, and all that was left was a trip home to Boston to tie up loose ends and escape. Moving was simple. Most of what she moved were clothes, and her life's possessions arrived on my doorstep in four big boxes, transported by UPS for a couple hundred bucks. She used my car to commute the first week, and after that drove her own wheels, a little Dodge sedan with low mileage, previously owned by a middle-aged lady who died prematurely at age eighty-three. Making my house over from a bachelor pad to a family home was fairly painless. I had to make some hard decisions and toss out some junk that had been taking up space for years, but I didn't miss it. I started to eat home cooked meals several times a week. Sam was a good cook by my standards, and she didn't leave the kitchen a mess the way I did. I was eating more salads and fewer corndogs, and gradually the improved diet seemed to make a difference in how I looked and felt. I started to do more and sit less, and by three months after Sam moved in I'd replaced twenty pounds of fat with ten pounds of muscle. I was no body builder, but I had a waistline again and I was moving a lot better. Our relationship was easy and laid back. I made no attempt to hide my appreciation of her looks. I wasn't about to do any serious hitting on my late wife's niece, but it would have been impossible to deny that she was a joy to look at. On her part, she appreciated the fact that I was providing a roof over her head, and she understood that I wanted her to be happy in her new home state. So all in all, life was good for both of us. * * * * * * What our living arrangement did not provide for Sam was real privacy. So when she started to drop hints about how nice it would be to be able to bring a friend in to stay overnight or for a weekend, I understood what she was driving at. "Look, we've got that extra lot next door. I bought that years ago, got it for a song, just so nobody'd build a house there and leave me feeling hemmed in. Simplest thing'd be to put a trailer on it, or a park model, and you'd have your own little house. The kitchen and bathroom in those things are too small, but you could use this kitchen and just use your place for a bedroom and sitting room. If you want to hook up a park model to this house, you could add a roomy, modern bathroom in the transition piece, and you'd have all the comforts of your own wing of a sprawling mansion. Maybe the old tiny bathroom and kitchen could be made into a walk-in closet. If we could get something for just a few grand we could swing it for cash, or if you want something a little nicer, I could help with the down payment and you could take out a loan to pay for it. Think it over, talk to your friends, see if they have any advice. Maybe there are other ways to work out something without spending an arm and a leg. You can't be the only person around here who wants to live elegantly on a tight budget." Wednesday night Sam wanted to talk business. She had priced some park models and established that she could get what she wanted for $13,000. That's when her experience in the world of insurance and high finance came into play. A park model is just like a little house, made to fit on a lot in a trailer park. If you leave it sitting on the original shipping chassis, it's personal property, like a car or a microwave oven. Take it off the chassis and install it on a permanent foundation and it's real property, and the interest rate on a loan is about 80% less. So she was able to get a mortgage loan at an interest rate so low that the monthly payment was less than her car payment. Then she got a home improvement loan to build a spacious bathroom with a large stall shower and connect the little house up to the big house. The total of the monthly payments on her home improvement loan, mortgage, and car loan was less than the rent on a decent apartment. She liked the way it all worked out because she could have privacy and no nosy neighbors. I liked it because I'd still have Sam's company. Plus home cooked meals. Plus a neat kitchen. The construction project dragged on for four months, but when it was done it was wonderful. By that time Sam had a best friend who moved in as her roommate. Tamara, or Tammy as we soon called her, ten years older than Sam, was on the rebound from a relationship that had lasted a couple of years. Sam had the bedroom, and Tammy had the foldout couch in her living room. They agreed that if one of them wanted to have a boyfriend in, the other girl would spend the night somewhere else, and if all else failed, she could use my guest room. It sounded like an imperfect arrangement to me, but they insisted it would work, so we launched into our experiment in group living. You may be thinking that I was getting a raw deal on this, so let me hasten to explain that Tammy had the body and legs of a swim suit model. Her face wasn't quite as perfect as Sam's, (nobody's is) but she was still a pleasure to look at. She had a careless attitude about clothes when she was at home, which kept things around the house interesting for me. Both girls were intelligent, clever (which isn't the same thing at all) and cheerful. My home was constantly blessed with youth, beauty, and joy. One Friday night Sam was out on a date with Dave, a guy whose house, car, and boat she'd insured. Tammy was staying in my guest room, just in case, and suppertime saw us sitting on the living room sofa sharing a pizza. "Sam seems to find all the good hunks. I'd like to be on a date tonight and bring the guy home to get laid. Why does she have all the luck? I must be doing something wrong." "Oh you'll get lucky. With your looks and personality, you can probably get any guy you want. Maybe you're just too timid." "Well what the hell, I can't very well rub my body up against some guy and say, 'Hey, wanna fuck?' can I?" "That would work, but it lacks subtlety. What about striking up a conversation and saying that you're new in town and you don't have anybody to show you around, or something like that. I'm sure most guys would rise to the bait." "But nobody even looks at me. Look at you. You're here with me eating pizza and you don't even know I'm alive. You're not that old. I should think I could get a rise out of you, with these Daisy Duke cutoffs and this shirt with half the buttons open. I don't think you even noticed that I took off my bra when I went in and washed up for supper." "Well, if you'd been sitting across from me, instead of alongside of me on the sofa, I'm sure I would have noticed that." "Okay, here, I'll get up and get a chair from the dining room table. There, now I'll lean forward to grab a slice from the box. How's that?" "Holy shit!" Her boobs nearly tumbled out of her shirt, and her right nipple seemed to be winking at me. Fortunately I was wearing old shorts, because the slice of pizza I was holding fell from my hand and landed upside down on my lap. "You trying to give me a heart attack?" "Oh, I'm sorry. That sauce will make a mess of your pants. Let me help." She grabbed up a paper towel and leaned over to wipe the tomato sauce off my shorts, but in the process the growing mound in my lap got a good massage. "There, how's that? Oh, look! Did I do that?" "What do you think? Does that prove that I'm not immune to your charms?" Tammy lost all interest in the pizza. She pushed aside her paper plate and walked around the end of the coffee table to sit at my side again, only pressed tight against me this time. "That looks interesting. Let me make sure it's all right." As she spoke, she undid my belt buckle and unzipped my shorts before I could stop her, even if I wanted to. Reaching inside my underwear she pulled out my cock, cradled it in both hands, and leaned down to inspect it closely. Her breath felt warm on it, and it continued to grow under her gaze. "Oh, it's so nice. I didn't hurt it, did I? Hey, look at it grow. I think it likes me!" My reply came blurting out before I could think. "Why don't you kiss it to make it better?" Things happened fast then, and I'm not sure of the sequence of events, but we wound up lying on the sofa with the coffee table shoved out into the middle of the room and our clothes scattered on the floor. "Let me feed you my tits," she said while supporting them with her hands and shoving one after the other into my mouth, so I could lick and suck the nipples. "Go ahead, suck them into your mouth as far as you can. There's plenty there for you to play with. Oh, that feels so good! There's nothing like getting my tits sucked!" I might have had some snappy answer, but I couldn't talk with my mouth full. "You've done this before, haven't you? You're real good with your tongue. I bet you're good at eating pussy, aren't you? Want to have a box lunch at the Y? Give me a kiss and we can turn around and do each other." We got into a sixty-nine position and went after each other's genitals as if we'd been starving. The position was awkward, because I had her partway over on my left side so I could get the fingers of my left hand busy while I was licking her clit. My thumb joint kept hitting my nose. I did manage to twist my wrist around to rub my fingertips up against her G spot, which drew a few moans and a little more hip movement. I steadied her with my right arm looped around her right thigh, and finally got a good firm grip on her ass so she wouldn't fall off onto the floor. After a minute she spread her legs farther apart, which shifted her weight and improved our balance. Just to be on the safe side I stuck my right middle finger into her asshole for a better grip. Meanwhile, I was getting a blowjob that would set an all-time world record. Granted it had been a long time since my last BJ, but I was positive she was the best cocksucker I'd ever been with. She had a way of licking up the whole length of my cock, from root to tip, and then sucking it into her mouth, while getting her hands into the act somehow to produce sensations I'd never felt before. I figured I must be getting the better end of the deal, so I was surprised when she lifted her mouth clear of my crotch to say, "Oh, you fucker, you've got me ready to come! Come on, don't hold back, give me your load in my mouth! I swallow!" We thrashed around on the sofa for a few minutes, grunting, straining, going alternately rigid and limp, until finally we relaxed and just held each other tenderly. We didn't want to move, which was just as well because Tammy was dribbling from both ends. Finally we rolled off onto the floor very gently, and managed to separate without injuring each other. She crawled around so our heads were going the same way, and we shared a deep, probing kiss that lasted a long time. My cock was softening, but the kiss got me growing again, and her squirming and humping against me helped. As soon as I was hard she slid up on top of me and got a hand down between us to guide me into her. We started a slow, deep fuck that gradually picked up speed and intensity until we were banging away with slapping and squishing sounds. We came at about the same time, and as our bodies relaxed we lay on the floor, pretty limp, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs and gasping for air. I pulled my face back enough to look eye to eye with Tammy, and started to say something, just as she did the same thing. We both stopped, and I said, "Go ahead." "No, you go first." "All right. That was absolutely marvelous. I think you must be the best I've ever had. That blowjob was out of this world, real Monica Lewinsky