Carter’s return home last summer and the events that followed had finally begun a healing process between them. Mark felt closer to him than he had in a very long time, although discounting television, he’d seen him only once since then, when he had flown in to serve as best man at his and Samantha’s private, family-only wedding ceremony on the beach, which had taken place on a mild fall afternoon in mid-October.
Despite his rising fame, Carter appeared low-key, dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt.
“Mark,” Carter called when he saw him. He signed one last autograph before excusing himself, then walked over and embraced Mark with a warm backslap.
“Thanks for coming. I know you’re in the middle of filming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Carter looked airbrushed handsome as usual, but also tired. Mark could only imagine how insane his life had been for the last several months, between shooting on location and flying around the country for promotional junkets for the show. The part had also required him to relocate to California.
Carter clipped his sunglasses onto his shirt pocket. “I have to head back Sunday afternoon. I’m on set early Monday, but you’ve got me until then.”
In conjunction with the reopening, the hotel was hosting a fundraiser for a Charleston non-profit that night. A trip to LA that included dinner with Carter was being offered as the silent auction’s headlining item.
Mark clasped his brother’s shoulder, directing him toward his office, where they would have privacy to talk. Once the door had closed behind them, Carter dropped into one of the wing chairs, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“How’s Samantha?” he asked.
“She’s starting to get tired.” Even now, Mark felt his heart lift, thinking of the surprise pregnancy that had led to their quickly planned nuptials. He blamed the outdated condoms from his nightstand, but the truth was, he wouldn’t change a thing. “She’s had to slow down, and it’s driving her crazy. She’s also gotten the impression that she’s starting to look like she swallowed a beach ball.”
Carter smiled at the image. “Does she?”
“A little,” Mark admitted. “But she’s still beautiful.”
“I can’t wait to see her.”
Like Mark, Carter had kept Samantha’s troubled past a secret. He knew almost everything, with the exception of the events the night of the hurricane that had resulted in the deaths of Cyril O’Keefe and Red Leary. That was a burden Mark and Samantha shared alone, along with Luther, wherever he was.
“The place looks great with the updates—better than ever,” Carter said.
Mark nodded his thanks. He’d taken a seat on the edge of his desk. “So how’s your life, little brother?”
“Hectic.” He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. “But I can’t complain, so I won’t.”
Still, there was something subdued about him, something that had changed. Mark wondered if stardom had panned out as Carter had hoped. Regardless, Mark felt pride. Carter played the role of Dr. Gabriel Hammond on The Healers with a mix of compassion, intelligence and smartassed humor that was endearing. The critical reviews for the show had been positive, and Carter had been hailed as the standout new star among the cast.
“I’ve been offered a movie role,” Carter confided. Restless, he got up and went to look out the large window at the pool area and beyond it, the ocean. “I’m on contract with the network, but the producers are willing to shoot while I’m on hiatus. They loved my screen test. My agent says if I want the part, it’s mine.”
He named the director and other actors—two Academy Award winners among them—who were attached to the film. Mark was impressed.
“Just stay grounded, Carter.”
He turned and gave his trademark dazzling smile. “If I don’t, I’m sure you’ll be happy to bring me back down to earth.”
Mark walked to him. Nostalgia filtered through him as he recalled the two of them as children, playing along the shore, sailing, trying to one-up each other during endless summer days. There had always been an air of competition between them, but Mark believed that was over. “I’m proud of you, Carter. I want you to know that. You deserve every success.”
Carter met his gaze, his midnight-blue eyes showing his appreciation. Then they grew somber. “Is she safe, Mark?”
No one had shown up asking questions—no police or federal agents, no other members of Memphis’s underworld. Months ago, the news reported that Lenny Cook had been identified as the accidental drowning victim from the Charleston canal. The Memphis Police had traced his credit card transactions to the area after his ex-wife reported him missing. But nothing more had come of it. The matter seemed closed.
With regard to Leary and O’Keefe, Mark had learned online that the Cadillac Escalade had indeed been discovered at the airport in Atlanta. Speculation was that Leary had fled the country due to a pending indictment for racketeering. Mark had finally begun to breathe easier now that Samantha’s nightmare might really be over. Even his attorney friend Todd Hamilton had advised against her voluntarily coming forward. Let sleeping dogs lie, he’d counseled, off the record. The unplanned pregnancy had finalized their decision. Samantha had Mark’s child growing inside her. That put another innocent life at stake.
“As long as the FBI and Memphis Police don’t know about her, she’s safe,” he said. “She can’t be compelled to testify. Which means Sergei Boklov won’t come after her.”
“And if that ever changes?”
Mark’s stomach hardened. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
Carter nodded thoughtfully before shifting their conversation to lighter fare. “You know, as best man, I still owe you a party.”
“Forget it.”
“C’mon. Mercer’s in town throwing the baby shower,” Carter persisted. “Jonathan’s here with her, and he and I are going to take you out for a few drinks after the whole auction to-do tonight. Nothing extreme—just to celebrate the hotel’s reopening and other things, like the baby. New beginnings. Think of it as a bonding ritual between the men in the family.”
Mark raised a stern eyebrow. “The cradle-robbing professor’s part of the family now?”
