Reluctant Wife

by Carla Cassidy

  Melissa nodded her head. “I told him as soon as I heard. He’s thrilled. I think it’s going to work out, Samantha. I really do.” She released Samantha’s hand.

  Samantha felt a flicker of envy sweep through her. A husband. A baby. Those were dreams Samantha had rarely allowed herself. While she believed that deep, abiding love was possible for some people, she’d never quite believed it was possible for her.

  “So, tell me about you. Are you and Tyler getting along all right?” Melissa asked.

  Samantha grinned. “Well, we haven’t killed each other yet.”

  “That’s progress,” Melissa replied with a laugh.

  Samantha wondered what her sister would say if she knew Samantha and Tyler were not only getting along okay, but had made love the night before. She decided there were some things you didn’t share with anyone, not even a sister.

  “Samantha, I’m sorry I was so cranky when we had lunch.” Melissa looked down at the tabletop. “I was dealing with a lot of things...like Father’s death and the idea of divorce.”

  “And ambivalent feelings toward me,” Samantha added.

  Melissa looked at her in surprise. Samantha smiled.

  “Melissa, I think we need to talk about us. You and me. When Mom was alive, we were so close. After she was gone and as we grew up, we lost that. I want it again, but in order to find it I think we need to talk about why we’re angry with each other.”

  “I’m not angry at you,” Melissa protested, but again her gaze didn’t quite meet Samantha’s.

  “Yes, you are,” Samantha countered. “Just like I’ve got a little edge of anger toward you—anger that Father fed.” Samantha lowered her voice into a parody of their father’s. “‘Why can’t you be more like your sister? She knows the rules, she abides by them. What’s wrong with you, Samantha? Why can’t you be more like Melissa’?”

  Melissa stared at her in stunned silence, then burst into peals of laughter. “Oh, Samantha, you know what’s really funny? He was always saying those same kinds of things to me. Why can’t you be smart like Samantha? Even though she makes bad choices, her mind is sharp as a razor while you do nothing but simper and smile.”

  “He really said that?” Samantha asked in surprise.

  “All the time. If he wasn’t storming about your escapades, he was talking about your successes. It always felt like everything was about you. His life seemed consumed with you.”

  Samantha felt as if the world had tilted slightly, as if her take on reality suddenly had a slant that made it difficult for her to keep her balance. “And I always thought everything was about you. Melissa made cheerleader, Melissa made homecoming queen. Everyone loves Melissa—and nobody loves Samantha.” Samantha snapped her napkin onto her lap, the anger that always accompanied thoughts of her father sweeping through her like a flame from hell’s fire. She looked at Melissa again. “Do you think he was a bastard on purpose?”

  Melissa shook her head and smiled sadly. “No, I don’t think he knew any better. I think he was so overwhelmed with the idea of raising two little girls alone, he used the only tools he had in his possession—sarcasm, comparison, and coldness. He wasn’t a bad man, Samantha. Just inadequate as a father.”

  “I hate him. Nobody can make me believe he loved me, and I can never forgive him for that.” Samantha swallowed against the bitterness that threatened to crawl up her throat.

  “Never is a long time,” Melissa replied softly.

  “You know what they say—‘To err is human, to forgive, divine.’ Well, I’m only human and I can’t forget. Nor can I forgive him.”

  The waitress appeared with their orders and for a moment the two fell silent. “I lied before,” Melissa said when the waitress had left.

  Samantha raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

  “About being angry with you. I have been angry,” she admitted. “Oh, Samantha, why’d you leave? Why’d you leave me all alone? I felt like first Mama abandoned us, then you abandoned me.”

  Samantha looked away, no longer able to meet Melissa’s gaze, where accusation mingled with pain. “I was never leaving you,” she answered softly. “It was him. I felt like I was smothering, dying a little piece at a time.” She forced herself to look at Melissa. “I was purposely doing dumb things, taking chances that were self-destructive. I had to go, Melissa. I had to leave in order to survive.”

