He smiled at Penny as she set a cup of coffee in front of him. “It could be someone who wants the house and is willing to go to any lengths to get it. That’s what concerns me now. The land is valuable, Emma. That’s why it’s important for you to make up your mind. Sell it or keep it, but I don’t want to have to worry about you getting hurt.”
She broke into a smile. “You’d really be worrying about me?”
He shook his head, turning away. “Just make up your mind, please?”
“So you think someone is trying to run me off. Is that what they tried to do to Lully—drive her out? In the past the pranks were harmless—never anything like spiders and snakes.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I only know you need to be careful, not take any chances. I’ll protect you with my life, but I can’t be near you every minute.”
She grinned at him.
“Keep your mind on the subject. This isn’t a laughing matter,” he said. “If anything happened to you …” He didn’t finish the thought.
“You think whoever is doing this will try something else?”
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “Just be careful.”
Sam paid the bill a few minutes later and walked Emma home. On the porch he held her tightly in his arms and whispered against her hair, “Call me if anything suspicious comes up. Anything at all.”
“I will,” she promised.
He waited while she let herself into the house. The lights flicked on.
Snow had started to fall. Emma was trying not to let the incidents get to her, but he knew she was more frightened than she wanted him to know. He mentally shifted his schedule so he could drive by the Mansi house more often to make sure no one was lurking around.
“There’s more to this than pranks,” he said. “A lot more.”
And he vowed to find out what, exactly. Surely it was more than an infantile effort to lower the asking price on the house. Price wasn’t a reasonable motivation—not with land developers in the game.
As he returned to his patrol car, which he’d left parked at the café, Sam wondered why Emma wasn’t anxious to be finished with this business. What if she turned the house into a tearoom? What would she do then? Hire someone to run it? Then why make the investment unless she loved the town more than she admitted and planned to return someday?
Or if she’s falling in love with you again. That was the thought Sam wanted to hold on to.
She was confusing him. On one hand she wanted to leave Serenity and all its memories behind. On the other hand, she talked about laying down roots, opening a business, redoing her mom’s rose garden.
Could she get past what she’d thought was his betrayal, his abandonment of her? Add to that the gossip and speculation and plain meanness of some people; could she ever feel Serenity was her real home? He didn’t know, and he didn’t know who was trying to run her out of the house.
But he meant to find out.
Chapter Twelve
Emma sat up, pitching the light afghan aside. The woodstove burned white-hot. She had fallen asleep again. Lately, she dropped onto the sofa after work to watch World News Tonight and often fell asleep before the commentator gave the headlines.
She stirred when someone knocked on the front door. Why hadn’t Lully installed a doorbell? That would be so much more pleasant sounding. Rolling off the sofa, she swiped a piece of hair into place and straightened her collar.
Sam smiled down at her when she opened the door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She gave her grooming effort another try. No lipstick and her hair looked like she’d walked through a strong gale. “What’s up?” Her pulse hammered, not uncommon when he was around.
He turned to look outside, his brown-eyed gaze scanning the fresh cover of powder dusting the ground. “I’ve borrowed a sleigh from a friend.” He turned back to face her. “Want to go for a ride?”
She smiled, leaning against the door frame. An icy wind blew from the north, and the mere thought of an open-air ride brought goose bumps. Yet the man standing before her overrode common sense.
Her gaze traveled beyond the porch to the large sled behind a frisky horse that was blowing frosty vapors into the night air and stamping his feet. “It’s so cold,” she said.
“I’ll keep you warm.” He leaned closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. Emma suddenly found it hard to breathe. “How about it, Ms. Mansi? Want to go for a ride with the sheriff? I could, technically, take you into custody.”
“For what?” she bantered. Both seemed reluctant to break eye contact. Something about the emotional current went dangerously far beyond the topic.
“Disturbing the peace.”
“Whose peace?”
He looked away. “I plead the fifth. On the grounds that the answer could/might/would most certainly incriminate me.”
