Sam stirred the pasta sauce one last time, then dipped a spoon in it and brought it to her mouth. Wow, pretty good. The girls would never guess that tonight's shells and meat-sauce pasta had 6 hidden vegetables. The only ones you could actually see were the tiny carrot squares. Everything else blended in with the dark tomato sauce and the taste was lost in the flavorful result.
Sam peeked in the living room. The girls were both wearing dress-up clothes and making frogs and snakes out of play dough on the coffee table. I wonder how long this princess phase will last, Sam thought to herself. These days, the girls barely made it through the door before requesting to put on one of their dress-up clothes. The constant on and off was exhausting. She wondered at what age children learned to put on their own dresses without help.
"Emma, Sophie, start putting your play dough away so we can have dinner, it's almost ready," Sam said and immediately heard their protests but chose to walk back into the kitchen and ignore it for now. She opened the cabinet where she kept bread and took out two Hawaiian rolls, putting one near each of the girl's plates. She heard a buzzing on the counter. My cell phone.
Walking over and picking it up, Sam frowned; she didn't recognize the number. Swiping at the screen, she brought the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"
A male voice answered, "Um, yes, is this Samantha Hanson?"
Putting the phone between her ear and shoulder and reaching for three plates, she said, "Yes, who is this? Look I don't have time for a survey or anything—"
"Um, no," the caller interrupted. "No survey. This is Jack O'Neill."
sSsSsSsSs
There was a long pause. A very long pause. From his end of the line Jack could hear the sound of dishes being put down, and then nothing. Had she hung up? I hope she didn't hang up.
"Um, are you there?" Jack asked, fearing the call had ended.
"I'm sorry, who is this?" Her voice, thought firm, sounded nervous.
"It's Jack O'Neill." She doesn't know who I am, Jack thought.
Nothing.
He tried again, "Hum, Dr. O'Neill, Emma and Sophie's pediatrician..." Surely that would work.
More plates being put down, followed by her clearing her throat. "Yes! Of course. I'm sorry about that."
Thinking this was out to a bad start, Jack cleared his throat too. "No, that's ok. I know I'm calling unexpectedly and everything…"
sSsSsSsSs
He trailed off and she didn't know if she should say something or if he was going to complete his thought. The girls' cute doctor was on the phone and all she could do was stand there, confused. She had known who it was as soon as he said his name. She had thought of the man often since that day weeks ago, when she had fled the pediatrician's office clutching a prescription in her hand. The prescription was tucked away in Sam's nightstand drawer, and she looked at it occasionally, studying the scrawl, thinking about the doctor with brown eyes. And here he was on the phone. Say something Samantha! Anything! But she couldn't think of a thing to say, not one. She slowly sank onto her chair on the kitchen table.
"Is there something you needed?" She blurted out. Oh, god! That sounded like I'm trying to get rid of him.
It's exactly what Jack thought. He immediately spoke in a resigned tone, "I'm sorry, it sounds like I called you at a bad time, I can just—"
"No!" she yelled out, and then tried to calm her voice down. "No. Right now is fine, really."
"Okay," he said.
More silence. Sam was starting to wonder if he had given up and hung up at her awkward lack of conversation skills, when she heard, "Listen, Miss Hanson, I'm not very good at this so I'm just gonna come out with it."
"Okay," she answered, hesitant. Sam still had no idea what was going on. Was he calling about the girl's health? Maybe to make sure she had no hard feelings about the "dead father" comment.
"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me, um, sometime," he said rather quickly, interrupting her thoughts. Then added, "Well, not really sometime. Er, more like this Friday night, if you're not busy."
Silence yet again. Sam had stopped breathing altogether. He was asking her out? The gorgeous doctor was calling her at home to ask her out? Maybe I heard him wrong.
"Um, are you there? Miss Hanson?" Jack asked, his voice now very unsure of the situation.
"It's Sam," she said, still not quite confident. "My name is Sam."
sSsSsSsSs
He let out the breath he had been holding and tested out her name, "Sam. Thanks for letting me know. So, um…"
"You called to ask me to dinner?" she asked him, confirming what he had said.
"Yes. I called to ask you out to dinner… on Friday night," he stated. He looked down at his feet. This conversation was entirely too awkward for his liking. No wonder it had taken him a week to work up the nerve to dial. Why was she not saying anything?
"Like a date?" She asked, her voice low and soft, almost a whisper.
"Yes. Like a date," he answered. "You know, two people getting to know one another. Food, drinks, babysitter…"
He heard her clear her throat again and added, "I promise to be on my best behavior."
"Dr. O'Neill," she started, but it was his turn to correct her.
"It's Jack."
"Yes, Jack," she paused, and he could hear her huge intake of air, "I'm gonna need to call you back."