stuff. Then that set us up for this dynamite fuck. I don't know if I can even stand up after all that." "That's just about the same thing I was going to say. I don't think I've ever come that hard in my whole life. And twice in a row. Wow! We've gotta keep this quiet, because I want to do this again and again, whenever we can get some private time together. This was way too good for just a one night stand." "Grab our clothes to keep us from leaking all over the place, and let's go take a shower together. Then I want you in my bed tonight. And every night if we can manage it. Maybe you could tell Sam that the bed in my guest room is a lot more comfortable than her fold out sofa, and you can get a better night's sleep over here." "Your bed will be even better, and we'll have room to snuggle. But the sex will cut into our sleep time. I hope Sam won't object to me having a relationship with her uncle. I really like her, and I don't want to lose her as a friend." "Really, we're not blood relatives. Her mother was my wife's sister. Of course, they're both dead now. But I've always liked Sam, and just like you, I'd feel bad if she resented the idea of you and me getting together. So let's try to keep our secret for as long as we can. I'm sure she'll catch on some time. Sammy, Tammy, and Me The shower was wonderful. We had the water as hot as we could stand it, and after we'd washed each other's private parts with elaborate care, we let it cascade over us till it started to cool. I imagined that it was rinsing away all of our loneliness and frustration. We got into my big king-size bed and flopped together, making a small heap of limp, naked bodies, with arms and legs everywhere and smiles on our faces. I pulled the comforter up over us and we talked for a few minutes about nothing much at all. For all I know, we both might have fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence. I woke up twice during the night, as I always do, and was amused to find that we were so close together that we weren't using up half the width of the mattress. Having a lovely naked woman snuggled up to me made me feel that my life was finally back on the right track, and I went back to sleep feeling happy. In the morning Tammy used the bathroom in the main hallway, right next door to the guest room, where she got dressed. I went to the kitchen to make coffee, and got out the cereal bowls that the girls always used. I heard Dave's car drive away. Apparently he wasn't ready to meet the family. Sam came in and fixed her cereal, looking tired but happy. Tammy came in, all bubbly and bouncy, which got Sam looking at her strangely. "What got into you? Is that bed that much better than my sofa?" "Oh yes, I had a great night. The bed is so nice and there's a bathroom that I can have all to myself when I'm getting ready in the morning. I think I'll sleep over here every night. If I can work it out with Uncle Dick, that is." Sam looked at me, her face posing a question that was left unsaid. I kept my visible reaction down to a small smile and commented, "Let's give it a try and see how it works out, shall we?" Sam seemed to be mulling that over as she said, "I've been counting on your rent to help meet my expenses on the little house." I tried to put on a thoughtful face as I came back with, "I don't see any reason to alter the financial arrangements. You made a hermit's cave into a family home with the addition of your park model and the new bathroom. It's still serving that purpose. Everybody has a part in making it work. My contribution is the house and land. Yours is the park model and the addition that joined everything together. That leaves you with payments on a mortgage and a home improvement loan. Tammy's contribution is the rent she pays you that helps with your loan payments. What we all share as a result is the use of the common facilities, like the kitchen and dining room, and we all can live together as one big family. Any family living together makes sensible adjustments to make it all work out, and they do whatever they can to make everybody happy." Tammy had been avoiding this part of our discussion by concentrating on her cereal, but that dodge lasted only as long as the cereal did. She lifted her head to say, "Sam, this is the same way it was when you had Dave stay over last night for sex and sleep. I thought since it worked out so well last night that you'd want to continue it. I know I dropped this on you when you're barely awake, but give it a chance and I bet you'll like it. You won't have your living room converted into my bedroom every night, and you'll have more room for your stuff if this works out." Sam seemed satisfied with those arguments, and nodded. "I guess you're right. I think in the back of my mind I was feeling a little guilty about pushing you out last night to sleep in the guest room. Then when you said you'd like to try it every night it was the last thing I expected to hear. So let's go ahead and see how it works out. It could be a good thing for all of us." I nodded and kept my mouth shut. She had no idea what a good thing it was for me! * * * * * * The girls had things to attend to that day, typical Saturday errands that working people can't get done on the weekdays. I puttered at a few projects around the house and got a nap after lunch. Tammy got home before Sam, and we had a chance to talk over a couple of cold brews. "Oh Dick, what a world of difference in how you made me feel! I'm awake! I'm alive again!" "Same here. My body must have thought my testicles fell off. It's so great to get aroused again, and you're just terrific." "So now we'll be able to fuck in a big bed. What a luxury. And so much room. When you went in to take a shower this morning, I was lying on my back in the middle of the bed, and I had room to roll over both ways." "I never asked you, but what do you do for protection?" "The pill, of course, same as all the girls my age." "Well, you can continue that or not, as you prefer, but I had a vasectomy a long time ago, so even if you stop taking the pill or miss one by accident, you're safe with me." "That's great news. It makes me feel special. It's as if you did something to protect me, instead of just jumping on and sticking it in to get your rocks off. You make me feel all woman, a real person, not just a sex object." "Yes, but remember, even though I value you as a person, you are still the very embodiment of sex appeal to me. Last night, when I sat up and checked on you, your whole body was so relaxed and you looked so beautiful. I felt very privileged to have your company, and your trust. You're very special. When I lay down again I felt that I've been given a wonderful gift. I know I was able to relax more completely with you at my side, and because of you I slept very well." "Wait a minute. You woke up to check on me? What for?" "Just to make sure you were all right, safe, comfortable, and to see if there was anything I could do for you to help you sleep better." "And you did that just for me?" "Yes, of course. Twice. I used to do that when my wife was alive. I guess it started when she was pregnant and she had a tough time getting into a position to sleep. Sometimes I could help her move to where she'd feel better. And when our kids were little, I'd check my wife and then go very quietly into their rooms to check on them, too. I felt it was my duty to my loved ones." "I think that's just beautiful. And now you're doing it for me. Does that mean that I'm, ah, that you're, oh never mind. I'm touched by it, that's all." "You were wondering if I think of you as one of my loved ones, weren't you." "Yes. Don't think anything of it. Forget I asked. It's just that it's never happened to me before. At least not since I was a little girl. Maybe some day I'll be truly loved by somebody. Some man. You or whoever. I'm not trying to drag a commitment out of you. Honest, I'm not." Long pause. "But it must be nice." I walked over to Tammy and laid her head up against the left side of my chest, and hugged her to me. She started to sob, at first trying to hold it in but finally letting it out, moaning as the tears flowed like water from a faucet. She cried for several minutes. When she tried to pull away from me while she was still sobbing, I just held on and stroked her hair with my right hand, telling her that it was all right, she could go on and cry and get it all out of her, that she was safe and had nothing to fear. Finally the tears eased up and stopped. "Oh, Dick, I never could cry like that to anyone else. Please let me stay with you. Please be my friend. Please don't push me away because I'm so needy. Oh, please, please, let me pretend that you love me." "Tammy, I'm not a good person to talk with about love. I know I've loved and it's a great feeling to love someone. And when you lose a loved one it hurts so much, and your whole life feels empty. I know you're special to me, that you fill a niche in me that's been empty for a long time. To myself I can admit that this feels like being in love again, but I can't be sure enough of anything to say the words to you. Look, until last night I had feelings for you but I was forcing them down inside me. I didn't want to embarrass you with the attentions of an older man who couldn't possibly mean anything to you. Then we had sex. And somewhere between the living room floor and the shower and the bed, I think it all came to the surface and I realized that I wanted to love you, and I wanted you to love me. I'm just being totally honest with you. I can't sort out my feelings to know what's love and what's loneliness and what's animal attraction and what's just admiration for you as a person. Whatever it is, I feel it. Strongly. I want to do so many different things all at once. Stand up and beat my chest like a gorilla. Shout to the world that you're my woman and hands off. Cry like a baby. Get down on my knees and thank God that we found each other. Sit here with you and tell you all these stupid things while you wonder what you're going to do with this weirdo." "Dick, Dick, just relax. And I will too. We're here together. We have each other. I don't think we need exact names for our feelings. The names don't matter, but the feelings do. For how, we need each other and we have each other and we're learning about each other, and the more we get to know each other, the better it gets. Forever's a long way off. For now, right this minute, everything seems just right." At that moment we heard Sam's car drive in. I sat back and took a sip of my beer. Tammy got up to go wash her face and comb her hair. I could hear Sam setting bags down in her wing, and then she breezed into the kitchen just as Tammy approached from the other direction. Sam's face showed that she had important news. "Dave called me. Wants an encore tonight. Whoopee!" Tammy was obviously thrilled for Sam. "C'mon, I'll help you get the place all shaped up for the occasion." "And I'll help you get your stuff out of the little house. For tonight, the necktie is definitely on the doorknob!" I thought about what I'd just heard. They'd be putting clothes into the guest room closets. As soon as they disappeared I went into the guest room and messed up the bed. Then I went through the closets to remove my shoes and other miscellany, so they'd be ready to receive Tammy's clothes. She had thrown some of her things across the foot of the guest room bed, and I thought that gave it a casual look, so I left those things alone. In the master bedroom, I dragged a