Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2)

by Snopek, Roxanne

  “You’re absolutely right,” said Logan. “I understand completely.”

  “Wait,” said Jade, scrambling to her feet. “Playground?”

  “You have a nice day, ladies,” said Logan, turning to leave.

  “Mama!” cried Jade. “Let’s go to the park with him!”

  “Really?” said Samara. “But I thought you didn’t want to.”

  Logan took a couple of steps away, then stopped to check his watch, pretending not to hear them.

  “Please, Mama, please!” She was dancing from foot to foot, tugging at Samara’s shirt.

  “I’ll have to ask Mr. S. Or,” she paused here, as if an idea had just struck her. “Perhaps you could ask him.”

  “Mama!” pleaded Jade.

  “Quick, I think he’s going!”

  Jade made a tortured sound. “Mister S? I changed my mind.”

  Logan figured that’s as close as they were going to get, but he couldn’t resist playing it out.

  “Did you say something, Samara?”

  “Me!” said Jade, stamping her foot. “I changed my mind.”

  “So,” said Logan. “Are you saying that you and Bob and your mom would like to come to the park with me, after all?”

  “Yes. Yes!” Jade groaned. “Mama?”

  Logan grinned. “It’s up to you, Mama.”

  Jade sent pleading eyes up to her mother.

  “All right, honey, we’ll go.”

  Jade jumped and down, then threw herself against Samara’s knees. “Yay!”

  “Thank you,” mouthed Samara, while her daughter squeezed so tightly, her little face turned red.

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured back.

  If this playground wasn’t up to Jade’s standards, he’d drive them to Livingston. Hell, he’d drive them to Billings if he had to.

  Whatever it took to keep that smile on Samara’s face.

  *

  The community park was a stone’s throw from the elementary school Jade would be attending as soon as they were settled.

  She should be there now, but Samara couldn’t add that to Jade’s already overloaded life. Soon.

  Though from the look of it, Jade might be more prepared than Samara gave her credit for.

  With her mother’s permission, she’d unclipped Bob’s leash, and the two of them had raced across the park, straight to the playground equipment, birds and squirrels dashing away at the commotion.

  What was taking Logan, she wondered? They’d each taken their own cars; had he made a stop on the way?

  There he was and yes, he was carrying a box in his hands.

  “I stopped at the deli,” he called. “I hope you still like Reuben sandwiches. I got ham and cheese for the rug-rat.”

  He sat down at the picnic table beside her, where they could both see Jade and Bob.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” said Samara. She opened the box. He’d gotten more than sandwiches; pickles, potato chips, bottles of iced tea, three chocolate cupcakes, he’d even thrown in some roast beef slices for the dog.

  “I wanted to,” said Logan. “Mustard?”

  She shook her head, took a bite of her Reuben and nearly moaned.

  “Good?” asked Logan hopefully.

  She closed her eyes and nodded. Better than good. The sauerkraut was crunchy but not overpowering, the meat was thinly sliced, but thickly layered, the Swiss cheese soft but not gooey.

  She glanced up and caught him contemplating her, a strange expression on his face.

  “They certainly know how to slap a sandwich together,” he said, turning away.

  But she’d seen it, a mixture of longing and desire and fascination that left him mystified, uncertain. She recognized it because it was the same expression she’d seen on his face in algebra class, the day he’d first spoken to her.

  The memory was clear as a photograph.

  Logan Stafford, captain of the football team, student council representative, handsome, popular, smart and talented, didn’t know what to make of her. Couldn’t talk to her, not for days, but couldn’t quit watching her either.

  “Delicious,” she said.

  He looked back at her sharply, as if he’d heard more than she intended. Samara reached for her drink, but in her haste, bumped it, spilling it on the table.

  “Here, let me,” said Logan, grabbing some paper napkins.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Samara, feeling her face flame. Together they patted the weathered boards dry without getting drenched in the process.

