As Amber opened the frame and inserted the photo, Chicory said, “I love your painting. It has a magical quality to it.”
“I don’t know about magic,” Amber said, closing the frame and turning it to admire how the photo looked inside. It was perfect. She could hardly wait to give it to Samuel. “But I’m glad you like it. I actually got my teaching degree in art.”
“Really?” Chicory straightened. “There’s an art job opening up at the high school next fall. The old teacher is finally retiring. He knows all about cave paintings because he was probably around to paint a few dinosaurs on stones, himself.”
Amber laughed. “He must be really old.”
“And crotchety.” Chicory nodded. “You’d be great at the job.”
“And you say that because you think I’m crotchety enough?”
“No, silly.”
“I won’t be in town long enough,” Amber said regretfully. It sounded like the perfect job for her — if things with Samuel worked out. But she couldn’t count on that, certainly not enough to apply for a job. Shaking off the melancholy, she said, “Tell me more about what the tourists around here like.”
“I’m glad you asked,” Chicory said with a laugh. “You’ve already hit on a great idea. But some other things that seem to work well are color sketches of couples and families, especially if you stick in a sign that says Moonchuckle Bay, Monster Movie Capital of the World. And maybe add in a shadow of a wolf or something. Gives them a great memento of their trip with just an edge of danger.”
“A wolf, huh? Did I mention that I’ve seen a wolf around town?”
“You have? We haven’t had wolf problems in years.”
“Well, you do now. I’ve seen two wolves, or the same wolf twice.”
Chicory laughed. “Shh. You know what happened to the little boy who cried wolf, don’t you?”
“I’m worried.”
“We have never had an incident involving a wolf and a tourist, and our local deputies do their best to keep it that way.”
“You mean Animal Control, right?”
Chicory paused, then nodded. “Yes.”
A woman came into the café and scanned the crowd. Amber guessed that she was in her mid-fifties, and she was elegantly dressed in expensive gray slacks and a lightweight charcoal gray silk blouse, black pearls circling her throat. She looked like someone on the board of directors of a large foundation.
When she spotted Amber, all that changed. All of a sudden, the woman looked predatory, as if she could devour small children, if need be. Or artists, for that matter.
Amber straightened. “What the—?”
“What?” Chicory turned. When she saw the woman, she rolled her eyes. “It’s Samuel’s mother. She won’t do anything to hurt you. At least not in public.”
“Oh, well, that’s reassuring.” Amber watched the imposing yet slender woman march toward her, her eyes a cool gray that matched her outfit.
His mother marched to their table and nodded. “Chicory.”
Chicory smiled at the woman. “Nancy, I’d like to introduce you to the newest artist in our community, Amber Newman. Amber, this is Nancy Winston. Samuel’s mother.”
“It’s good to meet you, Ms. Winston,” Amber said, and put out her hand.
The other woman ignored it with a sniff. When she smiled, it was not a happy thing. “Ms. Newman, you’re new in town so I won’t hold your ignorance against you.”
Amber arched a brow at the other woman. “That’s very kind of you.”
“You have been seen around town with my Samuel.”
“Yes.” And around several yards. And in a kiss. Amber kept the and what of it? out of her voice, sounding sweet as pie. Ignorance pie, apparently.
“That will stop. Now.”
“Really?” Amber asked, not quite as sweet. “Why is that?”
Nancy lifted her chin and looked down at Amber. The chill in her gaze could have frozen water. “You are to leave Samuel alone. He is already spoken for. He is marrying Olivia Paxton very soon.”
Sputtering, Amber didn’t get a word out before the other woman spun on her heel and marched back out of the coffee shop.
Other customers went back to their own business.
Across the table, Chicory patted Amber on the hand. “Those Winstons are always up in arms about something. Don’t you worry about it, honey. It will all work out.”
“Is he really engaged or something?” She stared at the photo she’d been excited to give to him, her hopes withering.
“Or something. His mother thinks he’s engaged, but neither Samuel nor Olivia want to get married. To each other, anyway.”
“Really?”
Chicory grinned. “He seems to prefer you to the woman his parents think he ought to marry. Nancy will get over it and come around.”
Amber looked at the framed photo, feeling happier and more determined than ever to give it to Samuel. She knew how much it would mean to him. How much her brother had meant to him, Which endeared Samuel to her even more.
With a smile, she slipped the frame into her backpack.
Chicory sat back with a satisfied grin, putting her arms up along the back of the booth. “You are going to rock their world, baby.”
Amber certainly wouldn’t mind rocking Samuel’s.
Chicory dropped Amber off at Samuel’s house with a smirk. “You don’t listen to dire warnings from angry mothers very well, do you?”
Amber laughed. “She scared me.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Chicory tapped the steering wheel of her funky metallic blue Mini Cooper. She’d explained to Amber that the blue signified tranquility, understanding, truth, and devotion, among other things, and she’d named her car Faith so she could move forward in faith. “Coming back tomorrow to paint?”
Amber nodded. “I’d like to.”
“I’ll pick you up if you’d like. Bring your little dog, too.”
“Yeah, I’ve missed him today.”
