He grabbed his wallet and cigarettes “I married you for mine.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sam walked for what felt like an eternity. Deirdre had been right, the island was remote and hot as hell. After a while, he removed his shirt and used it to wipe beads of perspiration from his forehead and neck. Where he was going, he had no idea, but Sam simply knew he needed to leave this place, return to the mainland and call Julia.
As he trudged through the soft, white sand, his headache and thirst returned full-force. The beach seemed to stretch for miles, yet he spotted nary a soul, only stray, thatched roofed cottages like the one in which he awoke.
His legs began to cramp, and hunger gnawed. Nearly ready to surrender to the heat, lie down and let nature play out as it would, Sam spotted two people in the distance. He shadowed his eyes with his hand, and tried to focus. They appeared to be a man and a woman. As they drew closer, Sam smiled, relieved.
“Hello!” He walked up to meet them, wondering if he looked as awful as he felt.
The man, sunburned, balding and dressed in wildly printed shorts and an equally tacky floral shirt, returned the greeting. “Howdy!”
“Pardon me,” Sam said, happy the couple seemed cordial. “But I appear to be dreadfully lost.”
“How can we help?” The man offered his hand. “I’m Don Parsons. This here is my lovely wife, Cheryl. We’re from Omaha. I sell insurance. You sound British, are you?”
“Yes, yes, British,” Sam said, his head aching as he eyed the cool, tall umbrella drinks Don and Carol from Omaha carried. “Where did you get the drinks? Is there someplace near?”
“New here, eh?” Don Parsons laughed and his heavy belly shook. “Just up the beach there, about another ten minutes or so. It’s the only place on the island if you want to get away from the honeymoon huts, heh, honey?” He winked at his wife.
Cheryl, slightly overweight but pretty, smiled at Sam. “You look familiar, honey. Have I seen you somewhere before? Perhaps at one of the island get-togethers?”
“No,” Sam wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’ve been under the weather and in the hut.”
Don laughed heartily and nudged Cheryl. “Under the weather, heh? Is that what you youngsters call it now? Back in our day-”
“Look, Don,” Sam interrupted. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m feeling a tad faint from the heat. Does the place ahead sport a phone?”
“Oh yeah. Keep walking. You can’t miss the place. It’s the only hotel on the island. But take my drink, boy. You look awful.” Don offered up his glass.
“No thank you, Don.” Sam’s stomach lurched at the thought of alcohol. “Those spirits delivered me here. Thanks for the directions. Excellent to meet you.”
“Give him your card, Donny.” Cheryl smiled again at Sam.
Don reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “There you go fella. Give me a jingle if you’re ever in Omaha.”
Sam took it. “Brilliant. Very well then. Goodbye.”
“See you around, fella.” Don and Cheryl continued on their way as Sam headed quickly towards salvation.
As Don predicted, Sam spotted the small resort set back from the beachfront. Sam plodded up a grassy hill to the open-air lobby. A cool breeze from overhead fans greeted him like a long lost kiss. He walked to the front desk.
“Can I help you?” A dark-skinned concierge stood behind the counter. He appeared unhurried, friendly and eager to help.
“I’m in need of water and a phone. I need to call the States.” Sam slipped his shirt back on, although the concierge seemed nonplussed by his rough appearance.
“You can find drinks in our restaurant, sir, and I’m afraid we don’t have phones for guests use. Unless it's an emergency. We pride ourselves at being a very private and exclusive island. People come here for peace, sir.”
Sam looked around, unsure what to do. Remembering his credit card, he pulled his wallet from his pocket, shocked to find it stuffed with several hundred pounds. Where the devil had this money come from? Suddenly he knew, and the thought of Deirdre padding his wallet infuriated him. She swore she lacked money to pay off Polly’s estates, yet she stocked his billfold?
He felt the inquisitive eyes of the concierge eyeing his fortune. His anger dissipated as he realized how helpful these funds just became.
