The Vacation

"Hey, I have an idea," she said. "Why don't you come back to Bethany's house with me? She's got an extra room. It's an office, technically, but it's got a futon, so you wouldn't be on the floor."

Samuel smiled uncertainly. "I don't know..."

Justine put an encouraging hand on his arm. Goodness, it was hard. "It's a great idea! Beth is never home and you shouldn't be alone with a concussion. It's the perfect solution."

"Do you really think she won't mind?"

He was considering it, which made Justine unaccountably happy. Was she really so lonely, or was it Samuel himself that excited her? Since standing on the darkening sidewalk wasn't really the time to ponder it, she hooked her arm through his and asked, "Where are you parked?"

**

Samuel suspected he was being managed by Justine, but he didn't really mind. She just happened to be the kind of woman who inadvertently turned men into complacent fools with ready smiles and cheerful banter, and they followed along happily.

Sam followed along happily.

When they got to his truck, she insisted on driving, stating he shouldn't because of his head injury. He didn't bother pointing out he'd already driven right after the accident, when he'd been at his worst. She was a good driver, though, handled the stick shift like a pro. He imagined her hand on him instead of the shifter, slender fingers curling around the smooth head of his cock.

The flirting Justine did, the casual way she touched him, was just friendly. He didn't think she had any interest in him sexually, and he wasn't sure what to do with a woman like her anyhow.

Well, he knew. Given the chance he'd worship every inch of her with his hands and mouth then fuck her senseless, but he wasn't impulsive like that. Not a one-night stand sort of guy. Never had been.

Still, the men in the café had noticed her just like the men in the hospital. Justine probably had guys falling over her all the time, but somehow she was sitting beside him, driving his truck.

Justine got lost twice on her way to her cousin's townhouse on the west side of the city. When she finally found it and parked, she draped her arms over the steering wheel and craned her neck to look up at the lit windows.

"Will you look at that," she said. "Bethany's home. She hasn't been home before nine once since I arrived. Oh well."

She pulled out her phone and selected a number. Pressing the device to her ear, she said, "Hey Beth. What are you up to tonight?... I'm all patched up, no stitches... So listen, I'm bringing a new friend over to hang out... yes, a man..."

Justine pulled the phone away from her ear and covered the speaker. She seemed ready to ask him a question, but instead looked him over and gave a thumbs up before raising the device at her ear. "Nope, not a serial killer. He's a farmer. He cares if calves are born in the winter or spring and is afraid of the weather."

She smiled apologetically at having revealed his personal information to her cousin. "...yes, I know." Turning toward the side window and lowering her voice, she said, "You remember that thing we talked about the other night? The thing with the thing? Now is your perfect chance to... well, get yourself a glass of wine and... Okay, see you soon. Bye."

Justine disconnected and slid the phone back into her pocket, presenting him with a wide smile. "We're good to go."

"Are you sure?" Because Samuel wasn't at all certain her cousin was good to go, judging from Justine's half of the conversation. What the hell was the thing with the thing?

"It'll be good for her," Justine said, pushing the truck door open. "I doubt she's had a man in her house since she moved in. Maybe ever." She hopped out and slammed the door shut. As she rounded the bed of the truck, she said, "Bethany is a little bit... reserved. She doesn't really get people, but don't let her put you off. She means well. Mostly."

Justine used her key on the front door while Samuel surveyed the cozy and quiet neighborhood and still wondered what he was getting himself into.

The foyer contained a coat rack, a door at the far end, probably to the basement, and carpeted steps up to the living space.

"Helloooo," Justine called out as she neared the top of the stairs.

They came out into a large room with a kitchen to the left and a sparsely furnished living room to the right. It was an open floor-plan and a woman stood frozen in place between the two rooms with a glass of wine in her hand.

She was more petite than Justine, less lanky, and her yoga pants and fitted tee-shirt showcased a tight little body. She had Justine's good bone structure, but dark brown hair cut in a short bob and lighter eyes behind glasses. She was cute, clearly good genes ran in the family, though the frames of her glasses didn't do her any favors.