  Somehow, after, they seemed to be sitting a lot closer than they’d been before.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  Before coming down from her room Monday morning, Samara had an interruption-filled but ultimately successful conversation with A-1 Movers. She clicked off her cell, feeling that maybe, just maybe, things would work out after all.

  And hungry.

  That wonderful al fresco lunch with Logan had apparently turned her appetite back on. The food had been so good; the company so easy.

  As she walked through the bathroom to Jade’s room, the smell of bacon wafted up faintly from the kitchen below and sent her stomach rumbling even more.

  She pulled a still-clean top from the diminishing pile in Jade’s suitcase and held it briefly to her nose.

  If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the sunshiny-fresh scent of Logan’s clean church shirt, and see the tanned skin of his forearms, where the sleeves were rolled up.

  When they sat side by side at the picnic table eating their sandwiches, and his bare arms occasionally brushed against hers, he may as well have had her stretched out naked under the afternoon sky, for the effect it had on her body.

  “Mama, I’m cold.”

  Jade had taken her pajamas off and was waiting impatiently for the clothes Samara was day-dreaming over.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” she said, hastily completing the task.

  When they got to the kitchen, Eliza was tending a sizzling pan at the stove.

  “Good morning, everyone,” she said. “I’ve got scrambled eggs in the warming oven and the bacon’s on the way.”

  Mabel sat at the small table, doing her crossword in a patch of sunshine. “Samara, you look like the cat that ate the canary.”

  “My delivery date’s been extended.” Samara smiled as she fixed Jade’s breakfast, eggs in the center, toast cut diagonally, framing but not touching the eggs. “Turns out they had a breakdown or something; my things won’t be here until Wednesday, the twenty-fourth. We’ll need to stay here a little longer; I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  Eliza set the platter of bacon in the sideboard. “That’s wonderful news, Samara; you must be so relieved. Of course you can keep the rooms. If you haven’t noticed, you’re our only booking. Besides, we’re enjoying the company.”

  Mabel lifted her eyebrows but didn’t speak.

  Jade took the plate Samara handed her and set it on the table next to Mabel. Then she dragged the chair a little closer and climbed up, settling in for her breakfast.

  “Bob is my dog,” she informed her tablemate. “She is part Labrador Retriever, part Border Collie.”

  “Yes, Jade,” said Mabel. “So you’ve said.”

  Jade observed her meal for a moment, then made a minute adjustment, lining the bacon up with the toast points.

  “Aunt Mabel, are you mad at Bob?” she asked, without lifting her head.

  A wave of discomfort rippled over Mabel’s face. “Don’t be silly. Your dog is… quiet. And she seems devoted to you. I have no quarrel with her.”

  “Mama says she is part luck-of-the-draw. That means she doesn’t have a family. Like me.”

  The room went silent, except for the sound of Jade’s utensils on her plate. Jade’s matter-of-fact words cut Samara to the heart. With the Kims in Asia, her dad gone and her mom busy with her new husband, it was the two of them, that’s it.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee, and got a slice of toast. The
bacon and eggs had lost their appeal.

  “Everyone has a family,” said Mabel, her voice rough.

  “We don’t.” Samara spoke briskly. “Jade, sweetie, finish your breakfast.”

  Mabel waved away Samara’s words as if irritated by the interruption. “Jade, tell me something else about, er, Bob.”

  Jade glanced at her mother with a frown, but not like she was becoming agitated. More like, she was… intrigued.

  Some strange magic was brewing here.

  “You could tell Aunt Mabel how old she is,” suggested Samara.

  Jade’s expression cleared. “Bob is five years old. I’m four years old.”

  “We established that upon your arrival,” said Mabel with a scowl. “What activities does your Bob enjoy?”

  Jade thought for a moment. “She likes to eat and she likes to chase squirrels and she likes it when I rub her belly. She likes car rides.”

  “Does she like to play with other children?”

  Jade thought again. “Other children?”