Without hesitation, he lifted a crisp bill from the wallet and slid it across the shiny desk. “I really need to call the States, sir.” He pulled out another bill. “And it is an emergency.”
The man eyed the money, glanced around the lobby, and then returned his gaze to Sam. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have a phone in the office.” He motioned for Sam to follow him around the desk and through a doorway.
The man hurried him into the small office. “The telephone is on the desk. The instructions for dialing to the United States are listed on that sheet next to the phone.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you to your privacy, sir.” The concierge backed out of the room, and closed the door.
Sam read the directions and dialed. An operator from the mainland answered his call and connected him to Julia’s number, which he knew by heart. He listened impatiently through several rings until someone finally picked up.
“Hello?” A man’s voice. Her father perhaps?
“Yes, thank you,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “May I speak with Julia?”
“She’s not here right now,” the man said. “Can I take a message?”
Sam stared at the desk. “May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”
“Bert. Julia’s dad. Who’s this?”
“Sam.” He paused, hoping for a reaction to his name, but met with silence. He forged ahead. “Sam Lyons.”
“Sorry fella. Haven’t heard of you.” Bert sounded apologetic which Sam took as a friendly sign.
“Julia hasn’t mentioned me?”
“No. But then again, she’s had her mind on other things. Are you a friend, teacher, what?”
Sam hesitated before answering, choosing his words carefully, afraid to reveal to Bert more than he might know. “I’m a friend. I met Julia this past summer in Germany.”
“Oh sorry, she never mentioned you. So, you’ve called all the way from Germany to talk with her? You don’t sound German. More, um, Australian or somethin’.”
“British, actually.” Sam tried to keep the conversation on track. “I was thinking of coming to Chicago to surprise her. Shall I call back? Will she be home later?”
“Sorry fella, but you’re outta luck. Julia went shopping for her wedding dress and cake and I have no idea where. Men aren’t allowed in on that information, I guess.” Bert let out a hearty bellow.
Sam found no humor in his words. “Did you say her wedding?”
Bert laughed again. “Well, obviously you two haven’t been keeping in touch. Yeah, Julia’s gettin’ married.”
Sam’s fingers knotted and unknotted the phone cord. “To who?”
“To John, of course, who else?”
Sam felt his heart rip open. “John?”
“Do you know John?”
Sam spoke though his throat tightened with each word. “She mentioned him. I didn’t think that-”
“Yes, it’s very sudden,” Bert said. “I’m just glad they decided to tie the knot. They’re kind of young, but no younger than most people in my day when I married Joan, that’s Julia’s mom, bless her heart. She’s deceased now. Anyhow, John’s got a good job and it will all work out.”
Sam could barely think straight. What was Julia doing getting married to John? She loved him. “When is she getting married?”
“In a couple of weeks. I’m just waitin’ for confirmation from the courthouse on the date. I tried to get them in the church, but it was booked. Her mother would so have loved to see Julia married in a Catholic church. Anyhow, we’re shootin’ for September fourteenth, I think. I don’t suppose you
’ll be in town then?”
“No, I don’t suppose,” Sam said quietly, nearly numbed by the news.
“It sounds as if we’re losing our connection.” Bert said. “You still there?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me your number. I’ll have Julia give call you when she gets in.”
“No, that’s okay.” Sam said quickly as if by talking fast he could ward off the pain shooting through his heart. He wanted to slam down the receiver, but something inside of him could not believe the news he just heard. “And she hasn’t mentioned me at all?”
“Like I said, fella. She’s been busy planning this wedding. I’ll be happy to tell her you called though.”
“Wait. Please.” Sam said, lost for words and needing time to think. Julia was marrying John. John, her boyfriend of two years. She must have loved John after all.
My God, I was duped for a trip to London. She had seemed so genuine.
Sam felt his anger rise. How could he have been so stupid? She was a better actress than I gave her credit for! “Do me favor? Don’t mention my call.”
“You sure?”
