Carried Away (Montana Miracles Book 1)

by Grace Walton

  She started to waver. The tears gathering in his big blue eyes pushed her right over the edge. “I won’t Sam. But I don’t feel the same way about you. Not yet, maybe not ever.”

  He put his hands out towards her like a supplicant. “Fine, good, that’s OK. I’m not expecting you to fall into my arms. I just want the chance to keep you safe. If you let me stay, I promise I won’t ever bring this up again. I’ll be your friend, just your friend. Even if it kills me.”

  His grin was irresistible. Against her better judgment she agreed, “You can stay in the guest room. But no personal stuff.” She was going to set the rules right up front.

  “I understand Carrie.” He spared her. “Now tell me exactly what Ferguson said to you.”

  She frowned, remembering. “He said he didn’t leave the rose or the note in my classroom, he said, he said,”

  “What?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “He said you were going to hurt me.”

  He cursed and turned away so she wouldn’t see the murder in his eyes. “Let me go out to the car and get his file. I want you to read it. Then you can decide who’s trying to hurt you.”

  He turned on his heel and strode out the door. Carrie slumped against the door frame exhausted. It was only 8 o’clock and she’d already dealt with two strong men who both claimed they felt strongly for her. Both claimed the other was out to hurt her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carrie trudged up to the Teachers’ Table. The morning had been long, no she took that back, it had been endless. Every day the kids wanted to rehash every detail of their big adventure. Well, to them it had been just an adventure. To Carrie it had been life changing, and not in a good way. She still was having a hard time adjusting to the fact that she had a roommate. Against her better judgment, Sam was sleeping in her spare room.

  OK, she admitted to herself, he wasn’t a bad roommate. He was even clean in the bathroom. Something she wasn’t famous for herself. He was forever picking up towels and setting the wet soap on a specially designed dish he’d brought with him. It somehow drained the soap and kept it from getting gummy. Which was beyond weird, because who traveled with their own personal soap draining dish?

  It was embarrassing to have a good looking guy hand you the dirty things you’d left strewn on the steamy bathroom tile. And that was just in the bathroom. The kitchen was a whole story in itself. Sam liked to cook. That had really annoyed Carrie, whose idea of cooking, except for bread and spaghetti, was nuking a frozen meal without burning the house down. But Sam didn’t believe in eating prepackaged food. No, he didn’t like preservatives and artificial dyes in his foods. So he cooked, if you could call his artistic creations cooking.

  Carrie was stunned the first time she’d stumbled into the kitchen half awake and found a gourmet breakfast waiting on her. It just wasn’t natural. All that parsley couldn’t be good for you early in the morning.

  She smiled automatically to Ruthie and Patsy as she plopped down into her chair.

  “Uh-Oh, are you OK?” Ruthie asked busy chasing a green pea around one of the compartments of her tray.

  “She doesn’t look too good to me,” allowed Patsy while she munched on a peanut butter cookie.

  “What’s wrong Sugar? Trouble in paradise?” Ruthie seemed to be ready to commiserate with Carrie.

  Carrie nodded. “I don’t think I was cut out for this.” She opened the white bakery sack Sam had handed her as she walked out the door that morning.

  “None of us were Sugar. Who in their right mind wants to spend 9 hours a day with two dozen kids?” She shook her head and speared another pea.

  “It’s not that, I just had a five-year-old boy tell me go back in the kitchen and get him some jelly for his biscuit,” Carrie said forlornly. “He sounded so, imperial.”

  Both of the other teachers laughed. Patsy shook her head. She volunteered, “I can top that.” She took a sip from the straw in her milk carton. The others watched silently waiting.

  “I once had a mother ask me to monitor her child’s, uh, let’s see, how can I put this? The mother wanted me to monitor her child’s ‘efforts’ in the bathroom.”

  Ruthie laughed. “That definitely tops Carrie’s sad little story about jelly.”

  Carrie nodded. “I concede.” She withdrew an elaborate wrapped square from her white lunch bag. A pink ribbon held its contents in place.