Climbing out, she went out back to let Wolf out of the kennel — only the door was open, swinging in the wind, and Wolf was nowhere to be seen!
“Wolf?” she called out, panic rising, looking around the large backyard and across the jogging path to the trees. “Wolf?”
She hoped he wasn’t lost in the trees. Especially not if that big wolf was still around. She turned and ran into the house through the backdoor, which was unlocked. “Samuel?”
“In here,” Samuel’s calm voice sounded from the family room.
“Wolf got out,” she said as she raced into the room — only to stop as she spotted Samuel in gray sweats and a MCBSD T-shirt with Wolf cuddled next to him. “And you found him, apparently.”
“Yeah. I rescued the poor little crybaby dog.” Samuel shook his head. “He’s a weird little dog. I can’t smell — I mean, tell — what breed he is, exactly.”
“He’s a mutt. He looks like a Shih Tzu mixed with some kind of terrier.”
Wolf barked.
Amber leaned over closer to the dog and patted his head. “No offense intended, little guy.”
“Give him a french fry and he’ll probably forgive you.”
She looked at the coffee table where several bags of burgers were opened, the contents strewn across the table. Samuel packed away quite a bit of food.
“I got you a cheeseburger and onion rings. I hope you like those.”
“Love them.” She set her backpack beside the couch with a sigh of relief. It was heavy. Samuel patted the couch next to him, on the other side of Wolf, and she sank down gratefully. She’d give him the photo after eating.
When he smiled, her insides melted. The wattage on that smile was amazing.
She handed Wolf a fry, and he snuggled down with it, holding it with his paws.
Samuel motioned to the only unopened bag. “That one’s yours. In case you can’t tell.”
“Yeah. I kind of suspected.” She pulled it closer to her, opened it, and sniffed. “Ahh. That’s a wonderful smell
.”
She poured the cheeseburger and the order of onion rings on the plate and dug in. “Thanks.”
“I got a movie for us to watch, too.” He motioned to the table.
“Legally Blonde? Really? You like that movie?”
He shrugged. “Tabitha Jones, one of the other deputies, says she loves it. So I thought you might, too.”
“It’s one of my favorites. But it seems like it should be against the law or something, watching a chick flick in the monster movie capital of the world,” she teased.
“Yeah. I had to sneak it home in a plain paper bag.”
“I bet,” she said and smiled at him, then repeated, “Thanks.”
His answering smile made her go weak in the knees. If he did that too many times, she was going to kiss him again. In fact, she wanted to do that right now.
But instead, she popped an onion ring in her mouth. “Ummm.”
Wolf lifted his head and whined. Samuel said, “You’ve had enough, dog.”
“Wolf,” she said.
“That is no wolf. He’s a dog. A little one. He reminds me of a potato with legs.”
Wolf barked, and she laughed. “I read once that there are fourteen dog breeds with DNA closest to the wolf. And one of them is the Shih Tzu.”
“Unbelievable.” Samuel rolled his eyes.
“I know. And funny.”
Taking a sip of the water Samuel had given her, she sighed and sat back against the couch next to him. “Life just doesn’t get any better than this.”
“Which is the best part? The potato with legs? The burger and rings?” His voice went silky. “Or sitting next to me?”
“Onion rings, definitely.” And she popped another one in her mouth.
“Oh.” He sighed dramatically. “Shut down again.”
“Whatever! A handsome guy like you has probably never been shut down in your entire life.”
Samuel turned back to Amber, focusing on her. “Look at me, Amber.”
She did so, her eyes wide.
“You really think I’m handsome?”
He genuinely sounded surprised, which befuddled her. “Of course. You have looked in a mirror before, right? Or are you a vampire and can’t see your own reflection?”
He looked appalled. “A vampire? No way! What an insult.”
“I’ve heard vampires have to be really good looking in order to entice their victims to be attracted to them.”
He eyed her with interest. “You’re attracted to me?”
With a smirk, she popped in another onion ring.
He lifted a bowl of popcorn and the remote. “Okay, here goes a scary movie all about falling in love.”
“Yeah, that’s really scary, all right,” she commiserated. “What’s the scariest part? Wolf? The movie? Or me?”
He snorted a laugh. “Definitely you.”
Finishing off her food, she set the plate back on the table. Could she help it that when she sat back down, she leaned over into him? He put an arm around her, and she snuggled in against him. Wolf had the right idea. This was the best spot in the house.
She sighed, and his arm tightened around her. “Okay. I’m ready for this.”
He pushed the button, and the credits rolled. “I may have to close my eyes at the scary parts.”
“Would that be the kissing parts?”
He nodded. “Definitely.”
“You big chicken.”
“Yup.”
She sighed again and popped some popcorn in her mouth. One fell and he picked it up and popped it in her mouth. He jerked his hand away after, as if he’d realized how intimate the gesture was.
She thought about the newly framed photo in her bag, but didn’t want to ruin the moment by getting up or by making him sad. She would give it to him after the movie.
Then she snuggled in closer. She loved snuggling with Samuel Winston.
Olivia was a fool for not wanting Samuel, but Amber was sure glad the other woman didn’t.
