“It is,” Malcolm confirmed.
I felt my heart flutter, more from anxiety than ardor.
“Right. I see.”
“You said that already.”
“Sorry. It’s just that . . . I don’t quite know how to respond. I’ve been alone a long time. And I . . . well, I’m sixty-two years old.”
“I’m sixty-three. Why should that make a difference?”
I was quiet for a moment. “Maybe it shouldn’t. But this is a lot to wrap my head around, Malcolm. It’s been so long since I even considered the possibility of a . . .”
“Romance,” he said, supplying the word. “Go ahead. You can say it.”
Even with Malcolm’s urging it took a moment for me to summon the word, as if the syllables were somehow too sticky to utter.
“Romance,” I said finally. “I thought that ship had sailed.”
“Think again,” he said. “Because it hasn’t.”
Malcolm’s tone was practical, just as even and matter-of-fact as it had been when we’d been discussing which hostas might do well in that shady spot in my yard. I found that reassuring.
“Fine. Let’s say it’s true. Let’s say that, after two decades alone, I’ll be able to adjust to the idea and practice of a romantic relationship.” I hesitated briefly at the end of the sentence, but the R-word came more easily this time. “Let’s assume that, all right? Just for argument’s sake.”
“Good. Let’s,” Malcolm said, nodding deeply to indicate that he was with me.
“You were married for over thirty years. Your divorce was only finalized a few weeks ago. On top of that, you’ve been forced into retirement sooner than you’d planned. Your whole life has been turned upside down this last year. You’re trying to sort out what your new life is going to be like, looking to fill in the holes left in the wake of all this, which is understandable, admirable even. It’s great, the way you’re handling everything, staying positive and trying to move forward and all that. But I’m not sure how I feel about being . . . well, cement.”
“Cement?” Malcolm smiled as he pulled the car into my driveway.
“Cement, caulking, grout—whatever it is you use to fill holes in with.” I flapped my hand impatiently. “It’s a masonry analogy.”
“Oh, right,” he said slowly, then set the parking brake. “Sure. Masonry.”
“Okay, fine. Now you’re making fun of me. But this is serious,” I said, even as a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I don’t want to have my life upended and my heart broken just because you’re . . .”
“On the rebound?”
Malcolm turned off the car.
“Look, Nan, helping out during your recovery has been a good distraction while I’m adjusting to all the changes in my life. But I’m not an aimless man or an indecisive one. With or without you, I’d have figured out a new direction and purpose in life. And much as I find you lovely, and fascinating, and great fun to be with, I can assure you that I am not about to make you, or anyone, my reason for getting up in the morning.
“I’m a man of many interests and inclinations. I’ve never been bored a day in my life. From what I’ve seen, you’re the same. That’s part of the attraction. Seems to me we might be able to find lots of wonderful ways to share our lives but still be able to maintain the independence that each of us values. And, along the way, we might each of us learn a few things from the other.”
I found myself nodding as he spoke, especially when it came to the part about being able to share life even while maintaining our identities. That was what had been so wonderful and so very special about my marriage to Jim. We could not have been closer and yet, we were able to give each other space to operate as individuals.
“As far as me being on the rebound?” Malcolm shook his head. “I’m not. Yes, my divorce came through just recently, but the marriage was over a long, long time ago. Marriage wasn’t a commitment I made lightly; I tried everything I could to salvage my relationship with Barbara. If I ever marry again, I’ll be just as committed. But you can’t be in a marriage by yourself, and Barbara made it clear that—”
Malcolm stopped in midsentence at about the same time I realized I had stopped breathing.
“Uh-oh. I’m scaring the hell out of you, aren’t I? Sorry. An unfortunate by-product of a scientific mind. I tend to mentally walk through all the potential outcomes before choosing a path. You’re right. One step at a time.”
Malcolm unbuckled his safety belt and twisted toward me, pulling one leg up onto the seat so he was looking right at me. As he reached out, placed his hand on my shoulder, and leaned in, I felt my face get hot.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, before we get too far into this, I thought I’d kiss you.”
His words were as straightforward as ever, but his voice had dropped to almost a whisper and his Scottish burr became simultaneously thicker and softer, a voice that sounded like velvet feels, soft as a sable brush caressing my cheek.
“That is, assuming you have no objection. And then, if you like it, you can decide if we should go to the ball together. What do you think? Does that seem like a good first step?”
My stomach flipped in that same way it had when he turned around at the gate and looked at me.
“Oh. If you put it that . . . I mean . . . Yes. Yes, that makes sense.”
“Good,” Malcolm said. “Because it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
Like so many things that would happen that day, his admission came as a surprise, but it was a good one. That said as much as anything about my feelings toward Malcolm. I’ve never liked surprises. But this was different. So was Malcolm.
It was a long kiss.
