A Vow to Love

by Sherryl Woods

  She stared at him until he was finally forced to meet her gaze. "I hope it's a good one," she said quietly. "I wish only the best for you. Like it or not, Sam Roberts, I love you. Nothing you do or say is going to change that."

  Then, because she knew it wasn't this moment but the future that scared him, she added emphatically, "I will always love you."

  There was a flicker of reaction in his eyes, but he remained stoically silent, killing any last chance they might have had. Penny turned her back on him then and walked out the door. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.

  She made it out the door before her throat clogged with emotion and her eyes swam with tears. At the end of the hall, she leaned against the wall and tried to gather her composure. Hot tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks. She wiped at them angrily and swore they would be the last she shed for a man who didn't want her, a man who had never cared...not enough, anyway.

  Finally she drew in a shaky breath, squared her shoulders and marched down the stairs. She had a life to get back to and she was determined it was going to be a fantastic one. What was it Dorothy Parker had written? Something about living well being the best revenge. She intended to have her revenge on Sam Roberts, even if it killed her.

  Sam listened to Penny's fading footsteps with a dull ache in his chest. She was going. She was walking out of his life without a backward glance. He should have felt victorious, or at the very least, relieved. Instead the encounter had left him drained, his head throbbing. He felt this terrible sense of loss that he wanted very much to blame on her.

  What had he expected? he asked himself irritably. He was the one who'd sent her away. Had he expected her to fight like a hellion? Had he expected her to counter all of his absurd excuses for ending things between them?

  Okay, so maybe some tiny little part of him had wanted just that. Oh, sure, he had turned aside every argument she had tried to make, but they were pitiful. Besides, he knew in his gut that whatever it was they were feeling wasn't powerful enough to last. He'd just tested it and proved that, hadn't he? They were both better off knowing the truth.

  But he didn't feel better off somehow. He felt like hell, as if he'd cheated both of them of something important.

  As he'd threatened, he went back to work the next day. His boss took one look at him and sent him back home.

  "Next time you come back, I want a signed release from your doctor," he told Sam. "I'm not going to have you or one of your fellow officers wind up shot because your reflexes are worth spit."

  "I need to get back on the job," Sam argued with a sense of desperation.

  "Then go home and recuperate so you can do it."

  "I'll work a desk."

  "And drive us all nuts complaining about it. I don't think so. Go home and get well so you can get back to doing what you do best. With Tank in jail, his gang is floundering. We can get in there and clean up the last dregs as soon as you're back on the streets."

  Sam knew his boss was right. He was so exhausted from the trip to the station that he could barely make it up the stairs when he got home. He unplugged the phone and collapsed onto his bed. Drained both physically and mentally, he slept practically around the clock.

  It was midmorning the next day when he heard someone fiddling with his lock. Sam was reaching for his gun when he recognized Mrs. Farnsworth's voice, then Randy's. The pairing should have astonished him, but nothing much surprised him anymore.

  "Thank you, young man," the housekeeper said. "You're quite adept with that instrument. What was it you called it? A picklock?"

  "Yeah, well, it might be better if we don't tell Sam how we got in," Randy replied nervously.

  Sam chuckled despite himself. He leaned back against the pillows and waited for whatever the two had in store for him.

  "You can run along now," Mrs. Farnsworth said. "I'm certain you have things to do."

  "Are you sure you don't want me to check the place out? He could be real sick or something."

  "I'm certain I can handle whatever the situation is," she said firmly.

  Sam doubted there was anything on earth that Mrs. Farnsworth couldn't handle after decades of battling wits with Brandon Halloran, but to his amazement she suddenly relented. He suspected Randy had put on his most woebegone expression. The door to his room inched open.

  "Sam?" Randy whispered. "Hey, Sam!"

  Sam remained steadfastly silent.

  "I think he's passed out or something," Randy announced.

  There was that or something again, Sam thought with a grin. He hoped the kid wasn't going to be disappointed to find him very much alive.

  Suddenly the door was thrown wide and Mrs. Farnsworth strode across the room. She loomed over him, her expression set in a disapproving frown. "Sam Roberts, stop playing possum. You're scaring that poor boy to death."

  He winked at her. "How'd you know I wasn't dead?"

  "Because you're entirely too ornery to die this young."

  Randy crept into the room and regarded him with an injured expression. "Why'd you go and do that?"

  "Do what?" Sam asked innocently. "I was sleeping peacefully in my own apartment when two people broke in. You're lucky I didn't shoot you."

  "You didn't answer the phone or the door," Randy countered. "How come?"

  "Maybe I didn't want to talk to anybody."

  "That's typical of your selfishness, young man," Mrs. Farnsworth chided. "Folks have been worried sick about you and you've been holed up in here sulking."

  "Who says I'm sulking? I just told you I was sleeping. Anyway, why were you checking on me in the first place?"

  "Beats me," she said. "Some people were foolish enough to care what happened to you."

  "Which people?" he asked because he couldn't help himself.

  She gave him an inscrutable look. "Me for one. Isn't that enough?"

  "You're a treasure, Mrs. F."

