by Leger, Lori
CHAPTER 8
Sam watched as Carrie started her car then drove out of the parking lot. How the hell had the best five minutes of his entire year turned FUBAR in a matter of seconds? Moving in a mechanical daze, he didn’t bother to put on his coat before trudging out to his truck. By the time he pulled his door closed against the rain sodden afternoon, he was soaked, cold to the bone, and disgusted with himself. His truck started with a roar, but he sat and stared out the window until his heater warmed the interior and defogged the windshield.
“Dumbass,” he muttered, gazing at his reflection in the rear view. “You couldn’t let her walk out the door and trust her?” He knew Carrie wouldn’t do anything as stupid as to take Dave back. She’d worked too damn hard for her independence. He shook his head, disappointed in his own insecurities.
Never again would he let fear from his past marriage control his tongue. Starting now, he’d put everything behind him and be a better man for the woman he…what? Loved? Did he love her? He liked her courage, her determination to have a better life, to provide her children with a chance for a better future. He admired every intelligent, sensitive, stubborn inch of her, from her glossy curls to her dimples, to her hot-pink and polished toes. He welcomed her ability to hold her own in an argument with him or anyone else, man or woman. Reveled that she didn’t back down from a challenge. But did he love her?
The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to apologize.
Sam threw his truck in gear. He’d give her an hour and a half to get back to Gardiner before calling to tell her he was sorry. That should be easy enough
***
.Swish-swash…swish-swash…swish-swash…The hypnotic rhythm of the wipers did nothing to ease the tension in Carrie’s shoulders as she hugged the steering wheel to get a better view of the roadway. Even set at the highest speed, her wipers couldn’t keep up with the torrential rain.
“Folks, if you can hear my voice, you’ll be seeing this super heavy precipitation for the rest of the afternoon and night.”
She groaned at the weatherman’s words, thinking about the shopping she needed to do before driving to Christie’s. Disappointed in the way she and Sam had ended their conversation, she drove on, feeling down and depressed. Two hours after leaving the office, she fell into the doorway of Christie’s kitchen door, kicked off her shoes, and hauled the three dripping bags of groceries to the sink to drain. She went to the bathroom and slipped out of her drenched clothes, placing them straight into the washer and starting the cycle. She pulled on a pair of dry jeans and a sweatshirt and pushed her feet into her fuzzy slippers. The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the metallic ping of raindrops hitting the aluminum covered carport. She ran to answer it, determined that if it was Sam, she’d give him a chance to explain. She answered, fully expecting to hear the deep, sexy, bass of the voice she loved.
“Hey,” she said, breathlessly.
“Where’ve you been?” a hoarse voice whispered.
She passed her hand over the curls plastered to her wet cheeks, wishing she’d remembered to pick up her umbrella this morning. “Excuse me?” she said, not quite sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard.
“Where’ve you been…Carrie?”
“Who is this?” she asked, as terror caused a tightening in her chest. “Who are you?”
“You’ll know soon enough, sweetness.”
“What do you want from me?” She waited, her breath coming in shallow, frantic puffs. In the next several seconds of jaw clenching silence, she’d almost begun to believe he’d hung up.
The voice answered, in a slow, evil sounding hiss that made her skin crawl and had her wrenching the phone away as though it scorched her.
“Everything…”
***
By eight o’clock, Sam had dialed the number at least a hundred times. Finally hearing something other than the dreaded busy signal, he waited with bated breath for the sound of her voice…any voice that could tell him if she’d made it home safely, to cut through the ringing. His imagination had gone wild, creating all kinds of tragic scenarios caused by the weather conditions and her frame of mind when she left. He’d mentally kicked his own ass seven kinds of ways since then, wondering when he’d ever learn to keep his big mouth shut.
Carrie stared at the ringing telephone. Her head throbbed, and her stomach had long ago morphed from mildly upset to a lump of dread and queasiness. She grabbed the phone off the coffee table, and gave the answer button a hesitant press. She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”
The short silence on the other end of the line finally produced a nervous clearing of a throat. “Is that you, Carrie?”
Carrie clapped her hand over her eyes. “Sam?”
“Yes, finally! And I’m a dumb son of a bitch, Carrie. I’m sorry. I know you must be tired of hearing me say that, and thinking I must be a hell of a slow learner, but if you give me one more chance, I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“Oh, God,” she said, overwhelmed with relief at the sound of his voice. She wiped a tear that trickled from the corner of her eye. “I wanted to call you back, but I washed your card in the pocket of my jeans and I couldn’t read it anymore.”
“The number’s been busy, Carrie. Did you take the phone off the—”
“He called again, Sam. And he talked to me, and the things he said to me…and I don’t know how he got this number…how’d he know I wasn’t at my old house anymore?”
“Jesus, Carr—”
“So I called the police department and they called the sheriff’s department, and just like before, it’s the prepaid cell and they don’t know who’s calling, but this time…this time he was closer, Sam. He was just ten miles away from me.”
“Oh God.”
“And I know he knows where I am…and I’m scared, Sam. There’s a cop parked outside the house but I’m still so scared.”
