Hearts Renewed

by Mary Manners

  Izzy’s heart went out to him. She had so much to say, but she sensed Sam needed more than words. She prayed she could find a path to him. She wasn’t sure why she felt such a connection, but merely walking beside him stirred emotions she hadn’t felt for a long time…perhaps not ever.

  The feelings weren’t hers to question. She’d learned long ago to simply trust.

  “I thought we were going to talk.” Sam broke the silence as his loafers raked the gravel. He drew another fidgety sip from his go-cup.

  “We are talking.” Izzy gathered strands of hair that tickled her neck and twisted them into a knot at her shoulders. The humidity proved thick for April, and she wished she’d donned short sleeves instead of a sweater when she’d dressed for work that morning. But Tucker had misplaced his soccer cleats, so they’d had to scurry to find them. She hadn’t had time to check the weather forecast.

  Just another day in the life of a single mom.

  “This? This is talking?” Sam’s tone snapped like a splatter of grease on a hot stovetop.

  Izzy sighed inwardly. This was going to be harder than she imagined.

  “Sometimes talking is more than the spoken word.” Her nerves sizzled as she spun to face Sam. “And, for the record, are you always this confrontational?”

  “Confrontational?” Sam lifted a finger, jabbed the air. His blue eyes narrowed, causing the crease along his forehead to deepen. His face proved a canvas of emotions slashed by the thin line of a grimace. “Oh, believe me…this is nothing. I haven’t even begun to—”

  “Stop.” Izzy drew a deep, cleansing breath as she held up a hand, palm splayed, to silence him. “Tell me, Sam Holman…why do you dislike me so?”

  “Dislike you?”

  “Is there an echo here?” She tilted her head to the side, holding tight to his gaze. “Because you sound like an echo.”

  “There’s no echo.” Sam fisted his hands and jammed them into the front pockets of his stonewashed jeans. “I don’t dislike you. How could I possibly dislike you when I don’t even know you?”

  His lips trembled slightly and Izzy noticed the smatter of stubble patterned along his jawline. His height dwarfed her, and she bowed up to meet him.

  “Then maybe you should get to know me before you start making accusations.” Izzy jabbed a finger at his chest as her temper flared. “Maybe you should just step back and take a breath while we sort this all out. I’m not one of your clients, you know.”

  “And I’m not one of your pathetic callers, looking for advice.” Sam lifted his index fingers to apply air quotes to the word, advice.

  “The callers are not pathetic, Sam Holman. But you certainly are, judging by your narrow-minded way of thinking. Pa-the-tic.” At a loss for words, Izzy stomped her foot and turned away.

  This was a mistake. A very, very big mistake.

  Be patient…

  The words whispered on the breeze, and Sam must have heard them, as well. Because he touched Izzy’s shoulder, bidding her to turn back to him.

  “I’m sorry, Izzy.” His voice gentled as the crease along his forehead unfurled. “I’m not accusing you of anything beyond naïvety.”

  “Me, naïve? How so?”

  “Because I’m here…you’re here.” Sam paced like a lion that had missed his last meal. Gravel dust drifted up to tickle Izzy’s nose. “It’s certainly not a crime, at least in the legal channels, to invite the company of a stranger. But your lack of living in the real world can be dangerous and damaging. Worse than that, it can prove fatal.”

  “Really?” Izzy sneezed once, twice, and then sniffled as she plastered her hands to her hips. Her battle with gravel dust took the edge off her temper and she softened her tone. Continuing this verbal battle would do neither of them any good. “Well, your lack of hope—as well as your possession of an insanely negative outlook—is damaging.”

  “My attitude is realistic.”

  “Your attitude stinks.”

  “Wow…” Sam crushed the empty coffee cup in his fist. “…just wow. We’re certainly off to a good start, aren’t we? In all my days of court I’ve never…” He shook his head as he lifted both hands in surrender.

  Good going, Izzy. That’s the way to conduct a civil conversation…the way to show how much you care.