She had to enter the same plea. “I’ll get my coat.” She put on the heaviest garment she could find in the front-hall closet. Lully’s assortment varied, but the heavy wools were adequate for a cold Colorado night in an open sleigh.
She suddenly found herself looking forward to the excursion with childlike enthusiasm. A canopy of stars shone above their heads as Sam helped her into the sleigh. A bright moon illuminated the snowy landscape. Their laughter drifted over the mounds of crusted snow. He settled on the narrow seat, then reached for the heavy lap robe and tucked it securely on each end of the bench. His hand briefly brushed hers and she closed her eyes, stuffing teenage adoration into its proper perspective. She was going for a simple ride with an old acquaintance. Big deal.
Really big deal.
Too big for her to keep a handle on her emotions, especially with the way his knee rested lightly against hers.
He picked up the reins and made a clicking noise with his tongue. The black mare started off, gaining momentum, taking the sleigh skimming over the frozen ground. One thing Emma could say with certainty: God had smiled on Colorado. The moon-drenched countryside flew past as the horse cantered over hill and dale, cutting wide paths through stands of tall aspen and fragrant pine. Emma’s laughter left frosty trails as the years fell away and she was once more a young fifteen-year-old girl in love for the very first time. She clutched Sam’s arm as the sleigh skimmed over fresh powder.
His gaze caught hers in the moonlight and he smiled, his gloved hands competently controlling the breathless ride. “Having fun?” he shouted as the sleigh took a harrowing turn, revealing a deep incline on the right side.
She scooted closer, realizing that she didn’t care for heights. As a young girl these mountainous regions were home. Seattle had its mountains, but it had been years since she’d been in a sleigh going lickety-split over such steep slopes. She nodded, holding his biceps tighter. “A little.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll take care of you.”
That was exactly what Emma feared. Closing her eyes, she found herself thinking about God. Was he here, and was his Spirit living within her? Could she entrust him with her most secret need—the need to tear down the barriers and open her heart and become vulnerable again? Out here in this beautiful wilderness it was easier to believe. She felt her heart slowly begin to open.
Eventually Sam slowed the horse, and the mare trotted along beneath the full moon. He hadn’t said anything in a while; they shared a comfortable silence.
Emma felt his arm brush the back of her neck, and she snuggled closer.
“Cold?”
She shook her head.
“Like the feel of my arm around you?” He chuckled.
She started to say no and pull away. He could be so confident of her at times—did her facial expressions broadcast to the world how she felt about this man? But the feeling of his arm, his warmth, the security of being with him stopped her, and she could do no less than admit the truth. “Yes,” she whispered softly.
He reined the horse to a halt. Cold, snowy silence encompassed the sleigh. “Did you say yes?”
Nodding, she smiled
and burrowed her head deeper into his arm’s crevice.
He stood up, took off his hat, and shouted, “Hallelujah!”
“Lujah lujah lujah lujah lujah lujah lujah” the echo returned. She laughed at his theatrics and pulled him down on the seat.
“Stop it, you goose.”
Grasping the back of her head, he pulled her toward him, lowering his lips to within a breadth of hers. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to say that?”
“That you’re a goose? Goose, goose,” she teased, tweaking his nose. “Stubborn goose.”
He pulled her nose. “Mulish gander.”
She pretended to be insulted. “Are you name-calling?”
He caught her closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“No. It’s too silly.”
“Silly?”
She knew how long he’d wanted her to make the admission; almost as long as she’d wanted to say it. Their eyes met and held in the moonlight. Then he gently lowered his head and kissed her—a full fifteen years’ worth.
It was as if an emotional dam burst between them and they were now desperately swimming for their lives.