"You called from outside?" Beth's voice was low like Justine's, but slightly monotone. She didn't sound particularly put out, even though she probably felt it.

Justine grinned. "Surprise!"

"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'll leave if you want me to. This wasn't probably the best plan."

"Nonsense!" Justine said. "Beth, this is Samuel." Before Sam could offer his hand, Justine guided her cousin to a worn wingback chair. "Sit. He's not leaving, and you're going to be okay. Take a deep breath."

Apparently Justine had the ability to manage women, too.

Beth obeyed and glanced over at him. Samuel dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and waited for her verdict.

Beth finally looked back to Justine and said, "This guy's a farmer?"

Justine arched an eyebrow. "So he claims. I don't think anyone but a farmer would give credit to a randy bull for causing his concussion."

"You have a concussion?" Beth asked, her eyebrows rising. She switched from mildly apathetic to interested in a split second.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm only in the city for an MRI, but they can't see me until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow will probably be too late," Beth said authoritatively. "If you've had a bleed, anyway, and that's the only thing that would show on an MRI. Remember that one actress? Bumped her head, right as rain, then, boom. Dead."

Justine laughed uncomfortably. "I don't think he needs to be reminded about that. It's only a little bump."

"You never know," Beth said ominously.

Justine rolled her eyes and Samuel prepared himself for a long evening,

It wasn't that bad, in the end. Justine tried to engage Beth in conversation, but it was one-sided, so she eventually put on a movie.

Justine sat next to him on the little love seat, the only other piece of furniture beside the wingback chair and a coffee table. The TV hung from the wall, and Beth was completely entranced for the entire film. Aside from her eyes occasionally darting Sam's direction, she didn't move, didn't speak, just seemed to be hypnotized by the screen.

At one point, Justine leaned into him and whispered, "I don't think she's even watching. I think she's dreaming about code with her eyes open."

She had no idea what her warm breath and soft scent did to him.

Samuel stifled a laugh and moved his hand into his lap to cover his growing erection. Justine's proximity was dangerous to his dignity, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was only there to bed her. He shifted into the arm of the couch to give himself distance and she pulled away, too, tucking her legs under her and curling into a snug ball against the other arm.

Sam wished he was the couch and couldn't remember anything about the movie when the end credits finally rolled.

By 11:00, Beth was satisfied Sam was safe and didn't protest when Justine offered up her office futon for sleeping.

It wasn't especially uncomfortable, but Sam had a hard time sleeping anyway. He'd stripped down to his tee-shirt and boxers, Justine was just down the hall wearing who-knows-what, and he felt like a teenager wondering whether they would pass in the hall in the night or if she would come to his room to ask if he needed a glass of water or more Tylenol. Ridiculous.

Instead he tortured himself by imagining everything he might do to her if she did come to his room. If he could touch her.

**

Justine wasn't a morning person, which was a serious problem for someone running a B&B. All the action took place in the morning, for the most part.

But the next morning, Justine bounded out of bed feeling surprisingly buoyant and more than a little proud of her early start.

The townhouse was quiet as she rushed through a shower and got dressed, so she was surprised to see Sam was already up and dressed when she came out. He was sitting on Beth's little couch, reading one of her magazines by the dim light from a window.

"Good morning," he said when he noticed her.

Damn. He looked good just rolling off the futon, with a days-worth of beard growing over his jaw and his hair a little messy. She could fix the hair for him. Also could offer him a new razor, but slightly rugged worked for him.

"I guess I should have expected a farmer to be an early riser," she said, walking into the kitchen. She turned on lights and started the coffeemaker, then began retrieving breakfast ingredients out of the refrigerator. "How's your head? Did you sleep alright?"

"As well as could be expected, knowing I could drop dead at any moment." Samuel laughed at his own joke, and she couldn't help laughing with him.

He brought the magazine up to the island and pulled out a stool. "What's on the menu?"

"Frittata. I'm not a great cook, but I'm really good at a couple of dishes."

"A couple of dishes is all it takes," he said "But none for me."

"You don't eat frittata?"

"I don't eat eggs. Chicken eggs, anyway. I'm allergic to them. I'm really sorry."