“God, Carrie, what can I—”
“And I washed the card with your number on it, and I tried to get it. I checked the phone directory and called information trying to find your number.”
“I’m not listed—”
“I was afraid you’d think I didn’t want to talk to you, but I did…I really d—”
“Carrie, stop,” Sam cut in. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
Something about the sound of his voice made her give in to the rush of emotions that bubbled to the surface. “Yes…No…Oh hell, I don’t know!” Tears flowed hot and heavy, down her cheeks, as she paced back and forth, trying to calm down.
Nothing helped, and before she knew it she was blubbering into the phone like a two year old.
The hammering in Sam’s chest increased as his panic level rose. “Listen to me, Carrie. Everything will be okay.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. If only he knew whose sick ass to kick for this. “Can you hear me?”
“Y..Y..es.”
“I can be there in an hour or less. I could leave this very minute.”
“I..I d..don’t know, S..Sam.”
“Let me come over, Carrie. I only want to help.” Sam paced his living room, one hand clutched at the back of his neck as the other pressed the phone close to his ear. He felt the strongest need to help her, to hold her as she cried. “How do I get there once I get into Gardiner, Carrie? Give me some directions.” His heart broke at the sound of soft sobbing.
Finally, she sputtered, “I’ll b..be o..ok..kay. M..my n..nerves are j..just shot, th..that’s all.”
He continued to speak in soothing tones. “I want to go to you, Carrie. Tell me how to get there.”
“Oh, God, this is so h..hu..m..miliating,” she stammered. “And my head is k..killing m..me.”
“Do you have any aspirin in the house? Maybe a shot of whiskey?”
“I don’t know, g..give me your number and I’ll c..call you back in awhile.”
Sam hated to end the connection with her. “Please let me go to you, Carrie.”
&nb
sp; “I c..can’t let you do that, Sam,” she said. “I’ll call you. Give me your number.”
He sighed, praying it wasn’t a line. He called out the digits then cleared his throat. “Maybe you should take your phone off the hook until you’re ready to call back.”
“You b..bet your a..ass, I will,” she told him.
He smiled at her return of spirit. “Promise you’ll call me back?”
“I p..promise, Sam.”
“Okay.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down on the counter.
Sam hoped…prayed she’d call back. God almighty, the more he got to know that lady, the more he wanted to protect her. He paced back and forth in his small living room. A room that until one week ago, held nothing but a sofa, recliner, console television set, and a space heater against one wall. Now it boasted a seven foot tall, fresh cut Christmas tree in the corner by the windows. Every pass of his body sent the smell of pine wafting through the air.
The full tree, sparsely decorated with a handful of wooden ornaments he’d scraped up and colored lights, mirrored the room, both victims of the death of a marriage.
He waited a full forty-five minutes before breaking down to call her back. By then it was nearly nine p.m.
“Hey,” she said, sounding unsure of herself.
“You sound better. Are you okay?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“You should be. You broke your promise,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m mortified at falling apart like that. I just couldn’t make myself call.”
“Don’t feel that way with me, Carrie.” He stopped pacing as silence filled the air waves. “Are you there?” His shoulders drooped in relief at the sound of her slow, but audible, exhale.
“I’m here. I swear I was fine until I heard your voice.”
“Well, hell, that can’t be good.”
“Actually, it is,” she began, sounding hesitant. “It’s like talking to my mom when I’m upset, but trying to hold it together. If I hear her voice, it’s over with…I fall apart. She makes me feel secure enough to let go.”
Another silent pause filled the airwaves as Sam let her comment sink in. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“That’s how I meant it.”
He stood in front of a grouping of various sized framed mirrors, one of the few things Linda had left when she walked out. His smile at her comment reflected back in multiples. “So, can I go to you?”
“Aw Sam…”
“Just say the word, Carrie.”
“Thanks for offering, but I can’t ask you to do that. Tomorrow is a busy day for me,” she said. “I’ve got to help my mom with some baking for Christmas Eve. I’m sure you have some last minute shopping and other things to do.”
“I’m done with my Christmas shopping,” he answered.
“No last minute food preparation?” she asked him.
Sam chuckled. “Nope. I only have the one big meal with my family on Sunday, and leftovers for lunch on Christmas Day. I’m a poor bachelor so they don’t ask me to bring anything but my bright, shining, countenance.”
“Oh, brother, you mean because you are so shamelessly spoiled by your mother and sisters, Baby Sam.”
Ever since the day she’d heard about his nickname, he’d had to put up with her merciless teasing. “I bet you look good in envy green.”
“Bright, shining, countenance, my ass,” she grumbled.
Sam chuckled. “Hey, I figure as long as they don’t ask for my incontinence, I’m okay.”
Her laughter rang out, sounding light hearted and sincere. “God, you make me laugh.”
“God makes you laugh, too?” After a moment, he heard her whispered reply.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked, wishing he could hold her face in his hands. “Take me from feeling really crappy to laughing so quickly.”
“I’m glad I could help you out.” Damn this feels right.
