His mother had told him he should have known better than to marry a girl who had grown up in the city. The isolation had been hard enough on her, she’d said, and she was born and bred in the mountains. But things had happened fast. Sam had taken one look at Donna and fallen helplessly, hopelessly, in love...or so he thought. Now, looking back, he knew it had only been an illusion, because he was young and eager to fall in love and have a family.
Sam turned into his driveway and saw that Hank Cooley’s truck was in the yard. He had come to pick up his wife, Bonnie, who had agreed to stay with Brian while he went to have his visit with Jackie.
He slowed. Hank was early. It wasn’t quite five-thirty, hardly dark yet, and he’d told Bonnie he’d probably be gone till six. So now he wanted a few minutes to get himself together in case his stress was showing. There had been enough talk lately, what with Jackie spilling the beans about Libby. But he couldn’t really fault her for that. After all, she was right when he said his family had been prideful. Still, it wasn’t anybody’s business, so there was no reason to broadcast it.
So his mind went racing back to what he had felt as he sat in the rocker, how it was like watching a video of that day that seemed forever burned into his memory.
He shuddered there in the cocoon of the truck’s cab, the dash lights a mellow glow as though guiding him back through that hurtful, humiliating time.
He knew why he had tried to keep the marriage together, and it wasn’t because he loved her. Like water one drop at a time eroding a stone, she had worn away whatever feelings he’d had for her with her vicious tongue, her coldness in bed and, yes, her physical abuse—a cup of coffee thrown in his face, a book slammed against the back of his head. Once she had even attacked him with her nails.
But never once had he hit her or tried to defend himself. He just got away from her as fast as he could, and the wounds on his heart deepened and became scars that did not fade.
His mind took him back once again to that fateful day. It was early morning, and he had been slow getting up after staying up most of the night going over bills. Tree cutting had just begun, so it was to have been several months before he would have much money, and Donna had maxed out all of her credit cards. She was buying clothes right and left, makeup, perfume, lingerie. When he told her she had to slow down, she had petulantly said she was trying to look nice for him, so why was he fussing when he was always after her to try harder to make the marriage work?
Dreading confrontation but knowing it had to come, he had poured a second cup of coffee and sat down in the rocker to think about what he was going to say to her... how he was going to break the news that she left him no choice but to cancel all her credit cards, at least until he could catch up on the payments.
At first he had not believed his eyes, thinking it had to be a play of light from the early sun dappling down through the Fraser firs at the edge of the forest. Or perhaps it was a fawn, left by its mother for a morning nap while she went in search of breakfast.
Then he bolted to his feet.
It was not a play of light.
Neither was it a fawn.
It was Brian.
He had leaped off the porch and raced across the yard.
Brian was curled up in a fetal position and appeared to be sleeping. He was still in his pajamas, which were wet with dew.
He had gathered him up and taken him inside, quickly wrapping him in a blanket. He lay with his eyes open, staring blankly, but said not a word when Sam asked him over and over what he was doing there... how he got there.
He did not seem to be hurt, so Sam had put him in the front seat of the truck and driven like a bat out of hell for home to find out what was going on. All kinds of horrible thoughts ran through his head. Donna had to be hurt, and Brian had found her when he woke up and then made his way through the path in the woods to the cabin to find him and tell him. Only he wasn’t saying anything and appeared to be in shock.
When he reached the house, Sam had left him in the truck and raced inside, calling Donna’s name over and over as he hurried toward the bedroom.
And that was when he found the note propped on the pillow:
Dear Sam,
There is no easy way to say I am leaving you. My life is with someone I realize I have loved since my college days
Brian will be happier with you. After all, he is a Colton—something I can never become and do not want to be.
Donna
He had sat on the side of the bed and read the lines over and over till his eyes were burning, his vision blurred. Then finally he remembered Brian and ran back to the truck to bring him inside.
He had dressed him in dry clothes, then rocked him to sleep, and only when he was quiet did he phone Donna’s mother in Atlanta.
She had apologized for what her daughter had done and said she had cried when Donna called her from the airport and told her about it. Donna had been on her way to a holiday in the Caribbean with her lover and said the only thing that bothered her was how Brian happened to wake up as she was leaving and seemed very upset. But she was sure he’d get over and that Sam would, too, and everyone would see it was for the best.
Sam had slammed the phone down in the cradle so hard it had broken.
And in that anguished moment, as he thought of his son crying for his mother not to leave him, he knew it was good she was not there, for he’d have lost all control, for sure.
And to have left him, knowing he would be alone till morning was unconscionable.
It was just a miracle he was all right...a miracle he’d not gotten lost in the woods but evidently had waited till first light before starting out to try and find his daddy.
When several days passed, and Brian refused to speak, Sam had taken him to a doctor who was at a loss as to the reason. He said in time he might get over it. But now, over a year later, it did not look as though he were going to.
Sam started the truck moving again.
He did not want to send his son away, did not want to be without him for even a day. But it was constant agony to know he was still suffering from the anguish of losing his mother. She’d not returned, and there had not been a letter or a phone call. Neither had he heard from her family.
