Trusting Will (The Camerons of Tide's Way #3)

by Skye Taylor

  “How about we pack a picnic lunch and ride to the Jolee Plantation? I can take more photos, and you can learn a little history while we’re there.”

  “History is boring.” Sam shrugged.

  “Maybe in books at school. But it’s a lot more fun when you can actually go to the places you read about. I know you’ve been studying about Tide’s Way in school. About how it got settled and that tobacco was grown here before the Civil War.”

  “I suppose,” Sam agreed. “But can I take my kite in case there’s some wind, and I can fly it while you’re poking around with your camera?”

  A short time later, they set off with her camera and their lunch in her backpack and Sam’s kite rolled up in his. He demonstrated all the signals he knew before they set off. He was meticulous about signaling for the turnout of Carlisle Place and again when they turned right at Joel’s Diner. Following him, Bree was again assailed by how quickly her son was growing up.

  They turned off Stewart Road onto the long tree-lined drive to the plantation and followed it around to the right, all the way to the front veranda, where they parked their bikes and removed their helmets.

  Just as Bree had done on her first trip to the plantation house, they stepped up onto the veranda and circled the house while Bree explained about the rooms. They walked down to the ruined slave quarters, then back to the outdoor kitchen. Locks had been installed just as Will had told her they would be, but at least they could peer in the windows of buildings that had them. Bree told Sam the story Emmy Lou had passed along about the ghost.

  “I wonder what it was like for them?” Sam asked, frowning.

  “For who?” Bree asked.

  “For the slaves. I wouldn’t like to get whipped, would you?”

  “Who said anything about whipping?” Slaves had been whipped, and it was a sad and unpleasant piece of American history, but she didn’t think that subject had come up at school.

  “Christopher told me that the white people whipped their slaves.”

  “Who’s Christopher?”

  “He’s a kid in my class. He said his ancestors were slaves.”

  That would explain Sam’s interest. “Well, Christopher is right. Not all slaves were treated so badly, but some were.”

  “I think it’s mean.” Sam looked at Bree with a mutinous glare in his eyes.

  “That’s what the Civil War was about. Stopping slavery.”

  “And Abraham Lincoln made them free on January 1, 1863.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “We learned it at school.” Sam shrugged as if the discussion was over. “Can we have lunch now?”

  After lunch, while Sam ran down the slope in front of the mansion, trying to get his kite aloft, Bree walked down to the fieldstone wall that skirted Stewart Road to take panoramic photos of the plantation, the remaining buildings, and the fields around them. She was just hiking back up when she heard Sam cry out.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose as she ran in the direction the sound had come from. Had Will been right about evil people being up here? Had they grabbed Sam while her back was turned?

  The vast expanse of overgrown lawn and tangled vegetation was empty. Bree stopped and searched with her eyes.

  “Momma!” Sam’s panicky voice came from the direction of a stand of trees and thorny bushes crowding the far edge of the once elegantly sloping lawn.

  Bree dropped her camera and ran for the trees. She pushed her way into the dense growth of live oak that sprawled sideways more than it grew upwards. Low branches and swaths of Spanish moss tore at her hair and clothes as she went.

  Then she saw him, sprawled awkwardly atop the remains of what looked like an old well house.

  “Sam!” she called, her voice rising with fright.

  “Help me,” he whimpered.

  Bree bolted the last few yards. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized Sam’s leg had broken through the rotted wooden cover.

  “My ankle hurts,” he wailed. He rocked back and forth, his hand holding onto his thigh. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Don’t move!” Bree shouted, terrified at the possibility Sam could fall all the way through. She had no idea how deep the well was, and if he fell in—

  Bree grabbed Sam with one arm about his chest while she worked at freeing his foot. “Hold on to me,” she instructed. When he wrapped both arms tight around her neck, she was able to use both hands to pull his leg free. With Sam still clinging to her neck, she forced her way back through the tangled vines and brush to the relatively tamer lawn where she stopped to assess his injuries. The ankle looked a little swollen, and there was a long scrape up the front of Sam’s shin.

  It didn’t look as bad as she’d feared, but her heart still thundered in her ears. She felt almost lightheaded with relief. She forced herself to calm down for Sam’s sake. He’d need to see a doctor. He didn’t need to be afraid of what might have happened. At least not right now.

  She picked him up and strode up the remainder of the slope to the mansion where she set him down on the edge of the veranda and propped his leg on one of their backpacks.

  Sam continued to whimper. “It hurts, Momma. I can’t move it ’cept it hurts.”

  “You probably just twisted it, but we’ll still have to see the doctor to make sure.” She prayed it was not broken.

  Already it looked more swollen than before, and the scrape had begun to bleed. She dug into the little soft-sided cooler their lunch had been packed in and took out the bag of ice. It was more than half-melted, but it would be better than nothing. She pressed it to the most swollen part of Sam’s ankle.

  Sam winced, but he stopped crying. He was doing his best to be brave. She brushed his tears away, kissed his forehead, and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

  “I left my kite on the hill,” Sam told her in a wobbly voice.

  “Let me get us a ride to the hospital first. Then I’ll go find your kite.” And my camera.

