15 Tales of Love by Jessie Salisbury Page B

moment, then asked hesitantly, “When do you get off work?”
    “Three-thirty. I only do breakfast and lunch.”
    He regarded her again, his eyes wide and guileless. “Maybe we could take in a movie or something? I’m off duty on Tuesdays.”
    “Oh.” She considered it for a moment thinking, Why not? I don’t have to commit to anything and it’s been a long time. And he seems nice. When was the last time I went to a show?
    She said, “I guess.”
    It turned out to be more fun than she had expected. After the movie he took her to a small restaurant—a treat for her to be served by someone else, although she did note that she could have done it better, much to Tom’s amusement. She found Tom had a dry sense of humor, brought out by the really bad comedy movie, and they agreed to do it again some time. There was a small warm spot next to her frozen heart.
    But it was some time before she saw Tom again. He missed the next two Thursday mornings. Was it something I said? Was he coming here only to see what he could get? Did he think I was something I’m not and I’m not what he wants? She admitted to herself that she liked him and missed him. It was another small sorrow, but it was what always happened, and after all, she should be used to it.
    But Tom came back on the third Thursday. “Sorry,” he said, obviously contrite. “I could have called, but wasn’t sure how, or if they’d give you a message. I was working an extra shift at the hospital because a couple of people have the flu, and then I had to work extra to catch up on my class. Finals are coming up.”
    She poured his coffee without comment, shutting him out. It was safer that way.
    “Really, Naomi, I’m sorry. Are you free on Tuesday?”
    She looked up at him, met his eyes, saw he was serious, and gave in to her own loneliness. She said, “Sure.”
    After the movie they sat in a little corner shop over coffee and apple pie with sharp cheddar. Tom talked about his family. “My older sister lives in Florida and my parents retired down there to be near the grandkids. Sometimes they say I should come, too, but I don’t think so. I’ve always lived here and I couldn’t stand the summer humidity.”
    Naomi told him about her father and Ben.
    “That’s tough, to have nobody, no family. Even though mine have moved, I can still visit them and talk to them if I want to.” After a pause he added, “Not that I want to very often.”
    On another Tuesday, Tom talked about his future plans. “When I get my nurse’s degree,” he said, “I’d like to work in some little country hospital—you know—the kind that always need people?” He hesitated. “The kind that doesn’t pay very well? That’s where I think I could really help people.”
    Naomi knew, but she had nothing to share. She said she had no future plans, no way to plan anything.
    “But you should have,” Tom told her. “Everyone should have something to plan for, to look forward to. It’s what keeps people going.”
    She wondered if he had studied psychology and was practicing on her. “I used to,” she said. “I wanted to go on to school, but I had to take care of my mother and then pay all of the funeral expenses. There was nothing left for me. I thought I’d like to be a paralegal, work on some of those interesting cases you read about.” She hesitated, not looking at him. “I figured it was too late.”
    “It’s never too late.” He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Think about it. The fall semester begins in a week or so. Just try it.”
    She thought about it, looked through the materials Tom brought her, saw a course or two she might find interesting, but she didn’t do anything. He shook his head and said she was being stubborn, but he didn’t give up. He didn’t berate her, or find fault with her, and she was grateful.
    Tom began calling her sometimes in the evening, “I’m sitting here in the ambulance bay waiting for my pager,” he’d