Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2)

by Snopek, Roxanne

  His breath came out in a hiss, but he tightened his grip around her.

  “So we’ll take it slow then,” he said. “I won’t push you beyond what you want, Sam. But fair warning: I will push you. When this happens, it’ll be on your terms, because you want it as much as I do.”

  Not if, but when.

  She tried to pull away. “I can’t deny there’s something between us. And I’m so grateful that you’re here, when I really need a friend-”

  “We were never just friends,” he bit out, refusing to let her go. “And we’re not going to start now.”

  “But that’s all we should have been. I should never have let you think it could be something more. Dad couldn’t hang onto a job, so we always moved, just when I got settled into a school. I’d hoped…But I always knew we’d break up in the end.”

  “We never broke up, Sam,” said Logan, enunciating precisely. “You left.”

  “You knew I was leaving.”

  “I knew you were leaving sometime that weekend! I didn’t know you’d disappear after final period on Friday!”

  “I didn’t know either!” She finally broke away from his embrace. She bent down to put the lid on her paint can, grateful for a task that hid her face. “Turns out my dad had skipped out on the rent. My stuff was in boxes in the car. I had to go, right then and there.”

  Years later, once she was finally earning a salary, she located the owner and paid the bill; he was gone now, but the man’s understanding had reminded her of all the good in Marietta.

  “I searched for you at lunch that day,” she continued, quieter now, “but you were off campaigning for student council president, even though you knew it was our last week together. You chose to spend your time on that.”

  “That was a mistake,” Logan responded. “But it was good that I won. It kept me too busy to miss you.”

  Silence fell between them. Samara looked up.

  “You really missed me?” she said in a small voice.

  Friends always said they’d keep in touch, but they never did.

  “Of course I missed you!” He paused. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  She stood up and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I thought I’d die, it hurt so bad.”

  “So why didn’t you write? I had no idea where you were. The post office told me you left no forwarding address, and that I wasn’t the only one asking.”

  Sam squeezed her eyes shut at the memories of that year.

  “I nearly went out of my mind.” Logan gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “I didn’t know if you were okay, if your dad was back in jail, if you and your mom were in a homeless shelter somewhere.”

  The old familiar shame welled up, making her squirm.

  “I never meant to hurt you, Logan,” she said. “But it was just as well that things happened as they did. You were going places, your future was set. You needed the head cheerleader, or that girl who aced all the science awards, or that one who ran fundraisers for needy children. You didn’t need the welfare girl.”

  “I married the head cheerleader,” said Logan through gritted teeth. “Six months of great sex, followed by four years of insecurity, accusations and way too much hairspray. She was runner-up to the welfare girl, and she knew it.”

  That couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t have had such deep feelings. Could he?

  “Logan.” She picked her jacket up off the floor and held it against her chest. Tentatively, she took a step toward him.

  But before she could think of what to say – what could she say? – her phone buzzed.

  When she pulled it out, she saw message notifications, both voice and text. She’d forgotten her phone was on mute. Her fingers started shaking.

  “It was real then, and it’s real now,” said Logan.

  But Samara barely heard him.

  Every message was from Eliza.

  Jade! My baby!

  She fumbled and nearly dropped the device.

  “Sam! One way or another, we’re going to deal with this!”

  She scrolled to the most recent text.

  Don’t worry. Minor fracture only. In casting room now.

  The breath left her lungs.

  Minor fracture?

  Her pulse was thudding in her ears, drowning out all other sounds.

  Don’t worry?

  She shoved the phone back into her bag, without reading the earlier messages. Jade was hurt. Bad enough to need a cast!

  “What’s going on?” said Logan, stepping in front of her.

  “Something happened to Jade!” She brushed past him.

  “What? What happened? Where is she?”

  He reached for her but she shook him off.

  “At the hospital, Logan. I don’t know why! But this is why we can’t be together. I’ll always choose her. Do you understand? You’d never be first in my heart.”

  She ran down the sidewalk and leaped into her car. As she squealed out into the quiet street, she caught a glimpse of him in her rear view mirror, Logan, getting smaller and smaller.

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  “Excuse me,” said Samara, elbowing her way through the small group just inside the sliding doors of the emergency room.

  Don’t worry, Eliza’s message said.

  Right.

  A middle-aged man was seated at the chair at the triage window talking to the clerk.

  She leaned over him. “Excuse me. I’m looking for my daughter.”

  The clerk’s face tightened at the interruption. “Take a number,” she said, pointing to the dispenser.

  “Jade,” said Samara desperately. “My daughter. I’m her mother, Samara Davis. She’s four years old. I’m not sure what happened but I know she went for x-rays and something’s broken. She was in casting! Please!”

  The clerk’s expression changed. “One moment,” she said, but whether she was talking to the man in the chair or Samara, it was hard to tell.

  Don’t worry.

  Eliza wouldn’t have texted Don’t worry if it had been serious, right?

  Except she wasn’t a doctor. How would she know? People always said that, Don’t worry, everything will be fine, calm down, he’s okay, don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t worry!

