Well, she’d met a man all right. And look how that had turned out. She’d imagined him a gift, but considering the mess she’d been in when she’d first returned to Beaufort, she should have hunted up girlfriends. Sure, some of the younger women had tried to befriend her, but it had felt like too much work to fit into the happy-ever-after world of Tadie and Hannah and all those others.
She really hadn’t given them a chance, had she? Not after Jack had shown up, grinning past those shades of his. She’d told herself the women were at a different place in their lives, half a generation behind her. Maybe if she lived in town, instead of isolated here at South River, making friends with them would have been easier.
She closed the lid to her case and headed to the shower. Turning on the exhaust fan, she undressed with her back to the mirror. She didn’t want to see the cheekbones exaggerated from weight loss or the dark circles under newly sunken eyes. She’d had the same look before, hadn’t she, bony protrusions once softened by flesh? Then, her body had been unloved, untouched by her husband for more than a year. She remembered a time in the spring before he said good-bye when he’d turned away, limp and useless. She’d chalked up that failure to overwork and stress—she’d even felt compassion for him. What a fool she’d been. It had been overwork all right. He’d been overworked by Gail’s young and very voluptuous body.
Now, guilt and regret were the culprits that stole Sam’s peace, the things that devoured both belly and breasts. Her legs and arms would be next. Anorexia of the soul.
She slumped over the sink. It was a long time before her shaking fingers found the shower spigot and longer still before the sound of splashing water became the only noise that echoed off the tile walls.
Morning dawned and, with it, a profound melancholy. The ties to Sussex, once so exhilarating, had become shackles. No more tears. No more weeping. It was time.
She said her house good-byes while she sipped a strong latte. With her palm pressed against the back-door screen, she stared out over the river. A gull dipped and cawed. A fish jumped. She bit her lip and turned, closing the door, locking it. For a moment, she stood there, her forehead touching the glass panel, one hand clutching her mug, the other still on the lock.
Greg’s demands had forced her departure from Raleigh and from the marriage he’d discarded. This time? This time it was her own gotta-haves.
That thought brought on the shakes, her too frequent companion these days. She leaned her forehead against the door frame and repeated the litany she’d memorized: You can, you must, you can, you must.
Jack kept calling with messages that said the same thing: “Sam, where are you? I miss you.” Next, “Sam, it’s looking good for my return on Sunday. Why don’t we sail?” And this morning, “Remember, I love you.”
Love? Hah!
Well, she wouldn’t be here to open the door when Jack knocked. Never again would she open her door to him.
You can, you must.
A knock at the front startled her. “Back here,” she called as Tootie waltzed in, flashing her bright hair and her wild-child clothes, her dangly earrings and lavishly painted mouth, today a burnt orange.
What a fortunate day it had been when Tootie’s Aunt Ruth had recommended her to Sam as an assistant for the Beaufort Samantha’s. “Child’s real name is Mathilde,” Ruth had said while showing Sam the space that would become her new shop. “Maybe it was my son—or one of his friends—who first called her by that ridiculous nickname, but there you go. It stuck.” Ruth, the realtor, had also found Sam’s cottage. And reintroduced Sam to the contractor who would make it livable. Sam’s old childhood buddy, Jack Waters.
Sam batted away that last thought. Enough.
Tootie was an elf on steroids: hair that changed color on a whim, earrings that dangled past her chin, clothes in hues that popped, all in a package that included a love of literature, an ability to set up shop windows and shop shelves that invited customers to browse and buy, and a personality that won converts to friendship in this otherwise staid town.
“All ready?” Tootie’s grins lighted her whole body, reminding Sam of a mongrel the twins had owned, who’d wiggled, loose-jointed from head to tail, at Daniel’s call or Stefi’s laugh. Not that Tootie wiggled, of course.
Sam sighed. Jack said that people who were always happy must have a few screws loose.
That showed what he knew. Tootie had her screws set perfectly.
Sam pasted on a smile as she rolled her big suitcase toward the door. “Here I come.”
