Author's Note: Happy Friday, all! It's currently blazing hot where I live, so Lillian and Sam's alternate autumn world in this story sounds particularly appealing right about now! Hope you all have a lovely weekend. If it's hot where you live, too, stay cool! (If not, enjoy the cool weather!)
Thank you so much for all of your love and support on this story so far. Reviews really do help give me the extra encouragement and impetus to keep going, and I appreciate them so much, no matter what their length! It's so heartwarming as an author to hear that your work is being enjoyed. Hope you enjoy Chapter 2!
Autumn Leaps and Trust Falls
Chapter 2: A Handshake to Seal the Deal
"Very well, Mr. Tremblay," Lillian assented, after a few more leaves had sailed gracefully to the ground from the maple tree's branches, marking the passage of time just as effectively and considerably more elegantly than the hands of any clock.
Granting him the touchdown, she stated, "I consent to your swing proposal. You may build a tree swing and put it up for the children."
Her orphanage's handyman looked so jubilant that Lillian was half-expecting him to break out in a victory dance. Though he ended up refraining from rejoicing via moving his body, he couldn't hold back his smile from shimmying and shaking with triumph. In response, Lillian's composure crumbled, like a delightful cinnamon streusel, into bits of laughter, which promptly made their way up and out of her respiratory system and sweetened the air.
Success, Sam thought ecstatically. Another aria of laughter drawn out of Lillian.
"But are you sure you aren't building this tree swing mainly so you can hop on it yourself, time travel back to your childhood, and vault into the leaves?" Lillian couldn't help but inquire, teasing crowding her voice.
"I can't lie," he confessed, looking very much like a sneaky young boy caught with his hands in a cookie jar before suppertime. "There's no doubt in my mind I will hitch quite a few rides on the swing, and I am very much looking forward to reliving my childhood."
His grin transformed from triumphant to positively exultant, and Lillian thought it would be the quintessential grin to try to recreate on a jack o' lantern.
Though, heaven forbid, Lillian concluded, If I was tasked with the carving, translating his cheeky smile to a pumpkin would be a hopeless cause due to the way his smile makes my hands wobble.
"But ultimately," Sam contended resolutely, "The swing is for the children. I want them to experience the same joy, fun, and adventure I experienced as a child taking flight on that tree swing my father made for me."
"Well then, if you are going to build a durable tree swing for my children here at the orphanage and carry out such a kind gesture for them, I think it's more than time that we loosen up on formalities," Lillian declared decisively, touched by his deeply thoughtful generosity and sentiments.
"Please call me Lillian from now on," she posited warmly.
"And please call me Sam," he affirmed obligingly in exchange.
"Thank you. I will, Mr. Trem...I mean, Sam," Lillian replied.
Her cheeks, having shed their rich cranberry shade from earlier, now sprouted pastel pink asters. This habit of calling him Mr. Tremblay was going to be a challenging one for her to break, as that moniker was now almost as deeply rooted in her mind as his distinctive eyes.
Almost.
Meanwhile, the pinks and reds that had popped up on Lillian's cheeks over the course of her and Sam's conversation couldn't help but draw his eye, as they made her look particularly lovely and vibrant and pointed to her sweet humility. Her ardent concern and care for the children were also deeply attractive to him. And her striking fire-colored hair, so vivid in its tone and blowing unrestrainedly in the breeze in beautiful chaos around her face, was even more entrancing than the changing leaves of similar shades that billowed above her. Not to mention, her eyes were the prettiest, most fascinating and refreshing seafoam green...
She's a beauty, in every sense of the word, Sam thought to himself.
He had certainly noticed her beauty over the course of his past ten weeks of being at the orphanage. She effortlessly caught his eye even from afar, but in conversations where he and Lillian stood close, as they did now, her stunning nature especially struck him.
Swept up by her beauty in the present moment, he felt his own heart sway to and fro in his chest like the tree swing he would soon so carefully construct in the hopes of bringing fresh wonder and merriment to her orphanage's children and to her.
A mite of flirtatious mischief—mixed with a sudden, sincere desire to take hold of her hand—prompted Sam to speak his next words.
"Perhaps we should shake on it, to make it official. Both the tree swing project, and the pledge to call each other by our first names now, that is," he set forth to the lady by his side.
Sam's lips were as straight as Lillian imagined the seat of his upcoming wooden swing would be, but those jocular jellyfish were back dancing in his eyes.