So he felt as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to keep the farm going and take care of his son, and he did not need a flatlander moving in and complicating things.
Especially a female flatlander who had a way of igniting feelings and emotions he had sworn never to feel for any woman, ever again.
But, he decided with a weary sigh, it appeared she was going to stay, for a while, anyway, and he supposed he would have to make the best of it.
Only he intended to keep it on a business level.
And he wanted Brian to stay away from her.
He would not, by God, see him hurt again by losing someone he cared about.
And Sam vowed, then and there, to keep a check on his emotions, as well.
He would just have to stop thinking about how it PATRICIA HAGAN 129 made him feel all warm inside when Jackie smiled at him, or how her bright, friendly eyes were as green as new spring grass.
He also swore to stop thinking how good it would feel to touch her, hold her, and—
He gave his head a vicious shake.
It would be hard, but she would not be around much longer.
At least he hoped that was how it would be, because he did not like to think of the consequences if she stayed.
Chapter Nine
Sam cursed himself for the rush that went through him to hear Jackie call his name.
“Hi, Sam. Sorry I’m late, but I forgot I was going to have to hike through the woods to get here. Did you think to call and ask about my car?”
To hide his pleasure over seeing her, he was brusque. “No, I haven’t. I’ve got a farm here to run, Jackie. I don’t have the luxury of sitting back waiting for someone to mail me a nice, fat check every year.”
She stopped a
few steps from where he was feeding rope into the bundling machine. “I think you’re being unfair. I’ve tried to pull my share of the load around here, and you know it. And it hasn’t been easy, either, with you being so huffy about showing me what to do.”
He scowled. “What can you do besides get in the way and ask me to be your personal secretary? It’s not my fault you don’t have a phone. I didn’t invite you to live where you can’t have one. And don’t blame me because you didn’t have sense enough to know you needed a four-wheel-drive up here.”
She was cold, because the wind had picked up and felt as though it was cutting right through her down jacket. There was also no sunshine, because the sky was thick with gray-black clouds. She had heard on the radio that snow was forecast. She’d had second thoughts about taking off through the woods but was determined to do her part. And this was what she was going to have to work with?
Rubbing her gloved hands together, she said, “You know, for a little while there last night, I almost started thinking you were human... that we could get along. But I guess you’ve got a crappy attitude that you just can’t keep down for very long. So maybe I’ll just turn around and go home and have some hot vegetable soup I’ve got simmering on the stove and let you stand out here m your misery and freeze.”
She turned on her heel.
He yelled at her, “Get back here. You want to be a part of things? Well, that includes putting up with my attitude when I’ve got one. So here—” He threw a bundle of rope at her, which she barely managed to catch. “You’ve watched the men do this... watched me do it. So get busy. I’ve got to start loading the last of the trees.”
It was times like this Jackie wondered how she could be even remotely attracted to someone who could be so cranky. But she had only to see the shadows in his blue eyes, and the sad twitch at the corners of his lips, to know it was not the real him. This was a man haunted by the worst kind of betrayal, as well as tormented by his son’s affliction. So the way to react, she decided, was to ignore him and concentrate on what needed to be done.
She busied herself threading the bundler. She had seen it done enough times to know how. And in no time at all, the fragrant trees were gently rolling in place and being secured for their trip to market.
Sam worked nearby doing a much harder job. A late order had come in for a load of trees that could be planted after Christmas. That meant the root ball had to be bundled in burlap and secured with ropes. The trees were heavy, and he had to use a forklift to get them on the flatbed truck.
They worked in silence for a time, and then Jackie finally had to ask, “Would you mind telling me where everyone else is today? Seems funny to me there’s just the two of us.”
“Hank is down with his back, but he said he’d be here tomorrow. I’ve let the seasonal help go. There wasn’t much left to do that me and Hank can’t handle.”
“Only it’s not you and Hank,” she could not resist sarcasm. “It’s you and me.”
“Griping about a little hard work? Well, get used to it, sweetheart. It’s called the farming life.”
“I can handle it. And don’t call me sweetheart.” She changed the subject. “Where is Brian?”
“With Hank’s wife. She’s been away, visiting her mother in Asheville. I thought he’d be okay by himself the few times I left him at the house, but that’s when he was sneaking off, and I didn’t know it. It won’t happen again.”
“He seems like such a nice little boy,” Jackie said with a wave of pity. “It’s so sad he’s so troubled.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Sam said, almost angrily. “He just needs time.”
Jackie decided not to continue to broach such a touchy subject, instead gesturing to the trees she had just bundled. “These are really nice. Are there many of this kind on my land?”
She noticed he did not wince as he usually did when she made reference to her land.
“Yes, as a matter of fact there are more Frasers over there than anything else. They grow real well up here, but I’m also trying to get a good crop of balsam, Douglas and white pines going. It’s more profitable to have a variety. But the Fraser is definitely the most popular. It’s been chosen for the official White House Christmas tree eight times, more than any other variety.”