  Melissa nodded. “I realize that now. I didn’t for a long time.” This time it was Melissa who reached across the table for Samantha’s hand. “It appears the Dark girls have finally grown up.”

  “It’s about damn time,” Samantha replied with a grin as she tightly squeezed her younger sister’s hand.

  Pleasant conversation, laughter and memories accompanied the rest of the meal, made it a time of healing, of forgiving that filled Samantha’s soul as effectively as the food sated her appetite.

  They had finished eating and split the check when Melissa looked at her watch and gasped. “I’ve got to run. Bill is coming over to talk about moving back into the house.” She wiped her mouth, shoved back from the table and stood. “You need a ride home?”

  Samantha shook her head. “I’m fine. Go talk to your husband. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Please do.” With a tremulous smile, Melissa leaned down and hugged Samantha. “I love you, Sammie.” She straightened, her smile widening. “Even if I do usually want to pinch off your head.”

  Samantha laughed, emotional tears hovering too close for comfort. “Get out of here.” She watched as her sister left the restaurant, a fullness and warmth pressing around her heart. She and Melissa would still have fights, would never see eye-to-eye on a million issues, but Samantha now knew they were going to be just fine.

  She sighed tiredly. Building bridges was hard work. In the past it had always been easier to tear them down. Maybe Melissa was right. Maybe finally, after all these years, Samantha Dark was growing up.

  She stood and headed for the rest rooms, where she’d seen a pay phone. She would call a cab and be home within a few minutes. Tyler would probably be irritated that she hadn’t come home when she’d told him she would, but surely he would understand when she explained.

  After calling for a cab, she went outside to await its arrival. Although it was dark and chilly, the wind had stopped blowing and overhead a million stars winked down at her.

  A baby. Melissa was going to have a baby. A wistful ache stole through Samantha. What would it be like to carry the harvest of love? To feel the flutter of life inside?

  She pulled her coat collar closer around her neck. She would probably never know what it was like to be married or pregnant. She shoved the little ache aside. But she would be the best aunt a kid could ever have. “Move over, Auntie Mame,” she said to herself with a grin.

  A whisper of movement behind her pulled her from her thoughts. Without warning, before she could feel the first clutch of fear, hands shoved her hard from behind. Air whooshed from her lungs as she pitched to the ground, her palms and knees sliding across the sidewalk pavement.

  Before she could gain her breath—still reeling with confusion—a blow to her leg caused her to cry out. Then a second blow pounded, with an audible snap. He broke my leg, she thought with wild fear. Still facedown, unable to see her attacker, pain as she’d never before felt shot through her. Darkness flirted at the edges of her mind.

  Something hard hit the back of her head. The darkness grew around her and she reached for it. Her last conscious thought was that Tyler was going to be madder than hell.

  Chapter 10

  When Samantha didn’t show up for dinner, Tyler felt the first stir of fear whisper through him. He tamped it down, telling himself she was irresponsible, impetuous and totally unreliable. Why should it surprise him that she was late for dinner?

  He waited until after seven, then ate alone. As he ate, he thought back to the noon break, when he’d finally told Samantha about his mother’s death. There had been a certain release in finally
talking about the horrible day that had changed his life forever and stolen away the one woman who’d truly loved him.

  Love. As Samantha had held him, comforted him along the walk through his memories, he’d thought he felt that particular emotion for her. He’d since realized what he’d felt for Samantha had been wrought by the emotional outburst of those memories. It had been gratitude mingled with friendship. Nothing more.

  Virginia interrupted his thoughts as she poked her head into the dining room where Tyler sat alone. “If you have all that you need, I’ll be leaving now. I don’t intend to stand around here waiting for her to get home.”

  “Can I ask you something, Virginia?” She nodded and stepped all the way into the room. “Why don’t you like Samantha?” Tyler asked.

  Virginia frowned, as if made uncomfortable by his question. “It’s not exactly that I don’t like her. I just don’t always approve of her.”

  Tyler felt a rueful grin cross his face. “That, I can relate to,” he agreed easily. “But...it’s more than that for you, isn’t it?”

