She sighed. “I know. It’s a long airplane ride for me, as well. I’ll be so sad to say goodbye to them.”
Samantha’s expression softened as she ran a gentle hand over Amelia’s hair in a gesture that made a lump rise in Ian’s throat. “Saying goodbye can be hard, can’t it?”
“Yes. I wish we didn’t have to.”
“The puppies already have homes they’ll be going to in a few weeks. If you took one, that would leave someone here very sad.”
“Dad says maybe we can get a puppy of our own when we go back home,” Thomas announced.
Samantha smiled at him, as well. “Oh, that will be fun. You’ve had good practice taking care of mine, then, haven’t you?”
His children both seemed to drink in her attention. They both wanted to hold her hands as they walked the short distance from her house to his vehicle. Samantha had a way of drawing people to her, something he suspected she didn’t consciously realize.
At the vehicle, she looked surprised. “No Mrs. Gilbert?”
“She begged off,” Ian said.
“She said she wanted a quiet night at home with her book and the telly,” Amelia said with shock in her voice that clearly conveyed what she thought of that idea.
Ian thought that sounded perfectly lovely, though he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to the evening ahead in Samantha’s company.
“You have made quite an impression on my mother,” he said. “When I took her home, she couldn’t stop talking about how well the fitting went. What did you think?”
“I think your sister’s dress just might be my favorite of all the wedding gowns I’ve created.”
“My mother’s exact word was exquisite.”
“I believe I quite love that word,” Samantha said with a smile. “I’m planning to incorporate it into my daily vocabulary.”
He was finding Samantha such a funny mix of contradictions. She seemed full of life and light and energy at some moments, then seemed almost paralyzed by doubts in others. Was that because of her own mother’s influence?
She seemed to have so much love to give but was almost afraid to offer it.
“How was your afternoon?” she asked. “I don’t imagine you could give the salmon much of your attention while you were busy running your mother to dress fittings and having coffee with your new brother-in-law.”
He had thoroughly enjoyed his time with Joshua Bailey. His first impression of him had been spot-on. He was a good man with a kind heart and a deep love for Gemma. Ian expected that even despite the distance, the two of them would form a strong and lasting friendship as the years went on.
“The salmon will be there tomorrow, I imagine. They’re very patient.”
She settled into her seat as Ian drove the short distance to his sister’s house. After a few weeks in America, he was almost used to driving on the opposite side of the road. He only hoped he didn’t have a big adjustment back to the other way once they were home.
“I’m still fascinated by the fact that you’ve chosen to study salmon,” Samantha said after a moment. “Of all the things in the world a person could choose to research—elephants, aardvarks, honey badgers. There’s no limit. So why salmon?”
“Salmon are vitally important to the world. They are considered a keystone species for the environment, particularly in the Pacific Northwest. That means a great deal of other life depends on them. When ocean-dwelling salmon swim upstream to spawn, they bring their nutrient-rich bodies and end up feeding wildlife, microorganisms, even trees, if you can believe that. When eagles and bears and other predators take a fish out of the water to eat it, they distribute what’s left on the forest floor and that feeds the trees. It’s estimated that fully one-third of the nitrogen in old-growth forests comes from salmon runs, which I find fascinating. In England and across Europe, we no longer have the historic numbers of salmon and we’ll likely never get that back, but there’s still hope for the Pacific Northwest salmon to recover.”
He caught himself before he could start lecturing on. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you.”
“You didn’t bore me,” she said, a curious light in her eyes. “I like seeing you so animated and excited.”
She met his gaze, then quickly looked away, her cheeks suddenly turning pink for reasons he couldn’t have explained.
She turned back to the children. “Amelia, Thomas, I understand from your grandmother that you took a field trip with Mrs. Gilbert to the children’s museum today,” she said quickly, as if in a hurry to change the subject. “What did you like about it?”
“That it had a great display about the weather.”
“I liked floating things down a little creek inside,” Thomas said.
While Samantha engaged the children in a discussion about the museum, Ian kicked himself for going on and on about his work. Susan often would tell him how pedantic he could be on the subject.
He could almost hear her voice echoing in his head. “Of all the people on the planet, maybe four of them care about this as much as you do. Sadly, none of them is here right now.”
In retrospect, she had been nothing short of dismissive of his work. Really, of everything about him. They never should have married. In trying to do the right thing, he had made everything worse.
He had admitted to himself some time ago that he would have sought a divorce eventually, even if she hadn’t walked out on the marriage. He had been bitterly unhappy, though he hadn’t wanted to admit it.
He sighed, earning a curious look from Samantha that made him annoyed with himself for dwelling on the past. He was heading out for an evening with a beautiful woman who made him smile and whom his children adored.
He refused to let memories of his marriage ruin his enjoyment of this perfectly lovely evening, Ian decided.
When he pulled up in front of Gemma’s house, the sun had begun to slip behind the Redemption Mountains. Full sunset was still at least another hour or more away but the sun started to go down early on this side of the lake in the shadow of the mountains.