Three days passed without a word from Sam. Emma didn’t know why he was suddenly making himself scarce—but then, deep down, she did. He had feelings and emotions like she did. Did he fear the past or, after the sleigh ride, was it the future that terrified him? They had dropped back into each other’s life with the subtlety of a hand grenade. His feelings must be as tangled as hers, or was she only kidding herself? She hoped not, yet she wasn’t prepared to think about anything further than the next day. They both needed breathing space.
Emma shook the reflection away and added nuts to the mixing bowl. Elizabeth had talked her into visiting the nursing home with her that afternoon. It seemed the residents of Happy Hollow looked forward to the holiday season and Elizabeth’s banana nut bread. The job of baking all those loaves had become too much for Elizabeth, and she’d offered to pay Emma to help. She declined the pay. She discovered she liked doing things for others. She’d met Janice that way and the friendship was priceless.
Emma folded nuts into the creamy batter, wondering what Janice would do when she was on her own. She was a trusting soul. She maintained a strong faith in God—sometimes so much so that Emma envied her. Nothing seemed to shake it; with Emma, every little storm of life threw her into a sea of confusion. For the past few years, what little faith she had in a good God had floundered. And yet … there were people like Janice and Sue and even Lully, whose faith sustained them through so much. Perhaps if she, too, reached out to God, her own faith could sprout and grow … .
Guilt swept through her as Christmas carols floated from the radio. “‘O holy night …’”
It was the season for hope and belief. Why couldn’t she reach out and grasp what others shared freely?
She picked Elizabeth up around one o’clock, and the two women drove to the nursing home, chatting all the way. Christmas trees twinkled in the large complex, and carols floated through the one-story building as they entered.
Happy Hollow residents sat around in chairs and on sofas, reading or working puzzles; a few stared at the television screen. Emma and Elizabeth worked their way through the ensemble, shaking hands, greeting smiling faces with a bright “Merry Christmas!”
Later, they walked down the halls delivering packages of banana bread wrapped in red cellophane and tied with a large green bow. Emma tapped at an open door, “Mr. Jones?”
An old man with a head full of snow-white hair lifted his hand feebly.
“I’ve brought you some banana bread!”
He nodded. “Just put it on the table.”
Emma did as she was told, scooting aside pictures of grinning children and older couples to make room. “Merry Christmas!”
“Yeah—same to you.” He closed his eyes and appeared to have drifted back to sleep.
Smiling, she moved to the next door, pausing when she read the nameplate: Edwina Gold. Dear Lord, Sam’s mother. Emma had forgotten that she was here. After all these years she was about to come face-to-face with Sam’s mother.
She stood holding the colorfully wrapped Christmas bread, wondering if she should skip this room and have Elizabeth deliver the gift.
Coward.
That’s exactly what she was: a coward. It was high time she grew up and stopped running. And there had never been a more appropriate time. Edwina probably wouldn’t even recognize her after all these years. She took a deep breath and tapped on the door softly.
“Yes?” a voice answered.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gold. I have a gift for you!” Emma chirped.
“Come in.”
She walked into the room. A shadow of the former mayor smiled. The years had not been kind. She had to be what? Late sixties, early seventies? Today that wasn’t so old—even middle-ish mature.
“Why, Emma. It’s been a long time.”
Emma covered her surprise. Edwina had recognized her immediately. Years ago the two women barely spoke to each other, and their last heated parting shots weren’t exactly Hallmark greeting-card material.
She set the bread on a nearby table and turned to leave when Edwina’s voice stopped her. “Don’t go.”
She turned, feeling a chill race up her spine. “Can I get you something?”
“No.” Edwina closed her eyes. “I’d like to talk a few minutes, if you have the time.”
Emma pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “I can spare a few minutes.” If the woman was going to take her to task about something that happened fifteen years ago, she wouldn’t stay long. She waited, smiling at the older woman in the bed. “Anything in particular you want to talk about?” She wondered if she should offer to crank up the bed. Edwina was lying flat, eyes closed.
