“My humble thanks.” Teo bowed his head, but his grin didn’t look the least bit humble.
No, he looked like he was soaking up the praise. Happy to slather more on, Sam continued. “You keep me guessing right to the end. In Alpine Trumps, I was sure Evangeline had done it, and then when it turned out to be that meek little Rufus Becker, I was stunned.” Her raised palm stopped any comment. “Oh, only at first. You did a great job of making me say, ‘Of course, it couldn’t have been anyone else.’” She gave him a satisfied smile. “So, you see, you did exactly what you were supposed to do, and very cleverly. And that Sophrina. Great fun.”
“Thank you,” Teo said. “I rather like her myself.”
“I, too,” Martine said. “I’m afraid my dear Tonio is waiting for the Italian translation of your books.”
“I speak some English very imperfectly,” Tonio agreed, “but these days, the reading of it tires me.” To Teo, “I used to, but now?” He shook his head.
Teo waved a hand. “Please, don’t even think about it. I write purely for the fun of it, and there are many wonderful Italian writers who will serve as well. Or better.”
Tonio inclined his head.
Sam shifted the focus. “I, for one, don’t know how you manage to write so well from a woman’s point of view.”
“It is true,” Martine said. “You do, Teo, and that is not usual.”
Sam finished the thought. “Your stories make me grin, which doesn’t usually happen in a mystery. Besides, as promised, no gore.”
Teo’s eyes lit.
“I hate it when writers think I want to visualize every wound or bit of blood in horrific detail.”
“It is the same for me,” Martine said. “Graphic descriptions do not please.”
“No, cara,” Tonio said, smiling and pointing to the wine.
Sam caught the affectionate glance between Tonio and Martine, along with a sparkle that seemed quite a bit more than mere affection. The yearning for her own bit of sparkle—healthy, happy sparkle—slammed into Sam, and she hid behind closed lids until the moment passed.
The rain had fizzled to nothing by the end of dinner. Sated and mesmerized by the play of headlights on puddles, Sam leaned against the headrest as Teo drove the winding roads to Reggio. The next thing she knew, he had parked at the curb in front of the pensione. She rubbed her eyes.
“Did you have a nice nap?”
“I did.”
He reached for his door handle.
She stopped him. “No, please. Don’t bother to get out.”
“I like to bother.” His hand touched hers lightly before he withdrew it. “I just wish the evening didn’t have to end.”
“I know. But I think it should.”
“Samantha?”
“Yes?”
He shifted in the seat. “Is there another man in your life?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I think you like me, and I know I like you, but I hesitate. Perhaps neither of us is ready for more?”
She clasped her fingers tightly together and stared at the dark shadows in the street beyond the lamplight. “No.”
“Then there’s no one else?”
“Not now.”
“But there was. I mean, since your husband.” He paused. “Jack?”
Sam’s exhale echoed in the silent car. Tootie again.
“I met him in the shop,” Teo said. “He seemed inordinately interested in your whereabouts.”
“I came here to get over him.”
“Ah...”
His monosyllable elicited a slight smile. “Ah, as in, you’re not certain if you should ask anything more? Or you’re wondering, now what?”
“Both,” he said. “I’d like to ask, but should I? Will I want to know the answer? I doubt it.”
“It’s a little cold to sit here and talk, don’t you think?”
“I am sorry. Would you like to go somewhere else?”
Exhaustion, brought on by the mere mention of her past, claimed her. “What I’d like, if you don’t mind, is to go in and take a hot bath—or at least as much of a bath as I can muster—and go to bed. Perhaps, if you truly want to know the unhappy history of my love life, we can meet sometime tomorrow.”
“Coffee at eleven?”
“At Le Stelle.”
21
Samantha
Time has a way of galloping when what we do is fun.
It passes slower than a snail’s pace,
Leaving a gooey snail’s trail,
When what we do is wrong.
Patterns of shadow flickered against the far wall. Sam climbed out of bed and padded to the basin, wincing at the mirrored reflection of straggly hair and baggy eyes.
Teo ought to see her now. He’d hop in that fancy car of his and never be heard from again.
She hadn’t bothered with a bath the night before, so she raised the bathroom temperature with a portable heater, wet and lathered herself, and decided to go ahead and wash her lank hair, eking out the last drop of warm water as she finished. Never again would she take hot water for granted. A deep, steaming bath had begun to look like a remnant from paradise.
The bar was almost empty when she arrived a few minutes before eleven. A couple of old men sipped espressos. Another already held a glass of red wine. The bartender’s wife stooped to add pastries to the case.
“Buon giorno,” Sam said to the room in general.
“Buon giorno,” the room chorused.
Teo pushed open the door behind her and doffed his sunglasses with a wave to the bartender. More good-days followed.
“An espresso?” he asked. At her nod, he ordered two and escorted her to a table.
The bartender delivered the coffees. While Sam stirred in sugar and powdered creamer, Teo stared out at the sea. “Is it okay?” he asked when she finally took a sip.
“Fine, thanks.”
“You know, you don’t owe me anything. Certainly not an explanation. It’s none of my business.”
Her smile faltered. “I know.”
