Eliza came back into the room, her phone to her ear. “I have to run. Aunt Mabel, will you be all right on your own for a few hours?”
“For heaven’s sake, I don’t need babysitting.” Mabel looked away, as if offended.
Before Sam could speak, Eliza scurried out the door.
“All secrets and mystery, that one,” said Mabel. “That’s not how Brambles behave.”
The flippancy sounded forced. Sam quickly poured a cup and set it next to Mabel. The woman’s hand trembled when she lifted it and after one sip, she abandoned it, cradling her casted arm again.
Were those lines of pain around her eyes?
Eliza wouldn’t leave if Mabel wasn’t feeling well, would she?
Sam wished she didn’t have to go. But the movers were on the way. She had to tell Logan. She’d make a quick breakfast for Jade and Bob, and then head out to the house. She’d check in with Eliza on Logan’s phone and as soon as they’d come up with a plan for the furniture, she’d return to Mabel.
Unable to sit, she went to the counter to fix Jade’s breakfast.
Wait. She hadn’t had her coffee yet. If ever she needed caffeine, it was this morning. She sloshed some into a mug and added a dollop of low-fat milk.
“Sit, Samara. Your jitterbugging is giving me a headache.”
“Oh.” Sam grabbed a paper towel to clean up the coffee drips she’d left behind. “Sorry.”
Mabel lifted her cup, then she set it down again without taking a sip. The china clattered against the saucer.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Mabel?” asked Samara, sliding into a chair.
“You’re the fidgety one,” she complained. “Now, what’s wrong? You’re exhausting me.”
Mabel didn’t need any more trouble, but she wasn’t going to rest until Sam explained.
She sighed.
“The moving company screwed up. My furniture is arriving today. Not next Wednesday. Today. We don’t even have an occupancy permit yet.”
In her mind, she replayed her conversations with the moving company but could find nothing to explain it other than simple human error. Hers or theirs, it didn’t much matter; if she couldn’t fix this in a hurry, her entire life was about to be delivered onto the Collier Avenue sidewalk.
Breathe, Sam reminded herself.
“Use the garage.” Mabel sounded like Jade when she had a fever.
“The garage is full of tools.”
“Storage then. Logan will be happy to arrange it, I’m sure.”
Sam’s cheeks warmed. “I’m sure he would, but I have to tell him first and there seems to be an epidemic of dead phones around here.”
“Well, fretting won’t help.”
Little footsteps and the unmistakable click of claws sounded on the steps.
“Mama?” said Jade, rubbing her eyes. “Are you mad?”
“Of course not.” Samara took another deep breath and forced herself to smile. She squatted next to her rumpled little girl and gave her a hug. “You sleep okay?”
Jade nodded, as if she’d forgotten her earlier nightmare. “Is that French toast, Auntie M?”
“It is.” Aunt Mabel attempted a smile. “But you’ve got to sit beside me to eat it. Can you do that?”
“Yeah!” said Jade, clapping her hands. Before Sam could object, she hopped over to the table, inadvertently brushing Mabel’s left elbow, just above the cast.
The woman sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, holding the arm tightly against her ribs, her face wracked with pain.
Jade dragged the chair out with both hands and scrambled up, oblivious to the tiny contact.
Samara, however, had seen it. “Should you still be that painful?”
Mabel swallowed. “I haven’t read the rules on fractures.”
“Let me see.” Samara sat down next to her, taking the casted arm very gently in her hands.
The tips of her fingers were mottled, grey, and when Sam touched them, they were cold.
“Can you wiggle them?”
“I could yesterday,” said Aunt Mabel. Tiny beads of perspiration had sprung out along her silver hairline.
Samara didn’t need her first-aid training to see that the hand was not healing as it should. Maybe the cast had been put on too tight; maybe the tissue beneath had swelled far more than expected. Maybe there was something else entirely going on. Whatever the cause, she needed medical care.
“Who’s your doctor?” she asked. “That arm should be examined. As soon as I’ve got some juice in my phone, I’ll call the office.”
The fact that Mabel did not argue only increased Sam’s anxiety. She ran to her room and plugged in her cell.
Logan’s scent still lingered on the bedding. She’d call him too, as soon as she could. She had to let him know about the movers.
She wanted to tell him… what?
Now in the light of day, her conversation with Mabel seemed ridiculous. Surely Mabel hadn’t suggested she and Logan were in love with each other? Sam couldn’t think of a less likely romantic than her crusty hostess. But she could hardly ask, especially now that Mabel was feeling the full effect of her injury.
“Mama!”
As always, the word brought her crashing back to earth.
Samara dashed back to the dining room just in time to see the older woman slip sideways in her chair, gently, as if drifting off to sleep.
“Auntie M!” cried Jade.
Sam leaped forward just in time and immediately, Mabel returned to consciousness.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She frowned in confusion.
Samara half-carried her over to the couch. “You’re the farthest thing from fine. I’m calling an ambulance.”
But her phone wasn’t charged yet.
“No ambulance,” said Mabel. “I won’t be hauled out of here feet-first for all the world to see.”
“Fine. I’m taking you to the ER myself.”
