Maxwells Smile

mean, you’re handsome. Guy like you shouldn’t be single. And why were you in the hospital that day?” “Whoa. That’s a lot of questions. Pick one, and we’ll take it from there.”
    Rachel checked her watch. Ten more minutes before the school bell rang. She and Maxwell had a lot to do, putting up posters, stopping by the science shop, and then his checkup. “Shoot. I have to run. But the questions remain. Maybe we can see a movie and continue the conversation?”
    “I’d like that.” Sam stood as she rose and gathered her purse and the envelope with the invoice in it. “Rachel, I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a palm and scanned the restaurant behind her, then moved closer and kissed her quickly. “Ah, hell, that was awkward.”
    “It was.” She touched his mouth, and with a side glance to ensure they were standing in a relatively private corner, she then leaned in and kissed him. Slowly, softly, yet long enough to let him know she was stepping into this relationship with arms now open and ready to receive. “See you later, Sam.”
    Walking away, she didn’t fight the smile that curled her lips. Heart wide-open? Check. Let the romance begin.
    * * *
    The posters were in place, and now a reward for their hard work. The science store was run by one of Rachel’s former middle school science teachers, who recognized Maxwell as they entered, and led him to the bug catching supplies. He eagerly selected a neon-green cage and a matching net. They thanked the manager, promising to return, and Maxwell climbed into the backseat of the car and opened the book he kept tucked in the seat divider for drives around the city.
    “What say we stop by Sam’s house and invite him to have dinner with us after your checkup?”
    “Sounds like a good call. Drive on, Mom.”
    She laughed whenever he emulated a rich snob sitting in the backseat, directing his chauffeur. Ten minutes later, after handing him her phone so he could navigate using Google Maps for her, she found Sam’s house, and parked on the street before the tin sign that advertised Handy Sam’s Fix-It.
    “You stay in the car, sweetie.” She winked at her son in the mirror and he winked back. “I won’t be long.”
    He reimmersed himself in the book he was reading.
    “Always something by Oliver Sacks,” Rachel muttered as she approached the open garage door, where she thought she’d seen movement. Sacks was a professor of neurology who wrote case studies and published them, to much acclaim. That kid has a forty-year-old brain inside a nine-year-old’s body, she thought.
    Then smiled to herself, because she loved her son’s old soul. But she was still determined to get him outside for some sun. They’d purchased a book on insects and Maxwell had announced as they’d left the store that he intended to fill the bug catcher with cicadas.
    Her dear little boy would pick the noisiest bug out there.
    A stack of cardboard boxes sat on one side of the double garage next to ladders, paint buckets and tools Rachel assumed were accessories to the construction trade. The rusty old Ford pickup was parked on the other side. Toward the rear of the garage, in the cool shadows, she saw Sam, his broad, plaid-covered back to her. He stood over a box, holding something. She didn’t want to sneak up on him so called out his name.
    He dropped what he’d been holding and spun around. Swiping a finger across his cheek, he sheepishly said, “Oh, hey, Rachel. You’ve never stopped by my place before. How did you know where I live?”
    “Maxwell looked you up on the internet. Sorry, is now a bad time?”
    “Huh? No. Just, uh…” He shoved a hand in his jeans pockets and cast a nervous glance at the box behind him. Rubbing the other palm down the back of his neck, he asked, “What’s the occasion?”
    Feeling an odd coldness radiating off the man, Rachel didn’t step closer. “Sam and I were headed to the hospital for his follow-up visit and we wondered if you’d like to go along? It’s only a fifteen-minute appointment, and I thought you could see if they’ve found a use for the DVDs you dropped off. Afterward, we could have a late dinner at the new restaurant across the street?”
    “Uh…” Again, he glanced at the box behind him. He scanned the garage walls, doing everything he could not to look at her. Scrubbing a hand over his hair, he said, “Probably not right now. I just… No. Sorry.”
    “Oh.” Feeling as if he had just poked a