by Gold, Kristi
Sam grinned and offered his hand. “I’ll be damned, Reed. I heard they’d finally let you out, but I didn’t believe it.”
Chase shook Sam’s hand and smiled, but it didn’t form all the way. “I’d had about all the active duty I could take.”
Sam imagined he had. Three tours in a war zone would be more than most men could take, and the stress showed in Chase’s features. He had a definite edge about him now, unlike the kid who’d been the happy-go-lucky golden boy.
Sam felt damn guilty that he hadn’t stayed in touch nearly enough during Chase’s absence, but he’d never been great at correspondence. “How long have you been back?” he asked.
“For a couple of weeks.”
Looked like his friend was punishing him for that lack of communication. “And you didn’t call and let me know you were in town?”
“I had to help Dad clean out the old sharecropper cabin behind the house so I’d have a place to stay.” Chase shook his head. “Pretty sad, living at home at the age of thirty-one.”
Sam could relate. “I’ve been living at home since I left college and even after I married.” Just one more thing that hadn’t set too well with his ex-wife.
“Sorry to hear it didn’t work out between you and Darlene,” Chase said.
“It was just one of those things.” One of those things that Sam sometimes regretted because of the impact on his daughter. “When you get a chance, you need to stop by and see my kid. She’s going to be with me all week.”
Chase barked out a laugh. “I’m still trying to picture you with a kid. Is she here now?”
A funeral was no place for a six-year-old, as far as Sam was concerned. “She’s back at the farm with Hank Anderson’s girl.”
Chase frowned. “Hank’s got a kid that’s old enough to babysit?”
Sam shrugged out of his sports coat and draped it over his arm, finding little relief from the midmorning heat. “Yeah. Hank’s two years older than us and his daughter was born right after he graduated.”
“Man, that makes me feel old.” Chase shook his head and studied the ground. “Time passes way too fast.”
Sam dealt with that issue every time he looked at his child. “I know what you mean. One minute, Jamie’s in diapers and the next, she’s a hell-on-wheels kindergartner and a natural-born flirt. No telling what I’ll be facing when she’s sixteen and she discovers boys.”
“That serves you right, Mac,” Chase said. “Now you’ll know firsthand why Savannah’s parents used to give you hell when you dated her.”
Sam suddenly remembered where he was and why. “It’s going to be tough, not having Floyd around. He was one of the good guys.”
“Yeah, he was.” Chase remained silent for a time before he added, “I heard Wainwright’s bank has been calling in loans on some of the farms. The greedy bastard.”
That was a subject that made Sam as angry as Chase sounded. Edwin Wainwright was the biggest SOB in three counties, and a rich one at that. “You heard right. That’s why I took my banking business elsewhere when I started upgrading the farm.”
Chase’s expression turned to stone as he focused on some point behind Sam. “Speaking of bastards,” he muttered.
After facing the mourners again, Sam immediately caught sight of the reason for his friend’s caustic tone. Dalton Wainwright, the son of the man who’d dubbed himself the king of Placid, had stopped to visit with Savannah. And Dalton’s wife, the former Jessica Keller, stood by his side.
Not everything had changed, Sam decided. During their high school years, Chase had always despised Dalton Wainwright. Obviously he still did.
“I can’t believe she’s still married to him, and I can’t believe she has a kid by him, either,” Chase said, more malice in his tone. “He didn’t deserve her back then, and he doesn’t deserve her now.”
Yep, his friend’s hatred still burned bright as a bonfire. “Have you talked to Jess since you’ve been back?”
Chase kept his gaze trained on Dalton in a menacing glare. “He won’t let her out of his sight, and if I came less than two feet from him, I’d kill him.”
The comment caught the attention of Pearl Allworth, who was standing nearby. She scowled at Chase but Sam noticed a gleam in the town gossip’s rheumy eyes, like a starving woman who’d just been tossed a prime steak. He also noticed the glare Dalton leveled on Chase as he led Jess away. A look that said, “She’s mine.”