“I haven’t paid my respects since your sister’s death.” Edwina paused, seeming to struggle with the proper words. She opened her eyes and met Emma’s. “It’s sad when someone so young goes before she’s lived a full life.”
Emma nodded, studying her hands. “Lully believed we’re all given only so much time. My sister’s time was all too brief.”
Edwina glanced down at the thin blanket covering her wasted frame. “She’s right. Nothing is by accident. I was surprised to hear the cause of death was a heart attack. Lully was thin, but she looked the picture of health.”
Emma sensed the real reason for Edwina’s invitation was about to surface.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” Edwina’s eyes brimmed with the silent need to be understood. “Actually, I have needed to say that I’m sorry for a very long time.”
Silence filled the room. She’d gotten straight to the point, no hesitation. Emma heard the ticking of the clock in the hallway. Wind rattled the shutters at the windows. Carols drifted over the intercom.
“Sorry?” What a woefully inadequate choice of words. Emma pretended ignorance. “Sorry about what, Edwina?”
“About you and Sam. You were both so young. And foolish.” Pleading turned to begging now. “Now that you’re older, wiser you’ll admit that fifteen and seventeen were too young to get married.”
Emma looked away. Did she admit that? No, her mind wanted to scream. I don’t admit that. But deep in her heart she did; marriage at that age was a terrible risk. Some managed to overcome the odds and make it, but very few. “I suppose so, Edwina.” But she and Sam would have made it. They’d known exactly what they were doing. She was suddenly anxious to move—to do anything other than be with this woman who needed forgiveness. She wasn’t sure she recognized the word anymore. She got up and walked to the door.
Edwina lifted her head to gaze at a picture of Christ and the lamb hanging on the wall. Emma realized it portrayed the same idea as the picture in Lully’s home. Except in this picture, a ring of light encircled Jesus’ head, and he held a lamb in his arms.
“I’ve always liked that illustration. It’s comforting t
o know that when one of God’s children goes astray he brings that child safely back into the fold.”
Emma fixed on the portrait. “Yes. Comforting.” Gone astray. God brings them safely back into the fold. The idea was nice.
“I handled the situation all wrong.” The older woman dropped her head to the pillow. “So wrong. How many times I’ve wished I could live that day over.” Sighing, Mrs. Gold looked at Emma. “Not long after you left town I had a heart attack.”
This woman—this iron Trojan when she was mayor of Serenity—was so different now that Emma could hardly connect the two women. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know.”
Edwina waved the polite response aside. “I was luckier than Lully. The illness gave me time to think, to reevaluate my life, my children’s lives. I had an epiphany, I suppose you could say. When my husband died suddenly and then I had a heart attack a few months later … I came to understand that not one of us is ever self-sufficient. None of us can stand by our own strength. Only God can sustain us … but we have to reach out to him. He’s there to pick us up when we most need him. Like the lamb, we need his protection.”
The two women fell silent, letting the words settle between them. Emma heard the sincerity in Edwina’s voice, wanted to believe that fifteen years did make a difference. But she didn’t believe it. She appreciated the apology, but it came too late.
Edwina reached over and touched her arm. Her fingers were cool and papery. “I know you can’t find it in your heart to forgive me. I don’t expect you to—fifteen years of bitterness can’t be erased with a single apology. I see it in Sam’s eyes every spring when the anniversary of that attempted elopement rolls around. I hear it in his voice when your name is mentioned. Don’t think I’ve gotten off scot-free, Emma. I’ve paid. Dearly. For fifteen years I’ve watched Sam back away from first one relationship, then another, because nobody else was you. Simple as that.”
She met Emma’s eyes and continued. “Simple as that. The others weren’t you. My son would deny it with his dying breath but I know. I know.” Pain filled her features. “There is no greater heartache than to realize that you’ve hurt your child irreparably. I can never give Sam back those years. Never. But I can apologize and let you know we’ve all suffered from what I believed at the time was the only way the situation could be handled.”
Lori Copeland Page 20