“I believe that may be in order,” conceded Mabel weakly. “Though I may need a shoulder to lean on.”
Chapter Eleven
‡
Sam edged slightly over the speed limit, her pulse pounding. All her other worries faded away into nothing.
Logan would look after the house. He’d deal with the movers.
Jade, seeming to understand the urgency of the situation, sat quietly in the back seat, sucking her thumb.
“I left a message for Eliza, but we should call Sage, too.” She pushed her cell phone, now on the car charger, at Mabel. “She should know what’s happening.”
“No!” Mabel let the phone drop into the console between them. “Not Sage. This is none of her business. Eliza’s bad enough.”
Sam had no time to argue the point. She left the car in the drop-off zone, an anxious Bob hovering at the cracked window. Jade didn’t make a peep about leaving her beloved friend, and in fact ran to get the wheelchair parked outside the ER doors.
As soon as they wheeled Aunt Mabel inside, a team of pastel-clad workers descended upon them, some of whom Sam recognized from the night before.
“We’ve got her now.” A clerk pointed toward the front desk. “We’ll need you to fill out the paperwork.”
Helplessly, she watched them shuttle Mabel through a whooshing door marked Critical Assessment Unit.
“Mama,” said Jade, tugging at her sleeve. “I want Auntie M.”
Jade began tapping her sides.
“It’s okay, honey,” said Sam, feeling her own stress ramp skyward. She rummaged around in her bag. Thank goodness, she had an extra pack of dog cards.
“Look, I found your dog pictures.”
Jade took them and spread them out on the coffee table, temporarily mollified.
Sam took the opportunity to use the pay phone, just across the hall from the waiting room. Good thing she remembered his cell number. How did we ever communicate before cell phones, she wondered?
“Hi, you’ve reached Logan Stafford. Please leave a message.”
&
nbsp; Samara wanted to bang the tan-colored receiver against the wall. Voice mail would be the death of her.
“Hey, it’s me.” How did you greet a man who only last night …well. No need to go there. “I had to take Aunt Mabel back to the ER. Her arm is really sore, though she’s pretending it isn’t. Eliza’s out, I don’t know where and Mabel wouldn’t let me call an ambulance, even though she almost passed out. She wouldn’t let me call Sage. So Jade and I are here, waiting. But that’s not all. There’s a problem with the-”
Beep.
“Argh!” She plugged in more coins and redialled the number.
“Me again,” she said, watching Jade from the corner of her eye. “The movers messed up the dates. Instead of pushing it off a week, they bumped it up. They’ll be here this afternoon with our furniture. I’m going to arrange for storage unless you can think of another way-”
Beep.
Why did everything have to happen at the same time? She pressed her forehead against the cool green concrete wall. Everything in her wanted to do something, go somewhere, talk to someone.
Talk to Logan.
But she couldn’t leave Mabel.
Samara thought of the strong woman who’d shown her such kindness, despite her brusque ways. The woman who’d insisted that Logan was in love with her.
She hung up the phone and went back to the vinyl-and-chrome chairs, where Jade had found a package of crayons and was busy drawing a picture.
A brown-haired woman. A black-white-and brown dog with one ear up and one ear down. A tall woman with wrinkles and grey hair.
And a black-eyed chipmunk on the back of a smiling man with a heart bursting out of his chest.
“Mama?” Sam gathered her daughter into her lap, her throat too full to speak. “Where’s Mr. S?”
*
Logan had been at the house since before sunrise. Working alone, he’d managed to finish painting the baseboards and much of the trim on the lower level.
He straightened up and ran a hand over his face, realizing he hadn’t shaved since yesterday morning. He went to the kitchen to start a fresh batch of coffee in the pot on the floor in the corner. Students would be arriving shortly and he needed to pull himself together.
He’d barely slept the night before. He left Bramble House aching, not just with physical need, but with hope.
Sam had opened up to him last night, trusting him with her body but – and this was far more significant – with her child.
She’d have taken him back to her room. He knew it and had no idea how he’d managed to resist. Or why. Surely once they made love, she’d fall in love with him again.
Or, she’d back away entirely and he’d lose her forever.
The sound of water trickling and the rich aroma of dark roast broke into his thoughts.
He took his coffee and walked through Sam’s beautiful new house. His kids had done a fantastic job, under tremendous time pressure.
Sam and Jade were going to love it here.
Wouldn’t they?
He ran his hand up the banister, that small rough patch now smooth and glossy as the rest.
She’d come here seeking peace and quiet. A safe place to raise her daughter.
Sam hadn’t been looking for him, she said. She certainly didn’t want to confuse her daughter by bringing a new man into their life. But on some level, she must have known there was a chance he’d still be here. His family was still in the area, after all.
To be fair, he’d never intended to stay. They’d dreamed about the life they’d make after graduation. How they’d go to New York or San Francisco, maybe Paris.
Instead, Sam had ended up in New York, and he’d settled here.
He’d left briefly, after his divorce. But life has a way of circling around, reminding you of your roots and the people you loved. So he’d come home.
Sam didn’t have roots. She didn’t have people who loved her, family or friends she’d made over the years.