Sam decided it would be best if he diverted Chase’s attention before he took off after Dalton and started a scene to feed the rumor mill for months. He centered his attention on Matt Boyd, who’d stopped to speak with Savannah. “Too bad Rachel’s not here. Matt said she wasn’t feeling well this morning. I suspect I know what ails her. She’s got a bun in the oven.”
Chase continued to stare at Jess as she headed away. “Nah. Not after all these years. Matt’s too busy playing the county cow doctor instead of breeding his wife.”
Sam grinned. “That might be the case, but I’ve still got a gut feeling Rachel’s pregnant.”
“And I think he’s more concerned about Gabe Wooley’s band of heifers than making his own baby,” Chase said. “Twenty bucks says she has a virus.”
Sam took Chase’s offered hand and shook on the deal. “You’re on.”
They shared a laugh before Sam noticed Savannah heading toward the black limousine parked at the curb. When their gazes briefly met, she immediately looked away, but he continued to watch her until she disappeared into the car.
“Savannah still looks good, Mac,” Chase said.
Time to play ignorant. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re lying.”
Yeah, he was. “Okay, maybe she hasn’t changed much, but neither has her attitude toward me. Not that I give a damn. I have just as much right to resent her, too.”
“Give it a rest, McBriar,” Chase said. “We were all kids back then. You need to get over the past.”
Savannah wasn’t inclined to bury their past any more than he was. She’d proven that yesterday when she’d run out on him again at the diner. She was proving it right now by pretending he wasn’t there. Not a problem. He wasn’t in the mood to reconnect with her, either. But he did have to admit she still looked great. Really great. He could admire her from a distance, and leave it at that.
Chase patted him on the back. “Why don’t you come with me to the Greers’ to pay our respects. That way you can get a better look at her.”
So much for not being obvious in his admiration. “You go ahead without me. Right now I need to get back to Jamie. I’ll make a point to look in on the family later this evening.”
Just for grins, he also planned to have a talk with Savannah to satisfy his curiosity. To learn if she’d gotten what she’d wanted all along—a life that hadn’t included him. And he knew exactly when and where he’d find her.
SAVANNAH LOVED THIS TIME of day, right after the sun had set over the fields and the summer air had cooled to a tolerable temperature. Initially when they’d moved to Placid, she’d despised the flat plane of the land that seemed to go on for miles. She’d hated that so many trees had been cut down and plowed under for the sake of agriculture. She’d detested everything about the area, until the day she’d discovered the small bridge rising over the dried-up creek bed that separated her parents’ farm from the McBriars’ acreage. A welcome break in the barren landscape where the live oaks had been spared. Her very own private oasis, both then and now.
Nothing had really changed, except for the new wooden planks beneath her feet. Most likely Sam had taken it upon himself to make sure the bridge remained solid and stable with his own two hands. He’d always been good with his hands.
Savannah ran her palm over the message that she’d carved into the railing years ago—Sam and Savannah Forever. A typical and foolish teenage pronouncement of love. Or maybe for Sam it had simply been lust. Without warning, the image of their secret meeting place hidden by the nearby copse of woods f
iltered into her mind. A place where she and Sam had learned so much about each other, both physically and emotionally. Especially physically. Many times they’d lain together on a blanket, experimenting and exploring each other eagerly, but not quite going “all the way” for a solid two years. Then came the night of her seventeenth birthday when, alone in her bedroom, he’d said “Please” and she’d said “Yes.”
After she heard the rustle of leaves followed by footsteps, Savannah turned her attention to her left to discover Sam emerging from behind the curtain of trees, as if she’d somehow psychically summoned him. Yet he wasn’t the lanky boy of yesterday. He’d matured in body with a broader chest and more bulk. Instead of T-shirt and jeans, he wore black dress slacks and a white tailored shirt. He carried a brown paper bag, not the age-worn guitar he’d oftentimes brought with him in their youth. But those cobalt blue eyes still held the power to reel her in like a hummingbird to sugar water.