plastic storage tub out of a closet and tossed in Tammy's clothes that I'd scattered all over the floor. I set it in a corner of the guest room, so it would look like her laundry hamper. Satisfied that "her" room looked lived in, I left the door ajar and went to get myself another beer. Some time soon we'd have to talk with Sam about our blossoming relationship, but not right away. Maybe a few more necktie nights with Dave would put her into a sympathetic mood. * * * * * * On Monday morning the sounds of people scurrying around would have made you think we were a family of eight. From my observation post at the kitchen counter I could hear Dave shout, "Where's my clean shirt?" Then Sam asked him, "Can you zip me up?" Tammy ran across the hall to her room, then into the bathroom, then shouted to me, "Can you get me a towel?" and dashed madly back to her room with the towel flapping in her wake and water dripping on the floor. Eventually she came hopping down the hall, dressed, with one shoe on and the other one halfway on while she kept jabbing at the wall with her other hand to keep from falling over. Dave's car went squealing off down the street as Sam came into the kitchen, walking sort of funny. She stopped just inside the doorway, raised both arms toward the sky and proclaimed, "Thank God for the rod!" Tammy was about to agree wholeheartedly, but slammed her mouth shut just in time. I slid coffee cups over to both the girls and sat grinning as I looked from one to the other. Poet Edgar Guest said it well: "It takes a heap of living to make a house a home." That night I had supper ready when they got home, a small pot roast with carrots and onions and potatoes in brown gravy. For a green vegetable I had peas. After the kitchen was cleaned up, we sat and talked quietly. A prominent theme in the conversation was how good it felt to be together instead of coming home to an empty house or apartment. Sam was optimistic about her relationship with Dave and we congratulated her on it. And she had good news from work, too. "The boss called me into his office after lunch and sat me down to talk about changes coming up at the agency. He likes my work. Last week he had me go through all the coverages on the Taylor Ford dealership, straightening out all the details to bring their portfolio up to date, and making sure the right rates were applied to all of the risk areas. They have a paint shop that was listed as general office, and a showroom area that was down as general repair shop. I went to the dealership Friday and walked through everything with their general manager and he agrees that it's now exactly right, so I got an attaboy from the client Friday and another from my boss today. He's going to have me handle all the commercial and industrial accounts from now on, and when Lois, our office manager, is out I'll be in charge of the office. He said I can expect a small interim raise next payday, and a larger adjustment at the end of the quarter to bring my pay up to match my new job description." Tammy gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "That's wonderful! I knew you'd do well! He must wonder how he ever got along before you showed up. That ought to call for a celebration. Let's let our supper digest and then we can have a dish of ice cream, all right?" I added my congratulations and excused myself to take the newspaper into my bathroom for a final scan before tossing it in the trash. When I came out fifteen minutes later, the girls were nowhere around. From the hallway leading to the little house I could hear soft murmurings, and I figured that whatever was going on was girl business, so I turned on the TV and caught an update on the sports standings. The Red Sox and Yankees were about even, the Cardinals were looking strong, and the Dodgers were blowing a big lead over the rest of their division by coming apart at the seams, just as they do every year after the all-star break. It seemed that everything was normal. What else could I ask for? * * * * * * That night I got to bed early. After the ice cream I felt sleepy, and Sammy and Tammy went back to Sammy's wing to rearrange some furniture and talk some more. Having such a serious affair with Dave, with sleepovers, was a new thing for Sam, and like all women she needed to figure out how she felt about it by talking about it and listening to the words that came out of her mouth. I was sound asleep when Tammy came to bed, but I woke up a little, enough to realize that there was a naked woman in bed with me and she was in a friendly mood. After stroking me for a while she moved around so she could take me in her mouth, and I didn't mind a bit. I rolled just a little toward her, and felt and rubbed and generally fondled whatever I could reach. She had a spectacular ass, and she loved to have her cheeks manhandled. She took me out of her mouth for a minute while she squirmed around and threw a leg over my chest. "Dick, if you'd like to lick around my asshole I wouldn't mind." This was new territory for me. What did I know, anyway? Sure, I was older, but licking an asshole was something that had been left out of my sex education up to now. But she had a nice one, from what I could see by the dim night light, so I rubbed my tongue over and around it, and stroked it with my fingers a little. It was moving in response to my attentions, and I noticed that it sort of alternately closed up tight and opened a little bit, like the mouth of a goldfish. So I carefully stuck my fingertip into it while it was open, and just left it there. Then I started to move a little, pushing in deeper each time she let up on me. Tammy, meanwhile, was bringing me up to the edge of the cliff and pulling me back again, and after a couple of those episodes she whispered, "Dick, would you like to fuck me in the ass?" Wow. Did I hear that right? "Tammy, I'd like to do anything with you that you'd enjoy, but this is all new to me. How do we do this? What about lubricant?" "Let me go to my bedroom and get some. Be right back." And she was, with some slippery stuff that she smeared over my cock. Then she handed me the tube. "Put some on your finger and shove it in gently. Yes, like that. Now put in another finger and stroke in and out. While they're mostly out, put some more lube in between them and then rub that all around inside. Ooooh, yes. Okay, now let's move around so you can put your cock up into me." Much crawling around in the bed by both of us. "Tammy, is that the way you want it?" "Yes, just keep the head of your cock against my hole and press lightly. That's it. As the muscles relax, push a little of it inside. Oh, yes, like that. Now a little more, and ooooh, you've got it in there now." I kept trying to push in, gently so I wouldn't hurt her, and after a long time I was mostly inside of her. "Oh, that feels so good. When I get my legs braced a little, shove it the rest of the way in. Yeah! Now just wait a minute and then start to fuck me, short strokes at first, then longer ones." For me, this was so new that it was bewildering. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I liked the idea that I had a new sandbox to play in, sort of like a kid with a new toy, but the sensations were so new to me that they took some getting used to. Then, as my strokes got longer I could tell that it was a real turn on for me. Her body seemed to be sucking me into her, and every stroke was a new adventure. Tammy was feeling every move I made, and she was cooing on the instroke and moaning on the outstroke. I reached under her to find her clit, which I strummed with my fingertip. The other hand was holding her left breast and gently rubbing the nipple. That did it! I was deep inside her when she gripped me so tight that I couldn't move. Her hips thrashed from side to side, and all I could do was hang on and ride out her orgasm, which was long and strong. I don't suppose that my cock would really have been snapped off at the root if I didn't grab hold of her hips in a bear hug, but I didn't want to take any chances. I came and pumped her intestines full of semen, but that was only incidental to our wild ride. Finally she started to calm down and I was relieved when I could move a little in her, then a little more, until finally she was loose enough so I could withdraw. "Dick, Dick, that was the best one of those that I've ever had! I hope I didn't hurt you." "No, I think I'm all right. Did it feel all right to you? Did I do it right?" "You were wonderful! Oh, here, take this towel and try to wipe us off a little. Did we get much on the bed?" "Some. I can't tell with the light off." "Oh, here's another towel. I didn't realize I had two. You take this one and let's go in the bathroom to get cleaned up." After our shower, we turned the overhead light on, and we could see that the bed was a real mess. I laid a towel down over it to soak up the goo and stood back. Tammy reached in and wiped around, then said, "Well, I've been the master's guest in the master bedroom, so now you can be the guest's guest in the guest room. Come on, the way we've been wrapped up together, my bed will be plenty big enough." So our two naked bodies were soon wrapped up together in the queen size bed in the guest room, where I'd never slept before. I wondered how it would be, but soon found that being with Tammy made any bed a good bed. She practically molded her body to mine, and I had the feeling that I was wearing her, the way I would wear pajamas. Except that given the choice, I'd rather wear Tammy. Sammy, Tammy, and Me * * * * * * I woke up first in the morning. I went into the bathroom and took care of my urgent needs, then crept back to bed and slipped in beside Tammy, carefully rearranging our bodies without waking her. But I couldn't go back to sleep, exactly, and as I lay there staring at the ceiling, my mind wandered sleepily as if it were on autopilot. I recalled the heady sensations that our lovemaking had produced, then the excitement of having an illicit affair with my niece's friend, and how she looked as I peeled away layer after layer of her clothes. I was reliving the intensely emotional scene when, in the afterglow of sex, we both broke through the veneer of polite behavior to talk about the deep feelings that our new relationship had brought to the surface. How wonderful to release our emotions and share our deepest thoughts together, without restraint or apology. It made me feel young, and free, and energetic. I relished the secrecy of our intimate relationship, and the openness that we shared so privately. This was even better than having a best friend - it was like - like - like what? It was like being in love, something that I had told myself was behind me, a memory never to be reawakened. And as I thought about reawakening, Tammy stirred and snuggled closer against me and moved the hand that was on my chest, as if to discover what this object was that she was draped over. Then she opened her eyes a little and said, "Good morning, lover." That word made me feel warm all over. I wanted to say something appropriate, something that would capture the moment in a few words, but my feelings were spilling out all over and I wasn't sure what I should say. "Good morning to you, too. Is that what we are, lovers? Sounds good to me." Tammy's immediate reply needed no words. The mouth that might have spoken words of love was otherwise occupied, kissing and tasting and nibbling and cooing and moaning. She discovered my nipple and sucked on it while fluttering her