He pointed to the one he was working on. “It takes a while to get them this big, though. Twelve years to grow six to seven feet. For other varieties it might take as long as fifteen. But the average is seven.”
She had finished her work and walked over to lean against the truck to watch as he finished his. “You said something about starting seedlings soon.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that from seed m my nursery, then transplant them in about two years to field beds.”
“And I suppose you’ve got some ready to be planted where you cut this year’s harvest.”
He nodded, took a deep breath, and gave the rope he was pulling around the burlap one last, hard tug. Then he explained, “I’ve got about two thousand to set per acre, and I harvested about a hundred acres this year.”
Jackie gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of digging.”
The wind was really starting to howl, and she was fighting to keep from shivering so he wouldn’t see and make a snide remark.
Finally, however, he did notice, and he pointed to his truck and told her to get in. “I’m almost finished here. I’ll drive you home.”
She glanced worriedly at the sky. “Do you smell snow yet?”
“Nope,” he said with confidence. “Nothing to worry about. There’s still time for you to get down to the flatland before real winter sets in.”
“I have no intentions of doing that.”
“Why stay? You’ve got no reason to.”
“Excuse me?” His back was toward her, and she could not see his face to know if he was teasing. Something told her he wasn’t.
He continued working, did not turn around. “I asked why you’re staying. There’s nothing else to be done till spring.”
“You said you were going to plant seedlings.”
“That’s no big deal.”
“It is to me when I’ve never done it before. So leaving is out of the question. Besides, this is my home now.”
He straightened, shoulders heaving. Balling roots was a hard job, especially with no help. “I was hoping you’d reconsider my offer,” he said.
“Not a chance.”
He reached for his jacket, which he had tossed aside when exertion made him sweat. “It’s a generous offer. You can make a new life somewhere else.”
“I like it here.”
He chuckled. “That won’t last. Look at you—you’re shaking with cold and it’s only in the thirties. What are you going to do when the temperature drops below zero?”
Suddenly Jackie lost all patience. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sam. Give it a rest. You can’t scare me into leaving with all your tales of gloom and doom. I know the weather is going to get bad...real bad. I also know I’m living at the edge of nowhere. I can’t get pizza delivered and forget going back to bed with the Sunday paper. I know all that,” she emphasized, “and I’m prepared to accept it, because it’s the kind of life I want. Peaceful. Serene. Cozy. I’m going to spend the winter reading all the books I never had time to before and writing poetry. I’m looking forward to the solitude.
“The only thing I am not looking forward to,” she added, swallowing against angry frustration, “is your hassling me about how I won’t survive. So, read my lips—get off my back, okay?”
He held up a hand. “Hey, wait a minute. I’ve only been trying to tell you what you’re in for. I don’t want you to come crying to me when the going gets rough.”
“Oh, Sam, when have I ever cried to you? Have I asked you to fix my leaky faucet or chop firewood? No. And I won’t. I’m going to make it on my own, and it might just be with your attitude that I mean that literally come spring.”
His eyes went wide as her meaning took hold. “You’d do that? Y
ou’d really try to run your half of the farm yourself?”
“Not try,” she corrected. “I’ll do it if I have to.”
He snorted and shook his head, and, with hands on his hips stared down at her and said, “You’re real cocky, aren’t you? Think you know everything.”
“Not yet. But I will.” She glanced away. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, and the sight of his broad, thickly matted chest was making her cheeks feel warm, and she was afraid he would notice. “Now what’s on the schedule for tomorrow if it doesn’t snow tonight? Are you going to plant seeds in the nursery?”
“No. The mulch trucks are scheduled to be here.”
That was something new and she asked him to explain.
“They’re trucks with special grinding machines. We feed in all the branches we’ve trimmed off, all the trash and so forth, to make mulch. We use it for the tender trees in the field that need a little protection from winter.”
She was surprised he did not have his own grinders and said so.
He shook his head at such a preposterous idea. “A special truck like that would cost well over a hundred thousand dollars, Jackie. I hardly think there’s enough mulching to be done around here to justify that kind of expense.” He gestured to the truck. “Let’s go. You don’t have any business being out here in this wind.”
Jackie looked at him long and hard and decided in that instant that even though he was drop-dead goodlooking and, when he wanted to be, a heck of a lot of fun to be around, at that particular moment he was insufferable.
“I enjoy the wind,” she snapped. “Almost as much as I enjoy being by myself instead of with an old grump.”
She started walking toward the woods.
“Have it your way,” he called. “If you get lost, don’t come whining to me.”
She kept on going. She was probably being childish, but so what? He had let her know, in dozens of ways, that he considered her an intruder, a nuisance, and wanted to get rid of her. So why should she care what he thought?
It was a long walk back to the cabin from where she had started at the barns and sheds. Had she begun from Sam’s house, as Brian did when he slipped away, it would not be far at all. She knew because she had gone that way once out of curiosity. She told herself it wasn’t spying, although she had tarried awhile to stare at the house and marvel over how pretty it was.
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