  The officer who called after Michael’s accident had said the same thing.

  Minor injuries, they said. Lucky to be alive. Overnight observation, home tomorrow, they said. Don’t worry.

  Then there was a team of people clustered around his bed, machines and tubes everywhere, all practiced speed and efficiency, while the latte slipped from her fingers.

  Panic clawed at Samara’s throat and she fought it down. That was different.

  Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

  The clerk kicked her rolling chair to a different desk, tapped the keys in rapid fire, then called to a nurse wearing green scrubs. Samara couldn’t hear the conversation, but she saw the young man frown and shake his head, before bustling away.

  The chair clattered loudly on the tile floor. The room had gone quiet around them. Time slowed and a heavy stillness descended on Samara, that infinitesimal, endless moment that cuts a life into Before and After.

  “I’m sorry,” said the clerk. She looked nicer now, concerned, wishing she had better news.

  Samara’s knees buckled. She grabbed for the edge of the counter. She’d seen the same discomfort before, when they realized she was in the doorway, too late, the widow, clutching her child, milk and coffee splattered on her pants.

  “No, no, no, no!” cried a voice that seemed to be coming from her but didn’t sound at all like her.

  I’m sorry, the clerk said.

  Nothing good ever came after those words.

  She couldn’t breathe. She had to find Jade!

  The clerk’s face paled. “I don’t mean that! We haven’t admitted a child by that name tonight. That’s all. I didn’t mean…”

  Behind her, Samara saw the young nurse calling, his lips moving as i
f in slow motion, his voice muffled, like it was under water.

  An automatic door whooshed open and the young nurse came sprinting through, pushing a wheelchair, still calling out something.

  Don’t worry.

  This is why she worried! Catastrophe was always just around the corner. She had to be on high-alert at all times because it struck when you least expected it and who else was going to take care of Jade but her, that was her job, her responsibility because there was no one else now!

  The nurse, Dave, according to his tag, caught Samara by the elbow and eased her into the chair.

  “Breathe, Ms. Davis.”

  Dave. Davis. Davis and Dave.

  “Your daughter’s fine,” he repeated, wheeling her quickly through the doors into a quiet exam room. He pulled a chair up so they were knee to knee and clipped something to her index finger.

  “Jade’s here, and she’s fine. She came in with Eliza and Mabel Bramble. Eliza left a note with triage that you’d be coming, but the admitting clerks just changed shift and someone missed the memo.”

  He slipped a blood pressure cuff on her arm while he talked but she barely noticed.

  Jade’s here. She’s fine. Don’t worry.

  “Why is she here if she’s fine? What aren’t you telling me?” She tried to stand up but Dave held her firmly in the chair.

  “Ms. Davis, if you stand up now, you’ll probably faint. You don’t want that, right? It’ll scare Jade if her mama gets all banged up.”

  He was right. She had to keep her head. She forced herself to speak more slowly.

  “Where is she?”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. She felt as if she was spinning under a spotlight, going faster and faster, until soon, she’d spin off into the darkness.

  The clerk popped her head in, handed Dave a sheet of paper and gestured to the triage desk.

  “Buzz him in,” Dave told her, before turning his attention back to Samara.

  “Jade is in the family room with Eliza.” Dave spoke deliberately, as if she was a child. “Mabel Bramble had a fall; Eliza was worried so she brought her in. Jade came along for the ride.”

  Never ride with strangers.

  But strangers were everywhere. She’d only known Mabel and Eliza for what, six days? Not even a week!

  Don’t take candy from strangers. Don’t talk to strangers on the street.

  Everyone was a stranger.

  “Take me to her!” She was gasping and crying, clutching at Dave, trying to make him understand. “She’ll be so frightened!”

  Dave slipped something over her face and put prongs into her nostrils. Immediately delicious cool air flowed into her airway. She closed her eyes.

  From somewhere far away, a buzzing noise sounded.

  “Ms. Davis. Samara. Listen to me. Your heart rate’s too high and your BP’s too low. As soon as your vitals are stable, your friend will take you to the family room, okay?”

  Her friend?

  She had no friends. She barely knew anyone here. Then a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped, then wilted with gratitude.

  Logan.

  He stroked her cheek and she leaned into it, feeling the dampness under his fingers.

  Of course it was Logan.

  The spinning slowed, just enough for her to catch a breath.

  “Hey, babe, how are you doing?”

  “Fine.” She swallowed, hard. “I thought we weren’t friends.”

  He kissed her forehead. “It’s a grey area.”

  “She’s pretty shook up,” said Dave, as if she wasn’t there. “More than I’d expect, under the circumstances. Samara, do you have a history of panic attacks?”

  She thought of that young widow, screaming, with coffee-splattered pants and a hysterical toddler on her hip.

  The disco ball sped up again, spangly and bright.

  “Panic attacks, no, I don’t know. I get anxious, but you would too if your daughter was in the hospital with strangers and you couldn’t get to her.”

  Tears flooded in. She pressed her hands over her face. The spangly lights were blinding. She was dizzy and her stomach didn’t feel well.

