by Gold, Kristi
Sam made it to the Greers’ place in a matter of minutes and after he pulled up to the house, he found Savannah waiting for him on the front porch. She wore a shapeless navy T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, but with her damp hair hanging down in soft waves, no makeup on her face or shoes on her feet, she could’ve walked right out of his past—or his dreams.
As Sam approached the porch, Savannah didn’t move an inch. At one time she would’ve hurried down the steps and thrown her arms around him. Tonight, she didn’t seem all that glad to see him. At least not as glad as he was to see her, something he intended to keep to himself.
After he scaled the wooden stairs, Savannah held out a piece of paper. “This is it.”
Sam took the page and dropped down onto the glider to study the sketch. He agreed that it wasn’t something a young girl would normally draw. “You’re right. It’s weird.”
“It’s more than weird,” she said as she sat beside him. “I think she’s sending some kind of message. Either someone hurt her or she saw someone being hurt.”
He handed the page back to her. “Maybe it was some kind of art project.”
“More like art therapy,” she said. “I just can’t imagine a child creating something like this unless they had personal knowledge of the subject.”
He leaned back against the glider. “Any theories as to who might have inspired her?”
She shifted slightly to face him. “What do you know about her stepfather, Don Leland?”
Sam shook his head. “Not a whole lot other than my grandfather used to say the man was a worthless drunk.”
“Aunt May mentioned the drinking to me,” she said. “And if he became violent when he drank, then it’s possible he hurt my mother, right?”
He draped an arm over the back of the glider. “Yeah, it’s possible, and so are a lot of other things. Again, you need to—”
“Ask my mother,” she interrupted. “I plan to try, but I doubt I’ll get very far.”
“And if you don’t, then you’ll just have to accept it and let Ruth have her secrets, especially if they’re too painful to talk about.” He knew all about that concept.
She stood and began walking the length of the porch. “Painful or not, she needs to talk about it. I suspect that’s been her problem all along when it comes to bottling up her emotions.”
And Savannah had definitely suffered for that, something he’d witnessed firsthand. When she didn’t seem to want to settle down, Sam formulated a plan that might help. “Do you want to go to bed?” Man, if that hadn’t come out all wrong.
The serious glare she aimed like a rifle at him said she thought so, too. “You’re just going to ignore everything I said earlier, aren’t you?”
Nope, he wasn’t. “I meant do you want me to get out of here so you can get some sleep.”
Her hostile expression slowly disappeared. “Actually, I’m not sure I can sleep right now.”
“Then I have an idea that might help with that.” When he came to his feet, she took a step back. “Relax. I’m not going to throw you over my shoulder, carry you inside and have my way with you.” Even if that did sound like a win-win idea.
She tried not to smile but failed. “Okay, then what do you have in mind? A glass of warm milk with a shot of whiskey? Maybe weight lifting? We could jog into town and be back before dawn.”
Damn if she wasn’t still as sassy—and sexy—as ever. “Let’s go for a drive.”
SAVANNAH HAD NO IDEA what had motivated her to get in a truck and take off with Sam. She really questioned her sanity when he turned off the main road and onto the familiar road, and she didn’t say a word to stop him. She questioned Sam’s judgment when she noticed several No Trespassing signs posted on either side of the smooth-wire fence bordering the path to Potter’s Pond. That could explain why she hadn’t seen one vehicle in what once had been the town’s most popular gathering place for young lovers.
“What are we doing here, Sam?” she asked as he turned to the left and headed toward their one-time favorite site beneath the ancient oak that predictably carried their initials. A blatant violation of the rules she’d set out earlier that day.
“Just thought this might be a good place to unwind.”
“But we agreed not to—”
“Discuss the pond,” he interjected. “We never said we couldn’t visit the place.”
Leave it to Sam to find a loophole. She afforded him a glance in time to see his killer smile. “Perhaps I should amend the terms of the agreement.”
“Maybe you should remember we had some of our best talks here.”
“I don’t recall much talking taking place.” She did recall all those nights when they’d come here on a regular basis to escape everyday life in each other’s arms.
“There’s always a first time for everything,” he said without taking his eyes off the makeshift road.
“Did you not notice all those warning signs?”
“Yeah. Someone’s trying to keep kids out of the place.”
“Which means we shouldn’t be here, either.”
“We’re not kids.”
Very twisted reasoning as far as Savannah was concerned. “I must’ve missed the one that said Keep Out Unless You’re Over Thirty.”
Sam barked out a laugh. “I can almost guarantee the new owner is safely in bed in his multimillion dollar mansion and not at all concerned about us or what we do on his land.”
She didn’t have to inquire over the new owner’s identity, but she did anyway. “Let me guess. Wainwright bought the pond.”
“You guessed right.” Sam stopped beneath the tree, shifted the truck into gear and switched off the ignition. “He plans to build an RV park to draw people traveling north and south between Jackson and Memphis.”
“Isn’t it kind of off the beaten path?” she asked.
He draped his arm over the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. “Yeah, but if it works, it’ll be good for the local economy.”