tongue over it to send a quiver through my body. Her arms, meanwhile, had encircled my upper torso and she hugged me as if she'd never let go. Then she stirred and sat up just enough to peer at the alarm clock. "Not enough time to make love, but time for a cuddle. Oh Dick, how tired I was of waking up alone. Being in love is the best way to start the day. Tell me you'll be here for me when I come home, and that there's nothing you'll want more than to hear how my day went. How the thought of you lingered in the back of my mind, no matter what I was doing. Let me know that I make a difference in your life. If I don't, just lie to me. Let me feel that I'm important to you. Please?" I rolled up on my side and pulled her to me, pressing her body to mine and feeling the combination of strength and softness that defines a woman. "You mirror my feelings. When you think of me, I'll be thinking of you." I pulled on sweats and hid my untidy hair with a baseball cap, and went to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and toast a trio of bagels. By the time the coffee was ready, I had gotten out cream cheese, marmalade, and strawberry jam. Tammy walked through the doorway and paused. "Oh Dick, how thoughtful. What a nice way to face a workday. You're so sweet." Sam was coming in from the other direction. "Now you can see why he's my favorite uncle. What a difference. We have time to eat a little something because you've got it all ready for us. Tammy's right, Unk, you're very sweet." The girls chattered over their coffee and bagels, and each of them gave me a kiss as they left for work. Sam's kiss was a light peck on the cheek, being careful not to mess up her lipstick, and then she was on her way to her car when Tammy took her turn. I noticed that she hadn't put on any lipstick, and she gave me a real kiss, one to treasure for the whole day. "It's so handy to be a passenger in the morning. Plenty of time to put the finishing touches on my face while we're stuck in traffic." Then she brought her lips to my ear to whisper, "I love you," and she was gone. I carried my coffee cup into the living room and turned on the TV for the morning news. Nothing they talked about could dampen my spirits, not the murders in the seedier parts of town, or the house fires, or the terrorist bombings in Iraq and Afghanistan, or the civil war in Syria. I smiled at the serious news anchors, and the pleasant but authoritative weather girl who talked about an approaching cold front while displaying her very lovely warm front, and the perky little sprite who showed where the morning's accidents and traffic jams were and how to get around them. They were all wonderful, and the TV was wonderful, and the coffee was wonderful. Nothing was going to make a dent in my day. If only the TV people could look back at me, flashing a sappy grin at every bit of bad news they threw at me. They'd be nudging each other and saying, "Look, Dick must be in love." * * * * * * Gradually we worked out the details of being lovers without tipping off Sam. As long as she was preoccupied with Dave, it wasn't all that hard. Even a few slips that could have been revealing, sailed right over her head. Tammy and I were getting in deeper and deeper, and we meant so much to each other that the torrid sex that had started it all, seemed to become secondary to our long talks and holding each other close at every opportunity. Three weeks after we started sleeping together she had her period. At first she wanted to sleep alone, feeling that I would be repulsed by this natural phenomenon. I made short work of that misunderstanding, and we simply held each other as before, while my rightful place was taken by a tampon. As we got into our second month together we occasionally spent a night together without sex, and made up for it the next night. As we became more confident in our love, we were less frantic, more like a happily married couple and less like teenage kids sneaking off for a quickie behind the barn. One night we sat and did the arithmetic exercise that we'd both been avoiding. Tammy was 36 years old. I was 51. That's 15 years difference. Not 20 or 30 or 40, just 15. When she became 50, I would turn 65. That didn't sound very scary. Then we talked about kids. If she had a kid in a year, at age 37, that kid would get out of high school the same year that Tammy would be 55. I would be 70. Those were the facts, arrived at by simple third grade arithmetic. They weren't disastrous and they weren't trivial - just plain, everyday facts. Tammy thought and said, "But I don't think I want to have a kid. If I'd been in a good situation to have kids ten years ago I might have jumped at it, but in my late thirties there's too much risk of something going wrong. Besides, with your vasectomy how could you help me make a baby? I'm sure there are a lot of gee-whiz medical miracles that some doctor could pull off, but they all have risks of their own and besides they'd be awfully expensive. If I really want a kid some time, there are orphans out there waiting to be adopted. But right now, it doesn't seem to be an issue. With that out of the way, there's nothing about our vital statistics that scares me. What about you?" I was relieved by her words, and I showed it by rambling. "Pretty much the same as you. When I was forced into early retirement I gulped hard, because I'd been working for so long, ever since I started to deliver papers when I was twelve. I didn't know what it would be like, how I'd spend my time, what I'd use as a focal point for my life. I wanted to keep busy with something. Then after I moved to Arizona I got interested in the things that make it so different from any other state I've ever lived in, and somehow I've been busy ever since. But it's a good kind of busy, having things to do because they mean something to me, not because some idiot thinks they need to be done, and done immediately. I don't feel an urge to raise more kids, and I often think how lucky I am not to have a teenager now, with all the chances there are today for kids to go wrong, one way or another. I spend my time doing things that don't relate to any particular age, so I don't go around thinking about being 51, or being sorry that I'm not 31 or 41 instead. Loving you is now the center point of my whole world, and anything related to you is important to me. I couldn't love you any more if you were 20 or 30 or 40 or 50. To me, our relationship seems timeless." * * * * * * I started to collect clippings and brochures about places to go and things to see. This is a big state, but the roads are good and almost anything we'd be interested in could be a day or weekend trip, and as the weather was cooling off it seemed like a good time to get out of the house for a change. Tammy had been in the state only a couple of months when we first got together, and I wanted to show her some of the attractions that tourists traveled thousands of miles to see. No matter how deeply involved Sam was with Dave, she was sure to think something was going on if Tammy and I went off for a weekend at the Grand Canyon or wherever, so it seemed like a good time to sit down with her and have The Talk. One Wednesday evening, after the supper dishes were put away and the kitchen was cleaned up, I opened a bottle of good Chardonnay and invited the girls to sit in the living room and have a glass with me. That much was easy, but merely creating the right setting didn't get the conversation started, and I didn't know exactly how to begin. "Uh, Sam, there's something I need to explain to you. I've put it off, because I didn't know how you'd feel about it. Ever since Tammy moved out of your little house and into the guest room, she and I have been getting to know each other and we've become friends. Close friends. Very close friends." Sam's eyes opened wider and she set her wine glass down. "Do you mean, ah, what are you saying? How close?" "Intimate." "You mean, sleeping together?" I nodded. "How often?" "Every night." "But I never, I mean, how could, no, well, is this serious? Are you a couple?" "Yes. Two lonely people have found each other and it's been quite wonderful." "Oh. Well, I hope you'll excuse my surprise. You're both very good people and I'm happy for you. In fact, I congratulate you. But I never guessed. You've been very discreet about it. How long has this been going on? How serious are you about being together? Should I be looking for a bridesmaid gown? Suppose I shut up and let you tell me about it." I nodded to Tammy, who had been alternately smiling and frowning as the conversation went on, without saying a word. But from here on, this needed to be a girl to girl talk. I sat back and took a sip of wine, as she set down her glass and leaned forward. "Sam, we held off telling you about us to avoid creating a complication in our family life just as you were exploring your relationship with Dave. Both Dick and I love you and want nothing but the best for you, and there was nothing to be gained by trumpeting our good news at such an important moment in your life. "We got together, sort of blundered together, just after you and Dave started to get serious. Believe what Dick said, we were both lonely, and had been for so long that we didn't even realize how bad it felt. We kept shoving our feelings aside and pretending to ourselves that we didn't need anybody close, but once we came together we could see that we both needed an intimate relationship. And I don't think I'm going too far, since this is a very private conversation, to say that we're both very good in bed with each other. Dick, help me out here. What would you say about that?" "The phrase 'new heights' comes to mind. Sam, I think that my whole life, up to now, has been just a long preparation for Tammy. We make each other happy and satisfied in every way." "Every way?" "Yes, every way that I can imagine." I looked over at Tammy and she smiled as she nodded her agreement. The conversation cooled down after that, not to mean that there were any hurt feelings, but just that after the 'every way' comment there wasn't an awful lot left to say about Tammy and me. So we went on to small talk. Tammy threw out the question, "How are things going with you and Dave?" Sam brightened at the sound of his name. "He's great, and I love him to pieces, but for some reason we seem to have hit a plateau. I was expecting that he'd want to move in with me by now, but he hasn't mentioned it. He likes to go out with the guys a couple of nights a week, not drinking a lot or anything like that, but playing basketball or bowling or something else like that. They're talking about putting a softball team together for the city league, which would mean two or even three games a week, and maybe practice on top of that. Here I just met him, and got to know him, and won him, and now I'm losing him." She started to look as if she'd cry. Sam and Tammy were sitting on the sofa, with a fair space between them. Tammy turned and moved over to put her arms around Sam. I excused myself to go to the kitchen for a cold beer. This was too much for white wind. When I came back, Tammy and Sam sat back and Sam took a couple of short breaths and then looked over at me. I asked her, "How many guys are we talking about who go out together?" "Oh, usually five or six." "Do any of them have wives or girlfriends?" "Yes. Three are married and I know that one other one besides Dave has a steady girlfriend." "Have you met any of them?" "Yeah, Joanne, the girlfriend, and