A Piece of Texas Trilogy

by Peggy Moreland

  “If you know a remote road we can use.”

  “Out by the lake. There’s millions out there and people hardly ever use ’em.”

  “The lake it is, then,” Sam said, then glanced at Craig. “Unless you still want that shake.”

  “Heck no! I want to drive!”

  With Craig serving as his navigational director, Sam located a remote country road perfect for giving a teenager his first turn behind the wheel.

  After pulling onto the shoulder and switching off the ignition, he said to Craig, “Okay. So tell me how much experience you’ve had at driving.”

  Craig scrunched up his nose. “Not much. Aunt Leah has let me drive her SUV a couple of times.”

  “Then you know the basics. Accelerator, brake, that kind of thing?”

  “Yeah.” Craig studied the controls on the dash behind the steering wheel. “Everything looks pretty much the same as on Aunt Leah’s.”

  Sam opened his door. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

  While he rounded the hood, Craig climbed over the console and dropped down behind the wheel. By the time Sam settled into the passenger seat, Craig had touched and tested every dial on the dash, including the radio.

  Grimacing, Sam turned down the volume. “You’ll need to adjust the seat,” he instructed. “Controls are on the left-hand side. Push the longest to move the seat forward or back. The shortest up or down to adjust the seat’s height.”

  “Right.” His forehead pleated in concentration, Craig pressed a button. The seat moved forward a couple of inches, then stopped, and the motor began to grind.

  He yanked his hand off the button and looked at Sam in alarm. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Amused by the kid’s fear, he shook his head. “Probably something caught on the glide blocking it and keeping the seat from moving. Reach underneath and see if you feel anything.”

  Craig groped a minute, then shook his head. “Can’t reach that far.”

  “Then you’re going to have to get out and look.”

  Craig opened the door, hopped down, then bent over and peered beneath the seat.

  “I see something,” he said and stuck his arm under the seat, straining to reach it. “Got it!” he exclaimed and pulled out a metal box.

  Sam swallowed a groan when he saw the olive-green box, with Property of Sam Forrester, U.S.

  Army, Special Forces emblazoned across the lid.

  “What’s this?” Craig asked in puzzlement.

  Sam stretched across the seat and snatched the box from the boy’s hand. “Just some old papers,” he said vaguely and stuffed the box under the passenger seat and out of sight.

  Frowning, Craig climbed back into the truck and shut the door.

  Sam pasted on a smile. “Okay, hot rod. Give her a whirl.”

  Craig turned the key, starting the engine. He started to pull down the gearshift, but dropped his hand and turned to look at Sam. “You’re in the Army, aren’t you?”

  Sam silently cursed his own stupidity for not remembering that he’d stuck the box with his paperwork beneath the seat. “Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “Does Aunt Leah know?”

  He shook his head. “I thought it best not to mention it, considering how she feels about the military.”

  “She’s going to be majorly P.O.’d when she finds out.”

  Sam heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I know.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “Listen, Craig. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything about this. I’d prefer to tell her myself.”

  “Why’d you lie to her in the first place?”

  “I didn’t lie,” Sam said defensively. When Craig merely looked at him, he scowled. “I didn’t lie,” he said stubbornly. “I just didn’t tell her the whole truth.”

  “Which is…?” Craig prodded.

  Sam gave him a long look, knowing he was going to have to tell the kid the whole story. How could he do any less when he’d been preaching truth and honesty to the kid?

  “I’m not a mechanic,” he admitted. “At least not professionally. I’m a lieutenant in the United States Army, currently assigned to Special Forces.”

  Craig’s eyes rounded. “You’re a Green Beret?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He peered at Craig closely. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Heck, no. Green Berets are awesome. They’re like superninjas. They can do anything.”

  Chuckling, Sam shook his head. “Not quite everything.”

  “Aunt Leah’s gonna blow a gasket, though. She hates the Army.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Sam said miserably.

  “So when are you going to tell her?”

  Sam turned his face to the passenger window. “Soon,” he promised. “Just waiting on the right time.”

  “I’ll go with you to tell her if you want.”

  Sam glanced at the kid, surprised by the offer. “You’d do that?”

  Craig shrugged. “Only fair. You went to the principal’s office with me.”

  Leah grabbed Craig’s face and held it between her hands. “Just look at you! You cut off all your hair!”

  Scowling, he wriggled free. “Yeah. Mom took me to the barbershop yesterday. Guess what?” he said, his face brightening.

  “What?”

  “I drove Sam’s truck.”

  “You what?” she cried, then looked at Sam for confirmation.

  He shrugged. “Country road. No traffic. It was safe.”

  “And I didn’t wreck it or anything,” Craig said proudly.

  Leah sputtered a laugh. “Well, thank heaven for that.”

  He turned to Sam, his face flushed with excitement. “How long before you think the Mustang’s ready to drive?”

  “Couple of days. By the weekend at the latest.”

  Leah’s stomach knotted, realizing what that meant. Once the Mustang was finished, there would be no reason for Sam to stay.

