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“When he was a puppy, he liked to sing,” Ernie says smiling broadly. “He had four brothers. And they liked to sing too, like this.” Ernie throws his head back and howls as he places two steaming mugs of tea on the table. Sinatra lifts his head and cocks his ears at Ernie’s noise for a second, then resumes snoozing.
“Singing, huh?” says Cam glancing over at me, smiling his devastating smile. I notice the color of his eyes for the first time: a kind of hazel, green. Gosh, he’s is gorgeous. I’m aware that I’m staring, so I look at Sinatra.
“Yup. I gave away the other pups. Could only keep one. But I named them all after the Rat Pack. Maybe you don’t remember Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Junior, Peter Lawford, Joey Bishop, and Frank Sinatra.” Ernie counts each name on his fingers, then slaps his thighs and laughs as if he’s only just thought of it. “Back in my day, these guys were top of the charts.”
“Of course! My grandad loves them,” Cam says smiling broadly. “Has all their records.” Then in a more thoughtful tone, he says, “Which reminds me. I should give him a call. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, you should,” says Ernie. “You should call him and tell him that Sinatra is your new neighbor. Haha.”
We laugh along with Ernie, then he croons a medley of his favorite songs.
There’s a pause as Ernie slurps his tea.
Then he says, “So, sounds like I missed quite the occasion at your place, Mr Wickham.”
“Call me Cam. Apart from Sinatra’s drama, it was just a social get-together,” Cam says, putting down the mug and pulling a face that could only be caused by a bad taste in his mouth. I don’t think Ernie saw it.
“If you want to see real drama,” Ernie says setting down his mug. “Just wait for the Annual Spring Fair. It’s terrific, isn’t it, Molly?”
“Sure is.”
After the barbecue debacle, I didn’t see Cam for a while. And I didn’t look out for him either. Was I hiding? Possibly. But the words of Tony Lennox still rang around my head. Bachelors forever. A clanging reminder of just how it is. Cam Wickham is off-limits, out of bounds. A bachelor forever is some kind of badge of honor, isn’t it? It means, stay away. It means, you have been warned. It means prepare to have your heart broken if you even let down your guard just a teensy bit and begin to feel something for a handsome neighbor. A bachelor forever is not on my radar for… What exactly? We’re neighbors so anything over and above being neighborly is off the cards, right? But I’m not taking any chances. The best way to deal with the hot firefighter who is living right next door is to avoid him at all costs. To not give myself the opportunity of falling for him. And to ignore the fact that he is drop-dead gorgeous. Or am I just being a little over dramatic?
No, I would say that Cam Wickham is above-average handsome. Alright, he is way more than above average. He’s about the handsomest man I have ever seen in my life who has quite an unnerving effect on me when we’re in the same room. Or even reasonably close together outside.
That night when he came over to see Ernie with a plate of barbecue food because the old man couldn’t be at his party. Well, that was the nicest thing a neighbor could do. His kindness melted me. And it took all my strength not to launch myself at him when we walked home together. There was a moment, outside my house, when we just sort of stood there.
“That was a nice thing you did,” I say looking up at Cam’s outline in the half-light, feeling an almost magnetic attraction pulling us closer.
“Which nice thing? I’ve done a lot of nice things,” Cam says, laughing. “Perhaps you could be more specific?” He turns to face me. I step onto the path leading to my front door.
“The nice thing you did for Ernie. Bringing him some dinner and putting in extra sausages for Sinatra. That’s the nice thing I’m talking about.”
“Ahhh. But you would have done the same nice thing if it was you, I think.” Cam’s face is in shadow, but I sense he is smiling.
“Yes. You’re right. I would because Ernie’s my friend.”
“Oh. I think you would have brought Ernie a food parcel even if you didn’t know him at all.”
“Sounds like you know all about me, then.”
“No. Not at all. But I like what I know so far.”
The weight of the night is heavy around us. I look at my house and consider inviting Cam in for coffee or something. Then Cam leans towards me and kisses my cheek.
“Good night, Molly. See you soon, okay?”
As Cam turns from me and walks away, I am at once disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because I wanted to spend more time getting to know my handsome, kind, and thoughtful neighbor. Relieved because then he would be in my house and possibly on the couch in my lounge and that would put me in a position of regretful temptation that would compromise our neighborliness.
Breathless, I hurry up my path, quickly open the front door, and close it behind me without looking to see where Cam is. Once safely inside, I touch the place on my cheek where he kissed me. Then I laugh at myself for overreacting. He probably kisses his grandma on the cheek like that. It was a neighborly kiss and nothing more. But I can still feel his lips on my skin; the brush of his beard that sent a whoosh of sparkly tingles straight through me. That was no neighborly grandma kiss. My heart beats loud in my chest as I imagine what could happen next. The way I feel about Cam now could become a major problem, pointing in the direction of certain disaster if left unchecked.
Yes, Cam is handsome. But more than just stunning good looks, he has proved himself a kind and thoughtful human being with a gorgeous smile. And, yes, alright. Lydia is correct. He’s an absolute Greek god. And living next door. But a sworn bachelor? Well, then. No point in even thinking about kissing him back. I would only end up a big blubbering broken-hearted mess when he leaves in a few weeks. I couldn’t put myself through that.
I’ll put some space between us. I’m not going out of my way to avoid him. But avoid him I must. I’ll be polite, yes. But I am not going to be over-friendly. That would send the wrong message. My life is fine. Everything’s fine. There’s no need to complicate things by cozying up with that man with that smile and those arms and that chest…
Life in Oak River plodded on. I worked at the library, probably longer hours than usual. There are always things to do in my job. I busied myself with books; refining the catalogue; updating listings; and mending old and worn volumes with tape, glue, and love. The clock ticks away the seconds, minutes, and hours.
My phone buzzes a reminder about the Spring Fair committee meeting. I’m grateful for this event. It’ll be a happy distraction from the gorgeous firefighter next door who is taking up far too many of my thoughts and making a mockery of my physical avoidance. I pack up, lock the library door, and make my way to the community hall by the church.