It was a beautiful summer evening, cool and soft and smelling of cut grass and the lake.
He loved it here, he thought as he went around the vehicle to open Samantha’s door. The lake, the people, the jagged mountains that stood as sentinels around the community.
These few weeks had given him an appreciation for the choice his sister had made to start a new life here with Josh. He easily could see himself living here with the children, starting over, as she had done. He could study Pacific Northwest salmon, both anadromous and nonanadromous, to his heart’s content.
If only that were possible. If only he didn’t have the inescapable demands of the earldom weighing on him.
He suddenly missed his brother with a fierce ache. David’s death had changed everything.
As he opened the door for Samantha, the fading sunlight gleamed on her features. She was smiling at something one of the children must have said and he suddenly felt breathless.
Oh, he was in trouble. He was growing to care for her entirely too much. She was open and honest, like that sunshine.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to make an even bigger fool of himself over her than he already had.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IF SAMANTHA WERE ever asked to describe her perfect evening, it would be very much like this one.
When they arrived at Gemma’s cottage, a small but tidy clapboard house with a shake roof near downtown, the air smelled delicious, of barbecue chicken and roasting vegetables.
Sam’s stomach growled, reminding her that the quick salad she’d taken from home to work for lunch had been a long time ago.
Few places on earth could be as gorgeous as Haven Point on a summer evening.
The setting sun sent long shadows across the lake, which gleamed silver
in the light. A flock of ducks or geese—she couldn’t tell which—flew overhead while a few boats darted across the water.
Ian’s mother stood on the porch of Gemma’s house. She waved a hand in greeting as they approached, her features bright with affection for her son and grandchildren. “There you are. I was afraid we would have to eat all this food among the four of us.”
“Hi, Nana.” Amelia smiled and Margaret hugged her.
“Hello, Nana,” Thomas echoed, hugging his grandmother in turn.
“And, Samantha, darling.” Margaret turned to her, arms wide, and folded her into an embrace both welcoming and kind. “I’m so happy you’re able to join us. Isn’t this a beautiful evening?”
“I can’t argue. I was thinking that very thing on the way over. Our summers are so short that each day feels like a precious gift.”
“I understand your winters around here can be quite intense,” Margaret said with interest. “That’s hard for me to imagine, with these glorious temperatures right now.”
“We can have up to three or four feet of snow at a time and spend weeks with the thermometer never hitting above freezing. You can see the mountains still have snow at the higher elevations. Some of that doesn’t melt until late July.”
“I believe I would like to see that much snow,” Amelia exclaimed.
She smiled at the girl’s astonished expression. “It’s always beautiful at first. There is nothing prettier than the first snowfall clinging to the pine trees, but by the end of the winter, we’re ready for it all to melt and our glorious summers to arrive again.”
“Have you ever built a snowman?” Thomas asked.
“Oh, yes. Nearly every year. With as much snow as we can have, you could build an entire snow village if you wanted to. The people of our neighboring town, Shelter Springs, come together to build an elaborate ice castle every year, complete with turrets, slides, fountains, all lit by LED lights in various colors. It’s quite spectacular.”
“Can we come back to visit Aunt Gemma in the wintertime?” Amelia asked her father eagerly.
Ian looked taken aback. “We’ll have to see about that. You’ll have your school term.”
Samantha had never considered that. She should have. All this time, she had been thinking she would never see them again once they returned to England, but she suddenly realized Ian would always have a link here. His sister and Josh were making their lives here, which meant Ian and the children would likely return at some point for visits in the future.
At that moment, the woman in question walked around the side of the house along with her fiancé.
Sam refused to allow herself to feel embarrassed, though she had once been quite enamored of Josh and had come close to making a fool of herself over him.
Water under the bridge, she told herself.
“You’re here,” Gemma exclaimed, leaning forward to kiss Sam on the cheek before hugging her brother. “We’re setting up on the back terrace.”
“Everything’s ready,” Josh said.
“Shall we?” Margaret gestured toward the gate.
Gemma led the way around the cottage she had rented when she came to town, where a picnic table had been set up in the shade of a weeping willow, branches rustling softly in the breeze. It was a charming scene, with tea lights in bottles hanging from the branches and fresh-cut flowers spilling over vases on the table.
Somehow she ended up seated between Gemma and Henry, Ian’s father, who struck her as more formal than the rest of his family. He was the one she had spoken with least in the family.
He was friendly enough, though, and immediately asked her about her boutique.
“Margaret tells me you’ve done an excellent job making Gemma’s wedding gown. They’ve both been talking about nothing else all evening.”
“It’s been my pleasure. Really. Gemma’s been a delight to work with.”
“I know nothing about fashion,” Henry said. “If you want the truth, without my wife I would be lucky to don socks that match in the mornings. But Margaret and Gemma say the dress is stunning and I trust them.”
