Delighting Miss Daisy [Wayback Texas Series]

by Abbey MacInnis

  Soledad flashed them both a hesitant smile. “I'm fine, really. I'm used to everyone in Wayback thinking I'm no different from my mama.” She shrugged, lowering her gaze to the floor. “Maybe they're right."

  "I won't tell Jake. But you have to promise that if Cody ever bothers you again, you'll tell Jake yourself. He'll deal with that little punk.” Daisy hugged her. She knew Soledad would appreciate being treated as an adult, rather than a child incapable of handling herself. “You are not at all like your mother. Now isn't it about time you got back to class? Wouldn't want you to be late.” Daisy sent Soledad what she hoped was a friendly encouraging smile.

  Soledad moved off, just as the two-minute bell rang, alerting students of the coming hour.

  Daisy headed back into the gymnasium to repack her remaining snacks, Sam following right behind. “In a hurry again?” He asked moving to her side as she counted and sorted cash.

  Daisy knew it was time to tell Sam about Justin, but there was a part of her that was still afraid.

  Sam intercepted her, grabbing the load of tins she'd lifted to set them back down on the table. They were alone in the gym. The buzzing sound from the lights overhead seemed loud in the silent room as her hands reached for his. Sam cradled them in his own and squeezed. “Want to tell me what's bothering you? You're still as edgy as you were when we left your shop. Why don't we go have coffee, or go back to your place, and you can unwind a little."

  Daisy stood unmoving and silent in front of him, her fingers interlaced with his, drawing strength from him. He radiated it like sunshine as he gazed down at her, the compassion evident in his eyes; those eyes which almost undid her.

  Daisy bit down hard on her bottom lip as she regarded him. She wanted to fall into his arms, to lean into him for strength and support. To cling to him and, yes, hide behind him, letting him protect her if Justin showed his face again. It was wonderful and frightening. “I won't tell you it's nothing. I can't, won't lie to you, Sam, but this isn't easy for me. Two years ago I dated a guy who ... got a little physical with me. Max kicked him out of town, and when you came to my shop earlier, Gina and Patti had just told me that he's back."

  She saw the leashed temper in his eyes as he scanned her face. “Are they sure?"

  "Yes, Gina said she saw him this morning.” Daisy kept the quiver from her voice, but her heart still galloped.

  "Where is he? What are you going to do?"

  Daisy gave a sardonic laugh. “I don't know. I don't even know what he wants. He might just be here for the rodeo."

  Sam released her hands. Grabbing the tins, he stalked toward the door, his back straight and shoulders stiff, with Daisy on his heels. She imagined the lines in his forehead creasing and his very kissable mouth stretched thin as he reined in his temper.

  "I can't do anything, yet,” she added. “He hasn't done anything."

  They reached his Porsche. Tossing the goodies on the hood, Sam turned on her. “This guy—"

  "Justin. His name is Justin.” Daisy shakily picked up the tins and stowed them in her passenger seat. Justin's angry face flashed in her mind. “And you don't need to get upset."

  "Fine, Justin. Christ, his name could be Jasper Pendledorf and I wouldn't care. He could come after you again, and do lord knows what. Of course I'm upset. There's no way I'm going to let him get anywhere near you. Like I said last night, you're not getting rid of me. I'm not going anywhere."

  That was the last thing she wanted to hear. Daisy took a steadying breath, but felt her control slipping. Damn you Justin. “He hasn't found me yet, and maybe he never will.” She spoke as much to herself as to Sam.

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  Chapter Ten

  So that was the reason for her pale appearance when he'd come by with the flowers. That explained, too, why Gina and Patti Pie had hovered like two hens watching over their chick. Sam grasped Daisy's shoulders, and she quivered under his hands. A car screeched around the corner, making Daisy jump. Sam put his arms around her. She stiffened, pushing against him.

  "Sam, please.” Daisy pleaded, her fists slamming into his shoulders. “Not here."

  "Do Max and Sherrie know that this guy's back in town?"

  Daisy lifted her gaze to his.

  That's better.