And bad in terms of continuing a tradition. “I suppose you’re right, but in a way it’s a shame. This old pond holds a lot of history.” A lot of their history.
“Do you want to get out and sit a spell to say our official goodbye?” he asked.
“You didn’t give me a chance to put on my shoes.”
He finally looked at her. “You never minded going barefoot before.”
“My feet were much tougher before. Besides, we don’t have any lawn chairs and I really don’t want to sit on the ground.”
He hooked a thumb behind him. “I have a blanket in the backseat.”
That conjured up all sorts of images of the last time she’d been on a blanket with him. “How convenient,” she said. “Do you routinely have midnight picnics out here with your lady friends, hence the blanket in the backseat?”
“I keep it on hand in case I break down and have to sleep in my truck.”
A plausible explanation, if Savannah chose to trust him. More important, did she trust herself on a blanket with Sam? “Maybe we should just stay in the truck.”
“And miss getting a better look at that?” He pointed at the panorama stretched out before them.
The full moon hovered high above the horizon, casting the water in a shimmering blue glow that contrasted with the inky sky. Several times Savannah had witnessed this same occurrence over Lake Michigan and although she couldn’t deny the beauty in it, the Chicago city lights somehow defused the effect.
Admittedly, she would greatly enjoy soaking up the scenery seated on a blanket, as long as she remained upright. Not willing to borrow that kind of trouble, she unbuckled her seat belt and said, “Let’s sit on the hood like we used to do.”
“Works for me.”
Being shoeless didn’t work at all for Savannah. Sam, on the other hand, happened to be wearing a pair of heavy boots designed to thwart burrs and rocks and any living thing that might be lurking in the grass. “You better hope I don’t step on a snake when I get o
ut of this truck,” she called to him as he slid out of the driver’s seat.
Savannah barely had her door open before Sam was right there, scooping her into his arms as if she weighed little more than a cotton ball. She laughed from being caught by surprise, from sheer giddiness when he deposited her onto the hood. “Thanks for being my own personal pack mule and saving my feet,” she said as he claimed the spot beside her.
“You’re welcome.”
Despite her solemn vow not to remember, as she took in the scenery, thoughts of days gone by unfolded in Savannah’s mind. Life had been so easy back then, filled with excitement and anticipation and moments of sheer joy.
“We had some good times here, didn’t we?” she said without regard to the self-imposed regulations for continuing their relationship.
“Some great times,” Sam added. “We could’ve set the back forty on fire. I barely had the truck stopped before we were all over each other.”
He said the last line in a rough, sexy voice, and Savannah felt the impact as if he’d launched a sensory grenade. More scenes invaded her brain, some of which would make a statue blush. Clothes flying, bodies entwined, long, slow kisses, provocative touches.
She chose to defuse the recollections with humor. “Considering the way we used to go at it, you would’ve thought we’d invented making out. At least hanging out here saved you some money since we rarely went out on official dates.”
He frowned. “I bought you plenty of burgers at Stan’s.”
She tapped her chin and pretended to think. “Oh, and I forgot that you took me to a movie in Jackson twice in four years.”
“I sprung for a bottle of cheap wine that one night.”
One night she didn’t care to remember. “While we’re at it, let’s not forget the expense of the condom you always carried in your wallet.”
“Before I stopped doing that when we both found out what that does to latex.”
Savannah was immediately thrust back to the summer before their senior year, when Sam had returned from a two-week baseball camp in Vicksburg. Her parents had been in town with friends that night, and she and Sam had barely made it to her bedroom. It had been a frantic, fiery session of lovemaking resulting in a broken condom—an accident in the making.
“Fortunately the pregnancy scare was only a false alarm,” she said.
Sam sat forward, arms resting on his knees as he studied the ground. “Yeah, real fortunate.”
His sullen tone completely threw Savannah. “Nothing like learning our lesson the hard way,” she added.
He leaned back against the windshield and stacked his hands behind his head. “I don’t think we learned a damn thing. I remember another couple of times when we weren’t all that careful.”
So did Savannah, and she’d always wondered if on some subconscious level she’d wanted to get pregnant. “That still didn’t stop your penchant for parking.”
“And I don’t recall you ever turning me down.”
“I guess you’re right about that,” she conceded.
Sam looked sufficiently smug. “I rest my case.”
“Hey, I’m the attorney, so stop stealing my lines.”
When she playfully slapped at his arm, he caught her hand and held it firmly in his grasp. “Looks like you’re still bent on bruising me even after all this time.”
She needed to wrest her hand away. Needed not to react so strongly to his touch, to the memories. “I never bruised you, Sam.” Her voice sounded slightly shaky, and oh, how she hated that reaction.
“Oh, yeah, you did bruise me,” he added without releasing his grasp. “When you pinched me.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t so far off base. “I only pinched you because you used to pin me down on my back and tickle me. You knew I couldn’t stand that.”
“I recall a few times when I had you on your back and you didn’t mind a bit.”