Sam hesitated. No, he wasn’t sure. He thought Julia loved him and now he wasn’t sure what anything between them had meant. She lied to him to get to London? And what was Chicago all about? Fancy hotels, nice dinners and great sex? “Yes. Don’t mention it. I don’t want to bother her.”
Bert seemed content. “All right then. I won’t mention it. Goodbye, Sam.”
Sam hung up the phone and slammed his fist on the desk. He stared at the phone.
“Goodbye, Julia.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Spencer entered his flat to the sound of a ringing telephone. He dropped his luggage in the hallway and hurried to answer it.
“Hello?” He picked up the phone and dropped onto the couch. His five-day trip to New York City had been brief, but exhausting. But it served its purpose, the whirlwind sightseeing and visits with friends kept him from thinking too much about Sam and Deirdre.
“Spencer.” The familiar female voice rang cold through the receiver. “It’s Deirdre.”
He shook his head. He really didn’t need to hear about the fantastic time she and Sam had on their honeymoon. He left town to escape all this nonsense, not deal with it.
“What do you want, Deirdre? I’ve just returned from New York.”
“Have you seen Sam?”
“Have you lost him already?” He couldn’t help himself.
Her silence spoke louder than words ever could. Spencer immediately regretted his sarcasm. “Deirdre, is something wrong?”
A heavy, weary sigh. “Spencer, I’m back in London.”
“Oh?”
“And Sam’s not with me.”
“Oh?” Dare he hope they already divorced?
“He left the island without me and I don’t know where he went.”
“Why did he leave?”
“It’s a long story, Spencer, and really none of your business. I just want to know where he is.”
“I don’t know.” He glanced around his flat as if he might find Sam hiding in a corner. “Like I said, I just got back into town.”
“You’re not lying to me?” She sounded defeated.
“I’m not the one who lies to you, Dee.”
Dead silence again for a moment and then, “Well, if you see him, will you call me?”
Spencer thought for a moment. On which side did his loyalties now lie?
“Spencer, will you?”
“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose.”
“Thank you.” She hung up.
He sat on the couch for a long time, thinking. Something between Deirdre and Sam had not gone according to her plans. Sam left her alone on an island. Did he go back to Julia? Is that where he ran off?
Spencer smiled faintly. A glimmer of hope appeared through a crack in a door so recently slammed shut.
He rose from the couch and began to whistle. He suddenly felt more energetic than on vacation. He grabbed his suitcase from the hallway and went upstairs to change into his tennis gear.
The time had arrived for his return to the game.
Chapter Forty
Sam stood outside the McTeel Manor gate. A light rain drizzled through the heavy fog, but Sam barely noticed it or the damp chill invading his bones. He stared ahead at the massive home. Memories of the happy times he shared there with Polly replayed over and over in his mind.
He startled as a hand lightly touched his shoulder.
Sam turned, a bittersweet smile on his sad face. “Barnabas.”
The tall and thin gray haired man stood beside him. Sam offered his hand. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
Barnabas returned the handshake. “Good to see you, Sam.” He looked towards the house. “The bank owns it now. Your things are at my place.”
“I know.” Sam paused, his heart heavy. “I tried, Barnabas. I did everything I could to save it.”
“I know, Sam, I know.” Barnabas patted his shoulder and for a moment the two men stood together in the quiet. “Polly knows you tried too, Sam.”
“I’ve made a bloody mess of things, I fear.”
“It’s all right. Things just don’t always work out the way we hope.”
Sam didn’t answer.
Barnabas coughed lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t attend your wedding. A miserable cold kept me away. I’m fine now.”
“Don’t worry. I barely remember the wedding, myself.” He laughed and Barnabas chuckled. Sam turned to the elderly gentleman. “Oh, bloody hell, Barnabas. I’ve been so wrapped up in all my problems that I’ve completely forgotten you’ve been displaced as well. Please forgive my idiocy. Where are you living?”