Doris, one of the wives." "What do they say about the guys' plans?" "We haven't talked about it. Are you thinking that maybe we should?" "Look, this is making you unhappy. It's not a problem that you've caused, but you can't do anything to solve it, all by yourself. I think you'd better see how the other girls feel about it, and try to figure out how to deal with it if it seems to be a problem for the others, too. If it should turn out that you're the only one who's getting hurt by it, then it's a problem for you to deal with on your own, and that would probably mean making Dave choose between the guys and you, which is a real ugly situation for all." "But if they really want to play in the softball league, shouldn't they be allowed to?" "Are you asking if this is really your fault?" "Well, no, but actually, oh, I don't know what I mean!" "Do you know that a lot of teams have the wives come to the games and cheer for their men? I've known some of them who have the wives plan and organize everything, keep the records for them, reschedule games when there's a rainout, all that sort of thing. They bring coolers with canned soda and sandwiches, sometimes a bucket of ice so they can wet a towel and wipe down when they come off the field. The wives and girlfriends are involved with the guys and it gets to be an activity that brings them closer together, not further apart. When their kids get older they know a lot about the game because they've seen it played so many times. These are usually the same parents that get involved in Little League, or PeeWee Football, kids basketball, Youth Soccer and sports like that. Those activities are good for kids and also they pull the parents and kids closer together when they get to be teenagers." "I never knew anything about that. I wonder if the other girls know about any of it. I'm going to call around." "I'll let you in on a little secret. Men and women are different. When they can get into any sort of hobby or sport that will involve both of them, it's worth a serious look. There's nothing that comes as close to the caveman tradition of the men hunting and the women tending to their wounds after the hunt, as men playing a strenuous sport and the women cheering them on and handing them cold cans of soda. And then on an off day on a weekend, having a picnic for all the same men and women. It follows the prehistoric gender roles to the letter. "It may be hard for you to get the feel of what life is like for a man, and it's just as hard for him to know how you feel. It's natural for him and his buddies to do things together. They're doers by nature, and they're evolved from men who hunted in groups. It's just as natural for the wives and girlfriends to get together and do what they do best, which is often comforting their men when their team is off the field, and talking together at other times. So you might want to think about getting the hunter-doers and comforter-talkers organized so everybody has a niche and nobody feels left out." "I see what you mean. But after a long day at the job, in the shop or in the office or on the road, why don't these guys feel like spending time with their ladies?" "It's a guy thing. It all comes from the cave dwellers. Their off time was spent together, while their wives were taking care of the kids and cooking the meals. The wives found out they could fix supper better if their husbands weren't right there, getting in their way or worse yet, trying to help. Modern men can't hunt as a team because they all work at different jobs in different places. They get frustrated during the workday, trying to get their jobs done while their managers are only making things worse. So when they get off work, they find it therapeutic to go back to doing some simple but difficult task with others who are on the same team. Once they've tired themselves out, they can relax and relate to their women." "That all seems to make sense when you say it. I'm going to have to talk with the wives. I think Sarah is the oldest, and has been married the longest. Maybe she can understand this a little better than the rest." "Good luck." * * * * * * Tammy and I retired to the master bedroom, where we could relax together and talk or whatever we felt like. She said right away, "Sounds to me like trouble ahead for Sam and Dave." "Not if they handle this problem like responsible adults. The trouble is that so far they haven't had a truly adult relationship, and they need to switch to another mode of operation to fix this problem. It isn't even a problem, but it's something that could go either way, tear them apart or pull them together. If they don't handle this well, they'll never be happy in this or any other relationship again. They have to climb over the top of this mountain, and if they don't, they'll never make it over another one in the future. "But what about us? Don't you want to get together with some of the girls in the office after work sometimes? Don't you want to chatter away with them, hear them tell about their problems, over and over again, until they've convinced themselves that they're right? Won't you want to complain to your friends about how awful I treat you? Won't you want to go out with them and have a few drinks and flirt with guys and laugh as they try to pick you up?" "Been there, done that, got the T shirt. Remember, I'm older and wiser. Been around the block a few times. Look, I'm an accountant. I work all day at a job that requires a full time adult. I can't flip the switch that easily, go from adult all day to child in the evening, acting like a pubescent girl who wants all the boys to see what beautiful tits I've been growing. I'm simply way past that, and now that I've come to terms with being 36, I want to stay 36 and act 36 and find ways to be a happy 36. The other girls in the office can find their own ways to be happy. I've got mine right here in front of me. Welcome to the world of a 36 year old!" * * * * * * About two days after that, Sam called me at lunchtime and asked if we could have Dave as our guest that evening for dinner. I had no problem with the meal - all I had to do was prepare enough food. The problem, I suspected, was what would come after the meal. Dave had been coming around to hang a necktie on the doorknob for quite a while, and never saw fit to be introduced to the family. Now, suddenly, all that was changed. The only thing this could mean was a summit meeting. Sammy, Tammy, and Me Tammy had driven her own car, so I asked her to stop on the way home and get a few things at the supermarket. I recited the list, and she said she'd do it. I was cooking a marinara sauce, and I had more of everything on hand, so I added some more tomato paste and another pound of sausage, and got out a bigger pot for the pasta. That part's easy, especially when you have half a day's notice. Dave appeared, shortly after the girls had arrived after work. Introductions were handled, cold beers passed out, and he perched on a stool in the corner of the kitchen while I got the meal ready for the table. Seemed like a nice guy, an engineer in a firm that built the structural steel columns and beams for industrial buildings. He was from Omaha, and just like so many young men these days, hadn't lived at home since he went away to college at age 18. As we talked, I started to understand that he had no home life and hadn't for a long time, so he was accustomed to going out for everything - meals, entertainment, hobbies, socializing - anything other than sleeping, personal hygiene, and getting dressed. To him, his apartment was nothing but a crash pad, and that seemed natural to him. The conversation veered around to Sam, and I could tell that he was seriously in love with her, whether he realized it or not. So I talked a bit about her background - family, home life, how she came to move here to live with me - and let her history show that she was more attuned to a home centered lifestyle. I didn't reach out and hit him over the head with the obvious culture clash, but I left it out there for him to grab onto if he was so inclined. Gradually an understanding seemed to be taking root in his mind, so I nudged the conversation along with the question, "How do you see the future of your relationship with Sam?" It was a question he'd obviously been dreading, and he went from a self-assured, poised young man to a stumbling mass of confusion in about a microsecond. I hastened to try to settle him down. "Hold on. You're young yet, and you've got a long life ahead of you. We never really know what's around the corner or down the road." "But you see, that's just it. I don't know what lies ahead, and yet I want to have a life that includes Sam. I feel lucky to have found her and I don't want to lose her just because I can't get focused on settling down." "But isn't that what dating is all about? Getting to know each other, gradually letting the big puzzle pieces fall into place? Of course, dating is different from living a totally unattached life, especially because you both want to be together, first once a week, then two or three times, and finally so much that you automatically include each other in every plan you make. People who don't use dating that way, as a transition to total togetherness, can get a rude shock when they get married, and that causes a lot of early divorces." "Yeah, I see what you mean, but how does a guy do that? I mean, I have my friends and we do stuff together, and then other nights I see Sam. It's either-or. Never and." "Then maybe that's what you ought to look at. What's the reason that your normal, healthy leisure time activities can't include Sam? There's nothing there to feel guilty about. You seem to have put your finger on the root cause of your uneasiness, and as an engineer you're comfortable with complicated problems. "How do your friends deal with this? Have you ever talked with them about it? What about the ones who are married? Are they dealing with it, or are they just content to grow apart, heading along the road to divorce court?" "I don't know if we'd really feel comfortable talking about such a personal matter. I'll have to think about that." By this time the pasta was cooked, and I drained it and sprayed it with cold water to keep it from sticking together. "Well, this meal is ready to be served. How about getting the ladies set up with something to drink, while I put this on the table." * * * * * * After dinner the girls cleaned up the mess I'd made of the kitchen, while Dave and I sat out on the patio to enjoy a cold beer. He asked me about my family history, very politely, but with an obvious subtitle: "What the hell makes you think you're such an authority on how other people should live their lives?" "I married young. My wife was a great catch, but I didn't appreciate what I had. Very simply, we never got it together. She had her friends and I had mine. We ate supper together every night and slept in the same bed. Then it was supper together five nights a week, then four, and so on. Pretty soon we were just passing in the hallway. The silly part of it was that we really cared for each other, but we just weren't smart enough or mature enough to see where we were headed. So after two and a half years, we divorced, amicably because there were no serious regrets. It felt as if we'd never really been married." "How did you feel after the divorce? Was it hard to adjust?" "Yes and no. I missed having someone to sleep with. I don't mean just sex. It was more the feeling of being alone all night. I