As Sam approached with a self-assured gait, a sudden, sharp sense of awareness caught Savannah off guard. Her frame went rigid, as if she needed to physically brace against the impact of his presence. She had imagined this moment, dreaded it in some ways. Hoped for it. For years she’d avoided it.
He paused at the end of the bridge and sized her up, much the same as he had the day before in the diner, his expression unreadable. And as he continued on, Savannah struggled for words. Maybe she should offer an apology for being so abrupt yesterday, in spite of the fact he still owed her one for the way he’d treated her years ago. Then again, maybe not. She would be adult, coolly polite, but she wouldn’t grovel.
“Hello,” she said as soon as he stood a few feet from her.
Sam offered her the sack but no greeting. “I’ve been instructed to give you this.”
She took the bag and asked, “What is it?”
“Gracie’s pecan pie.”
Savannah fondly remembered the housekeeper who’d treated her like one of the family. “I can’t believe you still have Gracie.”
“Yeah, I still have Gracie,” he said without even a hint of a smile.
Now what? Bid him goodbye and leave? If she had any sense at all, that’s exactly what she would do. Yet curiosity overcame common sense. “Aunt May told me you had a daughter. What’s her name?”
He streaked a palm over the back of his neck. “Jamie.”
“Congratulations.” If only she could sound more sincere, but the shock over Sam choosing the name they’d planned to give their own child reflected in her tone.
“Still practicing law?”
“Yes,” she said, ignoring the obvious disdain in his tone. “It’s hard work but it has its rewards.”
“I can’t imagine keeping corporate CEOs out of hot water would be all that damn rewarding, so it must be the money.”
Clearly he’d learned she’d chosen corporate law, and apparently he didn’t approve. Not that she cared what he thought about her career choice. “I’ve represented struggling small businesses as well, sometimes pro bono, so it’s not all about the money.”
“If you say so.”
His overt sarcasm drove her need to get away from the bitterness that was almost palpable. “I better go. Mother’s probably wondering where I am.” Then again, probably not. “Give Jim and Gracie my love and let them know I miss them. I didn’t have an opportunity to speak with them at length after the funeral.”
His expression turned stoic as stone. “You could tell them before you run back to Chicago.”
Obviously he wasn’t going to do her any favors or cut her any slack. “I’ll try to stop by for a visit before I leave.” In spite of the possible emotional upheaval, she also wanted to see Sam’s daughter.
“Fine.” Without further hesitation, he turned and headed away, as if he had nothing else to say to her. As if he had no use for her.
She shouldn’t be surprised, nor should she feel anything but relief. But as she started across the bridge toward home, Savannah experienced an overwhelming sense of emptiness, just as she had that day in the diner when they’d ended a close-knit relationship with hurtful words neither could ever take back. She hated the feelings. Hated that he could still strip her emotions bare. Hated him for acting as if nothing had ever existed between them. Hated herself for still caring.
Just as Savannah stepped off the last wooden plank, Sam called her name, stopping her progress. She faced him again and simply answered, “Yes?”
He kept perfectly still while he kept his gaze locked into hers. “Do you regret it now?”
She frowned. “Regret what?”
“Leaving town to get what you wanted, and staying away from your family when they needed you most.”
They meaning her father. She couldn’t disregard the dagger he’d thrust right into the heart of her guilt. Obviously he wanted to hurt her again, and he was doing a fairly good job. “I did what I had to do to make a life for myself, Sam. Maybe you never understood it, but my dad always did.”
“You’re probably right about that,” he said. “But you might want to ask yourself if it was really worth it.”
With that, Sam spun around and strode away, leaving Savannah alone to ponder his words and the questions whirling around in her mind. Questions she didn’t dare ask him…or herself.
HE’D NEVER SEEN A SWEETER sight—except for maybe the one he’d seen earlier on the bridge. Sam immediately pushed thoughts of Savannah from his mind to concentrate on his daughter dressed in a pink polka-dot gown curled up in his dad’s lap, her thumb stuck in her mouth, her eyes closed against the overhead light. Her hair was as dark as his dad’s was gray.