Sam's apology was cute, as if she'd take it personally that he had an allergy. "What kind do you eat?"

"Duck. We have some ducks on the farm that lay."

"Hmmm. Well, I also make kick-ass pancakes, but they contain eggs too."

"Duck eggs make for really rich pancakes. You should try it sometime."

She grinned. "Just as soon as I establish a duck egg hook-up. How about bacon and toast? I think I saw some oatmeal, too."

He gazed at her for longer than proper and said, "Perfect."

Samuel's joking tone had gone, replaced by something quiet and serious. Justine felt herself blushing, unsure he was still talking about breakfast.

Best to change the subject to something she was sure about. "So, do you want me to drive you to your appointment? My day is wide open."

"I think I'm alright. Not that I don't enjoy your driving, but I need to get back home as soon as possible. It's a really busy time for us."

"Sure, I understand," Justine said. She rummaged around in the pan cupboard to hide her disappointment. So far, Sam was the best part of her trip, and she knew if she could spend more time with him, she might actually return home able to say she enjoyed herself.

But Justine wasn't going to push him, and it wasn't as though she was available, anyway. Technically. And she would be leaving in a matter of weeks.

They ate breakfast without hearing a sound from Beth, and at half-past seven she walked Samuel out.

If she thought the prospect of goodbyes the day before were awkward, it was nothing compared to standing outside his truck, looking everywhere on the street except at him. For once, Justine was at a complete loss for words.

"Thank you, Justine," Sam said, stepping into her space. "For looking after me." He ducked his head down and kissed her right cheek lightly, then her left. Before pulling away, he dipped lower, to the curve of her neck and drew in a deep breath. His warmth, the tickle of breath caused gooseflesh all the way down to her knees. Her nipples ached and she wanted to throw herself at him, but she didn't.

Samuel straightened and stepped back with his crooked smile in place. "Goodbye, Justine."

"Bye, Sam. Happy farming."

He chuckled and climbed up into his truck.

All Justine could do was watch him go. He hadn't left his number, hadn't asked for hers.

What did you expect? Samuel had a life that didn't include some woman who was going to be catching a flight home in three weeks.

Justine returned to the townhouse and considered going back to bed. Not like she had anything else to do.

Beth wandered out in her pajamas then, looking as disheveled as she ever did, which wasn't much. She preferred order even in sleep.

"Is he gone?" she asked.

"Yes, and you didn't even try to say two words to him. I thought you wanted to practice your conversational skills. He's about as safe as it gets, Beth. It's all downhill from here." Unless she found a man as socially challenged as her, which was not something Justine would say aloud.

"You didn't say he was so handsome. I froze."

"I noticed."

"Is he coming back?"

"Nope."

Beth looked relieved and Justine wished she could, too. Instead her stomach churned with discontent and made her wish she hadn't eaten so much bacon. But that wouldn't change the fact he really wasn't coming back.

Beth asked, "So what are you going to do today?"

Justine shrugged and poured herself another cup of coffee. "I don't really know. I thought I'd give Mrs. Dupris a call to see if I can visit."

"My therapist?" Beth asked, confused.

"You have a therapist?" And that might not be a bad idea... Justine shook her head. "No, this Mrs. Dupris was a friend of Grammy's. They met through the B&B association."

"She's out here somewhere?"

"In the Eastern Townships, I'm not really sure where. If she has space, I might see if I can stay for a few days. Country air might do me some good."

Beth poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned into the counter. "Have you ever considered moving out here? I mean, with Grammy gone, there really isn't anything to keep you in BC anymore. Unless Gordon is still on the scene?"

"God, no." He was one of the reasons she needed a break from home. Too many people knew him, knew what had happened between them. "I won't sell the house, though. It's the only real home I've ever had."

Beth continued her deadpan stare and said, "It's just a house with some memories. You're probably the only person in North America who hasn't moved at least five times by the time they're thirty. It happens. People pick up and move on. Your memories aren't any more special than theirs."

Justine sighed and bit back her kneejerk response.