  The others’ attention was instantly fixed on the pristine white paper and the intricate little knot holding its folds.

  “What is that?” Ruthie asked intrigued.

  Carrie shrugged her shoulders embarrassed. “It’s just lunch. Sam made it for me.”

  Ruthie looked at Patsy and winked. “Sam made it for you?”

  Carrie, who hadn’t seen the wink nodded and continued to peel away protective layers of cellophane until a little jewel of a croissant sandwich was revealed. Thin sliced chicken and creamy, spicy mustard spilled over its crispy brown edges. Tiny sliced tomatoes lined the bread and some kind of exotic cheese crowded the middle.

  “My gosh! I think that’s the same sandwich I saw the famous French chef make on TV last night,” Patsy crowed. “Sam made that?”

  Carrie was miserable. She dug back into the bag and pulled out a package of seasoned pita crisps also tied with a pink ribbon. Next came a polished pear the size of a small melon. Finally, Carrie brought out a small white box filled with petit fours.

  “If you tell me Sam made those, I’m going to call you a liar.” Ruthie pointed to the beautiful little cakes.

  “He didn’t. He ordered them online from some bakery in New Orleans,” Carrie admitted. “He said I deserved the best.” She sank her teeth into the sandwich and tried to look away from the speculative looks her friends were casting her way. It didn’t work.

  “Land's sake, Carrie! I’d grab Sam if I was you. My husband’s idea of doing something romantic for me is bringing home a bag of fast food and a RedBox DVD,” Patsy said.

  “I know,” Ruthie agreed. “My husband still doesn’t know how to operate the dishwasher or the washing machine. He says all those knobs confuse him.” She snickered. “This from a man with a master’s degree in engineering.”

  “Sam’s a nice guy.” Was all Carrie said.

  “Nice guy?” Patsy snorted. “Carrie, I think he must be some kind of new species. You better snap him up while you can.”

  “Yeah, Irene Spooner gave him the eye at church last week. She just about had him cornered in the narthex,” Ruthie said.

  “It’s not like that,” Carrie protested. “He’s just keeping me safe until they’ve caught Beasley.” She managed to tell that lie pretty well. It was a fabrication Sam had come up with.

  Ruthie shook her head in disagreement. “Ordering fancy petit fours from New Orleans does not fall under the heading of ‘keeping you safe’.”

  “She’s right Carrie,” Patsy agreed. “A man only does that kind of thing until he ‘closes the deal’ with a woman.”

  Carrie choked on a bite of pear. “Closes the deal? What’s that supposed to mean? You all know Sam and I have a purely professional relationship.”

  “You know as well as I do what ‘close the deal’ means- marriage, lifetime commitment, intimacy, all that stuff,” Ruthie argued. “And if Sam’s going to all this trouble to woo you, he’s not thinking you have a ‘professional relationship’.”

  “Nope.” Patsy nodded. “He’s trying for the whole enchilada. Marriage, I’d guess, since he’s a church going man.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think he’s one of those love and leave them types. He’s the lead tenor in the church choir after all,” Ruthie added that last comment as proof positive Sam was serious in his intentions.

  “You know what they say about tenors?” Patsy said mischievously.

  “Hush your mouth,” Ruthie giggled as she ordered. “Carrie’s too young to hear that foolishness.

  Carrie watched them tease with dead eyes. She didn’t feel young. As a ma
tter of fact, she felt older than dirt. She finished the pear and shoved the fancy white box containing the cakes towards the other two women.

  They eagerly pilfered the contents. As they moaned in pleasure at the taste of the sugary treats Ruthie spoke.

  “You know Patsy, if Sam sends all the way to New Orleans for her goodies, I can’t wait to see what kind of engagement ring he buys.”

  If looks could kill, the one Carrie shot Ruthie would have laid her out dead. Patsy decided to have some fun too.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s going to make the huge pink monstrosity that actress got look like a child’s confirmation ring.”

  Carrie got up suddenly and started to leave. The others protested.

  “Carrie stay, we’re sorry. We were just teasing.” Ruthie looked concerned.