“Let me get that,” Tootie said, reaching to help.
Sam waved her away. “You can practice setting the alarm and locking up.”
Her gaze swept over her small acre with one final, lingering look at the cliff steps. Then she climbed in the passenger side and concentrated on arranging her purse at her feet, on fastening her seat belt. She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to leave if she had to see her little sailboat again.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Tootie started the car, nodding toward the house. “All of it. You just concentrate on having fun.”
Fun? If only.
“I know you’ll do fine,” Sam said. And she’d be free. Or, at least, on her way toward freedom.
Gravel crunched under the car’s tires. Sam angled toward the window, ignoring tears that slipped down her cheeks and dripped off her jaw.
Neither spoke until Highway 101 met 70-West in Havelock. Then Tootie said, “It’ll be fine. Everything, Alice, the shop, your house. You’ve taught me so much. And, yes, I remember all you showed me yesterday, the electrical panel, the hot water heater, the furnace.”
Sam pulled a tissue from her blazer pocket and swiped at her damp cheeks before blowing her nose. “That’s a lot of responsibility I’m heaping on you.”
“Sam, listen to yourself. You’re letting me live in your wonderful cottage, letting Holland take me sailing in your beautiful Alice, which, by the way, he’s dying to work on, so you don’t need to worry about a thing there. And you’re trusting me with the shop. You’re doing me a huge favor.”
“It doesn’t feel like that from here.”
“Pooh.” As a few drops of rain hit the windshield, Tootie hunched over the wheel to peer up at the sky. “Was it supposed to do this today?”
“I didn’t think so. Maybe it will quit soon.”
“I hope.” Tootie flicked on the headlights and the wipers. “I told you Jenny’s opening this morning, didn’t I?”
Ah, business. Good, a distraction. “You still think she’ll work out?”
“I do.”
“I hope she understands you’re the one in charge.”
“You made that plain. We won’t have any trouble.” Tootie shot her a big-toothed smile. “Besides, if she gives me any grief, I’ll just sic Holland on her.”
“That’s what I told Rhea. What an image.”
Tootie steered the Volvo toward Raleigh and asked, as if she’d just thought of it, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you all the way? I could, you know. It’s not that far.”
“No. It’s time you met Rhea face to face, and I have some papers to give her. She lives this side of town, anyway.”
Rain streamed down the side windows. Sam willed it to stop before she had to change cars, but the splat-patter continued. The wipers swooshed to the right, to the left, and back again in a grating rhythm that sometimes missed a beat when a blade stuck on the glass. A passing car sprayed a fan of water, momentarily blinding them.
“What’s with these guys?” Tootie asked. “Haven’t they heard of oil slicks?”
Sam didn’t comment. She could barely see the highway, and Tootie’s posture made it clear that the girl was nervous, especially when cars zoomed past in this fast zone. But the Volvo held steady.
As they approached the by-pass around Smithfield, she directed Tootie toward the exit leading to the outlet mall and then to a parking lot on the west side. “Rhea will meet us here.”
Her stomach felt fluttery from too much caffeine. Or too much fear.
She hated the way she was doing this, leaving the world she’d created and heading off like an escapee instead of a woman on the brink of adventure. She shut her eyes again, just for a moment, and tried to conjure the image of a Tuscany landscape that had hung for so long in the Raleigh house as a focal point for dreams. Then, she’d imagined traveling as one of four. Not this way, the mama running off to visit her daughter because she had to go somewhere.
Mama, the mess. Mama, the….no, she wouldn’t even think that word.
“Here?” Tootie asked, rousing her.
“That’s fine. Rhea should be along soon.”
Tootie shifted into park and left the engine running. Reaching into the backseat, she produced a book. “I got you this to read on the plane.”
Sam studied the blurb. “Another Theo Anderson mystery. And how very apropos, with his heroine Sophrina sleuthing in the Apennines.” She pulled the girl into a quick hug. “Thank you so much. You know I enjoy your uncle’s stories.” She tucked it away in her shoulder bag with her getaway stash: her ticket, credit cards, Euros, passport, and antiquated cell phone, which wouldn’t work once she left the States.