“He might as well be.”
He sighed in agreement. The truth was, Mark did like Jonathan, despite the substantial age difference between him and Mercer. He seemed like a good man. Once the drama surrounding the hurricane had settled, Mercer had moved back to Atlanta. She and Jonathan were living together in his rambling old Victorian just off the college campus—over Olivia’s staunch objections. Mercer had taken a job handling public relations for a downtown artists’ collective.
“Charleston, baby—be ready at ten sharp.” Carter headed toward the office door. “And we’re using the limo service so none of us is driving.”
Once he was gone, Mark sat behind his desk, smiling faintly even as he shook his head in resignation. Fighting Carter was like battling a force of nature, and he knew from experience it was better to just give in and go along for the ride. A photo of Samantha, her arm around Emily’s shoulders, sat in a silver frame across from him. He picked it up, regarding it with the eyes of a husband and father.
He felt genuinely blessed for the second time in his life.
“I felt it!” Emily let out a squeal of laughter, her hands planted on Samantha’s round belly. “Do it again!”
“She can’t just do it on command, Em.” Mercer sat cross-legged on the floor, working on the posh gift bags for the women invited to the baby shower. “Besides, Sam’s not doing it. That’s your baby brother kicking in there.”
Samantha slipped her fingers through Emily’s blond hair, marveling at the way her curls danced when she let them go. Her other hand rested on top of her stomach, and her swollen ankles were propped on the ottoman in the newly renovated seaside bungalow. She smiled as Emily put her ear next to her belly, listening.
“They say you can hear the ocean in there,” Mercer commented glibly.
�
�I really don’t know about this shower, Mercer. It’s not like I know that many people.”
“Well, I do, and so does Mom. And believe me, everyone knows who you are. You’re the wife of Mark St. Clair and owner of the very successful Café Bella. The women around here are thrilled you’re married now and knocked up, to boot. It makes it less likely their husbands will be ogling you.”
“What’s ogling?” Emily asked, her lisp only barely detectible now. Although she hadn’t started kindergarten with her friends, her sessions with the psychiatrist had been expanded to include a speech therapist, and her diction and vocabulary were improving daily. With home tutoring, the plan was for her to start first grade in the fall.
“Staring, sweet pea,” Samantha told her. She rolled her eyes at Mercer. “And no one is staring at me right now.”
“Daddy stares at you.” Emily grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. Samantha tweaked her nose, making her giggle.
A knock sounded at the door. Olivia entered, dressed to the nines in a straight linen skirt and white blouse, her ever-present double strand of pearls around her neck. Although Samantha and Mark’s mother had been living in a relatively neutral peace, there still seemed to be things unsaid between them. Samantha knew Olivia had bristled at Mark’s announcement that they were getting married. But she also suspected he’d made it clear that she would have to accept her new daughter-in-law or risk losing her son.
Admittedly, however, Olivia had seemed pleased at the news of her pregnancy, something Samantha and Mark had kept quiet until she was several months along. She had been surprised as well as touched to learn that Olivia had insisted on co-hosting the baby shower. But between her and Mercer, the shower had grown to nearly ballroom-sized proportions and was taking place just prior to the silent auction.
“I came by to have a word with you,” Olivia said to Samantha. “Just the two of us.”
Mercer appeared to have gone a little pale. She looked worriedly at Samantha, then got to her feet. “Come on, Emily. Let’s go outside for a while. You can help me water the azaleas. Then maybe we’ll take a walk on the beach.”
Olivia patted her granddaughter’s head as she skipped past. “Mercer, put a hat on that child. She’s got my fair complexion, and she’s going to turn out as freckled as a turkey’s egg.”
She waited like an imperial queen while Mercer located a floppy beach hat from the foyer closet and plunked it on Emily’s head. Samantha felt her heartbeat quicken as the door closed behind them, leaving her alone with Olivia.
“How are you feeling, dear?”
“A little tired.”
Olivia sighed. “I remember being pregnant with Mark. I was as big as a house and didn’t want to do a thing but sleep. With Carter, that wasn’t possible since I already had a toddler to chase around.”
“Thank you for giving me the shower, Olivia,” Samantha said sincerely. “I’ll be rested up by its start, I promise. I left the café at noon to get off my feet.”
“You need to stop working.”
“I have cut back. And I’ve hired a manager who starts next week.” If Luther had been here, the position would have gone to him. Thinking of him, Samantha felt her heart tug, recalling what she’d received in the mail a few months ago. There had been no return address on the envelope, but inside it had been a newspaper clipping written in French. Mark had been able to translate it for her. It had been about a very large, anonymous donation made to a Haitian orphanage. The envelope’s postmark was Port-Au-Prince.
“It’s nice your business is doing so well. But normally, I’d say something old-fashioned like St. Clair women don’t work.” Olivia frowned as she repositioned her Louis Vuitton purse in her lap. “Of course, Mercer’s already disproved that, but she doesn’t have children yet. She’s not even married…”
Samantha expected another complaint about Mercer shacking up or living in sin, but Olivia let the opportunity drift away. Samantha decided to face the speeding train head on.