  Bree dialed Zoe’s home number, and when that went to the answering machine, she called her cell.

  “Hey, Bree, what’s up?” Zoe answered on the second ring.

  Bree explained the problem. Zoe was immediately concerned, but she was visiting her dad and hadn’t planned to be home until supper, unless Bree wanted her to leave right now. Bree told her not to worry; she’d call someone closer.

  Ben and Meg were the closest. She tried them but got no answer there either. She tried her assistant who was on this weekend at Kett’s, but Owen was right in the middle of fixing a sound system problem for the wedding reception going on.

  Bree bit her lip, wondering who to try next.

  “Call Will,” Sam told her. “He’ll come. I know he will.”

  Of course he would. After casting around in her mind for another possibility, she sighed and pressed connect for Will’s cell number.

  “Brianna?” Will sounded surprised.

  “I—” Bree swallowed. “I need a ride to the hospital. Sam’s hurt.”

  “How bad? Where are you?”

  “It’s just his ankle. I think maybe just a sprain, but we rode our bicycles here. I don’t have my car.” And I don’t know who else to call.

  “Where?” Will said again, his voice calm but urgent.

  “We—we’re at the Jolee Plantation.”

  Will made a sound that sounded like a growl. “I’ll be right there.”

  He hadn’t said where he was or what she had interrupted, but his Jeep bounded up the gravel drive less than ten minutes later with Ben right behind him in his pickup truck.

  Rick was the first one out of either vehicle. He hurried over to Sam’s side, his eyes wide with ghoulish excitement.

  “How is he?” Will strode toward them with a frown furrowing his
brow. He glanced at Bree but squatted next to Sam and gingerly began palpating the now ballooning ankle. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the blood on Sam’s shin.

  “I fell in,” Sam said, his voice calm now that Will was on the scene.

  “Fell in where?” Will demanded, looking first at Sam, then at Bree.

  Conflicting feelings raced through Bree, making her feel a little faint. Will’s immediate and unquestioning response to her call for help eased her anxiety the moment she’d heard his voice on the other end of the line. But that relief was shadowed by the glower on his face now and the scolding she knew would come eventually.

  “I think it was an old well.”

  What had sounded like a good idea just a few hours ago, no longer seemed smart, even to her own thinking. They hadn’t met with any bad guys, and she hadn’t seen any more of the debris that had worried Will before, but Sam had gotten hurt just the same, and it could have been so much worse.

  “Show me where.”

  Feeling a little like she was headed to the principal’s office, Bree led Will back down the hill toward the tree line.

  “Are you kidding me?” Will asked as she waded into the brambles again with him right behind her.

  She wished she was. When she reached the defunct well, Will whistled.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed as he looked into the hole Sam had broken through. “Mary and Joseph,” he added, feeling gingerly around the edges with his fingers.

  “I can’t believe you brought him here.” There was an unnaturally clipped edge to Will’s usual warm drawl. He turned and shoved his way out, slapping angrily at dangling moss that dared to grab at his clothing. “He’s definitely going to need a tetanus shot. There are rusty nails in that thing. He could have fallen in. What were you thinking?”

  Will looked as if he might say something else but turned and trotted back to Sam.

  “Time to get you to the doctor, sport.”

  “Can I go too?” Rick jumped up to ask.

  “No, you cannot go too,” Ben answered for Will.

  “But Sam’s my best friend,” Rick protested.

  “And his mother does not need to be keeping an eye on you while she has other things to worry about.” Ben was firm. Rick pouted but didn’t argue.

  “I came to haul your bikes back to the house, so you won’t have to worry about them,” Ben told Bree. He bent to give Sam’s shoulder a pat. “Just think, if it’s broken they’ll give you a cast, and everyone can sign it. You’ll be a star.” He ruffled Sam’s hair. “Come on, Rick. Help me with the bikes.”

  “Call me as soon as you get home,” Rick told Sam as he turned to follow his father.

  Will scooped Sam off the veranda and headed for his Jeep. Bree scurried back to get her camera and found Sam’s kite where he’d abandoned it not far away. She grabbed the backpacks and hurried to catch up to Will.

  Will settled Sam sideways on the back seat, adjusting the seat belt and shoving a blanket under his foot to elevate it further. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  On the way to the hospital, Will entertained Sam with an amusing story of something that had happened to him when he was Sam’s age. Bree stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap, worrying about just how bad Sam’s ankle was. And just how angry Will would be when the crisis was over.

  “It’s a rite of passage,” Will said, reaching over to put his hand on top of hers. He squeezed lightly and put his hand back on the steering wheel.

  She looked at him, surprised by the sudden concern for her. “What rite of passage?”

  “It’s a guy thing.” Will gave her that half-smile of his. The one that told her he was trying to lift her spirits, whatever else he might be thinking. “It’s kind of dull living your whole life being afraid to take risks and explore a little.”

  “He’s just a baby,” she protested. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Sam scowled. “I’m not a baby.”

  “You’re my baby,” Bree insisted. “You’ll always be my baby.”

  Sam’s scowl deepened.