  Guilt twisted Samara’s gut again. Their post-Michael socializing had shrunk to the grocery store and the doctor’s office. When she could bear to re-join the happy wives and nannies at playground, the ranks had closed around them, as if their tragedy was contagious. Any play-dates she managed to arrange for Jade weren’t reciprocated. Not that they’d been wildly successful beforehand.

  “Does Bob like other people?” Mabel repeated. “Friends or playmates or neighbors, perhaps.”

  “She likes Mama,” said Jade. “She likes Mr. S. And lookit – she likes you too!”

  Bob leaned against Mabel’s chair, staring up at the woman in adoration.

  The old lady had put a spell on both of them.

  “Jade, eat your eggs. We need to leave soon.”

  Mabel arched an eyebrow at the expression on Samara’s face. “Don’t rush us. We’re having a lovely conversation, the tadpole and I.”

  “I’m a chipmunk,” said Jade, around a mouthful of eggs.

  “You’re a tadpole with me.” Aunt Mabel went back to her crossword without looking at Jade and Jade continued eating, her gaze stuck on the food in front of her.

  “Perhaps the tadpole might help me sort through some pictures today,” said Aunt Mabel casually. “If you can spare her, that is.”

  “Pictures?” said Jade.

  Sam thought of the mess that still remained in her kitchen. She desperately wanted to get working. Her extra time was a welcome reprieve, but they still needed every possible minute.

  But she hated to leave Jade.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I have pictures,” said Jade. She scrambled down from her chair and ran to fetch them from her room.

  “I couldn’t ask that of you,” said Samara quickly.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “She’s not like most children.”

  Mabel sniffed again. “Most children are irritating. Leave her here. It will be good for the child. And I need a break from Eliza’s relentless toadying.”

  “My pictures are of dogs,” said Jade, breathlessly. She opened up the flashcard box and spread out her collection. “Labrador Retrievers and Border Collies are my favorites.”

  “Do you want to stay with Aunt Mabel, honey?”

  Jade hesitated. “I want to put my pictures in piles.”

  “The tadpole will be fine,” said Aunt Mabel.

  “I’m a chipmunk. Bye Mama.”

  So Samara left.

  *

  The students were in the kitchen with the tradesmen, getting a lecture on proper grout sealant, when Logan saw Sam slip in the front door.

  Blue jeans emphasized her long, lean legs and the simple t-shirt hugged her curves just right.

  He’d have to be careful to keep an eye on the horn dogs in his group.

  “You’re an early bird,” he said. For the first time since her return, she appeared relaxed. “Where’s the chipmunk?”

  Sam’s smile lit up his insides, like turning on a light in an abandoned basement.

  “At Bramble House with Mabel, where apparently, she’s a tadpole. But Jade’s arguing the point.” She shook her head in wonder. “Seems the two of them have taken to each other.”

  “Mabel and Jade?”

  “I know.” Sam grinned at his expression. “But I promised I’d be back in a couple of hours, before the spell is broken and everything goes back to pumpkins and chaos. So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

  Sam put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, a movement that made her breasts jut out. He wondered if she was aware of it.

  Decide to enjoy it, regardless.

  “Painting crown molding,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers. She twinkled knowingly at him. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Come on up. I’ll show you.”

  He led her to the master bedroom where the lovely curved lines between ceiling and wall were already taped off, ready for white paint that would off-set the lavender.

  He wondered if she felt the charge between them too. With everyone else working in the kitchen, they were alone. The room was warm, and Logan was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the autumn sunshine.

  “Between the two of us, it shouldn’t take long,” he said. “You okay on a ladder?”

  “Of course.”

  She climbed her ladder, giving him an even lovelier view of her legs, the graceful curves from knee, to hip and waist. She quickly got to work, loading her brush, then reaching out to stroke the paint smoothly onto the waiting board.