  A smile teased her stern lips, but she fought it admirably. "You haven't called me that in a long time." She scowled at him. "Won't make a bit of difference, though. I'm still tired of your foolishness. I should have sent Ruth Dawkins over here with that needle of hers."

  Sam took the threat seriously. He mustered an apology. "I'm sorry if I worried you," he said. "And anyone else who might have been concerned."

  "Yes, well, it seems to me like you might have more than one thing to apologize to her for."

  Sam stared at her, thoroughly startled. "What do you know?" he asked worriedly.

  "Enough," she said succinctly. She opened a Thermos of soup and poured some into a bowl. "Eat this."

  Randy was watching the housekeeper with a speculative look in his eyes. She glanced at him.

  "If you want some, go into the kitchen and get a bowl," she said. After he'd gone, she said, "That boy needs a family. He has some skills that bear watching."

  "An understatement if ever I heard one," Sam agreed.

  "Perhaps I'll have a talk with Mr. Halloran. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if the boy stayed at the house for a while. It's empty most of the time, anyway."

  Sam reached for her hand and squeezed. "You're a wonder, Mrs. F."

  "Just doing my Christian duty."

  He shook his head. "It's more than that. I just want you to know I appreciate it. Randy's worth saving. I can remember when I was a lot like him. Granddad Brandon came to my rescue."

  She leveled a stern look at him. "The boy thinks the world of you. Did you know he was just hanging around outside in case you needed him? Found him sitting out there on the front steps."

  "How'd he know I was back here?"

  "Same way I knew to bring the soup. Penny." She regarded him intently. "She's good for you. Don't throw away a chance at happiness. You've always taken every risk there was to be taken. Don't stop now."

  Sam sighed. "I love you for caring, Mrs. F., but you don't know what you're talking about."

  "I didn't get to be this age without learning a thing or two," she retorted. "You'd
be wise to listen to your elders once in a while. We didn't do too badly by you in the past, did we?"

  "No," he conceded.

  "Well, then?"

  "I'll think about what you've said. I promise."

  But the minute she was gone, he stubbornly put the promise out of his head.

  A week later Dana turned up on his doorstep, her two littlest ones in tow. Within fifteen minutes, the kids were out of control and whatever Dana had stopped by to say had been overshadowed by the chaos. His head throbbing again, Sam cheerfully considered murdering them and his meddlesome sister.

  Dana scooped up the screaming baby and held her out to him. "Hold your niece while I chase after her brother."

  Sam had the baby cradled in his arms before he could protest. "You sound like I feel," he told Jennifer Margaret Halloran. "I wouldn't mind letting off a little steam myself. What has you so upset?"

  Serious blue eyes swimming with tears stared back at him. The baby hiccuped, then quieted. The kid really was beautiful, he decided with total objectivity, even if she was still bald. And she already had the good sense to know when she was in the care of someone big and strong, who'd protect her with his life. That instinctively trusting response was worrisome. He'd done his damnedest to prove to everyone that he wasn't reliable. He supposed Jennifer Margaret would learn that lesson soon enough.

  "I see you've worked your magic on her, just the way you do on all the girls," Dana commented when she reappeared.

  She looked slightly more frazzled than she had when she'd left. She had Jason Junior in tow. The two-year-old seemed pleased with the amount of toothpaste he'd been able to smear all over himself in his few minutes of freedom from parental interference.

  "Shave," he announced happily, patting his round little cheeks.

  "Why didn't somebody tell me that boys are a lot more difficult to control than girls?" Dana muttered while trying to clean up her son.

  "Hey, you were the one who raised me. That should have been warning enough."

  "Very funny." She regarded him pensively. "So, little brother, let's get serious. Exactly what's standing between you and Penny? It's obvious to everyone that you're in love with her. It's also clear that for some absurd reason you've decided to shut her out of your life."

  "Did she tell you that?"

  "No. She's just as tight-lipped about all this as you are, but she's got circles under her eyes and she's losing weight she can't spare. Stop torturing her and yourself and admit how you really feel."

  "If you came by to tout the thrills of marriage, you should have left the munchkins at home," he retorted drily.

  Dana waved her hand dismissively. "Don't give me that. You adore them, even when they're screaming and soggy. It's not my kids who have you scared senseless. It's the prospect of commitment, isn't it?"

  Sam really didn't want to get into this. Unfortunately, knowing his sister, he wasn't going to have a choice. "Let's face it, Dana, we didn't have much of an example," he said finally. "We don't even know if our father is alive or not."

  She didn't deny it. "I've overcome that," she reminded him.

  "Yeah, well, I haven't. Besides, the guy you got was one in a million. He's let you be yourself."

  "Are you suggesting that Penny won't let you be yourself?"

  "She hates the fact that I'm a cop."

  "Has she asked you to give it up?"

  "No," he admitted.

  "Couldn't it be that she's just afraid of losing you? Isn't that natural? I'm terrified every time I think about you getting involved in some dangerous undercover assignment. I spent hours in that hospital waiting room ranting and raving about getting you off the force if you survived this last time. Ask Jason about the threats I made. But the bottom line is, you can't protect us from fear."