  “So I’ve managed to render the prosecutor speechless.” A sigh of frustration escaped Izzy, and when she breathed deeply to compensate, another sneeze threatened. So much for the effectiveness of her new allergy medication. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “Right. Yes.” She fist-pumped the air. “Now you’re seeing the light. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Sam fell silent once more and Izzy imagined the wheels turning as he considered that point. She waited and hoped she’d peeled back the first layer of what she stood convinced were countless. Sam Holman proved a complex man.

  Difficult to reach, and yet for some reason she longed to do just that. She’d met him less than twenty-four hours ago—if their phone conversation could even be considered a meeting— and already her heart desired to know him more.

  “You shouldn’t have invited me here. I’m a stranger.” Sam touched her shoulder with a gentleness that belied the gruff tone of his voice. “I could be dangerous. I could hurt you.”

  “Do you plan on hurting me?” Izzy was warmed by his concern, and that took the edge off her frustration. She crossed her arms over her chest, though her intuition told her there was nothing in Sam to fear. She’d learned to listen to that tiny voice of reason and heed its direction. She looked him square in the eye. “Well, do you?”

  “No. Of course not.” Sam turned away, paced a few steps before swinging back. “But, what if I did plan on it?”

  “You just said you don’t.” Izzy shook her head slightly. “So, what does it matter?”

  “Do you always believe everything anyone tells you?”

  “Until they give me a reason not to.”

  “It could be too late then.”

  “Good grief, Sam. You…you exasperate me.” Izzy frowned. He’d entered her life like a storm, yet she’d welcomed him…invited him in. Sam Holman resonated grief. His gaze was draped by a deep sense of pain borne only from the most devastating sort of loss. Suddenly, Izzy longed to know his story. “Do you always jump to conclusions, Sam Holman?”

  “Sam…just call me Sam.” He jammed his hands into his pockets with a sigh. “You’re right. I’ve made my living second-guessing people, unearthing evidence and examining details, yet I’ve cemented my assumptions here without knowing anything about you. Well, except for the fact that you work for a radio station and do Saturday remotes, and that you invite men you know absolutely nothing about to meet you at the park on Family Day.”

  “I know that you’re an attorney.”

  “A prosecutor.”

  “Of course…you like putting bad guys in jail.”

  “Yes, if it’s warranted.” He nodded. “And more often than not, it’s warranted.”

  “I stand corrected. And, by the way, I rarely do Saturday remotes. Today is an exception. This event is important to me.”

  “Family Day? I see. That detail is noted.”

  “And, as long as you’re citing details, you should know that I’ve never invited a man I didn’t know to meet me anywhere.”

  “Then how do you explain me?”

  “I can’t even begin.” And she couldn’t. There was just something about the tone of his voice during yesterday’s call. She’d trusted her instincts for the first time since…well, for the first time since doing so had brought her within a hair’s breadth of tragedy. Now the shift of Sam’s posture coupled with his questioning gaze touched her deep to her core. “I’m not sure why I did this. I just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Never mind. You’re right. This is crazy.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. We’ve agreed on a point, Isabella�
�” His tone gentled. “…Izzy. And that’s something, at least. A starting point. Yet that doesn’t negate the chance that I might be a lunatic…gone off the deep end…out-of-my-mind-crazy—”

  He grinned and the smile lit his eyes, filling them with a blue that rivaled the clearing skies. Nice…he had a nice, warm smile punctuated by the slightest dimple at the center of his chin.

  “I’m beginning to think so.” But Sam’s use of her nickname took a chunk out of the defensive shield Izzy had hoisted. She laughed ever so softly. Perhaps they might become friends after all.

  Even more than friends…

  The voice, from somewhere deep inside her, jolted as a sense of warmth coursed through. What was going on here? Why had she even considered—

  “I’m serious.” Sam splayed his hands, his dark gaze suddenly softening with the plea. “It’s a dangerous world.”

  “I’m touched by your concern…truly.”

  “OK, then…” Sam glanced at the sky and Izzy wondered if he thought the same as she—that glimmers of sunshine peeking through clouds mirrored this sudden transformation. “So, Isabella Carpenter—Izzy, if you insist.”

  “It’s your choice…friends or no friends?”