  Virginia’s stern features grew reflective. “Samantha is...has always been...” She paused for a moment as if searching for words. “Difficult,” she finally said. “She expects too much from people, makes everyone around her feel inadequate.”

  Again, reflection stole across her features and she leaned against the counter. “She was always hanging on to me, pulling on my arm, wrapping her arms around my neck, demanding I love her. I wasn’t used to children, had never wanted any of my own.” Virginia frowned, showing displeasure at her memories. “It was the same with her father. Samantha was always tugging at him, hugging him, demanding he pay attention to her, love her more than he loved anyone else. She was so needy...it made people uncomfortable.”

  Tyler nodded, oddly saddened by the mental image of a little girl desperate for love. Was it any wonder Samantha had chosen to gain attention in negative ways when the positive ones didn’t work?

  “Do you need me anymore this evening?” Virginia’s voice cut into Tyler’s thoughts.

  He shook his head. “No, you can go on home. Thanks, Virginia. Dinner was wonderful, as usual.”

  When Virginia had left, Tyler’s thoughts once again turned to Samantha. At least he’d had the pleasure of having his mother—who had been impetuous and reckless, but always loving—for his first fourteen years.

  Samantha had had her mother only until she was six; then had apparently been left in the charge of a cold, impersonal man and a housekeeper equally incapable of meeting her need to be loved.

  While Melissa had retreated into a shell of perfection, always doing whatever it took to please her father, Samantha had rebelled in all the traditional ways, never realizing the fault wasn’t hers, but rather a fault of nature, of fate. Fate had placed her, a needy child, into a houseful of adults who hadn’t had the capacity to fill her needs. And where in the hell was she right now? he wondered as he looked at his watch.

  The library would be closing in another hour. Surely she wasn’t working this late. A call to the library gave him his answer. The librarian told him she’d been there, but had left with Melissa. Tyler relaxed. If she was with Melissa, she would probably be all right. Then, realizing he was worrying about her like some long-suffering husband, he left the kitchen and went upstairs to his bedroom for an early night.

  Although exhaustion weighed heavily on him, sleep remained elusive as thoughts of Samantha and the Marcola case continued to plague him.

  Reluctantly, he’d begun to believe in Dominic’s innocence. There were simply too many inconsistencies, too many facts that added up to something other than mere coincidence. The police had rushed to an arrest, closing the case without a proper investigation. Although Tyler couldn’t really fault them; in effect they’d caught Dominic with a smoking gun.

  But Tyler had a feeling that Dominic had simply been a pawn in a much larger game—a man caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow, Tyler knew he and Samantha were missing something—something important. But what?

  His head filled with images. Not images from the trial, but of the night he’d held Samantha in his arms, the night she’d surrendered all to him. Why? Why had she chosen to let him be her first?

  If he didn’t know better, he would believe she’d allowed him to be her first lover specifically to disrupt his sleep, confuse his thoughts.

  He’d felt as if it were his first time, too. Each sensation had affected him as if it were a totally new experience.

  He turned onto his back, irritated by his thoughts.

  He shouldn’t be focused on Samantha. He should be thinking of Sarah, who would make him a good wife, who would be a model mother. A woman who would never be late for dinner, never make his stomach twist into knots. A woman with whom he would never achieve the same heights of passion, the soul-searing connection he’d felt with Samantha.

  “Dammit.” He turned over and punched his pillow. Flipping on the bedside lamp, he sat up, knowing sleep would remain elusive until he knew she was home safe and sound. He grabbed a law journal he’d been reading and turned to the page where he’d left off. Surely she would be home soon, then he could put all inappropriate thoughts of her cleanly and clearly out of his head.

  The jarring noise of the phone awoke him, pulling him from the sleep that had finally caught up with him. He grabbed for the receiver, at the same time looking at the clock next to his bed. Almost one. “Samantha?” he said into the phone.

  “Tyler. It’s me.”

  He relaxed and sent a prayer upward as he heard her voice.