  "But I don't have to see the fear in your eyes," he said bleakly. "Penny tries so damned hard not to let me see how scared she is, but it's always there. She was the most trusting, innocent human being in the world until she met me. She loved people, believed in their innate goodness. Being with a cop has made her see the rotten side of things, things she shouldn't have to know about. She'd never even seen a guy like Tank before she came here, much less been victimized by one."

  "Don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself? Not everyone in the world is good and kind, and Penny was awfully naive if she believed that they were. Maybe it was time she took off her blinders, if she ever had them on in the first place. Los Angeles isn't exactly a crime-free mecca of serenity."

  He refused to be swayed. "A man's supposed to protect the woman he loves from the bad things, not bring her smack into the midst of them."

  "Is that how she feels?"

  "She must. Just look what happened with Tank."

  "He hurt you, not her."

  "If she feels the way you seem to think she does, I'm not sure she'd see the distinction. Besides, for a while there he was after her."

  "And you stopped him from getting anywhere near her," she countered reasonably.

  "It was my fault he was after her in the first place."

  She regarded him with exasperation. "Oh, for heaven's sake, will you give it a rest? That's over, done with, kaput. The sleaze is in jail. It has nothing to do with the future."

  "There are a lot of kids like Tank in the world."

  "And a lot more like Randy. And like my munchkins," she reminded him. "I still say you should be asking Penny how she feels about it."

  "I know how she feels."

  She shot him a look filled with disbelief. "Oh, really? Have you actually asked? Never mind. I know the answer. You're just going to make that decision for her, because you think you, the almighty male, must know what's best for her." She shook her head, clearly disgusted. "Get real, Sammy. If she's smart enough for you to fall in love with her, then she's smart enough to make her own decisions."

  "You may be right," he admitted, carefully placing the baby back into her carrier. "But I won't take that kind of chance."

  He leaned down and brushed a kiss across Dana's furrowed brow. "Stop worrying, sis. You and the munchkins are enough family for me."

  "If you believe that, Sam Roberts, then you're a bigger fool than I ever imagined."

  He winked at her. "Could be."

  "Sammy!"

  "Later, sis."

  "You can't walk out on company."

  "Sure I can. I've got things to do. Besides, you're family. You'll understand."

  He could hear Jennifer Margaret's wailing and Dana's curses all the way down the hall. Despite the fact that he was the target of their protests, he found himself chuckling. He seemed to be surrounded by women of all ages who thought they knew what was best for him and had no hesitation whatsoever about expressing it.

  Chapter 15

  Some pull that Sam couldn't have defined if his life had depended on it drew him to Penny's lab a few nights later. He had a long list of excuses. He ticked them off.

  It was a hot, muggy evening.

  His apartment was like an oven.

  He needed to get out, try to find a breeze.

  He had cabin fever.

  He needed a long walk to get his strength back.

  He was getting restless after being cooped up for days on end.

  Dana's worried phone calls were getting to him and the only way to escape them was to get away from the damn phone.

  Oh, he had lots of reasons for getting out of the apartment, all right. Not one of them mentioned anything about going by the lab.

  Destination or not, that's where he wound up. Once there, he tried to convince himself that all he wanted was a quick glimpse of Penny, just to make sure she was okay. It didn't seem to matter that Tank was in jail. Sam hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong and that it was up to him to discover what that might be. The past couple of weeks had to have been traumatic for her and most of the blame for that was his. He had a responsibility to make sure she'd gotten over it, right?


  Yeah, right. But no matter how he tried to explain it away in rational terms, this sudden compulsion to come by the lab tonight worried him. Had he gotten so used to looking out for her, to caring about what happened to her, that he couldn't give it up, after all, even though there was nothing personal between them?

  Nothing personal, he mocked. Vivid, erotic images came back to haunt him with stunning clarity. He tried to block the memories with every last shred of willpower he possessed. He wondered if Penny was having the same difficulty. And if she was, if he was her single biggest problem, how would he handle that?

  He lingered in the shadows, watching as the lights went out in the lab, waiting for her to exit the building. Suddenly, to his deep regret, Randy materialized beside him.

  "How come you're here?" the teenager demanded. "I thought you and Ms. Hayden had a fight."

  There was no mistaking the accusing note in his voice. "It wasn't a fight," Sam replied defensively. "Not exactly. Look, it's between Penny and me, okay?"

  "You made her cry."

  The knife in Sam's heart twisted. The last thing he'd been looking for tonight was someone else to lay the blame for this mess squarely on his doorstep. "How do you know that?"

  "I saw her."

  "But what makes you think it had anything to do with me?"

  Randy regarded him with supreme disgust. "I asked, man. That's how you find out stuff."

  "And she actually told you that she was crying over me?"

  The teenager shook his head. "What she said was that some men were destined to go through life all alone unless they learned to deal with their feelings. She told me never to be afraid to say what was in my heart. You know, mushy stuff like that."

  "And from that you figured that she was crying over me?" Sam said with amazement.

  "Well, who else could she mean? You're the only man she worries about." He looked uneasy. "At least, you were."

  Sam pinned him with a look. "What does that mean?"

  "There's this guy, a doctor, I think. She's been with him almost every night after work."