Sam raked the baseball cap off his head and dropped down in the chair across from his dad. “How long has she been asleep?” he asked in a near-whisper.
Jamie’s eyes popped open and she raised her head. “I’m not asleep, Daddy. I’m just restin’ my eyes.”
Exactly what he’d told her several times when he’d drifted off in front of the TV during one of her favorite cartoons. “You looked pretty asleep to me, Joe. If you didn’t have your thumb in your mouth, you would’ve been snoring like your grandpa.”
She looked more than a little perturbed. “I don’t snore, Daddy.”
“Neither do I,” his dad added.
“Oh, yes, you do, Jamison McBriar,” came from the direction of the kitchen. “Like a steam engine about to blow.”
Sam chuckled. “Guess Gracie would know.”
Jamie worked her way off Jim’s lap and climbed into Sam’s. “Did you see Ruthie?” she asked.
Lying was out of the question, but he’d have hell to pay if he told the truth. Vague would probably work best. “No, sweetheart,” he said as he pushed a curl from her forehead. “I just dropped off the pie and left.”
“Did you see Ruthie’s daughter, Daddy?”
So much for avoiding the truth. “Yeah, I saw her. I gave her the pie.”
She grinned and said, “Papaw says she used to be your girlfriend,” followed by a giggle.
Sam sent Jim a nasty look. “That was a long time ago.”
Jamie yawned and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss Floyd. He used to let me ride on the tractor.”
Sam had always felt that Floyd considered Jamie the granddaughter he’d never had. “We’re all going to miss him, kiddo. He was a good man.”
“The best,” Jim said. “He would’ve given you his last pair of jeans if you needed ’em.”
Jamie raised her head and looked at Sam straight on. “Is Ruthie sad?”
“Yeah, I imagine she is.”
“Kind of hard to tell with Ruth,” Jim added. “She’s as strong as a barbed-wire fence.”
Jamie glanced at her grandfather before turning back to Sam. “I want to see Ruthie in the morning, Daddy. I want to tell her I’m sad, too.”
He could think of several reasons why that might not be such a good idea. “Maybe we’ll see her in a couple of days.”
Jamie shook her
head. “I want to see her tomorrow. We can go after we feed the cows.”
She looked so determined, Sam couldn’t refuse. “Okay, but we’ll only stay for a little while.” Otherwise, Savannah might decide to boot him off the premises.
Jamie put on her “old soul” face, as Darlene always called it. “Why do people have to die, Daddy?”
A question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s just a part of life, sweetheart.”
Fortunately, Sam’s stepmother entered the room with a book in hand before he had to offer a more lengthy explanation. As far as he was concerned, Gracie hadn’t changed much since the day she’d become their housekeeper. Maybe her hair was a little grayer. Maybe she had a few more wrinkles. But overall, she was still Gracie, the godsend. “You don’t need to worry your pretty head about that, sugar pie,” she said as she tossed her braid back off her shoulder. “Now let’s get you to bed so we can finish reading the penguin story.”
Seemingly satisfied to leave the question be for now, Jamie slid her feet onto the floor and started toward the hall. Sam halted her progress when he asked, “Are you forgetting something, Joe?”
She ran back to him and kissed his cheek. “’Night, Daddy.”
“’Night, sweetheart. Watch out for those bitin’ bedbugs.”
Jamie flashed him a dimpled grin. “There ain’t no bedbugs, Daddy.”
Sam started to correct her bad grammar, but he’d save that for later—right before he gave her back to her mother.
After Jamie kissed her granddad good-night, she took Gracie’s hand and tugged her toward the bedroom, chatting all the way down the hall about visiting Ruth and meeting “Daddy’s old girlfriend.”
Sam tilted his head back against the sofa and momentarily closed his eyes. He opened them to his father’s “you’re in trouble, boy” stare, reminding him of other times when he’d had to face Jim McBriar’s wrath for something he’d done wrong. For the life of him, he had no idea what he’d done now. He imagined he was about to find out.