  “That’s right Carrie, We’re so sorry.” Patsy was repentant.

  Carrie wasn’t in a forgiving mood. “I know everybody in town thinks Sam is some kind of wonder boy, but he’s just staying with me to protect me. Got that? Just to make sure that nut Beasley doesn’t finish what he started up on that blasted mountain. I’m not getting married. I’m not even getting engaged. As far as I’m concerned Irene Spooner can have Sam, marry him, and have a boat load of kids.”

  She stalked away without seeing the sheepish looks her friends cast her way. She lined her kids up and had them out of the cafeteria faster than anyone ever had. She turned them out onto the playground and sank onto the cement teacher’s bench under a tree and sulked. Billy sidled up to her and sat down. After a few minutes she noticed he was staring.

  “Do you need something Billy?” she asked irritated.

  “No Ma’am.” He began to swing his feet to some kind of internal rhythm he alone had going. Carrie felt like screaming. But she forced herself to breathe deeply and remain calm.

  “Then what is it?” She finally snapped.

  “My Mama says Mr. Gage saved my life,” he allowed.

  Carrie felt the indignant heat flood her face. “Is that right?”

  “Yes Ma’am, but I know who really saved us all.”

  “Who?”

  “You did Miss Smith.” His little face was so earnest. “You took us out to the woods and hid us real good and told us to stay until the Principal got there. You really saved us.”

  Carrie had felt nothing as satisfying or compelling as the feeling she got from the words Billy spoke. She hugged him. “I think you’re the real hero. Remember, I left you in charge.”

  He shook his head and jumped down from the bench to run off and join the others.

  “He’s absolutely right, you know.” Gage’s deep voice cut through her feelings of euphoria. He was leaning against the tree behind her. Carrie’s back stiffened as if she was anticipating a blow. None came.

  “How did you get in here?” she asked, worried as she scanned the playground for some hidden danger.

  “I knocked out the receptionist and tied up the principal.” His words were sardonic. “I walked through the front door and signed in Carrie, just like everybody else. When are you going to realize I haven’t done anything wrong? There’s not a warrant out for me and I’m not about to be arrested and hauled off to jail. ”

  She turned and scorched him with a glare. “That’s only because you’re so good at covering your tracks.” She hissed.

  “Who told you that? Dole?”

  “I thought I’d already told you more than once to stay away from me.”

  He pushed away from the tree. “You might as well ask me not to breathe.” Hard hands began working the tense muscles of her neck. She jerked away. She’d been down that road with him before. She knew she didn’t think rationally when his hands were on her.

  “Just quit.” She turned to look at him, intending to glare him away. Bad decision. She fell into those fathomless amber eyes and was lost.

  “Carrie, tell Dole to move out.”

  “No.” She turned so she could breathe again.

  He knelt down so his eyes were level with hers. “Does your bedroom door have a lock?”

  She answered honestly without thinking, “Yes.”

  He nodded. “OK, that’s something. Lock it every night.”

  Carrie shook her head. “Sam would never hurt me.”

  “He’s going to kill you if you don’t lock your door.”

  “Funny, he says pretty much the same thing about you.” She tried to make her tone flippant and failed miserably.

  “You believe him?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.” She swallowed and looked away as tears filled her eyes. “He’s been… well… amazing. Gourmet meals, immaculate house, Gage he even had petit fours flown in for me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And he doesn’t touch me, not accidentally or on purpose. He’s like… too perfect.”

  “Baby, he’s not what he seems. Wait.” He held up his hand to stop her argument. “I know I’ve said this before, but Carrie you’ve got to listen to me. He’ll hurt you if he gets the chance. That’s what he does, that’s what he is.”

  She laughed low in her throat. “So he’s the bad guy, and you’re really the good guy coming to my rescue?” The laughter became harsher.

  Gage smiled at her tenderly. “Yeah, haven’t I already told you I’m your knight in shining armor?”

  She had to smile back. It was impossible to do anything else. But it was a sad sort of smile, one that would look better on a condemned prisoner.