  “Where in the hell are you?” he demanded as anger toppled fear.

  “That’s what I was calling for, to see if you would mind coming to pick me up.”

  “Where are you?” he repeated.

  “When I tell you, don’t freak out. Everything is fine now, and the doctor says my leg will heal without any problems.”

  “Your leg?” Tyler had a vision of her sexy, long legs. “What happened to your leg?”

  “It’s broken. But the taxi driver was more concerned about my head.”

  Tyler gripped the phone so tightly he thought he heard the plastic crack beneath his grasp. “Your head? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just tell me where you are.”

  “The hospital.”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.” Tyler hung up the phone and cursed soundly as he dressed. Questions raced through his head. What in the hell had happened? A car accident? Taxi drivers here in Wilford didn’t share the same traits as those drivers in big cities. Still, he could easily imagine Samantha sitting in the back of a cab in one of her impossibly short skirts, the driver ogling the rearview mirror instead of watching traffic. Accidents happened. Especially when Samantha was involved.

  It took Tyler only minutes to drive to the Wilford hospital. He walked into the emergency entrance and was told that Samantha had been placed in room 212. The moment he reached the second floor, he heard her.

  “No way, Doc. There’s no way I’m staying overnight.” Her words rang out loud and clear in the silent semidarkness of the hallway. A nurse came out of the room, looking harried. She flashed Tyler a grim smile, then continued past him.

  Drawing a deep breath, promising himself he wouldn’t get upset or angry, Tyler entered room 212. Samantha sat on the edge of the bed, clad in a loose-fitting hospital gown. A massive, pristine white cast covered her lower left leg.

  She gave Tyler what appeared to be a wide, drunken grin as she saw him. “Ah, there’s my ride. Tell them, Tyler. Tell them I can’t possibly stay here tonight. I’ve got court first thing in the morning.”

  Tyler looked at Dr. Bumgarten, who’d been the Dark family physician for as long as Tyler had been around. The old man looked frazzled, his glasses slightly askew and white hair standing on end.

  “Samantha, you’ve had a shock. I’d feel more comfortable if you’d remain here for the night,” Dr. Bumgarten replied. He looked at Tyler a
s if for help. “Surely the court would grant a postponement under the circumstances.”

  “What exactly are the circumstances?” Tyler asked.

  “It’s no big deal,” Samantha said as she stood and swayed as if slightly woozy. Dr. Bumgarten grabbed her arm to steady her. She flashed him a grateful smile, then looked back at Tyler. “I was mugged.”

  “Mugged?” Tyler eyed her in surprise. Muggings were rare on the streets of Wilford.

  “Like I said, it’s no big deal.” She clomped across the room and picked up a pile of clothing, then headed for the bathroom. “And there’s no way I’m going to ask for a postponement or spend the night here. I’ll be out in a minute, then we can go home,” she said to Tyler, and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Dr. Bumgarten sighed and ran a hand through his thin hair, causing it to stand at attention atop his head. “She’s as stubborn as Jamison ever was,” he said, then sank into the chair beside the bed.

  “So, tell me exactly what happened,” Tyler prompted, feeling as if he’d walked into a play during the third act. “Samantha said something about being mugged.”

  Dr. Bumgarten shook his head. “This was no mugging. Her purse wasn’t stolen, and no mugger I know shoves their victim from behind, then hits them in the leg hard enough to break bones.”

  Tyler sucked in his breath. “Is that what happened?” Tyler’s own legs ached in response. “Did she see who it was?”

  The doctor shook his head again. “All she remembers is being shoved. Apparently she fell to the pavement where she was hit first in the leg, then in the back of her head. She blacked out.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “In front of the Mexican restaurant on Main. She’d called for a cab and stepped out front to wait. The taxi driver pulled up and frightened off the attacker. It was the driver who brought her in.”

  Tyler fought off an icy chill that threatened to climb up his spine. The doctor was right. This didn’t sound like a garden-variety mugging. It sounded like attempted murder. “What’s the prognosis?”