They stayed on the phone for another hour, learning things they hadn’t known about each other. As ten o’clock neared, Sam heard Carrie’s failed attempt to suppress a yawn.
“I’d better let you go, lady.”
“Yeah, I’m tired,” she admitted. “But your phone call saved the evening for me.”
He gave one loud ‘ahem’ to brace himself. “Here’s the thing, Carrie. I tell myself to go slow with you, so I don’t scare you off. I mean, hell, I’ve been single a lot longer than you have, and I’m ready to move on with my life. But you may not be ready yet.”
“Mentally or physically,” she added. “I’ve had three kids, two of them a set of twins…big twins. God, I was huge. My body…I’m not…I don’t look like I did the last time I dated.”
He heard the self doubt in her voice and shook his head. “God, Carrie…You think I do? Do you honestly think I don’t have all the same insecurities that you do?”
Carrie heard his question and closed her eyes, remembering how she’d wanted to bury her face in that big barrel chest of his. She could still smell his cologne. He wore Davidoff’s Cool Water, she’d bet her life on it. Oh God, I haven’t had sex in over a year.
“That long?”
Her eyes flew open at the sound of Sam’s deep voice, containing a hint of amusement. “Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.”
“Okay…You didn’t just say out loud that you haven’t had sex in over a year.”
She covered her eyes with her free hand, so thankful he couldn’t see her blush. “I have to go now.”
“Carrie, wait.”“Goodbye Sa—”
He cut off her words. “Listen to me. All I’m trying to say is that maybe we could allow ourselves the chance to be happy again.”
She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling as he continued to speak to her in low, soothing tones.
“I care about you, Carrie, and I won’t hurt you the way he did.”
His declaration sounded so heartfelt it brought tears to her eyes. Overwhelmed by her emotions again, she sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, forgetting for the moment that he couldn’t see her.
“Carrie?”
She smiled at his concern. “I’m okay, It’s just that, you make me feel special.”
“You are special.”
Several seconds passed before she could speak. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am, I aim to please.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Carrie.”
Sam dropped the phone on the sofa and walked over to the large, sparsely decorated tree. He watched the multicolored lights twinkle in the semi-darkness of his living room and wondered what Carrie would think of this place. He’d called this simple wood structure home for two decades. He’d always thought it was good enough. But would she?
He gave it a slow walk-through, taking mental notes of things he could change to make it more appealing. New carpets, paint, fancier trims, and built-ins. Would it matter to her?
He walked onto the front porch and gazed out at the houses up and down his street, most decorated and ready for Christmas. What would she think of this town? His ties were here, but hers were in Gardiner. Would she be willing to pull up roots if they ended up together? If. He didn’t want to think about the shape he’d be in if this didn’t work out.
He remembered the day J.C. caught him watching Carrie at the office. His co-worker had given him a hearty slap on the back. “You’re a goner, man. Don’t even try to deny it, it’s written all over your face.”
A noise from the vacant rent house on the corner lured him out to the end of the sidewalk. He saw the owner, and old classmate of his, struggling to unload a washer from his truck. Sam hurried over to help, arriving just as one corner of the washer tilted dangerously off the bed of the pick-up.
“I got it, Len,” he said, shifting the weight of the appliance
to his shoulder. Damn boy, next time come ask me for help before you try to do something like this.”
The small framed man peered around the corner of the washer. “Aw hell, Sam! Ten years ago I could have handled this son of a bitch by myself. Now I’m glad for the help.”
Within ten minutes the two men had both the washer and dryer placed in the home’s utility room.
Sam brushed his hands on his jeans and stepped back to look around. “You’ve got this place looking good, man. I hadn’t been in it since old man Bordelon lived here.” He squatted to pass his hand over the glossy floors. “New oak flooring in a rent house?” His low whistle pierced the air. “Business must be good.”
Len muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Those last renters had two dogs in here…big dogs…Rottweilers. I had to replace every floor in here. I figured I’ll put this in and I’ll be finished for a while.”
“Until the next dog comes along,” Sam said.
“Nope. No animals. That’s what the fenced in back yard is for.”
Sam checked out the neat three-bedroom home and turned to the other man. “Who’s my new neighbor?”
Len hooked his thumbs on the loops of his carpenter jeans. “I don’t have anyone yet. I was so disgusted at the shape of this place, I nearly sold it,” he said, releasing a deep sigh as he scanned the surroundings. “But, it was Gayle’s mom and dad’s old place.” He paused for a few seconds to clear his throat. “Before she died, she told me to hang on to it for Scott. I figured I’d rent it out and any money I make goes into my boy’s savings account.” He nodded and blinked a couple of times. “That’s a better start than I ever had.”
Sam kept quiet, leaving his friend to his thoughts. He knew Gayle had suffered for two years battling ovarian cancer, and that Len and Scott suffered every day they were forced to live without her. “We sure miss her, Sam.”
“I know you do, buddy. Makes you wonder sometimes, with all the awful people walking this earth.”
“Anyway.” Len’s voice boomed, belying his small stature, “Know anybody decent who needs a rent house?”