  “Well, I’ve heard that from a couple of guys now. You better watch out, I’m starting to feel special. Everybody wants to kill me. It makes me paranoid, all this attention. Didn’t some comedian say, ‘just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not all out to get you’?” she joked weakly. “You know the trial I’m scheduled to testify in is on the docket for just after the first of the year?”

  His steady eyes held hers. “Yeah, I know.”

  Her laugh was mirthless gasp. “So now somebody has a really tight timeline. It’s kind of weird knowing who wants to kill you and when. Everybody thinks about death, even when they don’t want to, but I’ve never imagined dying at Christmas. Seems kind of.” She swallowed and looked up at him. “Seems kind of obscene.”

  Gage closed his eyes, unable to face the pain in hers. He felt her soft hand trail down his face. He captured it and held it against his rough cheek savoring the feeling.

  “Just lock your bedroom door and stay in there as much as possible when you’re home.”

  “Locked doors didn’t keep you out,” she whispered, “Even if they keep Sam at bay, who’s going to save me from you?”

  He turned her palm into his lips and kissed it. “Do you want to be saved from me?”

  She shook her head and answered, “I’m not sure. He would just kill me, but you, you’d do that and break my heart too.”

  “Whose heart will break?”

  “Yours?” she scoffed. “You don’t have a heart.” She pulled her hand from his.

  “Then why does it hurt so much?” he asked with a stoic smile as he stood to leave.

  A little hand was tugging at her dress, claiming her attention. By the time she’d settled a dispute between two children Gage was gone. Just as well, she thought. It would have been too difficult to follow his last comment. She couldn’t deal with his suggestions that he might feel something for her, or that Sam was really the one hired to kill her. No, she couldn’t deal. So she chose to ignore.

  Maybe the coming weekend would help. She and Sam were scheduled to go to the local high school football game, the only real entertainment in Burnt Hickory. And then there was church. She was going to Sam’s church this weekend. It was part of the deal she’d struck with him, but her new found curiosity about the Bible had spilled over into a desire to see if church was the same as it had been all those years ago when she’d been a little girl.

  She’d always loved the ambience of church- the fragrance of the candles, the stained glass, and the ritual of prayers. It h
ad seemed mystical and holy. She wondered if it’d still be the same, from an adult’s prospective.

  That night as she sat eating an elaborate Asian meal Sam had whipped up in the wok Carrie hadn’t even known she had, she was still wondering.

  “What’s church like nowadays Sam?” she said around her chopsticks.

  He seemed surprised she’d asked. “You’ve never been to church?” He sounded scandalized.

  She shook her head and took another bite. “Of course I’ve been to church. This is America, everybody goes to church. It’s just been a while.”

  He laughed. “It may be America, but everybody does not go to church. In fact, most folks don’t. And those who do, well, not all of them go for the right reasons. So, when was the last time you went to church?”

  Carrie sat and thought for a minute. “Not counting my Dad’s funeral, it’s been probably 12 years. Not since my Mom died. So is it the same?”

  “Tell me what it was like for you back then and I’ll tell you if it’s the same,” he joked.

  She balanced her chopsticks delicately between her fingers as she thought. “Well, there was a lot of organ music and a big choir in satin robes. Candles were burning on stands along the front of the church and everybody wore special clothes. Mine always seemed itchy.” She giggled, remembering the elaborate dresses her mother had made her wear.

  Sam seemed entranced by her laughter. “I don’t know what it’s like in other places, but here in Burnt Hickory it’s not like that at all.”

  Carrie seemed disappointed. “So what’s it like?”

  “Well, there isn’t staid organ music. We have a praise band. And the choir definitely doesn’t wear robes anymore. In fact hardly anybody dresses up. Most folks just wear jeans or work clothes. And I think the last time we had candles in the church was at a memorial service we had a few months ago.”

  “Oh.” Carrie felt deflated. It sounded sort of ordinary.

  He noticed. “Carrie if you want, you and I can dress up. I’ll wear my suit and you can wear, well, whatever.” He was trying so hard to please her.