After the Storm (Chambers of the Heart Book 3)

by C D Cain

  Sam squeezed her mother’s hand. “She’ll be just fine.”

  Baby Girl began to toss in her bassinette. The women watched with baited breath until the first little cries began to sound over the monitor.

  Sam dried her tears. “Perfect timing. I could use a snuggly distraction.”

  Quinn held the monitor and watched as Sam went in to get Baby Girl. She heard her soft voice soothing the baby as she lifted her from the bassinette. She held her closely against her chest and rocked as she talked to her.

  Gentry stood at the edge of the water and listened to the soft lull of it as it trickled over the rocks along the shore. The wind blew the hair that had fallen from her lazy ponytail across her face. She tugged the wild strands behind her ears. A black guillemot flew in from its swim in the ocean to sit upon a jutting rock at the coastline. She watched as the wind blew to tousle its feathers. Its bright red feet matched the inside of his beak when it opened its mouth to let out a high-pitched, thin twitter of a call.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” Gentry said to it. Its feathers and eyes were a coal black with the brightest of white spots across its body close to its tail. She watched as its head darted back and forth to survey the water. Suddenly, its call changed to a loud, wavering whistle. Gentry turned her head to where the bird was looking and saw another black guillemot flying toward them. The two joined in flight to return to bobble atop the ocean water.

  “It takes two,” Gentry mumbled to herself. “Or so they say.” She kicked at the pebbles on her walk back to her bus. She was taken aback by the emptiness of her campsite. Earlier in the day, she had taken down the tent and stowed all of the outdoor furniture back into her storage bins. She went inside to pack a bag of clothes to carry back to Sam’s. It would be nice to actually fit back into her clothes. Not that she was vain in her appearance, but it was good to once again feel somewhat normal.

  She removed the outfit she had picked for Thanksgiving dinner and ran her fingers over the healed scar on her belly. “It’s about time. You’re all healed up,” she said to her reflection.

  After she put her repacked duffle in Sam’s Xterra, she toured the outside of the bus for one final once over. She checked the air in the tires, made sure the propane tank had been filled as she requested, and emptied the wastewater lines. She palmed the hood of Big Blue as she passed by it. “See you soon, Big Blue.”

  Quinn opened the oven door and pulled the rack out so she could baste the turkey. “For the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I’ve cooked a Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I can’t remember the last Thanksgiving I wasn’t working.” Gentry leaned over the oven with Quinn to watch what she was doing.

  “Really, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gentry watched the elegant beauty of Quinn. Even with the most domestic tasks of basting a turkey, she shone with elegance. Her dainty, single pearl earrings hung from her earlobes. They dangled slightly with her mannerisms and shake of her head to tousle her bangs from her eyes. Gentry ran her fingers over her bangs that rested at her eyebrows. She had never mastered the art of the head shake. Thus, she had kept them cropped out of the way.

  Sam had not been forthcoming in details of Gentry’s childhood, yet Quinn read people well enough to know it was not an open topic for discussion. She closed the oven door and stood up to look at the sweet potato casserole in the upper oven. “Did you get to have any type of Thanksgiving dinner at all?”

  Gentry shook her head. “Oh yes, ma’am. For the last few years, I worked a small diner in Louisiana. We always had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for our guests. Many times, the majority of people there were guests of the motel that were stuck away from their family. It was sort of like everyone had a kindred spirit. Many times, they had no family to get back to so they actually got to have a family-type Thanksgiving that otherwise they wouldn’t have had. It was neat to be a part of it.” Gentry began to chop the peppers for the cornbread dressing. This recipe she knew by heart.

  Quinn shucked the oven mitts from her hands. “I’m all caught up. The turkey has about another two hours. The sweet potato casserole less than that.” She picked up the bottle of cabernet sauvignon she had gotten the day before when they went grocery shopping. “I think it’s time for the cooks to enjoy a little refreshment while they finish this fabulous dinner.”

  Gentry noted the sparkle in Quinn’s sky-blue eyes. “Sam has your eyes.”