Her cousin had a knack for simplifying complex situations into bites of information, removing all of the superfluous emotions. That was how Beth made sense of the world, but in this case, she didn't have the whole story, and Justine wasn't in the mood to enlighten her. It wasn't a conversation worth having. "I'll think about it. There's bacon on a plate in the oven if you want."

Beth said, "My mom asked us to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Can you make it?"

"Can you? I'm not the one who works all hours." Justine hated that she sounded bitchy. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled-for."

"No, you're the one with a mission to preserve the past," Beth snapped.

Justine gritted her teeth and said, "Thanks Beth, that's really helpful."

"Good, I'm glad."

Bethany completely missed the sarcasm and eye rolls were wasted on her, so Justine walked her coffee to the living room and sat where Samuel had the night before. She felt miserable because she was alone again, and miserable because Beth, in her awkward attempt to help, might have been right.

Justine called Mrs. Dupris and made plans to go visit her B&B two days later. It was a Monday, but she'd had a cancellation and was excited for Justine to visit.

The elderly woman had traveled to BC several times over the years to visit Grammy at their B&B, and the two women had built a friendship over being widows making a living doing something they loved.

Thinking on it made Justine wonder if it was something she really loved, or just felt obliged to do. When it came right down to it, she had nothing else.

The next night, Justine went to family dinner with Aunt Paula and Uncle Cray who lived in a suburb not far from Bethany.

Beth didn't make it after all. It figured.

They were warm and welcoming and she wondered at the fluke in their genetics that had produced Bethany. Of course, they asked questions about Gordon she didn't want to answer and encouraged her to consider selling and moving. Justine got the distinct impression the family had planned in advance to create a united front with the goal of moving her east.

But they meant well, and over the course of the evening, Justine realized she actually liked them, which was unexpected because she hardly remembered anything about them from her childhood.

On Monday, she plotted a course for the La Petite Auberge B&B and rented a car to take her there. The city faded quickly to rolling hills and gorgeous countryside. It was greener than it had been back home, and the sky felt more open without snow-capped mountains looming on every horizon. Unseasonably warm weather for early April had bulbs and wildflowers making showy appearances in front of homes and along the roadside.

She drove by many fields, small farms, old barns and silos with family names painted in big letters. Trees were in bloom everywhere, and there was hardly a pine tree in sight. Justine didn't miss them.

Justine finally pulled through a final village and up a hill on the far side to the B&B. It was walking distance from the village, but felt remote because of the hillside of trees between them.

The house itself was a white two story structure, Victorian style with a peaked roof and two turrets. Barren oak trees flanked each side like sentries, their leafy regalia not yet in full bloom.

The house was simple for a Victorian, but grand feeling all the same.

Mrs. Dupris had aged a decade in the four years since Justine had last seen her at Gram's funeral. The old woman limped to the edge of the porch with the use of a cane fashioned from dark wood and topped with a brass handle. She'd lost weight which made Justine sad because the way her body shook when she laughed had been one of the most memorable things about her.

The sparkle in her eyes hadn't diminished though, and Mrs. Dupris smiled down from the top step as Justine made her way up.

"What a pleasure it was to hear from you," she said, wrapping an arm around Justine when she was within reach. She still smelled the same, like old-fashioned violet perfume.

"Thank you for having me on such short notice."

"You could have shown up on my doorstep with no warning at all and I would have found a place for you," Mrs. Dupris said. "You're welcome here anytime you care to make the journey." She turned away and hobbled through the front door. "I don't make trips anymore, myself. Fractured my damn hip last year and I haven't been the same since, even though I've been assured it's healed quite well."

"That must make it hard to take care of the house."

"And the guests, yes." Mrs. Dupris led her into a warmly decorated sitting room and landed heavily in one of the armchairs. Justine took one beside her. "You probably won't believe me, but I've been thinking about your grandmother a lot lately. About how lucky she was to have you, and lamenting my own relatives."

Justine raised an eyebrow. "What have they done?"

"It's more what they won't do, dear."

Just then, a young woman with beautiful auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and a slightly unfortunate overbite came into the room. "Can I get you anything?" she asked Justine.