At his proposal to shake hands and at the return of those jellyfish, Lillian's heart picked up its pace. Just a few moments ago, she had been thinking about the strength of his hands, and now...she was going to experience, albeit briefly, taking hold of one of those hands and feeling its strength in one of hers.
As long as she had the nerve to do so, that is...
Courage, Lillian, courage, the voice in her head prompted.
"I…I suppose we should...should shake on it," she replied erratically, caught almost as off-guard by this recommendation of Sam's as she was by his initial tree swing proposal. She felt that pesky shyness from before assaulting her once more and lowered her eyes again to the crimson leaf near her feet, which now seemed to be as familiar as an old friend.
"After all, a nice, firm handshake is essential to seal the deal when it comes to agreements as important as a tree swing, and what names we will be calling each other going forward," Sam stated straightforwardly.
His tone of voice was concurrently breezily casual and convincingly confident while peppered with smidgens of good-natured teasing—or was it flirting? It sure seemed like flirting, Lillian thought to herself—and she couldn't help but appreciate his stoic, yet spirited composure. It stood in stark contrast to her currently jittery state, much like how the trunk of the maple tree, rooted and solid, stood in striking contrast to its lovely yet quivering branches of leaves.
Remembering what Sam had said about the necessity of some breaths in life not being calm, Lillian mustered up all the courage she possibly could. She then pinned her irises to Sam's, in order to thread a secure connection between herself and him.
And, as she stared him square in the eyes—not easy to do, since those eyes had the tendency to make her heart tumble—with all the civility and spunk that made her Lillian Walsh, she politely but firmly declared, "I can't say I disagree. Let's shake on it."
A curious sportiveness laced her tone and also made itself known through her ascending eyebrows.
Perhaps she could flirt too.
"It's settled then," Sam declared with an adamant nod of his head, his eyes relaying amused admiration at her boldness and ricocheting a slew of spunk right back at her.
"Here's to tree swings and new appellations, Ms. Lillian."
Sam held his hand out toward Lillian, and though her hand trembled just a bit as she reached hers out to him—which she reproached herself for, as the last thing her iron-willed pride wanted was for him to perceive her nerves—she intercepted his hand successfully.
The action of connecting hands gave both her and Sam pause. For it felt like once they did, a wind of change blew their way, and they both clearly apprehended its arrival. Each of their hands felt, to the other, to be a solacing insulation from the outside world, like a soothing thermos that warmed the other from the inside out, starting from their soul and extending to the ends of their fingers.
Lillian marveled at how Sam could prompt such a paradoxical reaction in her of trembling one moment—true to his last name of Tremblay, she mused to herself—and stabilizing her and filling her with a sweeping peace the next. There was also the perplexing paradox of her heart's response to their joining hands; even as the action brought her soul a great, pervasive peace, the hoofbeats of her heart, having a mind of their own, had increased in tempo and gait, from a brisk canter to a flying gallop.
Who needs tree swings to take flight when I already feel like I'm soaring with Sam's hand in mine? Lillian asked herself.
A now-shy smile cropped up on Sam's face, and Lillian returned it with one of her own. The sands of time—perpetually moving in earth's hourglass—had seemed to come to a standstill.
Yet, before too long—in actuality, after just several short seconds—Lillian and Sam remembered that time was indeed ticking, and that they had initially pledged to shake hands.
For once, both the proprietor of the orphanage and its handyman boasted pink cheeks. With simultaneous awkward shuffles of each of their heads—as if they were coming to after a short reverie—they expeditiously shook hands. Answering the call of proper conduct and boundaries, they then abruptly detached from their handshake.
Not quite sure how to navigate the new and foreign feelings she was experiencing, Lillian resorted to an action many take when unable to successfully steer through the crests and troughs of the heart: she poked fun at the subject of her interest.
"Just know, sir," she stated, pouring her words out quickly in hopes of mitigating the silence between her and Sam that felt all too loud, "That if the swing is not up to the caliber of your usual craftsmanship, or if it proves to be the slightest bit unsafe," she continued, a peculiar quavering in her voice she couldn't seem to rein in, due to that darn galloping horse still very much in motion in her heart...
"Yes?" Sam answered, receptive to her warning and hanging on the edge of her every word, but his eyes back to being all atwinkle.
"Then I will forgo 'Sam' and promptly go back to calling you 'Mr. Tremblay.' No exceptions."
She crossed her arms and lowered her chin at him as she moved her eyebrows staggeringly close to her eyes. After all, she needed to relay to Sam once more just how crucial it was that the children board only the most secure of swings. Yet, it turns out the jellyfish in Sam's eyes were contagious, as she couldn't prevent her irises from dancing...