“I wrote Uncle Teddy’s phone number in the back, in case you get a chance to call him. I already told him Stefi’s in Italy, because, you know, I thought he might help her. Make her more comfortable, having sort of a relation there. I mean, my relation, not hers, and she doesn’t know him, but she knows me, sort of, anyway. Through you. And Uncle Teddy’s great. I know he’d like to meet you both.”
“Thank you,” Sam repeated, scanning the parking lot for Rhea’s car. All she could think about was escape, not making nice with anyone, even Tootie’s uncle. “I don’t know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, but thank you. If nothing else, I’m sure Stefi will be glad of another contact.”
“I’m going to miss you, Sam. You will be back in time for the wedding, won’t you?”
“You said Christmas.”
“Doesn’t that sound wonderful? All the lights, the trees. It’s such a perfect time of year.”
“It is. Absolutely perfect.” She touched the young woman’s hand as it lay between them. Tootie’s turned and squeezed.
“Rhea promised to be here for you,” Sam said, drawing back. “Anything you need to know. I’d never have made it without Rhea. She’s a darling. You both are.”
And on that, Rhea’s blue van circled, looking for them. “There she is,” Sam said. “Blink your lights.”
“She saw us. Now you stay here while I get my umbrella.”
“I’m not going to have you get wet!”
“Don’t worry. I can change clothes. You can’t.”
Between them, Tootie and Rhea managed to transfer Sam and the suitcase with only a few splashes on each. “Yes, I know.” Tootie held the umbrella over Sam. “Stop worrying. I’ll e-mail you with details, and you’ll call me.” She leaned in around Sam. “Glad to have met you, Rhea. And thank you so much for offering to help me. I’ll need it.”
“Not a problem. I imagine Sam’s taught you like she taught me, so don’t you be worrying your pretty head about the shop. I’ll only be a phone call away, and you and me can get to know each other, hear?”
“Thank you, thank you!”
Sam put a steadying hand on Tootie’s. “Get out of the rain. And drive safely back to Beaufort.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tootie started to shut the door. “Will you please get a phone over there?”
“Fine, fine. Now, go.”
The door closed. Sam blew her a kiss through the window, and Tootie blew one back, mouthing, “I love you.”
As her one link to Beaufort splashed out of the parking lot, Sam took a clean tissue and dried the rain from her face, but the wet continued to form in her eyes. “I’m sorry to have dragged you out in this mess. I should have flown from Simmons-Nott Airport.”
“Where’s that?”
“Oh, right.” Sam smiled as she remembered her grandaddy’s obsession with New Bern history. “You probably know it as Coastal Carolina Regional, but my grandaddy knew the Simmons family and how the senator had honored Lt. Nott, a Marine pilot who’d been killed at the time Senator Simmons was dedicating the airport. Grandaddy insisted we call it by its original name.”
“Well, honey, I needed to clap eyes on you again before you take off.” Rhea pointed the car west.
“Sorry it had to be like this.”
Rhea tapped the steering wheel with her long fingers. “You got no cause to be sorry. You’re doing the right thing.”
Sam eyed the milk-chocolate profile, with its fine nose, round puffy lips, and crinkly black hair pulled back so it stuck out like a fuzz ball from the bright red clip that corralled it. The clip matched the shirt peeking from under a tan raincoat and was just a shade darker than Rhea’s lips and fingernails. The tug on Sam’s heart tightened. Rhea’d been her best friend as well as her employee for so many years that the thought of not being near enough to hear Rhea’s laugh whenever she wanted just plain hurt.
“You seen him again?” Rhea asked, with a quick glance Sam’s way.
“Jack?” Sam eased a deep breath between her teeth, slowly so it wouldn’t whistle. “No,” she said. “It’s why I’m leaving today, so I won’t be there when he shows up.”
“Good. Only thing to do, girlfriend. You know that.”