Perhaps she’d returned to Marietta because it was the closest thing she had to everything he took for granted. And instead of a soft, peaceful landing, she’d gotten a house that wasn’t ready and a man she wasn’t ready for.
They’d gotten so close last night. But here he was, the morning after, wondering if he’d pushed her too far, too fast.
Whatever ache he’d felt last night was nothing compared to the bleakness in his soul at the thought of her always being around, and never being his.
*
“Come on back,” said a cheerful nurse in soft yellow scrubs. “Ms. Bramble says you’re family.”
“Oh, I’m-,” Sam bit off her automatic protest. “Thank you.”
“I remember you!” The nurse smiled widely at Jade. “You’re a squirrel, if I recall correctly.”
Sam squatted down for Jade to hop onto her back, expecting her to bury her head against her mother’s shoulder immediately.
But Jade stood close beside Sam instead, clinging to the hem of her jacket.
“I’m a chipmunk!”
She refused to look directly at the nurse and she spoke softly, but there was a distinct note of defiance.
Samara knew better than to acknowledge Jade’s comment, but inside, she was cheering. In so few days, her daughter had blossomed.
“But I’m invisible,” continued Jade. “You can’t see me.”
“Well then, I hope I don’t trip on you!” She grinned and gestured for Sam to follow her.
“Thank you.” Samara flushed. She’d definitely met the nurse last night and she’d undoubtedly made a less-than-optimal impression.
But the nurse touched Sam lightly under the elbow. “You were scared for your daughter last night. I get it. I’m a mother too.”
Sam shook her head, wincing. “I don’t like hospitals, but that’s no excuse to be rude.”
“Trust me,” she answered with a laugh, “you didn’t even register on the rude-o-meter.”
They turned the corner into a bustling treatment area with narrow beds cordoned off from each other by curtains.
“To answer your question,” said the nurse, growing serious, “you were right to bring Ms. Bramble in. The swelling had gotten to a point where her circulation was compromised. We’re not sure what’s going on yet, but she’s in the right place. And she tells us that you’re the one who pushed her to come in.”
As they found Aunt Mabel’s bed she patted Sam’s arm again. “Good job, Samara. Here you go, then. Let me know if the squirrel needs anything while you’re here.”
“Chipmunk!” Jade glared at her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with my memory.” The nurse winked, then hustled away.
Chapter Twelve
‡
It was well past lunchtime when the rumble of a large vehicle made Logan look up from his work. A-1 Movers.
A moving van!
He leaped to his feet and ran outside to meet them.
This couldn’t be right! Between a generous plumber, his students, various friends, and about a dozen pizzas, they’d managed to get the house inspection-ready, but the kitchen cabinets needed some final touches, several rooms had unpainted window casings and trim, and the entire place still needed a final, deep cleaning.
He and Principal Stern had come to an agreement, thank goodness. The permission slips he’d received from all his students’ parents ensured there were no liability issues and in fact, the principal had seemed relieved that Logan had made it work for everyone’s benefit.
However, even if he got occupancy approval right now, the place wasn’t move-in ready, at least not the way he’d intended.
He’d always imagined his first project to be exemplary, a prototype of what future projects would be.
Having his first project go to Samara only ramped it up. He wanted to present her with nothing short of perfection.
“You taking delivery?” asked a heavy-set man wearing coveralls and a ball-cap. “Sam Davis?”
“Uh, it’s Samara Davis
and she’s not here.” He patted his pockets. Where had he left his cell phone?
“I’m on a tight schedule,” said ball-cap, his attention caught by the tools and equipment littering the front porch.
“You’re on the wrong schedule,” said Logan, rummaging through a pile of jackets on the porch. “We weren’t expecting delivery until next Wednesday.”
There it was. He grabbed the well-worn denim button-down he’d put over his t-shirt this morning. His cell phone was right there, in the breast pocket. Two missed messages from an unknown number. He cussed under his breath and hit the button to retrieve his voicemail.
The mover blew out a loud, exasperated breath. “We made a special trip to get the trailer off the broken-down rig. You’d think people would be happy, but no, it’s confusion and annoyance all around.”
Logan didn’t appreciate the way the man’s attitude, and his barroom holler made hearing his messages impossible.
“When did you last speak to her?”
Ball-cap grimaced. “I don’t talk direct to clients. I do what A-1 tells me. And I never talk to the same girl twice there. Last one I got sounded like she was ready to drop this truckload in the lake.”
A second man, younger and athletic, stepped out of the truck, rubbing his hand over his eyes as if he’d been sleeping. “What’s the plan, Walt?”
“Unless we hear from this Sam in ten minutes, we’re unloading.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to be back on the road by three.”
It was almost 2 pm now.
“Hold up there, cowboys,” said Logan, putting a hand on the roll-up door at the back of the truck. “Until I say otherwise, you’re sitting tight. Got it?”
Ball-cap Walt glowered, then fumbled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “One smoke, then we start.”
“You’ll start when I tell you to start.”
Logan turned his back, making shut-up motions. He hit the replay button and listened.
The messages were from Sam. She was at the hospital with Mabel again and her furniture was arriving early.
Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) Page 11