“I shouldn’t have brought up the subject last night. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s okay. Maybe talking about it will do me good.”
He waited.
“Don’t you think so?” As soon as she asked the question, heat hit her cheeks. Why did she care what he thought, what he wanted? She longed for a hole in the bar’s floor big enough to crawl into and disappear.
“Only if you feel comfortable enough to tell me.” He extended those long fingers across the table.
She stared at them, his fingers resting on the table, relaxed, so different from her curled ones. She had to speak, say something.
Or walk out and pretend they’d never met.
“I’ll never feel comfortable about what happened. Comfort’s not the issue.” She closed her eyes, pressed middle fingers to her temples, and sucked in a deep breath. Okay. Better he know and run now than find out later.
“Let’s talk about something else,” he said gently. “Have you heard from either of your children?”
“No. Yes—no. I mean... You met Jack,” she blurted, rushing her fences. “The thing is, he was my best friend from the time I was seven. We lived next door to each other.” She could see it, see their small houses, side by side, the sound close, the river closer. “He taught me so much. I always loved him.”
“But you didn’t marry him.”
“No, it was never like that. We were buddies. I mean, sure, I’d hoped for more when we were teens, but he saw me only as a tag-along kid, the neighborhood tomboy. You know, the one he took fishing and boating, the one he taught to sail, that kind of thing. He married the girl with the boobs.” She stopped suddenly, and her hands flew to her face. “Did I actually say that?”
Teo’s grin widened. “I believe you did.”
Sam ducked her head, took several quick breaths, and looked up, struggling for a shred, a remnant even, of dignity. He shouldn’t laugh. It
really wasn’t funny.
She sat a little straighter and, with as much pride as she could muster and with a wave of her hand, said, “Whatever.”
Teo doused the grin and leaned back in his chair.
“So, anyway, Jack and I lost track of each other over the years until after Greg left. When I moved back to Beaufort and Ruth Bonner recommended a contractor to redo the cottage I’d bought, it turned out to be Jack. I’d had no idea he even lived in the Beaufort area, because the last I’d heard, he’d gone off to college somewhere on the other side of the state and had stayed away. An amazing coincidence seemed to have brought the best of my past to comfort me.”
She could see it, that first meeting, Jack sauntering up in jeans and boots, his fingers looped in his pockets, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He hadn’t known her immediately, but she’d recognized the gait and the voice.
And then there’d been those early days of finding Jack waiting for her at the cottage, of taking solace from his presence, his laughter. Sailing with him. How good it had been.
Until it wasn’t.
“So, what was the problem? Was he still married?”
“No. That hadn’t lasted much past college. He lived with a woman named India.”
“Ah,” Teo said, but he didn’t look very surprised.
Tootie again? Sam hiked her brows momentarily, but decided not to ask. Best just get this over with. “It was the sailing. I hadn’t found anyone who loved to sail with me since Jack and I were kids. One thing led to another, and eventually Jack left India.”
“And took up with you?”
Just mentioning those days brought flashbacks, first of Greg’s words, then Jack’s. Greg’s actions, then Jack’s. And then, of course, hers. “I was so happy to have my friend back that I ignored how India must have felt. Eventually, Jack said he couldn’t stay with India now that he realized what he’d been missing. It was heady stuff. Of course, India didn’t see things quite the way Jack wanted her to.”
“No, I imagine she wouldn’t. How long had they been together?”
“Too long. In some states they would have been considered common-law married.”
“Not in North Carolina?”
Sam shook her head. “I don’t know. Whatever their status, I closed my eyes to her pain. I also told myself that I could keep Jack at arm’s length, that I was a strong, morally secure woman who knew how to steer clear of trouble.”
Teo’s expression sobered even more, very reminiscent of her father’s when she committed a misdemeanor. She began stacking creamer packets and added sugar and artificial sweetener to the tower, straightening it when it threatened to topple.
“But I’m guessing you couldn’t. Because one can’t, you know.” Teo kept his tone level. “You became lovers?”
The lump in Sam’s stomach bounced and threatened to exit up her throat. One hand still on the stack of packets, she managed, “You do cut to the chase, don’t you?” He didn’t speak as she stared out the window at the sea. “It sounds horrible, stated so baldly. Makes me seem so weak and ugly, going against everything I believed in. But, yes, that’s what happened. We became lovers. My emotions overruled my scruples, and there was no excuse, no matter how many I offered myself.”
His hands splayed on the table. The veins bulged slightly, and light hair flecked to his knuckles. Their position exuded a restrained power, as if they waited to become fists. He slid them to his lap. One foot kicked a table leg as he readjusted his position. “I can’t believe that he, this supposed best friend, took up with you like that. He may have left her, but he wasn’t free. I’m sorry, I have no respect for two-timers. Or for those who prey on the wounded.” He ran his fingers through his hair. That exquisite control seemed to have deserted him. “Seducing you and hurting her? Those were acts of a man who loves no one but himself.”
“It was my fault, too.” Sam straightened. She couldn’t let Teo heap all the coals on Jack. “I could have said no. I could have told him to quit coming around, to quit calling me, to quit sailing with me, to quit making my life fun again.” She clenched her teeth to bank the tears and control the shivers. “I could have told him not to be my friend anymore.”