  “Izzy, then. How do we fix this predicament…the not knowing you part?” He grinned and the tension seemed to melt away. “Can we find another point to agree on?”

  “Are you sure you want to take that chance, considering our differing opinions on…life and the hope for tomorrow?”

  “As you noted, the jury’s still out.”

  “In that case…” Izzy crooked a finger and turned away with a wisp of a smile as she began to walk once more. “Come with me and we’ll find out.”

  4

  Over the berm, a patchwork quilt of soccer fields swarmed with activity. Kids sported team jerseys in an array of colors. They darted over divot-scarred grass to chase soccer balls. Sam didn’t remember these fields being here the last time he’d brought Molly and her friends to the carnival. They must be fairly new.

  The thought pricked. Change…it proved inevitable.

  Izzy walked beside him. Tendrils of strawberry-blonde hair curled to frame her face and a smattering of freckles danced across the bridge of her nose. She wore little makeup, and the natural look suited her. It was refreshing, actually, to see a woman so comfortable in faded jeans and a simple white sweater. Sam inhaled a light, floral scent that drifted as Izzy’s hair danced on the breeze. It made him think of warm summer sunshine.

  The subtle urge to protect resurfaced. She was smaller than he’d imagined, petite and slight enough to be carried on away on a breeze. Yet Sam sensed a strength that he could not quite put his finger on.

  The sun peeked through clouds, and Izzy cupped a hand across her forehead to shield her eyes as she lifted her gaze to the nearest field, searching. Suddenly, her face lit as she zeroed in on a tow-headed boy, about five or six years old, racing down the sideline in a green, dirt-splattered jersey.

  “Tucker.” She quickened her pace. “Look at him go.”

  Cheers rang out as he trapped the ball. His little legs pumped and stocky arms flailed as he hurried toward the goal in that not-quite-coordinated gait common to younger children.

  “Your nephew?” Sam asked as the kid caught up with the ball.

  “My son.”

  He sliced a look Izzy’s way to confirm what he’d noticed earlier—her ring finger was bare.

  “Tucker’s father is dead,” she confirmed, as if reading his thoughts. “Kayaking accident. Four years ago.”

  “I’m…so sorry.”

  “I am, too. I never had the chance to settle things.”

  The flat tone of her voice puzzled Sam. He touched her forearm. “Excuse me…settle what?”

  “Never mind.” She waved off the question with a flick of her fingers. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  The crowd erupted, drawing their attention back to the field. Tucker hopped like a jackrabbit near the goal line as the ball swooshed the back of the net. The boy turned, found Izzy watching him, and a grin split his face. Without hesitation, he crossed the field to fly into her arms.

  Tucker’s delighted laughter should be bottled and shared, Sam thought as he watched Izzy scoop up the child.

  “Good job, kiddo.” She kissed him and then swung him around once, twice for good measure as he squealed. “That was amazing.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He hugged Izzy and then squirmed back to his feet to peer up at Sam, one eye closed against a ray of sunlight that had fought through the clouds. “Who’s this?”

  “Tucker, this is Mr. Holman. He’s a friend of mine.” Izzy affirmed the statement with a nod. “Say hello.”

  “Oh, hello.” Tucker scratched the side of his blond head as if trying to figure it all out. “Are you gonna stay for the rest of my game?”

  The innocent eagerness of the question touched Sam to the core. He found himself leaning down to meet Tucker at eye-level. “I suppose I am.”

  “Good, ’cause Mama said we’re gonna get a burger and drink from the concession when I’m done.” Tucker placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “I really like Coke. How about you?”

  “Coffee’s my beverage of choice, but when it comes to soda, I’ll take a Coke.”

  “Yes!” Tucker pumped a fist in the air “We can have one together. Except…” His shoulders suddenly slumped. “Except probably not.”

  “What’s the matter?” Sam asked.

  “I almost forgot.” He swiped a hand across his cheek, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. “Mama doesn’t let me have soda ’cause of the caffeine. She says it’s not good for kids. It turns them into the Energizer Bunny.”

  “She’s right.” Sam grazed a look Izzy’s way, sharing a private grin. “My mom used to say the same thing.”