The ending credits rolled, and he reluctantly — oh, so reluctantly — pulled his arm from around her and clicked the movie off.
Samuel was surprised to find that he’d enjoyed the flick. This had been a romantic movie, celebrating that part of life that he’d never experienced before.
Until now.
He thought he could love someone like Amber.
She smiled up at him, and his heart tugged. “So did you enjoy the mushy stuff as much as I did?”
“Wolf did,” he said. “He’s still crying.”
She laughed, a light tinkling sound that did things to his insides. It was a sound he would love to hear every day of his life.
She stretched and reached for another handful of popcorn.
“You didn’t eat enough already?” he teased. “You’re like a popcorn-eating machine.”
“Says the man who popped two more buckets of the stuff.”
He shrugged. “You’ve found my weakness.”
She grinned at him. “Ahh … your Kryptonite. Surely you have more than one. I will exploit every weakness you have.”
He sincerely hoped so.
“Hey,” she said, and leaned over to retrieve her battered backpack. She dragged it over and unzipped the front pocket. “I have something for you.”
“Really?” Surprised, he took the package she handed him. It was wrapped in simple butcher paper tied with twine, and he was pleased to see she’d decorated the paper with a detailed sketch of him. “Did you draw this?”
“You know I did.”
“You’re really talented.”
She smiled. “Shut up and open it.”
Carefully, he unwrapped it, setting his sketch aside to keep for later. That was treasure enough. What else had she gotten for him?
He lifted a picture frame, and turned it around to see what photo she’d placed in it.
From the glass, Adam looked out at him, grinning in that way he had, making everyone around him grin too.
The photo was like a punch to the solar plexus. Samuel felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Amber touched his arm. “What’s wrong?” She sounded concerned. “You’re pale.”
He looked at her with tortured eyes — he knew how he looked because he’d seen himself often enough in the mirror since he’d returned home.
“Samuel, what is it?” Amber sounded truly alarmed.
Guilt choked him; he hadn’t been prepared for the photo and his guard had been down.
“Samuel?” she asked again gently.
The green of her eyes, the barely-there exotic slant of her eyes, so similar to her brother’s, made him shake his head. “How do you deal with Adam being gone?”
“It’s hard,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “Some days it’s harder than others. But we have to move on. That’s part of life.”
“I can’t move on.”
“You have to.”
Feeling tortured, he croaked out, “You don’t understand. I can’t get past the fact that—”
He stopped. He couldn’t say the words. He hadn’t admitted his guilt to anyone before this. He shook his head.
“Samuel, what can’t you get past?” Her voice, gentle — loving, almost — caressed his heart.
But she wouldn’t sound like that if she knew. She would hate him.
“Tell me.”
“I can’t. It will change everything between us.” They were just starting to build something, and he couldn’t bear to end it already.
“Trust me.”
“I do trust you. It’s me who’s not trustworthy.”
She climbed onto her knees beside him on the couch, wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and crooned to him as if he were a child needing comfort.
He did need comfort, but it seemed dishonest to accept it from her.
He took hold of her hands and leaned back.
“What?” she asked.
“The things I’ve done.”
“What could you possibly have done that’s thi
s bad?”
In a strangled voice, he confessed: “I killed Adam.”
She sucked in a deep breath, and he knew he’d lost her.
Stunned, Amber sank back down against the couch, staring at Samuel. “What do you mean? Adam was killed by a bomb. You didn’t have anything to do with that.”
He looked stricken. “It was my fault he was there when it went off.”
“Why would you even think that?” she asked.
“They said they were going to the club, and they wanted me to go along. We’d just heard that Gregory had been killed — he was another buddy. The news hit me hard, so I told them to go without me.”
She stared at him. “That still doesn’t make it your fault.”
“If I’d gone with them, I could have done something to save them.”
“You’re amazing, and you move faster than a black belt, but you’re not Superman, Samuel. You couldn’t have done anything to save them from a bomb. All it would have meant is that you would be gone, too.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I would be very sad if you were gone, Samuel.”
He clutched her to him, and she hugged him, murmuring, “It’s not your fault. It’s going to be all right.”
He shuddered and they pulled apart. Gently, she admitted, “The last time Adam was home, he asked me if I thought he ought to re-enlist.” Her voice cracked a little as she said, “I told him that if he wanted to, he ought to do it. So it’s just as much my fault as it is yours that he died. We can’t control everything. I am just as guilty as you are for his death.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes.” She took his hand. “Yes, I am. Forgive yourself. Let it go. It’s not your fault. If you’re to blame, then so am I. You can’t take the blame for accidents, or for the behavior of others. What if you’d gone with them? What if you had saved them and then he’d been killed walking off the plane here in America? Would that still be your fault? What if I walked out the door right now and got hit by a car? Your fault for not stopping me? What if I waited until you were sleeping and then walked out and got hit by a car? You have to let it go. You don’t get to control the universe.”
He choked, a half-laugh, half-sob. “And here I thought I did.”
“Yeah, my brother had a Superman complex, too. I recognize it.”
The Artist Cries Wolf Page 7