  “Yes, she does. I’m afraid she also has some of the personality traits behind them.”

  “I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. She’s an incredible woman.” Gentry cored the bell pepper and slid the seeds to the side with the blade of the butcher knife.

  “Why thank you, dear. She’s quite fond of you too.” Quinn pulled the cork from the bottle and poured two glasses of wine. She handed one to Gentry.

  “You seem comfortable with her. You obviously know we go beyond the typical boundaries of friendship.”

  “I do.” She brought the glass to her nose, took in its aroma, and followed with a small sip. “Mmmm. Nice.”

  Gentry followed Quinn’s actions. Why, she had no idea, but it seemed sophisticated and she liked it. “Have you always been this comfortable with her sexuality?”

  Quinn swirled the red wine in her glass. “I can’t say I always was, but I’ve had a lot of time to adjust. After all, she was in seventh grade when she first came in to tell me she had a crush on her P.E. teacher.” She put her hand on the freckled skin of her chest. She repeatedly ran her bent index finger to rub the skin beneath it as she stared at her daughter in the baby monitor. She was lying on her side with Baby Girl tucked in against her.

  Gentry peered over her shoulder to look at the monitor. She was struck with such an intense feeling that she nearly dropped the knife on the floor. Sam had always been a person who had come across to her as natural. Everything about her—from her pain to her joy, from her ambitions to her newfound clinic aspirations, from her wishing to repair a fractured relationship with her mother to lying next to Baby Girl with such a motherly air that it nearly knocked the strength from her knees. Gentry hadn’t known a mother. Her whole life she had not known a mother’s love. Yet, here it was on this little monitor. A camera into the heart of Sam. Gentry felt her mouth go dry. She reached for the wine but didn’t await the steps of swirl and smell. She took a healthy swallow. It was her first alcohol in months. Perhaps it would numb her just enough to get through dinner. Of course, she had seen the signs with Sam. Of course, this wasn’t the first time a feeling such as this coursed through her. Up until now, it had never been this strong.

  “I fear I failed her in so many ways, Gentry,” Quinn said, thankfully breaking Gentry’s thoughts. “I was never a mother to her. Not the mother I thought I’d be when I had her.”

  “Why not?”

  Quinn turned to Gentry and leaned against the counter. “I honestly don’t know. When she was younger, I was there. I wanted to go to every PTA meeting and function she had at school. Then Edward developed that damn heart device and it was never about her anymore. He was dragging me all over the place. Even at a young age, Sam was fiercely independent. So, she got along fine without us.” She took a swallow of her wine. “Or so I thought. If I had been there, maybe I could’ve been the reason for her to not have gone through so much hurt in her life.”

  “Do you mean Rayne?”

  “In part. But there were others. She won’t admit it, but I saw it. Her first was when she was only fifteen. Fifteen.” Quinn pulled a bowl in front of her and began to crumble the cornbread in it. “That was her first. It still makes me sad to think of it. Of course, I was oblivious to it at the time. But now with all of the extra time I have with my memories, I know the truth. She had been completely fascinated with this senior girl. They had become fast friends. I had seen the drawings of hearts with their names around it in
her room but paid no attention to it.” She dug her hands harder into the cornbread. “She was her first love and her first sexual experience. She was too young, and I did nothing to stop it.”

  “Do you think you really could have?”

  Quinn tried to smile. “Probably not.” She raised her left eyebrow. “But I could’ve tried or at least warned her. Obviously, it didn’t end well. It’s not like she was going to take Sam to senior prom instead of the captain of the football team. Until Rayne, she had never shown an interest in developing a relationship. I had hope but, in the end, the damn quarterback breaks my baby’s heart again.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think Rayne loves or loved Sam.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Bother me?” Gentry added the peppers to the cornbread.

  “Yes.” Quinn poured chicken broth over the mixture to moisten it. “Does it bother you to think of them still loving one another since you and Sam are together?”

  “Oh. We aren’t together. I mean, not like that.”

  “There’s my answer as to why you sleep in separate rooms. But you do care for my daughter, right?”