The memories, images she’d never be able to erase, brought a shudder. Sam slammed shut her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek.
After passing a lumbering truck, Rhea eased her van into the right lane again. The traffic was heavier the closer they got to the sprawl of the Triangle, but at least the rain seemed to be easing.
If Sam rode too long with her eyes closed, the bile would rise in her throat. Focusing ahead, she concentrated on the slower pace of the wiper blades and the hum of the tires on the wet road.
Rhea hit the turn signal and exited toward RDU Airport. “You won’t believe who came into the shop yesterday.” Straightening off the turn, she didn’t wait for Sam’s response. “Your ex. With her.”
Sam felt the wince in more than her eyes but tried not to let it show, because wasn’t she supposed to be over that one? One mess down, one to go?
“Have you seen them since Daniel’s wedding?” Rhea glanced over at Sam with a martial gleam in her eye that would have boded ill for Gail if she’d been there.
Sam almost smiled, until the image of Gail sashaying down the aisle in that miniskirt flashed front and center. Gail, entering the front pew with Greg, sliding past Stefi, pretending she cared about Sam’s grown-up boy and girl. “No, but I sure remember the diamond she flashed at Stefi.”
“You mean, at you.”
“Did I tell you she said she’d bought the suit because Greg was taking her to Italy?”
Rhea snorted. “Not now, I hope?”
“No. Daniel says they’ve gone and come back.”
“But I bet you hated hearing that, him taking her on your trip.”
“When she said it, I wanted to claw both their eyes out. Now?” Sam pictured the curvy Gail, whose melons pushed out the front of her too-tight tops while Sam was blessed with barely-theres. Gail swished when she walked and fluttered her lashes to make a point—whatever that point was. “You know what?” Sam said. “I’m almost glad she has him. So I don’t have to.”
Rhea loosed a laugh that sounded like a bark. “I kept my eye on her as she circled the aisles of the shop, oohing and ahhing, but she did buy a couple of mugs, picked those two with that blue-brown glaze we both like.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Anyway, while I was packing them up, Greg leaned over, whispered to ask how you’re doing.”
“And?”
“I told him you were great, happy and fine. Best not let him know differently.”
Sam grunted. “Absolutely not. And I will be.”
“That’s true. You will b
e. You’re a whole lot better off without that sleazebag—or the one who followed.” Rhea squinted in her rearview mirror. “Oh, glory, now what?” And she hit the signal to pull off to the side, but the state trooper’s car dashed on past. “Thought he mighta been bored enough to stop me, speeding or not.”
“Men.” Sam didn’t hide her disgust.
Rhea laughed. “Bound to be a good one or two out there someplace, but they sure haven’t come our way, have they?”
“Afraid not.” Her thoughts wandered again to her ex-husband’s leave-taking. “Did I ever tell you what Greg’s parting words were? That he’d never loved me?”
“Girl, he didn’t say that!” Rhea shot her a look of disbelief. “Never loved you? That’s not what it seemed like before. Greg may be a creep now, but he wasn’t always. Was he?”
“I didn’t think so,” Sam admitted. “We had fun in the beginning, when the twins were young. But you knew that Gail wasn’t his first affair. Or even his second.”
“Did I?”
“Spilt milk.” She leaned toward the cold window, longing to pound her head against the glass, as if self-inflicted pain might ease her now.
Ridiculous. Hair-shirts never worked, except perhaps to make the wearer itch. They certainly didn’t expiate sin.
“Cheating and lying, like my ex,” Rhea said. “Found out last week, Bry’s got two babies other than my girl.”
“No!”
Rhea nodded. “The mama of number two came calling last Wednesday night, looking for Bry, who hasn’t lived with us goin’ on three years now. So how come she’s searching for him there? The man hasn’t changed his colors, not a whit,” she said. “I know we gotta forgive them, but it’s hard.”
“Especially when your sweet baby’s bound to want her daddy,” Sam said. “When did she see him last?”
“Considering he’s been dodging support payments these last years? Not since she was two.”
Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4) Page 3