Stunning. What a marvelous endorsement, especially coming from someone as stylish as Margaret. She was deeply grateful her hard work had been so well-received. “I’m so glad they like it. It’s one thing to have a bride love a dress. It’s another thing entirely when her mother does.”
Henry chuckled. “I imagine that’s true. Mothers can be notoriously hard to please.”
He looked across the table and down, where Ian was talking to Margaret.
“And you are neighbors with our Ian and the children, who have been helping you with your puppies.”
Our Ian. She had to smile at the phrase. “Yes. Amelia and Thomas have been wonderful with them. You have dogs, I understand.”
That was exactly the right topic to bring up. Henry’s somewhat stern features warmed as he told her about his Jack Russell terriers.
By the time the delicious dinner of grilled chicken and salad was over, she and Henry were fast friends and he had given her several suggestions to help her begin initial training of the puppies to help transition to their new owners.
She pushed her plate away with a warm glow, having enjoyed herself immensely. Still, despite her pleasure in the evening, she felt a faint strain of sadness twisting through her like a stray thread that needed pulling.
As much as she had enjoyed the conversation with Henry, it somehow made her miss her own father, something she didn’t do very often.
Losing her father to suicide at such a young age had left a deep wound inside her heart. She wanted to think that time had covered that wound in scar tissue, but sometimes out of nowhere she would remember something he had said or ache to share something with him and would realize the scar was paper-thin, the wound easily reopened.
What would it have been like if her father had been able to deal with his depression another way, if she’d had a father figure through her teens and young adulthood? Would she have been so prone to making stupid mistakes with men?
The sadness was edged with no small amount of anger that she’d had so little time with him.
“Nana, watch,” Thomas called to his grandmother as he threw a stone into the water, skipping it two or three times.
“Nice work, Thomas,” she called back with a fond smile.
“He’s got a good arm, that boy,” Henry said. “He ought to play cricket like his father.”
“I played for two years, Father, and was never very good,” Ian said.
“Watching you was still a joy,” his father replied stoutly.
As she tried to picture a younger version of Ian playing cricket—which she knew absolutely nothing about—Samantha was envious suddenly of his life. His parents seemed so genuinely kind and he had two sweet-natured children.
His life hadn’t been perfect, she reminded herself. His children had lost their mother, whom Ian had been in the midst of divorcing after she had left him for another man.
She also knew they had lost another brother, David. Gemma had mentioned him once when Samantha had asked about the accident that left her with a slightly uneven gait. Perhaps his death had brought the family closer together.
That’s what families should do, she thought. Pull together to share each other’s pain, not let their pain turn them bitter and hurtful.
“Tart?” Gemma asked, dragging Sam from her introspection.
“Thank you,” she said, taking one of the berry-topped pastries from her friend and completely ignoring the strong possibility that she would perhaps have a hard time fitting into the dress she was to wear to the wedding.
“So, Ian, Samantha tells us she’s going as your date to the wedding,” Gemma said with a mischievous smile.
“Did you hear that, Henry?” Margaret said. “Ian is taking Samantha as his date to the wedding.”
“I’m right here. Of course I heard,” his father said gruffly, though he looked pleased at the news, as well.
Ian looked embarrassed, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond, so Samantha did it for him.
“It should be a wonderful day,” she answered with a smile for both Gemma and Josh. “You two are a great couple. I know the Helping Hands have been working hard on the decorations. I can’t wait to see how everything turns out.”
“Nor can I,” Gemma said. “Everyone here has been so kind, from the moment I arrived in town.”
“Because we love you,” Samantha said. It was true. Gemma had endeared herself to all of them for her generous heart and her kind soul. Meeting her family gave Sam a very good idea where she had developed those traits.
“Guess what?” Thomas said, rejoining their table. “Aunt Gemma is teaching me how to dance. We’ve already learned the fox-trot and are working on the waltz.”
“And you’re a wonderful dancer,” Gemma said.
“Excellent news,” Henry said. “Dancing is a skill every young gentleman ought to have.”
“May I have a dance with you at the wedding, Miss Fremont?” Thomas asked her formally.
She had to smile at the seriousness coming from a boy of six. “I would be honored to dance with you, kind sir. I’ll definitely save you a dance.”
As the sun finally dropped and the lights came on, they chatted about the wedding and about Lake Haven’s history, with Josh filling in the many glaring gaps in Samantha’s knowledge about her hometown. All in all, it was a delightful, relaxing evening, one of the most enjoyable she’d had in a long time.
She was so at peace she found herself yawning at one point and flushed when she saw Ian looking.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You put in long hours,” he said with a smile. “We should get you home.”
She didn’t want the night to end but knew he was right.
“Do you mind if the children stay overnight at our cottage?” Margaret asked. “We would love to have them. You said you were going out on the lake early in the morning and this way Mrs. Gilbert can sleep in.”
Summer at Lake Haven Page 17