They brimmed then, those tears, and Sam didn’t try to wipe them. Teo reached over and touched her fingers, closing now-tender hands over hers, gathering them together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve no right to judge you or him or anyone. It’s just that I hate to see the pain you’re in. You deserve so much more.”
Sam licked away a tear that dripped onto her lips and sniffed, then eased a hand out of his clasp to brush at her cheeks. “I kept telling myself the same thing. That’s why I’m here. To get out of that mess and start over again.”
“Hampered slightly by a broken heart.”
“Slightly. That’s two breaks in quick succession, so you can see why I’m not exactly panting for another relationship.”
“I can.”
He handed her a handkerchief and waited as she dabbed at her cheeks and blew her nose. She didn’t want to look up. She didn’t want to see his eyes.
He cleared his throat, leaning closer. “How about an unencumbered friend? No strings on me or from me.”
Now she did look up and at him, studying his expression, waiting. His smile gentled her nerves. His hand resurfaced and reached toward her, palm open. A moment later, she slid hers into it, feeling his fingers close slowly, gently, his grip light enough for a quick escape.
“Thank you.”
Freeing her hand, she tucked his handkerchief in her lap and tipped her cup to swallow the last of the coffee. “I wish I’d never run across Jack again.” She paced her words, wanting them said, wanting them silent.
Well, that could be managed. Just shut up.
Ha.
She’d exposed herself. And why had she done that? Some sort of masochism at work?
The spewed words made her want to come up with a finish to the story. That’s what flitted through her thoughts—finish—as if her words required a patina.
Absurd.
But it was that bit about being exposed. Naked in front of this man. It was one thing to tell a semi-stranger the crudities of her life. It was another to tell someone she’d come to admire.
She looked again into his eyes. His compassion opened the valve, just as it had before. “The thing is, this pain feels worse than Greg’s infidelity because, this time, I’m guilty. I was the sort of person I hate—a taker. Self-centered and self-absorbed. I’m working hard to forgive myself.”
“You must.”
She shook her head. Boy, once she got started… “Easy to say. Two problems. There’s India. And there’s me. I never really felt as if Jack were free, you know. And India kept showing up. He always made excuses and placated her. He obviously still cares for her. Oh, and a third thing. The whole issue of broken commandments.”
“Does India know?”
“She’s bound to.” Sam told him about the holes in her boat and tires, the slashed screen. About India and a pair of binoculars through which she’d probably seen way too much.
“Tootie mentioned the damage and your worries. But she said you and Jack claimed it was kids.”
“I never thought so. I just didn’t want to accuse India without proof.” Her fingers splayed on the tabletop.
He reached over with a comforting caress across her knuckles. “You’ve got to let it go, Samantha. Consider instead how much courage it took to leave. How strong you’ve shown you are by quitting something that wasn’t healthy. Not everyone can do that. Look at you,” he said, his voice as soft as his touch. “You’re shivering. Drink your coffee—no, you’ve finished, haven’t you? Hold on. I know just the thing.”
He limped to the bar, returning with a steaming glass of something orange. “It’s hot mandarino. Drink it slowly. It’s potent.”
The liqueur lit a fire from her lips to her stomach. She coughed once pressing his handkerchief to her mouth.
“Slowly now.”
She nodded and took a tiny sip. “It’s lovely. But it feels like something that could make me quite drunk.”
“Just sip it. You don’t need to drink it all, just enough to warm you before I take you to lunch.”
They sat in silence as she cupped the hot glass, using its warmth on her hands as well as her insides. As her shivers eased, Teo said, “I think I can see how this relationship with Jack came about.”
“It’s all so complicated.”
“You probably wouldn’t have exposed yourself to anyone except this childhood friend. He wasn’t some random man showing up in your life.”
“I know, but I’m an intelligent woman. I should have been able to recognize trouble and run from it. Especially after Greg’s infidelity.”
His expression turned rueful. “There are millions of ‘should-haves’ for each of us.”
“Yes, but some are worse than others. You can’t equate them.”
“Stop it, Samantha. As vulnerable as you were, you don’t have anything to kick yourself about.” His tone grew harsh, disgusted, as he said, “This Jack fellow? He’s a different story. He used your weakness and played with both of you. It sounds like he would have gone on juggling you indefinitely if you hadn’t broken free.”
She licked the sweet orange taste from her lips. “I hope he’s miserable.”
“Thatta girl.” The twinkling eyes were back. They emboldened her. Or maybe it was the liqueur.
She giggled. “I try to be good. I try very hard to think positively about both of them and hope for the best for their relationship. You know, the whole praying for your enemies bit? But sometimes...” She stared into the remnants of bright orange liquid and pushed the small glass away. “This is so delicious, it could definitely become addictive.”
“Not the little you drank, my dear. Now that you’ve stopped shivering, how about a walk on the beach before lunch?”
He left a tip on the table while Sam pulled on her sweater. The wind blew off the water to cool the already moist air as they picked their way across the sand-and-pebbled beach.
Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4) Page 17