didn't sleep well. Then I dated. That was tough. I didn't know what I was looking for, so I had no idea how to find it. By mere chance I met a girl from a big family, lots of sisters who were married to regular guys and had kids. There were family get togethers at least twice a month, not always the whole clan but two or three couples and their kids. We got married and carried on the family tradition, and we also had other friends, but the emphasis was on married couples doing whatever. It was all new to me but I got used to it, and it worked. We eventually had two kids, a boy and a girl, who are both married now. My son lives in the northwest and my daughter in the southeast. We talk on the phone, but rarely face to face. "My wife died at age forty, from a heart attack. Quite sudden. Then a few years later the company I was with had to downsize. I was a corporate officer, but my whole division got shut down and I was left with a nice office and my executive secretary, but nothing to do. So they gave me a very attractive golden parachute, and I was suddenly as free as a bird, still in my forties. Those two shocks, my wife's death and my forced retirement, left me adrift. If it weren't for mys including me in every family thing they did, I'd have had a tough time of it. When the economy recovered, house prices went sky high. I had a really nice house with a very small mortgage. The market was so active that I had people competing to buy it, and it sold for more than my asking price. By then I'd had enough northeastern winters to last a lifetime, so I sold practically everything I owned and moved out here to start over." "So you were here, all alone, with no friends or family or job or anything. That was starting over, all right. Starting from scratch. Weren't you lonely?" "Oh, I had lots of long, quiet nights to think about things. I wasn't bogged down with guilt for anything I'd done, but I felt that I could have done better with the opportunities I'd had. So I tried to figure out what had gone well and what had gone poorly. I thought about people I knew who had made better and worse decisions than I had. After a few weeks of that I started to see what life was all about. When you're right in the middle of it, you can't see the forest for the trees, but later, too late to do anything about it, you can see where you could have done better. These days I can face every new day with an open mind, and now I have the insight that comes from hindsight." "Do you have any sage advice, based on all you've been through?" "Only this: sift through the trivia to find the real problems, and then learn all you can about them. Answers are easy. It's the questions that are elusive." * * * * * * Tammy sat with me in the living room after Dave had left and Sam had gone into her little house to get ready for bed. I didn't know how much of my conversation with Dave she might have overheard, but I knew she was a good judge of people, so I asked, "What did you think of Dave?" "A nice guy, immature, afraid of adult responsibility, terrified of getting roped into a life he won't be happy in. How about you?" "Pretty much the same, but not so severe. He's scholarly, learns from experience. Distrusts new challenges until he can find out what they're all about. You could call him timid, or make it sound better by calling him cautious. Remember he's an engineer and they tend to analyze everything, sometimes over think things. We used to use the term 'paralysis by analysis.' Also he's a team player, not a soloist, and he's most comfortable with his friends around him. He has the idea that women are mysterious creatures, and that makes him afraid of real intellectual intimacy. The only woman he ever let into his life is his mother, and she applauded when he did something well, either in his studies or in athletics. So he thinks that Sam ought to do the same, and that playing team sports ought to bring them closer together, not drive them apart." We sat and thought for a minute. "Tammy, Sam needs to know what she's dealing with here. She can make good decisions if she understands what's going on. You need to talk with her. She trusts you and even if she brushes you off she'll listen and remember what you've said." "I'll give it a try. Sam is an adult with a ticking biological clock, and she's attracted to a grown man who's a little boy. I wish I felt more optimistic about their chances. She likes his looks, his earning potential, and his sexual performance. I wonder if she suspects all the things we've been talking about, and doesn't want to face up to them." "Come over here and sit on my lap. We can't get anywhere by talking Sam and Dave to death, so let's change the subject." She got up and came to me. "What subject do you have in mind?" "Us." We explored that subject all the way to bed, but it didn't take a whole lot of conversation. * * * * * * I had been talking off and on with a realtor up north about buying a piece of land to build a cabin on, for a weekend getaway or vacation or whatever. He called me and said he had three that I might like, so I decided to drive up there and look at what he had. The girls said they'd take care of the homestead and keep a light in the window for me, and I promised to keep in touch. I was driving "up there" in more ways than one. First, I was heading north, toward the top of the map. Second, it was up in the physical sense. There's a big fault line running roughly across the state from east to west. South of that, the elevation is mostly from 1,000 to 3,000 feet. To the north it's typically from 6,000 to 9,000. That's pretty high. Compared to many of the eastern states, our low spots are as high as their high spots. So when you drive north, you leave the desert and go into a forest with a variety of trees, but there seem to be more pines than anything else in the places where I've been. I went to the real estate office of Herbert Lawson. Most men named Herbert go by either Herb or Bert. Herbert Lawson goes by Herbert. As the door closed behind me he looked up from his computer monitor and boomed out, "Hiya, Dick! Come on in! You couldn't have timed it better with a stopwatch. You're just in time for lunch. Give me a minute to save this and I'll be right with you." We walked down the street to Dolly's Deli. Herbert was so busy returning greetings and shaking hands that I wondered if we'd get to the one vacant table before somebody else came in and snatched it. When we finally sat down, Herbert said, "You've got to let me order for you. The broccoli-chicken soup is world famous, and we'll follow that with one of Dolly's elkburgers. No sense coming all this way up to the mountains just to eat what they serve down in the flatland. You'll remember this lunch after you go home to the desert, and the memory will bring you back up here again." I knew that Herbert was an enthusiastic booster for the area, and that he'd describe every real estate listing as if it were next door to the Taj Mahal, so I let his bombast bounce off my brain without getting deeply embedded. I also knew that under his buffoonery there lurked a sharp, honest businessman with a good sense for real estate values and a comprehensive knowledge of the land, the landowners, and future plans and possibilities. He pulled three data sheets out of his pocket and laid them before me, just as the soup was being served. I scanned while the soup cooled. "Where are these places, Herbert?" "This one and this one are out of here to the east, both within a mile of route 60. The other one's out to the west, twenty miles from here. They've all got everything you said you wanted, a view, trees, not so many trees that you'd have a fire problem, and water. These two don't have wells now, but there are wells nearby so I'm sure you could hit water when you drill. Now this one has a cabin on it. Needs work, but the basic infrastructure is in place, well, septic tank, leach field, driveway, power line, so you wouldn't be starting from scratch. Want to look at that first?" "Makes sense. Can we get to see all three today, or should I get a room and stay over?" "Suppose we look at these two this afternoon. Even if we could get over to the other one today, there's no sense in you driving all the way home in the dark, so let's get you a motel room when we leave here. "How'd you like the soup? That's a little touch I picked up in California. There's a chain in Orange County that has two soups every day. One's a soup d' jour and the other one is always cream of broccoli. It goes over big in that area, so I figured why not try it here. Adding the chicken was Dolly's idea." "You figured? Do you own this place?" "Well, yes, but I don't make a big thing of it. Dolly had managed a place across town for years, and when the owner closed it down and retired she was out of a job. So I backed her here. This location is good and I thought it'd go over well. She runs a great place, always on top of everything, clean and neat, does a good job of training the help, and it's convenient to my office so I get a good lunch every day. My wife knows I'm eating well and not romancing some waitress so she's happy, and her family thinks I'm Santa Claus so they're all happy." "I got all that except for yours. What's the connection I'm missing?" "Oh, Dolly's my wife's younger sister." "Okay, now I get it. You've got this area pretty well in the palm of your hand, haven't you?" "Yeah, but this is just one corner of it. In the real estate business in a small town, you get to feel the pulse of the local economy, and you need to ride with it. There are all sorts of deals that I've had offered to me, including places that I listed but couldn't sell. But if you're just into land, or commercial, or residential, the ups and downs can blindside you and you can lose your shirt. If you're involved in a variety of things you can see what's coming down the track before everyone else hears the whistle. Like the John Deere dealership. That's a partnership between me and Charlie Crawford, the Chevy dealer. I own only a third of it, because Charlie knows how to run dealerships like that. I get to see what's happening before it happens but it doesn't take up a lot of my time, or involve me in making decisions in a business that I don't know anything about. And it's a money maker, which makes it nice, too. My wife's brother works there, so without even setting a foot onto the property I get to know what's going on." "He sells tractors?" "No, he fixes them. He's in charge of the shop and the parts department. He's been there for years. That's how Charlie and I got involved to start with. Ralph, my brother, had been watching the way the owner was running things, and he saw that he wasn't carrying the inventory he should have been so he knew the guy was having money problems. Next thing he was having trouble arranging financing for people who wanted to buy big equipment. Ralph was afraid the place would go belly up and he'd be on the street. "I got a guy in here from Colorado to look over the whole business, all the assets and liabilities, inventory turnover, the local market that it sold into, even confidential information from Deere that I couldn't have got hold of, but he could. Then he gave me a complete confidential report and I took it to Charlie. We liked what we saw so we took it to the bank together. In the end, everybody made out on the deal. Charlie and I have a nice business there, I have a great source of information, the former owner got bailed out, and the bank is