  “Yes, very much.” Gentry’s voice was hushed with its truth. She looked at the monitor once more. “She’s been a true surprise to me.”

  The timer buzzed for the sweet potato casserole. Both women welcomed the interruption. They worked together silently in the kitchen until the dressing was in the oven.

  “I like this music. Who is this?” Quinn said before she topped off their wine. “She’s got a beautiful voice.”

  Gentry pulled her hair up off her neck and twisted the ends into a bun. “Doesn’t she? It’s Norah Jones. I recently found this CD and have very nearly worn it out since I got it.”

  Quinn swayed her hips but was careful not to slosh her wine over the lip of her glass. “I can see why. It’s got a certain pep to it.” She piled the tomatoes onto the butcher knife blade and transferred them to the salad. The sound of Sam’s bedroom door opening caught her attention. She looked up to see Sam walking across the living room toward the kitchen carrying an awake Baby Girl. “This is the best Thanksgiving I can remember having in a very, very long time.”

  As Gentry rounded the bar with her back to Sam, a new song came on. She raised her head when she recognized its melody. A flash of Sam’s hands trailing up her legs quickened her heart rate and brought a heat to her face. She tried to hide it from Quinn but she doubted she had been successful. She heard Sam getting closer behind her. The speed of her heartbeat was not doing her any favors with the sensation of Sam’s lips on the back of her neck. She felt the scrape of Sam’s teeth in a soft bite before she moved to stand beside her.

  “The very best.” She winked at Gentry before walking to the counter to hand Beeg to her mother. “Want to hold her while I fix a bottle?”

  “Absolutely.” Once Baby Girl was in her arms, Quinn had no attention for anyone other than her. “Hello there, pretty girl. Did you get a good nap?” She held her close to her body and looked back over her shoulder toward Sam and Gentry. “I love the smell of baby when they first wake up.” She softly squeezed Baby Girl and walked to sit on the couch with her.

  “You’re actually smelling her after a diaper change. She smelled like a teetee baby when she first got up.”

  Sam nudged Gentry’s arm. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Sam pointed in the air. “This song make you think of anything? Want to go for a repeat?”

  Gentry slapped her arm playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Sam smiled an impish smile and raised her eyebrow. “You know it.” She leaned over and whispered in Gentry’s ear, “But is that a yes?”

  Gentry ticked her head toward Quinn on the couch. “It’s a maybe later.”

  Sam kissed Gentry on the nose. “It’s a date. Don’t forget your cowboy boots.” She grabbed the bottle and joined her mother on the couch.

  Gentry watched Sam and Quinn coo over Baby Girl as she chopped ingredients for the salad. It wasn’t that she didn’t talk to the baby. She did when no one was around. Times when she watched her while Sam took a shower or needed a few minutes. Sam was extremely respectful of not leaving Baby Girl with her for any long periods of time. Maybe it was the buzz of her first glass of wine in nearly a year or the soothing voice of Norah Jones or perhaps even the sight of Sam and her mother caring for Baby Girl, but something made this feel like family. Like a virus, memories of childhood past Thanksgivings crept in. The blackness of it stained her soul so much that even in the happiest of moments, she still saw her. The aroma of roasting turkey, cooked sweet potatoes, and browning dressing in the oven couldn’t overcompensate the lurking stale cigarettes and beer. She was scarred and there was nothing anyone could do about it. She inhaled deeply and rethought her decision to slow down on her wine. Over the lip of the glass, she saw Baby Girl’s hand on Sam’s cheek. Her tiny little fingers blended into the complexion of Sam’s skin as if they had been made from the same mold.

  Wouldn’t it be perfect if she were to have blue eyes like Sam? Gentry thought to herself. She watched the beauty in the way the three of them interacted. It was pure. It was real. It was family. She raised her glass to them. I may not be the mother you deserve but I won’t leave you scarred. I’ll make sure of that.

  Chapter 26

  “Thanks for letting me stay with you while Mom is here,” Sam said loudly over the spray of water.