“Not to worry. I’ve taken a flat. Not a bad place.” He looked again at the stately home. “Just lonely.”
Sam realized he wasn’t the only one standing in the rain with a broken heart. “Do you come back here often, Barnabas?”
“Every day on my walk. Being here brings back Polly, more so than sitting beside some cold headstone in a cemetery.”
Sam put his arm around the old man’s shoulder. “I miss her too.”
“I know.” Barnabas sighed. “It’s good to have you back.”
The pain of loss hung in the air thicker than the fog.
“Where’ve you been, Sam?” Barnabas asked after a moment. “I hear Ms. Lamont, excuse me, I mean Mrs. Lyons, returned alone three days ago. Gossip has been ripe.”
“I’ve been back, too, actually,” Sam said. “Just not with her. I needed time to sort things out. I’ve been staying with my agent. I’ve really messed things up.”
“We’ll all be fine, Sam.” Barnabas turned to leave. “You just make things right for you. Get back to work. It will ease your mind about Julia.”
Sam’s head spun. “How do you know about Julia?”
“Because you look like I feel.” Barnabas said no more, but turned and walked away.
Sam watched him disappear into the gray, thick mist, and then turned back to the house. Polly was gone. Her home and precious belongings now sat with the bank. Could he have done something different to save them? Had he been so enamored with Julia that he didn’t notice the other things he loved slipping away?
And yet Julia slipped away too, and why, he would never know. He had too much pride to ever call her again.
He glanced at the manor one final time. “I shall forget her,” he said aloud. “I will throw everything I have into my career and forget she ever existed. I’ll end this sham of marriage, work hard and someday buy back McTeel Manor.”
Sam turned and headed towards the Lamont home.
Chapter Forty-One
“Where have you been and put out the damn cigarette.”
Deirdre’s frosty reception halted Sam from entering the sitting room of the Lamont family home. Although her eyes never strayed from her book, she somehow sensed his arrival.
Deirdre sat tall and reg
al in a rosewood, Victorian armchair. Her long, tan legs streamed endlessly from the black skirt she wore, her ankles crossed in the classical style. She fingered a string of delicate black pearls that complimented her silk blouse and matching summer sweater.
Sam looked for somewhere to extinguish his half-smoked cigarette. “Didn’t my agent call you?”
“He called and told me you wished to end our marriage but wouldn’t tell me where you were. What a simply lovely way to find out about my impending divorce. Thank you, Sam.”
Sam ignored the sarcasm, her role in the loss of McTeel Manor still fresh in his memory. “I had other things to take care of.”
Deirdre closed her book and calmly placed it on the coffee table. She stared at him as she spoke, her voice sharp. “I am not granting you an annulment, divorce, or anything of the like.”
He knew this wouldn’t be easy. He anticipated her response and came prepared with one of his own. “You didn’t come through on your end of our deal. So I see no reason to make good on mine.”
“But Sam, I told you in Fiji, I had no idea I wouldn’t have access to the money.”
“Liar.” And a damn good one.
“Oh Sam,” Deirdre said, with an over exaggerated sigh. “I never lie.”
“You just hold back the truth. Same difference.” Sam stared her down.
“Why don’t you come in and sit down instead of standing in the doorway?” Deirdre smiled. “After all, this is your home now.”
“This will never be my home.” Sam glanced around the elaborate room, and located an empty wastebasket under a desk. He stepped inside and threw away his cigarette. He sat on the couch across from her. “I’ve been doing some thinking. Since I’ve lost Polly’s manor, I really don’t need you or your money.”
Deirdre’s eyes narrowed to little slits. “Oh really?”
“Yes.” Sam smiled, triumphantly. “Since I’m working on the mini-series now, the money will soon roll in and I plan to buy a place for Barnabas and I to live.”
“Oh really?” Deirdre returned the smile, triumph for triumph. “There’s only one little problem with that plan, Sammy.”
A Lonely Sky Page 19