“You wanted to talk to me?” she asked.
With manicured fingernails, Olivia unlatched the clasp on her purse. She pulled out a small, elegantly wrapped box and presented it to Samantha. “I wanted to give you this.”
“The shower’s in just a few hours—”
“This isn’t for the baby. It’s for you.”
Hesitantly, Samantha accepted the box. Eyeing Olivia curiously, she unwrapped the gift. Seeing what was inside, she felt a lump form in her throat. Her lips parted, her heart beating dully as she stared at the cameo that had belonged to her mother. The hairline crack in the conch shell had been repaired, its tarnished frame replaced with gleaming white gold. It now hung from a delicate, expensive-looking chain.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Olivia sounded a little nervous. “Mark gave it to me. I wanted to do something special to make up for my, as he put it, snobbish behavior toward you. I took it to my estate jeweler. I understand it has sentimental value. Mark told me you lost your mother when you were very young. Like Emily did.”
Samantha simply nodded, unable to speak. The cameo blurred a bit in front of her eyes, and she silently cursed her raging pregnancy hormones.
Olivia’s hands twisted in her lap. “You should know…I had quite a hissy fit when Mark told me he intended to marry you. He took me to task for my behavior.”
“Olivia…”
“My son’s right. I am a snob,” she acknowledged, her clear-blue gaze unwavering. “And it’s true that you’re not the woman I would’ve picked for him. But you are the woman he chose, Samantha. And I can see that you’ve made him happier than I ever thought he could be again. Emily’s happy, too, and doing so well. I thank you for that.”
Her hand moved tentatively to touch Samantha’s stomach. She smiled softly. “You’re also the mother to my very first grandson.”
“Thank you, Olivia,” Samantha whispered, a tremor in her voice.
Just then, the door opened, and Mark appeared on its threshold. He frowned as his gaze moved between his tearful wife and his mother.
“Oh, just calm down, Mark,” Olivia said. “Despite how this must look to you, I’m not here to terrorize anyone. I just came by for a chat and to see if Mercer got around to finishing the gift bags. She insisted on doing them herself.”
She looked at Samantha once more and then got up to kiss Mark’s cheek. “Have fun tonight, darling. I hear Carter and Jonathan are taking you out.”
“Are you okay?” Mark asked once Olivia had made her way out of the house.
Samantha nodded mutely. He looked at the box she held. “I see she gave you her gift. I hope you’re not upset that I let her restore it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Samantha said, wiping at a tear that had escaped down her cheek. She began to push herself up from the couch, and Mark came over to assist her.
“Would you help me put it on?”
Mark took the chain and stood behind Samantha to fasten it. When he was done, she turned to him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing her face.
“What Olivia did was incredibly thoughtful and kind.” Worriedly, she shook her head. “Mark, if the truth about me ever comes out—”
He laid a finger against her lips, hushing her.
“It won’t,” he said quietly. “And even if it does, she’ll handle it. Just like we will. I’ve told her you’ve had a rough life. I just didn’t go into unnecessary details. Mom isn’t as obstinate as she acts, especially where family’s concerned. And that’s what you are now. Family.”
His words soothed her, as did his hands stroking over her hair. “Besides,” he added, “She’s over the moon about the baby. You could knock over a package store and kick two puppies on your way out, and she’d probably look the other way.”
“You can’t keep me pregnant for the rest of my life.”
“Is that a challenge?” Mark smiled softly and slipped his arms around her. Laying her palms against his chest, she gazed up at him, her heart filling.
“I love you more than I ever imagined possible,” he murmured, his expression fading into seriousness. “And I thank God for you every day.”
Each day, it seemed her love deepened for him, as well. Samantha felt her pulse beat hard at the base of her throat. “You gave me a new life. You are my life, Mark.”
His kiss was slow and gentle, the touch of his lips sweet against hers.
In Mark’s arms she had found her safe harbor. And she was Samantha St. Clair now, something that still seemed like some kind of impossible daydream. She had a caring, handsome husband and a wonderful family that would soon expand to include a precious new baby. Samantha wanted Mark’s child more than life itself.
As he held her, her head on his shoulder, she thought of her tattoo, the last physical evidence of Trina’s existence. One day she might finally have it removed. But Mark had suggested the butterfly was proof something beautiful could emerge from a dark and difficult passage. She wanted to believe her life before had been her chrysalis, and she had broken free.
Even if by some twist of fate the truth of her past ever did come to light, she also knew that she and Mark would face it together. Whatever it meant. They had each other now. There were no more secrets between them. Samantha steeled herself in his strength, his protection and abiding love.
I belong.
Those words meant everything to her. With Mark, here in this small coastal town, she had finally found home.
Acknowledgments
Thank you sincerely for taking the time to read BEFORE THE STORM. As always, my readers are the reason I write and I’m so appreciative of your ongoing enthusiasm and support.
I am also grateful for the work of Joyce Lamb, who edited this book, and for critique partners Michelle Muto and Kelly Stone. Thanks also to my agent, Stephany Evans of FinePrint Literary Management.
Finally, thank you to my husband, Robert, for your unending patience, love and companionship.
Before the Storm Page 28