  Numbed by the thought, she turned away. “I don’t know that you’re ready for the Mustang just yet,” she said to Craig.

  “Sure I am! Tell her, Sam. I drove really good, didn’t I?”

  Chuckling, Sam ruffled Craig’s hair. “Yeah, you did good.”

  “What’d I tell you?” Craig said to Leah. “And if I can handle Sam’s big truck, the Mustang oughta be a piece of cake.”

  “We’ll see,” she said vaguely.

  The familiar beep-beep of Patrice’s car horn sounded from outside. “There’s your mom,” she said to Craig. “Hurry and get your things.”

  Craig scooped his backpack from the kitchen table and raced for the door. “Wait till I tell her I drove Sam’s truck. She’s gonna flip out for sure!”

  The back door slammed behind Craig, leaving Leah and Sam alone in the kitchen.

  Though Leah wanted to put her head down and weep at the thought of Sam leaving, she pasted on a cheerful smile. “Well, you certainly made his day.”

  Sam lifted a shoulder. “He deserved a treat for cutting off that mop of hair.”

  “Were you behind that, too?”

  He shrugged again. “I might’ve planted the seed.”

  “You’ve been a tremendous influence on him. I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “No thanks needed. He’s a good kid.”

  Afraid if she didn’t do something she would drop to her knees and beg him to stay, she opened the dishwasher door and began unloading the clean dishes. “Did you see his face when he left? I haven’t seen him that excited or happy in ages.”

  “Doesn’t take much to make a kid happy.”

  She stretched to place a stack of plates in the cupboard. “He used to be such a happy guy. Laughing all the time. I’d forgotten what it was like to see him smile.”

  “Leah—”

  Something in his voice told her she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, and she cut him off. “I can’t believe you’re almost finished with the Mustang.”

  “Still needs to be painted. You’
ll have to find someone local to do that for you. Leah, I need to—”

  She closed the dishwasher door and turned for the refrigerator. “I’ll bet your hungry. I know I am. I think there’s some salad left from last night. I could toss in some grilled chicken and maybe some feta cheese—”

  He caught her arm and turned her around, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Leah,” he said firmly. “We need to talk.”

  His expression was so somber, his tone so serious, she wanted to clap her hands over her ears to keep from hearing whatever it was he wanted to say.

  Instead she sat down at the table. “If it’s about you leaving…” she began, hoping that broaching the subject herself would take some of the sting out of him saying it.

  He shook his head and took the seat opposite hers. “No. It isn’t that.”

  She looked at him in puzzlement. “Is something wrong?”

  “Would you do me a favor?” He stretched out a hand. “Would you hold my hand?”

  She laughed nervously. “Sam, you’re scaring me. What’s this all about?”

  “Just hold my hand. Please.”

  Gulping, she placed her hand over his palm.

  He curved his fingers around hers, gripped them tightly. “I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

  Stunned, she tried to pull her hand free, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let her go.

  “Please, hear me out.”

  She jutted her chin, knowing she had no other choice. “All right.”

  “I’m not a mechanic.”

  She stared, then laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re a mechanic! I’ve seen you work on the car.”

  “You don’t have to be a mechanic to know how to fix a car.”

  Her smile slowly faded and she searched his face, waiting for him to laugh, to tell her he was pulling her leg, that this was all some huge joke. But his expression remained somber, his blue eyes steady on hers.

  “But…why?” she asked. “Why would you lie?”

  He lowered his gaze and stroked a thumb across the back of her hand. “Because I knew you’d send me packing if you knew who I really am.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “You’re not Sam Forrester?”

  His lips curved in a wan smile. “Sam I am. It’s the rest I kept from you.”

  Her mind whirled with questions, a thousand possibilities, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice a single one.

  “If you’ll remember, I told you I had taken a sabbatical, to consider a career change.”

  “Is that what this is about?” she asked hopefully. “You’ve decided what you want to do?”

  He shook his head. “To be honest, I’ve been so caught up in your life I haven’t given much thought to my own.”

  Guilt stabbed at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into my family’s problems.”

  “I’m not sorry. In fact, I’ve enjoyed being here with you. Getting to know you and Craig. The thing is, Leah, I don’t want to leave.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  He grasped her hand between both of his. “I told you I was from Lampasas, and that’s true…to an extent. Lampasas is where I grew up, but I don’t have a home there.” He snorted a wry breath. “Hell, I don’t have a home at all, which is one of the reasons I took the sabbatical.”

  His expression softened and he gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Then I met you. I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but I’ve grown to…care for you and I’d like the chance to play that out, see where it leads.”

  Leah swallowed hard, unsure how much of her own feelings to reveal. “I’d like that, too.”

  He lowered his gaze to their joined hands, tapped his thumb against hers. “There’s just one problem. More than one, really.”

  “If it’s because I’m so obsessive about everything—” she said quickly, fearing that was the reason behind his reluctance to make a commitment.

  He shook his head. “No. I can live with your anal-yzing.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I’ve looked death in the face more times than I care to think about, but I’ve never been as scared as I am right now.”