  “But I’ll be a grown up one day, and then I can drink all I want.” Tucker brightened. “I’ll drink gallons and gallons of soda. I’ll even guz…guz…”

  “Guzzle it?”

  “Yep. Guzzle it.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Sam’s grin turned to laughter. The kid’s vernacular didn’t fall far from the tree. He was sure Tucker had acquired his gift of gab as well as his advanced vocabulary from Izzy.

  “Until then, you’d better get back in the game.” Izzy nudged Tucker back toward the field. “Coach Humphrey is calling for you. There’s still a few minutes left to play and your team needs you.”

  “And then it’s time for team talk and stickers.” Tucker turned toward the field. “I can’t wait to see which one I get today.”

  “Hurry, then.”

  “Bye, Mom. See you soon.” Tucker offered a little wave before turning back toward the field. “Bye Mr. Holman. Don’t leave, OK?”

  “Sam.” He couldn’t seem to help himself, so Sam reached out and patted the kid’s head. “You can call me Sam. And I won’t leave. I promise.”

  “Watch me, Sam.” Tucker called, peering back over his shoulder. “Will you watch me play?”

  “Yes.” Something inside Sam shifted, and suddenly he felt a bit lighter. The kid was growing on him already.

  Tucker…his name is Tucker…Izzy’s son…my new friends.

  “I promise, Tucker.” Sunshine punched through the clouds to warm Sam’s face. “I’ll be right here, watching you play.”

  ~*~

  Tucker got his burger and though she frowned on soda as a child’s beverage, Izzy let it slide when Sam sneaked the first sip of his drink to the child. What would one tiny swallow hurt?

  She supposed it was a guy thing…male camaraderie. And in that Tucker had been sorely lacking. Since his birth, it had been just the two of them, with the occasional help from her mom. Sometimes it made her heart hurt to acknowledge that although she tried her best, there were some things she just couldn’t give him.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lorna.” Sam said to Izzy’s mother as he settled onto the bench at a picnic table near th
e pavilion. Of course, Tucker had scooted in right beside him.

  “You, as well.” Izzy’s mom flashed a smile. “It’s rare that Tucker has a man come to watch him. My husband passed away last year—God rest his soul—and Tucker’s uncle works most Saturdays. He’s a firefighter.”

  A shadow crossed Sam’s eyes…a sudden sadness. “I’m sorry about your husband.”

  The forlorn tone of his voice tugged at Izzy’s heart. She thought of the easy manner in which he’d made a promise—and then kept it—to watch Tucker finish his game. He’d even paced along the sidelines, cheering, and had made a big deal of the good sportsmanship sticker Tucker was presented with during the after-game team talk session.

  Before Izzy realized what she was doing, her hand slipped across the table to shelter Sam’s. He didn’t draw back. Instead, his fingers twined gently, as if it was the most natural thing, with hers.

  “Thank you.” Izzy’s mom nodded appreciatively as her gaze slipped to the spot where Izzy’s fingers had joined with Sam’s. “He was a good man, and greatly missed.”

  Suddenly aware of her mother’s scrutiny, Izzy tugged her hand back and reached for a chip. Sam seemed to notice the change, and sliced a knowing look her way. His slight grin shaved the edge from her whetted emotions.

  “Nana, Mr. Holman—Sam—is a lawyer.” Tucker tore open the bag of fruit snacks he’d chosen to accompany his burger. “He puts bad people in jail.”

  “Is that so?” Mom delved into her handbag and retrieved a compact. She flipped it open and checked her reflection before applying a dab of powder to her nose. “That’s a very important job.”

  “I know.” Tucker chomped a bite of burger and began to speak again, but Izzy cut him off with a Don’t talk with your mouth full look.

  Tucker’s shoulders slumped. He chewed and swallowed.

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  All the while, Izzy’s mother continued to powder her nose as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Izzy wasn’t fooled by the powder routine. She watched her mother watching Sam, sizing him up. She saw the telltale gleam in her mother’s eye and knew cogs were shifting into place. How long would it take before the meddling began?