  Her t-shirt rode up and he got a glimpse of the smooth tan skin beneath, that dip of belly button, the little gap between waistband and hipbone, just enough for a finger –

  “So we’ll start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?” She looked down at him, the paintbrush dripping into the tray. Her smile faded. Caution rushed in. “Logan?”

  “Yeah, exactly.” He fumbled and nearly dropped his brush. “I’ll be over here.”

  He worked in the opposite corner and for a while, the only thing breaking the silence was the soothing sound of brushstrokes.

  I hope we can be friends, she’d told him.

  Friends.

  Could he do that? Was that even possible between them?

  They both worked to the extent of their reach, then got down, moved their ladders, and started on a fresh section. Before he knew it, they were only a foot apart, working towards the same unpainted spot.

  “Hey, stranger,” she said, as if surprised.

  He could have set her on a different task, in a different room but then they’d be circling each other, as they had been since her arrival. He was tired of that.

  “Remember that old Disney movie, the cartoon with the dogs, Lady and the Tramp?” she said with a jerky laugh. “It’s Jade’s favorite of course. We’ve watched it a million times. This reminds me of that scene where they’re eating spaghetti.”

  He raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly the scene. Both dogs both slurped the same piece and ended up kissing.

  He stepped down from his ladder and held hers so she could do the same. When she got to the bottom, she was facing him, so close he could smell the peppermint of her toothpaste.

  Logan put his arm around her back. She stepped into the embrace as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Hey.” He tipped her chin up so he could stare into that beautiful mahogany gaze. “Let’s take a break. Have lunch with me. We can run over to Bramble House first and check on Jade, if it makes you feel better.”

  “I couldn’t,” she said. But she didn’t move.

  “Lunch, Sam. You have to eat anyway.”

  “We shouldn’t. It’s not… it’s too complicated.”

  “You really think we can be just friends?” He ran a finger along her cheekbone, feeling the shudder that ran through her.

  “I don’t know, Logan.” Her voice was husky. “It’s like we�
��ve stepped through a portal or something. It feels like the past is gone and I’m sixteen again, only we’re grown-ups this time.”

  He could hear her ramping up and rather than letting it happen, he silenced her the best way he knew how.

  He lowered his head to hers, slowly, so she could see him coming. Her lips parted, in anticipation, in fear, out of breathlessness or a need to speak, he didn’t care. He pressed his against them and heard her quick intake of breath.

  Her hands went up to his neck and she pulled herself closer, her mouth softening against his, opening, until they were necking like the pair of teenagers they had been, urgently, desperately, the rest of the world falling away until it was only them, no one else mattering, nothing necessary to their survival but that they hold on, hold on, hold on to each other and never let go.

  Until, of course, they did let go.

  *

  Samara gripped the door handle of Logan’s truck, anxious to get back to Jade, fighting irritation at Eliza’s undoubtedly well-intentioned gesture of arranging a spontaneous play date for Jade.

  Eliza had invited strangers to Bramble House, while her daughter was there without her.

  And casually informed her by voice-mail.

  A play date. For Jade.

  Mothers arranged play dates. Not acquaintances.

  The fact that Jade’s mother no longer arranged play dates was beside the point. It wasn’t Eliza’s place to do it.

  “Sage is Eliza’s cousin,” said Logan. “Another of Mabel’s great-nieces. Sage and her sisters don’t come around much, but that’s Mabel’s doing, not theirs. Who knows why? That generation is famous for their feuds. But you’ll love Sage. And Savannah is a great kid. Sage already sees herself as her step-mom.”

  “That’s not the point,” said Samara. “I’m sure Sage and Savannah are very nice. It’s just…”

  It’s just that Jade was her daughter. Eliza should have asked her, that’s all.

  She winced, inwardly. Was she really that insecure? That controlling?

  Yeah, she was.

  “Jade’ll be too busy playing to even notice when we stop by,” continued Logan. “Then we’ll go out and have a nice, relaxed lunch together.”

  Samara gripped her hands together. Of course she wanted her daughter to make new friends. Of course she hoped they were having fun.