"That is quite fair, and I would expect nothing less," Sam countered, his eyes catching hers. Swept up in a mutual jaunty jive, their eyes danced together for a few moments, before he spoke up again.
"My promise from earlier still stands—I will make the swing remarkably sturdy, safe, and secure. If I fail at my pledge and duty, I will promptly go back to calling you Ms. Walsh. But for now—and hopefully in perpetuity—Ms. Lillian it is."
In perpetuity...hmmm...Lillian pondered. She figured he likely didn't mean anything else by the phrase other than that he hoped to call her by her first name continually from now on, for as long as he'd be working at the orphanage.
Yet, she found she wasn't opposed to the thought of Sam being a perpetual staple in her life...not opposed at all. The thought revived her rosy cheeks from their short-lived slumber.
"You have a good day, Ms. Lillian," Sam piped up again. "Tell those chores who is boss while the children are at school." The children at the orphanage attended the school in town every weekday, and Lillian had dropped them off via horse-and-wagon about an hour prior.
"As for me," Sam continued, "I will work on your list of to-dos and aim to start working on this tree swing tomorrow."
Lillian prayed that the swing would turn out beautifully—not only for the children's benefit, but also, selfishly, because she loved the way he leisurely and liltingly said her first name, giving each syllable their moment to shine. Her name flowed from his lips like a lovely melody.
"You have a good day too, Sam," she added. Though she tried to deliver her well wishes to him in a straightforward, unfazed manner, she couldn't stop her tone from being a bit shy, rather soft, and seasoned with appreciative wonder toward him.
"Perhaps you might even like to try out the tree swing when it's done and experience the pure fun of jumping off it and into the leaves?" Sam asked her curiously.
With her fear of heights, that idea sounded more terrifying to Lillian than fun—but deep down, she had to admit that flying freely through the air and flinging aside her cares for a few moments did sound intriguing. Maybe it could even be fun. But taking such a leap of faith wouldn't come easy to her, when she vastly preferred to keep her two feet fastened to solid ground.
"Perhaps," she said in return, making no promises to try it but not outright dismissing the idea, which she felt proud of herself for. Sam was not yet aware of how intimidated heights made her.
"I'm looking forward to seeing the tree swing come to life," she noted in closing as she started meandering away from the maple tree and toward the front door of the orphanage.
"One tree swing that withstands Karate master children coming right up," Sam joked from behind her.
In answer, Lillian tossed her head over her right shoulder and grinned at him, red hair burning brilliantly in the sunshine and the seafoam waves in her eyes unfurling toward him in playful gratitude.
"You and Mr. Tremblay seem to be getting along quite swimmingly," Eleanor noted, meeting Lillian in the entryway of the orphanage as she came inside from her conversation with Sam under the maple tree.
"I couldn't help but see you both out there, talking together...and even shaking hands," Lillian's housekeeper added. Impishness shone in her crimped eyes.
Heat hastened to Lillian's cheeks. "Ahhh, well, w-we...we were having a conversation about a tree swing...he's going to build one for the children...it was his idea, and though it makes me nervous, I agreed to it...I think the children will have so much fun with it."
"He's rather good for you, Lillian. He pushes you outside of your comfort zone. And he's a deeply good man. He loves these children like his own. And his work ethic is nothing short of admirable."
Lillian's cheeks grew rosier as she looked down at the orphanage's wood floor. She couldn't refute any of what Eleanor was saying, so she simply stayed silent.
"Easy on the eyes too, I might add. Have you noticed?"
Lillian's head shot up and she stared at Eleanor in consternation with wide eyes. But her flaming cheeks and continued silence clearly conveyed to New Hope Orphanage's housekeeper that she had, indeed, noticed.
Eleanor gave Lillian a knowing, but sweet and kindly smirk as only Eleanor could do, and simply said, "Be open to the possibilities, dear. Just as you were open to his idea of a tree swing."
As the two ladies moved into the kitchen and began a delayed tidying of it after that morning's breakfast bonanza—for breakfast with numerous children was always an elaborate event—Eleanor's words burrowed themselves into Lillian's brain. And as Lillian cleared the table of breakfast dishes and brought them to Eleanor at the sink, her mind was suddenly piled high with thoughts of those possibilities.
Me and Sam. Sam and me.
Think of someone or something else, Lillian. Anyone or anything else but him.
However, her mind's eye had a mighty hard time diverting its focus from pleasant thoughts of Sam and his exceptional eyes that spoke of the sea, which were all too easy on hers.