  Aware of the tremble in his hands, the uncertainty that shadowed his eyes, she didn’t doubt for a second that what he said was true. “I don’t understand. What is there to be scared of?”

  “Losing you.”

  “Oh, Sam,” she said, her heart melting. “Why would you think you could lose me?”

  “Because I’m a soldier.”

  She froze, praying that she had misunderstood. “Did you say…soldier?”

  At his nod, she shot to her feet, this time succeeding in pulling her hand from his. “No,” she said, backing away. “No. No. No.”

  He stood and reached for her. “Leah.”

  She jerked away. “No! I won’t go through this again. I can’t.”

  “Leah, please.”

  “No!” she cried. “I lost my father and brother. I won’t go through that again. I can’t. The waiting, the worrying. Fearing that every time the doorbell rings it’s a chaplain coming to deliver bad news.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I won’t. Not even for you.”

  Sam stuffed his spare boots into the duffel, zipped the bag closed, then reared back and hurled the duffel against the door. He was mad. Good and damn mad. And, as the old saying went, he was getting the hell out of Dodge.

  He’d known going in what Leah’s reaction would be when he told her what he did for a living…but knowing how she’d react and living the experience were two entirely different matters.

  She had hurt him, dammit. For the first time in his life he’d offered a woman his heart, and she’d drop-kicked it back into his face.

  And all because he was a soldier, a man who loved his country, was willing to fight for it, lay down his life in the name of freedom.

  Well, to hell with her, he told himself as he stormed to the bathroom to collect his shaving kit. If she wanted to live the rest of her days in fear of what might happen, so be it. He wasn’t going to sit around crying in his beer over a woman who’d allow a tragic past to twist her up so much emotionally she was afraid to live.

  To hell with her, he thought again. There were other fish in the sea. Leah Kittrell wasn’t the only single woman left in the world.

  Groaning, he sagged down on the bed and dropped his face to his hands. Who was he trying to kid? he asked himself miserably. She may not be the only woman left in the world, but she was the only one who mattered to him.

  With a sigh, he dragged his hands down his face and braced his arms on his thighs, trying to think what to do. Attempting to talk to her again would be a waste of time. No amount of reasoning was going to change her feelings about the military. She’d spent too many years building her wall of resentment for him to have a hope of knocking it down in the time he had left.

  Four days and he had to report back to headquarters. And he had only a day, two at the most, of work left to do on the car. Not enough time to undo all the damage losing her family had done to her.

  But he could keep his end of their agreement, he told himself. He’d finish the car, thus fulfilling her brother’s promise to Craig.

  Rising, he crossed to his duffel and picked it up.

  But in return, Leah was going to help him fulfill a promise.

  The one he’d made to Mack.

  The sun was barely up when Sam lifted the hood of the Mustang and began work on the engine. He’d been at it for nearly two hours when he heard the kitchen door open and knew it was Leah leaving for work.

  He’d thought she would ignore him, climb into her SUV and drive away without acknowledging his presence.

  Instead she marched straight toward him.

  “You don’t need to concern yourself with the car any longer,” she said coolly. “I’ll find someone else to finish the job.”

  If she’d slapped him, she couldn’t have hurt him any more.

  He straight
ened to face her. “You said you wanted to fulfill your brother’s promise to restore the Mustang for Craig and hired me for the job. I finish what I start. And I intend to see that your brother’s promise is met.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it with a click of teeth and spun away.

  Sam grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “You never asked me why I came here.”

  She snatched free, her eyes snapping with anger. “And listen to another lie? Sorry. I’ve heard all the lies I want to hear from you.”

  He bit down on his temper, determined to tell her whether she wanted to hear it or not. “I came at the request of a friend. His wife’s father served with yours in Vietnam.”

  She jerked up her chin. “I don’t care why you came. Your leaving is all that interests me.”

  “Then I can put your mind at rest. I’ll be pulling out as soon as I finish the car. But I’m taking something with me, when I go.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “W-what?”

  “I promised Mack I’d get the information he wanted. His wife has a torn piece of paper her father sent her mother while he was in Vietnam. Addy thinks your father might have sent your mother a similar piece.”

  She sucked in a shocked breath at the mention of Addy’s name. “Addy McGruder?”

  “Yeah, the lady you refused to talk to on the phone, the one whose letters you never answered. Unlike you, she cares about her father and wants to resolve the mystery surrounding his life.”

  She flinched at the accusation, then jutted her chin. “I was two years old when my father was in Vietnam, too young to read whatever letters he sent my mother.”

  “That may be, but your mother read them. Probably kept them, too. Addy says the pieces of paper, when combined, might have some value. She doesn’t care about the money. She only wants to add another piece to the puzzle in hopes of discovering what it was her father went to such lengths to see that she received.”

  She hesitated a moment, and he was sure that she was going to agree to give him the information he needed.

  Instead she turned for her car.

  “Tell your friend I’m sorry,” she called over her shoulder, “but I can’t help her.”

  He swore under his breath at her stubbornness, then shouted, “Can’t or won’t?”