The minute Sam loosened his grip, Savannah tugged her hand away and pulled at the hem of her shirt. Yet she still hadn’t quite recovered from his touch, and continuing this conversation could very well lead them both into treacherous territory.
With that in mind, Savannah kept a safe distance between them as she lay back and stared at the stars. She closed her eyes as a slight breeze drifted over her face, bringing with it more wonderful summer scents and one less-than-pleasant remembrance. “Do you know what I regret the most about the way we ended things?”
“You didn’t punch me.”
She could hear a smile in his voice. “No. I regret that we didn’t go to the prom together so we could have that last dance.”
Without warning, he sat up, scooted off the hood and when his feet hit the ground, he turned to her and said, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
When Savannah heard the door open, she looked back to see Sam leaning into the cab followed by the sounds of country music floating through the open windows.
Sam soon returned but instead of reclaiming his place beside her, he held out his hand. “Guess we’ll just have that last dance now.”
Savannah was both taken aback and extremely determined to protect her heart. “That’s really not necessary, Sam.”
“Yeah, it is. I owe it to you for breaking my promise.”
The promise to take her to the prom, a plan three years in the making. Savannah had gone with Gary Alders, another high school hunk, but only as a friend, although she made certain Sam hadn’t known that.
After Savannah hesitated, Sam added, “For old times’ sake.”
She harbored serious misgivings about that. “You’re asking me to dance on the grass, subjecting my bare feet to burrs and heaven only knows what else.”
“It’s fairly soft grass that looks to be clear of critters,” he said as he surveyed the area. “And it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
Yes, and that in itself was a problem. Those former dances had led to other things. For that reason, she grabbed for the only other excuse that came to mind. “I’m not sure I remember how to dance.”
“I’ll help you remember.”
Hadn’t he done enough of that already? She could continue to weigh the pros and cons, or she could just can the qualms and humor him. “All right, I’ll do it. And you ought to be glad I’m not wearing shoes, otherwise I might crush your toes.”
He took her by the waist and set her on the ground, then gave her a gorgeous grin. “That’s why I wear boots.”
Before she dove into this spontaneous dance, Savannah engaged herself in a mental pep talk. Yes, she would have to touch him. Yes, she would have to revoke the rule to keep him at a distance. Most important, she had to steel herself against any unwanted or unwarranted emotions.
Yet when Sam took her hand into his, the contact, no matter how innocuous, left her feeling as if it were somehow too intimate. And when he put his arms around her, she journeyed back in time when just like tonight, they’d danced to a radio, not a band, on blanket of grass, not a scuffed wooden floor.
The song happened to be a sultry country classic, perfect for a couple that wanted up-close-and-personal proximity. Not so perfect for former lovers who still had miles of acrimony between them. She promised herself to keep everything in perspective, to keep a safe berth between them, even as she inched closer. Amazingly she hadn’t forgotten how to dance, but then he was leading her perfectly. No surprise. Sam had always been the kind of man who was very good at a lot of things.
He held their joined hands against his chest, while she kept her eyes lowered to avoid his gaze. She caught the clean scent of soap and felt the warmth of his back beneath her palm, causing her stomach to dip with exhilaration, as if she’d boarded a runaway roller coaster bound for danger.
When the music transitioned into a ballad, Savannah’s concerns over getting too close dissolved in the moment. She automatically rested her cheek against his chest where she could hear the steady thud of his heart while they swayed in sync, as if they could still anticipate each other’s
every move. As if they’d never been apart.
He’d always made her feel so safe, so secure. He’d been her touchstone, her teacher in many instances. For years she’d tried to convince herself that she’d exaggerated the power he’d possessed over her. That she’d fallen victim to an overblown concept of true love. But right then she wasn’t so sure.
As they continued to sway together, the moments seemed almost surreal to Savannah, until reality crept back in. She abruptly wrested out of Sam’s arms and took a few steps back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking and sounding extremely bewildered.
She chafed her arms with her palms. “I’m just too keyed up for slow dancing.” And she’d been much too caught up in the moment.
“Are you ready to head back home?” he asked.
She should be, but she wasn’t. “I’m still too restless to sleep. I could try, but I’ll probably stay awake thinking about this thing with my mother.” And thinking about him.
“I know of one way you can get rid of some energy, if you’re game.”
Savannah was almost afraid to ask. “That depends on what you’re going to suggest.”
“I suggest we go for a swim.”
As far as she was concerned, Sam had totally lost his mind. “Now, that sounds like a banner idea, wading around in the dark with all sorts of unseen creatures.”
Sam sighed. “It’s a man-made lake, Savannah, not the Amazon River. About all you’re going to encounter is a perch, not a piranha.”
“Or a catfish.” The thought of running into one of those slimy, whiskered bottom-feeders made her cringe.
“Look, Savannah, the fish are a lot more scared of you than you are of them.”
That happened to be a fact, but it didn’t change Savannah’s biggest concern—swimming in the dark with Sam. She hoisted herself back on the hood. “Sorry, but I forgot to bring my suit.”