  Gentry’s intention when pulling back the shower curtain was to be playful and startle Sam but it was she who was surprised in the reaction her body had when she saw Sam’s nude body covered in soapy suds. “Don’t be silly. It’s your condo.”

  Sam ran her hands over her face to wipe the water from her eyes. “Yes, but I told you it’s your room for as long as you want. Now I’m crashing in on you.”

  “It’s okay.” Gentry wiped a clump of suds from above Sam’s navel. “It’s like an extended slumber party.”

  “But I forgot my sleeping bag,” Sam pouted.

  “I think we can find somewhere for you.”

  The water from Sam’s face and hair dripped onto Gentry when she leaned over to kiss her. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth as she stood back up. “I know where I would like that somewhere to be.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Gentry dried the water from her face with a hand towel and then used it to wipe the steam from the mirror. She rubbed her hand across her belly. It had been months since her protuberant belly had kept the feeling of Sam completely against her. “Are you ever going to get out of the shower? You’re going to prune up like a raisin in there.”

  Sam shut the water off and slid the curtain back. “That felt freaking fantastic.” She grabbed the towel. “Beeg doesn’t really allow me to take a long shower.” Her voice was muffled with the towel over her mouth as she dried her hair.

  “Do you mind that?”

  Sam’s smile drew up the corners of her eyes. “Not one bit.”

  “I was surprised your mom wanted her staying in the room with her.”

  “I’m not. She’s eaten up with Baby Girl. Plus, from what she said, I don’t think she’s sleeping all that great at night. Beeg gives her a better reason to be up through the night.”

  “Does she miss your dad?”

  “No. Not at all, actually.” Sam brushed through the nest of tangles the towel dry had left. “I think she misses her life.” She stopped suddenly and tapped the brush against the palm of her hand. “I take that back. I don’t think she misses her life necessarily but maybe the fact that it was a known routine. She doesn’t know what the next days will hold for her now and I think it scares her.”

  “Is she going to stay in Atlanta?”

  “I don’t think she’s tied to it. Why?”

  “No reason.” Gentry eyed Sam in the mirror. “You
know, it is rather difficult to have a serious conversation with you while you’re naked. Some people actually wrap the towel around themselves instead of just draping it over their neck.”

  Sam looked down at her body and then back up to make eye contact with Gentry. “What good is that? Why, are you telling me you’re having trouble staying focused?”

  Gentry turned to Sam with her back leaned against the bathroom counter. Sensually, she licked her lips as she studied Sam’s body. “Oh, I’m staying focused, alright.”

  Sam felt her breath catch in her throat with the way Gentry ran her eyes over her body. She swallowed. Gentry raised her finger in the air and silently motioned for her to come to her. In one step, Sam was next to her. Their eyes danced with the others as they moved rapidly between their eyes and lips. Neither moved in closer to kiss the other. Sam didn’t know why but she felt hesitation to try to kiss Gentry. It had been months since the intensity of their passion had found them frantically trying to touch the other. There was something different between them now. Sam felt the dampness of Gentry’s shirt from the steam of the bathroom against her chest as she pressed into her body. Gentry’s eyes didn’t budge from her stare deep into Sam’s. Sam lost sight of them briefly when she felt the slow, torturous trickle of Gentry’s finger over her hip and up her back. With her hand at the back of her neck, Gentry brought Sam’s lips to hers. Her kiss was void of a heated passion. It was with a tenderness she had not felt before from her. Her tongue swept against hers with a sweet, slow exploration. Sam pulled her lips from hers when she recognized the feelings behind the kiss. Not the feeling of the kiss but true feelings behind the kiss. She looked at her, searching for a clarification to what she thought she felt. Gentry said nothing. Instead, she placed her hand within Sam’s and opened the bathroom door. The steam escaped into the bedroom to become a quickly dissipating fog over the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked as Gentry began to lead her to where the steam had drifted. “That’s the bed.” In all of their times together, never had one led them to the bed. In fact, Gentry had always repositioned them if they even came close to laying across it…once even to find them pulling the covers on to the floor as a pallet.