  "Damn it, Sam. You're not thinking of telling them. That would only make them worry. They couldn't do a damn thing."

  "Well if they won't, someone should."

  Daisy got behind the wheel and started the car. Sam's Porsche followed her all the way back to the shop. When she parked so did he. She stalked up to the door of the shop, ignoring the fact that he was right behind her. When he beat her to the door and held it open for her, she turned and glared. “Are you going to follow me everywhere?"

  "You'd better believe it. You can go do whatever you need to do. I'll just be right here at your side until we see what's what. And if you don't like me doing it, I'll call your brother and have him take over."

  "You'll get in the way. Besides, you won't be able to shadow me forever, and neither will Max."

  She had a point, but Sam didn't figure it would take too long to find out if the guy was going to do anything.

  Daisy gazed down at her watch, and then opened the door. “I've got work to do. You want to be with me, you can work while you watch."

  Sam couldn't understand how Daisy could go from freaked to fine so quickly. She went inside, with Sam right behind her. They both ignored her assistant at the counter as he followed her into the back.

  "I don't get it. I thought you were going to lose it in the parking lot a few minutes ago, now you're acting like it's just another day."

  "It is just another day.” Daisy replied, meeting his gaze. “I've been through all of this before in the past two years—the constant fear, the threats, all of it. It's always there, but you just ... learn to live with it. I've had to stop living my life in fear. I wouldn't have been able to keep going otherwise."

  "Two years.” Sam couldn't believe it. “You're very strong and very brave."

  Daisy snorted disbelievingly. “Strong? You're kidding me, right? You think I'm strong and brave just because I've been to hell and back?"

  "Yes, I do.” Sam leaned down to cup her face in his hand. “I know you think I have no idea what hell is like, but I've been through my own, and I almost didn't make it."

  Sam rarely ever discussed his personal life, his pre-Howard days with anyone. The memories were almost too painful to dredge up. But it was worth it to gain Daisy's trust.

  Daisy peered intensely at him, actual curiosity brimming in her eyes. “Well, why don't we compare stories over coffee? We might have something in common besides our mutual attraction after all."

  Sam didn't correct Daisy about the phrase ‘mutual attraction.’ At least on his end, it was more than that. Sam had always snickered at people who believed in love, but now he wasn't so sure. Sam could love Daisy, if she were willing to let him.

  Daisy sent Naomi home, drew the shades, and turned the door sign to “closed". Over chocolate chip cookies and strong cups of coffee, Sam told her about his life.

  "Slade Howard found me when I was twelve—just a starving kid on the streets of Boston. He looked like an easy mark, but when I reached for his wallet, he whipped around and grabbed me by my collar.” Sam took another cookie.

  "I thought, ‘That's it, I'm screwed. This old guy's gonna haul me to the police station and turn me in.’ The cops already knew who I was. It wouldn't have surprised them to see me again. If he reported me, I'd be sent to another foster home, or another juvenile facility. I wanted to be on my own, and I told him so when he threatened to call the cops. I told him I'd run the first chance I got."

  "You were that bad of a kid?” Daisy couldn't imagine Sam as a wild pre-teen. He'd spoken earlier of Slade Howard with some affection, a little disgust, and a great deal of admiration. She'd seen the tough attitude he'd taken with Cody and his friends, but hadn't thought that he'd had personal f
ighting experience.

  "Daisy, I swear if I hadn't tried to rob him when I did, I would've been dead by now. I'd been going from foster home to foster home since I was nine, and been on my own for so long, I just learned to look after myself. I didn't do a good job of it. Trouble seemed to find me, and the tough guy I thought I was went looking for it. But all of that changed when Slade threw me in the back of his car and took me home. He went through the legal hassles to become my guardian, and, more importantly, he gave me respect, and taught me how to be a man."

  Not many people would've survived such a rough childhood to drag themselves out of poverty as Sam had, and be the man he was now. Not even with the help of a wealthy benefactor. Daisy wanted to wrap her arms around the little boy he used to be. She couldn't imagine not having a home and family who loved her. Even after her parents died, Daisy had always had her siblings and friends. They'd helped pull her through her darkest days.