happy because they avoided a default and they get a nice interest payment from us every quarter. If you want to be a small businessman, that's what you have to do - make everybody a winner. But pull off one shady deal where local people get hurt, and suddenly everybody hates you. Next thing you don't know what's happening around town any more and your friends have become enemies. Then you might as well cut your losses, liquidate everything, and move somewhere far away." * * * * * * The first property we looked at was four acres with a small one bedroom cabin. It had been built on piers, concrete posts sunk into the ground every eight feet. I looked at every side of the cabin from twenty feet back, and I could see that some of the piers had apparently sunk deeper into the ground, so that the cabin was in the process of tearing itself apart by being up here and down there, where it ought to be level. From a little farther back I could see that the lot sloped down toward the road, and the cabin had been built in a slight sloping depression that would be a natural wash, carrying snowmelt water under and around the cabin every spring. Inside the cabin I could see that the floor went up and down. There was no need to do the old marble test that I had seen old timers do when I was a boy, putting a marble on the floor and seeing if it rolled away, and if so, in what direction. "Sort of a sad story, Herbert, the way this place has been tearing itself apart. If they'd put it up on that little rise over to the west, it probably would have stayed put instead of sinking into the ground here and there. Nice place, otherwise. But instead of adding value to the property, it just adds expense because it needs to be torn down and a new one built over there where they should have put this in the first place." "You're exactly right. If it didn't have that huge stone fireplace, maybe it could be lifted and moved over there, but as it is, you couldn't even salvage enough building materials from it to break even. Well, keep it in mind if you want a project place. It's a nice view lot, it has a good well and leach field, and I could get it for you cheap." The next place was a fifteen acre plot of land with no improvements. We walked the lot lines, looked at the trees that covered it, and noted the roll and slope of the land. The best building site was a hundred feet back from the gravel road, up about twenty feet above the road level. The land sloped gently away from there in all directions, which should provide good drainage. I found a level place fifty feet away from there that would be a good place for a barn, and a driveway from there to the road would be easy to plow in the winter. About a hundred trees, from six inches to a foot in diameter, would have to be cut down, which could keep me in firewood for a long time. "This looks interesting, Herbert. Tell me a little about the land. How far down to bedrock, how much runoff comes through here in the spring, how deep the frost line is, what I'd have to do for a leach field to satisfy the environmental folks, how good the water is and how far down, all that sort of stuff." Sammy, Tammy, and Me "All right. I've got two folding chairs in the back of my SUV. Let's sit out in that little clearing like gentlemen and I'll tell you everything you ought to know." We shared a thermos jug of Dolly's lemonade as we sat and talked. By the time we got around to the "sermon on the amount" I had a good idea of what I'd have to do to have a cabin and outbuilding. As usual, the price of the land was almost incidental. I'd be looking at an outlay of seventy thousand to develop it as I'd want to, and I could visualize what would be where, and what it would all look like. We went back to town, and Herbert dropped me off at the motel. I'd asked him to check with his bank on availability of construction loans on a weekend getaway cabin, and also on a year-around residence, and a few other things that he could find out easily for me. He promised to have answers when he picked me up in the morning at nine. I showered and slipped into some lightweight casual clothes, killing time until Tammy would be home from work. I called her at five thirty, and she picked up right away. "I knew you'd call me. What have you found?" "Nothing that we could do anything with right away. A place with a cabin that's falling apart, and a piece of land that might have some possibilities, but it doesn't even have the trees cleared off. If we wanted to build there, it'd take over a year before we'd have a place to spend the night." "When you say the land has possibilities, what do you mean?" "I think there's a spot that's suitable for putting a cabin on. The place is all trees, but there's a nice view looking out toward the road. It's secluded, nobody around where you'd see their houses, just us and the bears. If we put a deck on the back, you could sunbathe in the nude, and the only thing you'd have to worry about is having me come along and ravage you." "What's the neighborhood like?" "As far as I could figure out, there isn't any. It's about a dozen miles to town, where you could get a loaf of bread and a case of beer. If we were to go there for a weekend, we'd probably want to take our supplies with us." "But no neighbors nearby? Nobody to snoop around and figure out what we're up to?" "Not that I saw. But don't worry, before I get serious about any of these places, you can come along and look around for yourself. In fact, the next time I come up here I'll bring you with me. I want you to see what this little town is like, and how it feels to be up above the smog layer and breathe the fresh air of the pine forest." "What is there to do up there? Is there any place where we could go swimming? Any cultural activities like Saturday night stock car races? Can you rent horses anywhere and go riding? Any place like a saloon where they have musicians on the weekend? Bowling? Oh, how's the TV reception? Can you get a good signal on a cell phone? How much rain do they get?" "You've got the questions, all right. I don't have the answers, but you can ask the people up here and find out what it's all about. But don't expect to find a place where you can get away from the big city, that'll have all the things that a big city has." "I understand, but I have the feeling that we could get to a place where it's peaceful and quiet and restful, and after the dishes are done there's not a thing to do except sit and watch the trees grow." "Tell you what I'll do. Can you take a Friday and Monday off from work so we'll have a four day weekend?" "I guess so, unless one of the girls is on vacation. If you pick a weekend, I'll see if we can do it. What've you got in mind?" "There's a lodge up here, pretty nice place, where people come for vacations. I can see about getting a reservation for a long weekend, and we'll come up here and you can get a feel for the place. Maybe in the future we'd be better off reserving a week there now and then, instead of owning a cabin, with all the expenses that go along with maintaining our own little getaway place. I can go over there tomorrow and phone you at work so we can see if we could put the dates together. How does that sound to you?" "Good idea. Then I can look around and talk with people and get an idea of what life is like up there." * * * * * * The third property didn't excite me at all. When I left Herbert it was with the understanding that he would keep his ear to the ground, and in the meantime I'd be thinking about the sort of deal that the second place represented. I let him know that I was thinking that maybe the lodge would be our path of least resistance, and he said that if so he'd appreciate our business there. He seems to have a piece of everything around the town! Then I went over to the lodge and talked with the people there about long weekends. I gave Tammy two possible weekends, and went into their dining room for lunch. I was on my second cup of coffee when she called back, and fifteen minutes later our reservation was all made and paid for. I still hated to leave the mountains behind. I drove slowly toward home, until I got onto the main north-south interstate that seemed to move at the speed of light. I kicked it up to the speed limit as a matter of survival, to avoid getting squished to a pulp by the eighteen wheelers. I arrived at home after the supper dishes had been washed and the kitchen cleaned up. Tammy opened some refrigerator containers and performed a few feats of domestic magic, and I had a whole supper, which I took into the living room to eat. Sam came in, and we had a spirited conversation about my trip to the north country. That led to a more general conversation, and the subject of Sam's love life came up. "Unk, between you talking to Dave that night and the conversations I've had with the wives, I think that something good is happening. The guys are cooling off on that softball league they were thinking about. It's for fanatical athletes, guys who have a need to win no matter what, to prove that they aren't getting old. They're so serious about it that nothing else in their lives matters. But there's another league starting up that plays only one game a week, on Friday nights, and the teams are mixed, half men and half women on each team. The question is whether the guys would be content to play with women, and do it just for fun instead of serous competition." "What's being done to answer that question?" "Tonight they're supposed to be meeting at Todd's house to talk it over and reach a decision. Todd is the oldest of the guys. His wife is Sarah. They're both very nice, and I don't get the feeling that they're letting this sports thing tear their marriage apart." "Why don't you go over there for the meeting?" I asked. "You mean, just barge in uninvited?" "How about calling Sarah and getting her to invite you? It's her house too." "You're right. Good idea." She went out to get her phone. * * * * * * Getting ready for bed, I asked Tammy about her interests in sports. "I played a bunch of different sports, to see what they felt like. Soccer first. All that constant running will keep you in shape, but I didn't like it much. It's hard to get good with that ball. It's so heavy, and it never did what I wanted it to. Like when you're supposed to overrun it and kick it backwards to a teammate. Well, it never went where I wanted it to. You're not even looking at the ball, but you're supposed to know just where to kick it. I did sorta like to running into people, though. I bet I would've made a good running back in football." "What about softball?" "I was pretty good at that. That fat ball is just too big for a lot of people to handle, but I have long fingers and I got pretty good at controlling it. A lot of girls were softball nuts, and there was no way I could make varsity in high school. And in college! Every girl you see out there playing college softball, whether they're at huge universities or small colleges, has been recruited after at least two winning years of high school varsity. The chick you see in right field, who might never touch the ball the whole game, has been a star in high school, carrying her whole team. I went for tryouts and never even made it through the whole session. Another thing is the pitching. Those pitchers got that ball out there so fast, and placed it exactly where they wanted it to go. There's a popular misconception that a softball is easier to hit than a hardball, but if you do the arithmetic you'll see that a