“I’ll take whatever flavor you have,” I yell back.
A few moments later, Sam, unfortunately no longer in pjs, walks into the living room with two steamy cups of coffee. “Here you go, Ferrin.” My name rolls off his tongue like silk.
“Thanks.”
Sam takes the seat next to me. Not on the chair, not even at the other end of the couch, but next to me. I think I’m going to die. He makes me feel like I’m a teenager and not a mature woman. I lose all sense when I’m near him, and gosh, how good he smells. I about spit my coffee out when he takes a hair tie and pulls back his wavy, dirty-blond hair. Sometimes his medium-length hair covers some of his facial features, and seeing it pulled back like this always sends quivers to my unmentionables.
Refocusing on Estherly, I turn to Sam. “I know who Henry is,” I say in a whisper.
“You said that. You seem pretty excited about it, too.”
I bite my lip to keep from spoiling it for him, then open my big mouth.
“I had to come right over and read you the diary. I want to tell you so bad, but don’t want to ruin anything. I hate spoilers. Don’t you hate when you’re so into a show and it’s the season finale and it’s already aired on the east coast and some jerk goes right onto Facebook and spoils the whole damn ending for you? I mean, you spend all this time investing yourself in the show, only to have the rug pulled out from you. Sometimes, I don’t even want to watch the damn episode after it’s spoiled because it’s completely ruined.” I realize I’m rambling due to nerves and clam up.
I put my coffee down on a coaster in the shape of a fish, chuckle to myself about how the coaster screams I’m a single man, and then grab Estherly’s diary. “Do you want me to read it to you, or should I be that jerk and tell you what I read?”
Sam laughs, which I appreciate because I know I’m acting like a complete fool. “I’d like you to read it, but you have me so intrigued, so why don’t you tell me.”
“You’re not going to believe this when I tell you… ready?”
Sam nods, while sipping his coffee.
“Henry is a Nazi soldier.”
Sam slightly chokes on his coffee. “What?”
“Yes!” I say, with a bit too much enthusiasm. I can’t help it. Estherly’s story is like one of those shows I invest myself in, and every time I pick up and read it, it floors me even more than the last time.
“You’re telling me that Estherly’s love is a Nazi.”
“Yes, and, Sam, it’s the most romantic and tragic thing I think I’ve ever read.”
Shaking his head, seemingly in disbelief, Sam remains quiet.
“Now you see why I couldn’t wait to bring this over.”
“I do.”
“I read up to the next entry and then stopped. I’m going to warn you. Things are getting much worse for Estherly and her community. It’s actually quite terrible. I cried all night over what I read.”
Sam stands, walks to his entertainment center, and opens up the bottom door, where a record player sits. He reaches for a vinyl record, and my affection for him grows when I recognize his appreciation for history. Placing the needle on the record sends the music of Chris Stapleton’s, Tennessee Whiskey flowing through his small house.
“Wanna hang out after you read to me and talk about it?”
“Yes!” I say like a young girl being asked if she wanted a new pony. I don’t know how to relax around this guy.
I’ve had boyfriends in the past; I know how to act around men. But, there’s something about Sam Landry that drives me crazy and causes me to act like a fool. Calming my chaotic thoughts, I kick my shoes off and lean into the back of Sam’s couch, attempting to let loose.
“Cool,” he says, and sits next to me before handing me the diary. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I found another box tucked away in my attic last night. I went through it and found a ton of photos. I recognized Estherly in a couple of them, but I’m not sure who the other people are. The photos are kind of a mess. They’re torn and some look like they were covered in dirt. Did you want me to grab the box so you can go through it?”
The possibility of learning more about Estherly excites me almost as much as spending my Saturday morning with Sam, so I nod.
Between sips of coffee, answering a few business calls, and chatting with me about what I’ve read, Sam and I finally finish the last diary entry I read the night before. He becomes eerily quiet.
“It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”
Sam clears his throat. “What kind of world do we live in?”
“Luckily, there’s so much beauty, too, otherwise I don’t know how any of us could stand it.”
“You bet,” Sam says. “This is really powerful stuff.”
“I know. Reading about Estherly makes me want to reach into the pages and cradle her.”
“Makes me want to climb into the pages and give those Nazi pieces of crap a few good blows.”
I scoot to the floor while Sam takes another business call.
After about twenty minutes, he ends his call. Unfolding my legs, I stand and stretch. “I think I have organized all the photos by person. I think this is Mae. What do you think?” I ask, picking up a photograph of a beautiful young girl with her hair done in victory rolls and a huge flower in her hair. I bring the photo to Sam and flip it over. “Doesn’t this look like it says Mae?” I point to faded handwriting.
“Can you hand me my glasses? They’re on the coffee table, there.” He points.
Inspecting the back of the picture with glasses on, Sam squints. “It sure as heck looks like Mae to me. It also looks like it says Stein. I think you’re right. I think that’s Mae.”
I sit next to Sam with a huff. “I wonder if we’ll find out what happens to Mae and the rest of her family. I still can’t believe they shot her father like that and that Henry saved Estherly. You know, if she had gone after them as she intended that they would’ve shot her right then and there.”
“My stomach was in my throat at that part.” He lets out a deep breath.
I can tell from his solemn facial expression and the tone of his voice, that Estherly’s words affect him as much as they do me. I’m loving the sensitive side of him. I’ve never been one of those people who look down on a man for having feelings. In fact, it’s always been a huge turn-on for me.
“Speaking of stomach,” Sam says. “Would you like to join me for lunch? I was thinking about going somewhere and grabbing something. We could eat and talk about all this some more.”
My heart skips a beat. “I would love to.”
Either it’s my imagination or Sam and I hit it off during lunch. Neither of us could contain our thoughts over the last passage we read in Estherly’s diary, and we were both equally disgusted by what happened to Mae’s family.
Later, as I lean over my kitchen sink and watch Sam water his lawn in the orange glow of the evening, I wish he’d come over and want to spend more time with me. When we said goodbye this afternoon, I felt my heart break a little.
Once Sam goes back inside, I turn and face Otis. He stands tall and judgmental. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m watching your daddy water the lawn. Nothing weird about that at all.”