  “Exploring is a guy thing. Worrying is a mom thing.” Will caught Sam’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “My mom calls me her baby sometimes too.”

  The scowl disappeared. “But you’re all growed up.”

  “Doesn’t matter. That’s just how moms are.”

  Sam rolled his eyes at this bit of intelligence.

  Bree didn’t know how to respond to what appeared to be two very conflicting vibes Will was sending her way. One minute he looked angry enough to eat nails, the next he was holding her hand and offering comfort.

  A few moments later they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Will drove around to the emergency entrance and parked. “How about I give you a piggyback?” he asked as he released his seat belt and turned to Sam.

  As careful as Will was to minimize the jouncing, tears returned to Sam’s eyes as they made their way across the parking lot. He smiled in spite of the pain and told Will to giddyapp. If this was how boys lived their lives, Bree’s life just got a lot harder to understand. Her son was hurting yet daring Will to do something that was bound to hurt even worse.

  WILL READJUSTED Sam’s position on his back, doing his best to be gentle. Sam’s arms tightened around Will’s neck. The trust Sam had in him was humbling. So was Sam’s brave front during his long ordeal at the hospital, first with X-rays, then the cast, and then more X-rays to check the fit. He had wanted to get himself to the Jeep unaided, but Bree had worried that the pain medication might make him dizzy.

  Will stepped off the elevator in their apartment building, careful not to bump the bright colored cast on the doorframe. At Bree’s door she juggled the backpacks and Sam’s crutches, fumbled with her keys, and finally got the door unlocked. She pushed it wide for Will to enter.

  “On the sofa or into bed?” Will asked while Bree dropped her things on the sofa. As he’d lifted Sam out of the back seat of his Jeep, Will had noticed that Sam’s eyes were drooping with the pain medication they had given him at the hospital. He wouldn’t be awake for long.

  “Bed,” she said, reaching to take Sam from him.

  “I’ll take him the rest of the way,” Will told her. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish the feeling of Sam’s arms about his neck or the feeling that he was important to this boy.

  Bree nodded her acquiescence and led the way, flicking on lights as she went. “I’m glad we stopped for sub sandwiches on the way home. He’s looking ready to drop. But he still needs to stop in the bathroom first.” She pushed the bathroom door wide and turned on that light before continuing on down the hall toward Sam’s bedroom.

  Will set Sam down in front of the toilet and helped him balance while he peed.

  “Now for the teeth.”

  Sam sighed but hopped over to the sink and plucked his brush out of the holder. “Mom’s mad at me,” he said around a mouthful of toothpaste and brush.

  “She’s not mad, sport. She was just worried. Moms get scared when their kids get hurt.”

  Sam finished brushing and rinsed his mouth. “But tomorrow she’s got something important at work. I was supposed to go home from school with Rick. But now I can’t even go to school.”

  “We’ll work something out. Don’t worry. Right now you need to get to bed and sleep off that stuff they gave you in the emergency room.” He scooped Sam up into his arms. “Tonight you get special treatment, but tomorrow, you get to try walking in that thing.”

  Bree had turned back the covers and laid out Sam’s pajamas. Will set Sam down and wrestled his shorts off over the cast while Bree removed Sam’s remaining sneaker.

  “Can I still play baseball?” Sam asked as he lifted his arms so Will could tug his shirt off.

  “Probably
not happening this year.” Will slipped the pajama top over Sam’s head, then settled him back on his pillows and sat on the mattress next to him. “Maybe we can think of something else you can do this spring to take the place of baseball.”

  “Fishing?”

  “Not ’til you don’t have to wear the cast. I don’t think it’s supposed to get wet.”

  “But what will I do all day?”

  Will smiled at the exaggeration. “Let’s worry about that tomorrow. Right now you need to catch some ZZZs.”

  “Okaaaay.” Sam yawned.

  Bree knelt beside the bed. She curled her arm about Sam’s head and leaned in to kiss him. “I’ll be listening really hard, so if you need anything in the night, just call, and I’ll be right here.” She gave him a hug. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, Momma.” Sam’s voice trailed off, and he shut his eyes.

  Will glanced at Bree as an overwhelming feeling of closeness crept over him. She pushed Sam’s bangs off his face and caressed his cheek with the backs of her fingers. She looked worried.

  “He’ll be okay,” Will tried to reassure her.

  “I know.” Bree shoved herself to her feet and backed toward the door. Then she was gone.

  An unfamiliar contentment settled into Will as he sat there with one hand resting on Sam’s thigh as Sam’s breathing slowed, and his body relaxed into sleep. Will offered up the prayers Sam probably would have said if he hadn’t been so sleepy. Finally, he fluffed the blankets where they draped over the injured foot, turned out the light beside Sam’s bed, and stood up. He paused at the door and looked back at the sleeping boy.

  It would never have occurred to Will that putting a kid to bed at night could tug so firmly at his heart. It’s not like he’d never done it before. He’d babysat for Ben a number of times, but somehow this felt different. Maybe it was just because Sam had been injured. But what would it be like to tuck Sam in every night? The longing to have the right to do just that caught Will unexpectedly. He sighed and headed for the kitchen.