hardball going 95 miles an hour and a softball going 60, on a smaller diamond, both get from the pitcher to the batter in half a second. Add to that the fact that the softball is coming up at you instead of down from a pitcher's mound, there's very little chance of getting a base hit. And it scrambles your brain. If you want to feel stupid, try swinging a bat at a ball that's so big you'd think nobody could miss it, but you never get the bat on it once in the whole game. "Of course, the slow pitch that they use in the mixed leagues is totally different. The ball is coming down toward the catcher, and it's all in your timing. So you can go up there in practice and swing at a few with somebody coaching from the side, watching how you're missing it. Take half a dozen swings, and your coach can tell you whether to go for a lighter bat to speed up your swing, or a heavier one to slow it down. After that you can count on at least one base hit in every game you play. But if you don't get the right bat, you can swing at that thing all day and never hit even a foul ball." "What about this team that Sam's talking about? If they come up short would you like to play?" "Oh, I don't like to butt into stuff that Sam's doing, especially with Dave being involved. Those two are so serious, trying to live normal lives while they romance each other, and I don't want to get mixed up in that. Now if Sam were to ask me, I'd play, and I'm sure I wouldn't embarrass either one of you. But unless she comes to me, it's strictly hands off. I don't mess around with anybody's chance at wedding bells." Next morning I had toast and coffee ready when Sam came out to the kitchen. "Oh, thanks, Unk. I need the caffeine this morning. Late night last night." "How'd it turn out?" "One of the guys was against it and another one on the fence, but we talked and talked and finally they agreed to go for the mixed league. Todd is going to register us this afternoon." "Us?" "Yeah. Dave figured if I was interested enough to come to the meeting, I ought to play." "Do you like softball?" "I have no idea. I was a runner, cross country mostly, and the quarter mile when I was younger, before everything got to be metric. Just never got involved in sports that have balls in them." "Can you hit?" "Well, I can swing a bat. We'll just have to see if it smashes into anything round." * * * * * * The next day I went to check out softball stuff at a sporting goods store. I didn't buy anything, just looked and noted the price range on the bats and balls and gloves. When Tammy came home that night I asked her if we could get some stuff so she could coach Sam, especially at hitting, and some of the fundamentals of fielding. When Sam came in we talked with her about it. "I didn't know there was that much technique to it. Don't you just sort of hold your hand out there and the ball plops into it?" "Sam, I don't want you to get embarrassed out there, and I know you don't want to embarrass Dave, especially after you took enough interest in this league to go out last night and talk his friends into it. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I sorta put myself on the spot. So what should we do?" "Let's go to a store and buy some stuff, so Tammy can coach you. We'll get a couple of balls, and a glove for each of us, and you can try out some bats to find one that feels good when you swing it. And we'll get a rule book. It's all on me, in the interest of your marital bliss." "Marital? Aren't you rushing things a little, Unk? Trying to get rid of me?" "No, but I want you to have a lifetime of happiness, that's all." The thing I wish I had a picture of, was Sam's face when I put a softball into her hand. She looked at it, tried to get a grip on it, rolled it gently from her right hand to her left, and then back again. She didn't utter a word, but her face said it all, and the message was "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Finally she handed it back to me and asked, "Don't they have any smaller ones?" I held her hand out, palm up, and laid the ball gently onto the palm. Then I wrapped her fingers up around it. "Now as I turn your hand over, grip the ball so it doesn't fall on the floor." She did that all right. I turned her hand back to the palm up position. "Now try to work the ball up off your palm, so that it's just held by your fingers. That's the grip you need when you're getting ready to throw it. You need to feel that you have control of the ball." "Maybe if I'd played with these things when I was a kid this would feel better. I can hold onto it all right, but doing anything creative with it seems impossible." "Well, the answer to that is practice. When we get home we'll fool around with it a little and you'll start to get a feel for it. Tonight you ought to file your nails a little shorter, so you can exert pressure with your fingertips without tearing your nails off. Let's look at gloves." I handed her a glove and she put it on, but couldn't get all her fingers into it. We fumbled with it and she finally got it on. I put one on my hand and opened and closed it so she could see the action of the hinge. "Okay, now here comes the ball and you've got to catch it. The glove has to be open, but not out flat. It has to be like a funnel, so that the ball goes down into the bottom of the hinge, to that part they call the basket." I held the ball and put it into the glove, first centered, and then out toward her fingertips. "Now the glove won't do all the catching for you. That's where your fingers come into play. As soon as the ball is in the glove, curve your fingers to guide it in, and then close the glove over it so it can't get away from you." She tried that a bit. "Now reach into the glove with your right hand to get the ball out and control it with your fingers." That was going to take a little work. "Okay, you're on your way to being a softball player. Let's try some bats." I let Tammy handle the bat selection. She showed Sam how to wrap her fingers around the bat, and to my surprise Sam showed a natural, level swing. Tammy picked out a light bat that Sam could whip around fast, then one that was about as heavy as she could handle, and finally one that was in the middle. It reminded me of the story of the three bears, but I didn't want to cast Sam into the role of Goldilocks because she was nowhere near ready to laugh at herself. We wound up with so much stuff that I had to get a duffel bag to carry it all. On the way to the cashier I picked up an extra ball. That night I did a very neat job of marking "SAM" on it in big black block letters with a Sharpie. The Sharpie ink penetrates well into anything porous, and I knew it would soak into the leather overnight and would last forever. In the morning I had English muffins ready for the girls, and that ball was sitting in the center of Sam's plate. "Hey, what's this?" "Don't eat that. Stick it in your purse and take it with you. Keep it on your desk. When you're on a phone call, hold it in your right hand and wiggle it back and forth with your fingertips. Pick it up and set it down while your mind is on other things. In other words, get so accustomed to that ball that it starts to feel like a part of you. Do that for a week and you may get so attached to it that you'll wonder how you lived without it." * * * * * * What got me excited about the shaping of Sam the Softball Star, was that she seemed like a natural batter. I was thinking that she could be used as a pinch hitter, especially with her running speed. Tammy took her to the park near home several times after work, and I followed at a distance and found a spot where I wasn't conspicuous but had a clear view of the batting practice. There was no mistaking it, this girl could hit! I stopped at the store next day and picked up some more balls, so Tammy could keep up the pace. Then I played the outfield, collecting balls and tossing them back to Tammy. For my next trick I brought out three paper plates, so I could pace off the distances in the grassy field and mark the pitcher's circle, home plate, and first base. With that done, every time Sam hit the ball, she could run to first base, with me timing her on a stopwatch. It was easy to see why she had been a good runner in school - she had a quick start, kept her body low and gradually came up during the first three or four steps, and ran with no wasted motion, straight and level, elbows in tight as she pumped her arms with each step. After Sam's power at the plate was polished by practice, I suggested that she invite Dave to supper, and let him coach her on fielding and throwing. That worked out well. He was eager to get involved, and his attention to detail made him a good coach. The session started with batting practice. Dave was naturally a laid back guy, but when he saw what Sam could do with a bat and how fast she was on the baseline, he looked like a young kid on Christmas morning. Then he started in on fielding, beginning with his rule number one, "Never catch the ball with your face." With Tammy tossing the balls out, Sam learned to smother a ground ball and catch a fly. Dave stressed the importance of getting the ball into play as fast as possible, and every catch Sam made was followed immediately with a called throw to Tammy or me. I thought that throwing would be Sam's biggest challenge, with her small hands, but it turned out that her real problem was getting the ball out of her glove. I was letting Dave do the coaching, so I didn't comment on it, but it was definitely frustrating Sam and she was getting embarrassed. Next morning I was only mildly surprised to see that she was going to work with not just her ball, but her glove as well. I knew how she'd be spending her breaks. Dave came to softball practice and supper two or three nights a week after that, and as the season approached it was obvious that Dave and Tammy were very good players, and Sam was average and getting better. The best sign was that they were able to relax and enjoy the game, mostly because of all those hours of practice. * * * * * * The long weekend we'd reserved at the lodge in the mountains came up. I told Sam where we'd be and gave her the lodge's phone number, just in case our cell phones were out of range of a tower. Then, before sunrise on Friday, Tammy and I were out of there. We drove to the upper level of the state, enjoying the view as the rising sun showed it off in glorious shades of orange and gold. At a trailhead along the way we parked and walked for fifteen minutes in the pine forest, enjoying the clean air and the quiet. Nothing like the city, in any way. The lodge itself was another beautiful sight. Built of logs, it was wide and low, obviously substantial but totally different from the stone and concrete hotels that dotted the landscape where we'd just come from. The people were friendly I had our baggage taken to our room while we walked around the main building, and Tammy went into the gift shop while I checked out the dining room. Then we walked to our room and unpacked. Tammy closed her empty suitcase and looked at me. "Now what?" "Now we relax. Try it. Maybe you'll like it." I walked over to the bed and turned back the covers. I lay down on it and said, "Something's the matter with this bed." "What's wrong?" "There's nobody in it with me." Tammy kicked off her shoes and lay down by my left side. I was tempted to grab her shoulder and wrestle her over onto me, but instead I just put my hand gently over hers. We lay there, fully dressed, not moving a muscle.