  "So what happened after Slade brought you home?” Daisy asked, pouring them more coffee. “It couldn't have been easy having an authority figure in your life after being on your own for so long."

  "It wasn't,” Sam agreed. “I gave Slade hell for about six months before I realized that I had a good thing going. I had food in my belly, a roof over my head, new clothes, and I went to school. Just like any normal kid my age."

  He'd been given kindness too, Daisy reflected. “How did you pull through?"

  "I did what I had to do to survive.” He shrugged. “You never know what each day will bring, so you take things a day at a time."

  Daisy nodded. While she was with Justin, it had eventually been the same way, walking on glass, hoping that she'd make it through the day without provoking his temper.

  "How about you?” Sam asked. “I bet you had your own battles to fight."

  Daisy had never entirely dealt with her emotions after finally leaving Justin. She'd felt safer tying them down and locking them away. Sherrie and Max had tried to get her to talk to them, and to a therapist, but she couldn't. How could she discuss something so sensitive, so personal, with people who cared about her, but wouldn't understand? A counselor would have understood her, but would have been a stranger, and it was too emotional and personal to bare to someone she didn't know.

  But Sam wasn't a stranger. After hearing his own story of perseverance, Daisy knew he'd understand better than anyone if she were to tell him of her own trials. “I haven't really told anyone what happened,” she admitted. “There are no secrets in Wayback. It would have been all over town. Everyone knows everyone else's business. That's just the way things are around here."

  "I won't say a word.” Sam promised, extending his hand. Daisy shook it, but as she started to pull it away, Sam held tight. She stared down at their joined hands and took a deep breath.

  His gesture was simple enough, but it spoke volumes. It said, I'm here, hold onto me. I won't let go.

  So Daisy did as she continued. “It's not like I woke up one day and said, ‘Let's go out and find a guy who will abuse you'. I thought Justin was just like any other guy. He was smart, funny, affectionate, caring-everything I wanted in a lover, a friend."

  "No, I bet that wasn't on the top of your to-do list. Finding an overall asshole probably wasn't in the plan."

  He understands. Daisy relaxed, leaning back on her stool, while keeping her hand linked with Sam's.

  Sam saw the relieved look come into Daisy's eyes. She was embarrassed and maybe even a little ashamed for putting herself in such a bad predicament. “What happened?"

  "He had me fooled for a while. Everything seemed perfect. Our relationship was like any other. We fought, made up, fought, apologized, and made up some more.” Her voice softened as she admitted. “For a minute there, I actually thought he might be the one."

  Sam flinched. When a woman thought a man was the one, it meant her heart was in his hands. It was up to him not to shatter it.

  "How often do you replay things in your mind, things you've said that you later wish you could take back? Things you do, or others do, and how you react to them, then cringe at how stupid all of it made you look and how awful you felt afterwards?” Daisy released his hand. She stood and swiped absently at the crumbs on the counter.

  "All the time. I live to embarrass myself."

  Daisy rolled her eyes as she walked behind the counter. Sam stayed seated and watched her putter about her spotless kitchen. “There were so many things that should have waved the red flag at me, but didn't because I was so wrapped up in him, in us."

  "Like what? Tell me when you first thought there was something wrong,” Sam prodded when Daisy hesitated.

  Daisy came around the counter and resumed her seat on the stool to his right. She locked her eyes with his as she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “You sure you want to know everything? It's not pretty. I have the scars to prove it. And not just the kind of scars you can't see."

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  Chapter Eleven

  The vulnerability and strength in her eyes struck a cord in him. Revealing so much of herself to him wasn't easy for Daisy, and she still had fears and reservations about opening up completely.

  Even while he tried to comfort Daisy and reassure her she was safe, Sam's body primed itself for a vicious fight. Visions of Daisy bruised, bloodied, and battered plowed through his mind, intensifying his rage. Sam's fingers flexed repeatedly as he inhaled a heavy breath.

  Sam slowly released the air from his lungs. The muscles in his shoulders and arms gradually slackened as Sam calmed himself with another slow deep breath.

  "Sam?” Daisy asked in alarm. “I won't say anymore. It's making you uncomfortable, I can tell.” She leaned in to study him.

  "No, please tell me. I'm not uncomfortable, just in the mood to kick some ass for how he treated you.” Now composed, Sam lifted Daisy from her seat and resettled her on his lap. Maybe holding her close would help. She sat stiffly on his knee, then finally relaxed and melted back against his chest, his arms locked tight across her stomach.

  "Tell me everything,” he said, kissing her neck and squeezing.

  Daisy's head fell back against Sam's shoulder. She turned her face to his. “When did I first notice something was wrong, that things weren't exactly right?” Her brow furrowed. “Well, I thought that Justin had taken things a bit too far when I looked at a cowboy. I wasn't looking,” Daisy drew the word out, “because I was interested. I just saw him stroll on by my bakery. Justin passed by and saw me staring."

  Daisy drew closer. “I had a full shop. Justin came storming in and accused me of making eyes at the cowboy. I just laughed it off then, but that was really the first time I noticed something strange about his behavior."

  "Did he hit you then?” Sam swallowed the acid in his throat as he peered at her smooth, unblemished complexion. Her skin, though tanned, was translucent and probably bruised easily. Sam ran a hand down her cheek to where neck met shoulder.

  "No, that was when I came home later than I'd promised. I'd gone out with some friends, and I thought Justin was acting pretty funny. It wasn't long after the staring incident with the cowboy, and the accident—"

  "Accident?"

  "Yes,” Daisy shrugged. “It was nothing serious. A guy just clipped my bumper is all. That really pissed Justin off. He blamed me for it, although it was the other driver's fault. Justin swore I'd caused it by flirting with him in my mirror."

  "Was he with you when it happened?"

  "Nope. But it wasn't long after that he made me start calling him every few minutes. He demanded I call him all the time and let him know about every step I took. I knew that there was definitely something wrong. I'd just refused to see it. There were little things before the cowboy that really should have caught my attention. Like Justin would glare at me if my skirt was too short, or I'd put too much makeup on. I realize now that he loved to hurt me, and bring me down because it made him feel good."

  She broke her gaze from his, shifting it
to the floor. Tears weighted her voice as she admitted, “Justin used to tell me I was fat and useless. I'd spill something, and he'd go off on me. Or if I'd forget to do something, particularly for him, he'd call me stupid and act like he was kidding, but I knew he wasn't. Justin was selfish. He only cared about himself. He couldn't stand it when I didn't focus all of my attention, all of my energy on him."

  Sam felt another electric bolt of rage surge through his veins, setting his blood on fire. “When did you finally leave him? Was it the night he first hit you?"

  Daisy choked back a sob, shaking her head. “No. I should have, but he was so sorry afterwards. He swore he'd never do it again. I knew I should've—I knew it was wrong to stay because Justin lied to my face, but I was just so ... confused."

  Her shoulders shook as tears spilled down her cheeks. Sam held Daisy close, pulling her hair back from her face and stroking her back and shoulders. She didn't resist or reject his comfort, but pressed herself tightly to him, her arms wrapping about his neck, holding him fast.

  "I didn't know what to do, really. I was embarrassed, ashamed for getting stuck in this situation. I hid what Justin did to me—lied about it to folks if they asked, making up excuses to cover up what happened. Meanwhile I justified his actions to myself, taking the blame for his violence. I'm so weak. I mean, I felt that way sometimes."

  Sam took her chin in his hand, prompting her to look at him. Daisy's mouth trembled as her gaze returned to his.

  "And you know what? For a while, I believed everything he told me. All of it. You hear something enough, you start to believe it. He snuffed something in me, just blew it out. I still catch myself thinking negative thoughts about my body when I glance in the mirror."

  "I can't imagine someone not changing if they survived what you have. It's probably made you stronger, but it would obviously leave scars,” Sam observed. “That doesn't mean you're a weak person because of it.” He locked his fingers about her chin in a gentle, firm grip. “You're not weak."