  “You’re exhibiting all the signs-,” began Dave, but Sam couldn’t stop talking.

  “People say don’t worry, don’t worry, and hospitals are the worst. You want to believe them, so badly, and why not? Why wouldn’t you trust them?”

  She heard the words running together but she couldn’t stop.

  “They keep saying everything’s fine, like you’re a paranoid idiot or a kid who just doesn’t get it. But then they change their minds and say things like subdural hematoma and we did everything we could and would you like some water, because that’ll help when you’ve just lost your husband and you don’t know what to do and your baby’s crying and you’ve got no one and you shouldn’t be hearing this because they told you and told you that everything was fine, that you shouldn’t worry!”

  Sometime during her rant, she’d yanked off the nasal cannula. She started to get out of the wheelchair but the spangly lights swirled above her.

  “Sam!” Logan grabbed her and pushed her back into the chair. He held her while Dave replaced the devices.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. “Breathe in. And out. Sam, focus! Watch me. Breathe when I breathe. In. Out. Again.”

  Gradually the terror slipped away. In its place came fatigue, embarrassment and still that fear that wouldn’t ease until she had Jade in her arms.

  Dave checked the monitors and finally satisfied, took them off. He left for a moment, then returned with a slip of paper. “I’m guessing you don’t have a family physician yet. Here’s Dr. Gallagher’s card. He’s a great guy, very understanding. I think you’d like him. You should get set up with him, okay? Other than that, you’re good to go.”

  He gave Logan a meaningful look.

  “I’ll make sure it happens,” said Logan. “Thanks, Dave.”

  “He thinks I’m crazy,” said Sam, unable to care.

  “No he doesn’t, honey,” said Logan. “Can you walk?”

  She got to her feet. “Of course I can walk.”

  He put an arm around her waist, supporting her, and she leaned on him, appreciating his comforting solidness, the strong, hard body beneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

  She was still sniffling, feeling foolish but unable to stop and unable to explain. Logan didn’t ask questions, or say anything at all. He just aimed her in the right direction, held her up and kept her going, his steady heartbeat next to hers, lending her the courage she didn’t even know she needed.

  *

  Logan put one foot in front of the other, holding tightly to the bundle of bones and nerves and sheer panic that was Samara. She trembled in his arms like a wild bird, captured, terrified, exhausted.

  He’d known, the second she opened her phone and the color bled from her face, that it was about Jade. Nothing but maternal instinct could possibly have triggered such a primal, gut-level reaction.

  But he had no idea of the trauma she’d experienced when her husband passed away.

  Logan’s heart slipped sideways.

  A critical error, Staff.

  “Where is she?” asked Sam. Her voice wasn’t hitching any more but it was still tight and higher than normal.

  Logan pointed to a sign at the end of the hallway. “Right there.”

  Samara broke out of his grasp and began running toward the room, and he let her, hurrying behind her, feeling a sinking sense of deja vu.

  He still wasn’t sure of the details, but the clerk had assured him – once Dave had vouched for him at least – that Jade was uninjured. Aunt Mabel was the one who’d been hurt, a minor hand or wrist fracture, something like that. When Eliza couldn’t find Samara, she’d simply taken Jade along with them to the hospital.

  When he entered the room, Samara was on her knees in front of Jade, hugging her and stroking her hair.

  Eliza watched, clearly taken aback at Sam’s reaction. Jade w
asn’t impressed, either.

  “Mama,” she complained, pushing out of her mother’s grasp. “My pictures!”

  “I think Mama was a little worried,” said Eliza. “I told you she was fine, Samara.”

  Logan watched as Sam composed herself, straightening her shoulders, easing herself onto the couch beside Jade, holding her fluttery hands together tightly in her lap.

  “Thank you for watching my daughter,” said Sam, her words clipped. “I appreciate it, I do. But you should have found me. You knew where I was. You shouldn’t have taken Jade in your car. You don’t have a car seat. And you didn’t bring Bob.”

  Eliza’s mouth fell open.

  “Sam,” murmured Logan.

  “No.” She lifted her chin. “She’s my daughter and I make the rules. Me.”

  Eliza glanced between him and Sam, bewildered and horrified. “I tried to call you, Samara. Several times. But you didn’t answer and we couldn’t wait.”

  Samara stood up and paced to the far side of the room, to the window overlooking a small courtyard. After a moment, she said, “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault. I didn’t get your message until too late. I should have left you with my vehicle. Or I shouldn’t have left her with you at all.”

  Silence descended on the room. Samara was clearly distraught but this was entirely unfair. She was simply taking it out on whoever happened to be within striking distance.

  He moved closer to Sam. If anyone should be taking her anger, it was him.

  Sam stopped and he could feel electricity flowing off her. She was practically vibrating, all her defences on high alert, all her weapons at the ready.

  Then Jade pushed a pile of pictures toward Eliza. “Do yours.”

  Eliza blinked, then swallowed. “Of course, sweetie.”

  She turned her attention back to Jade’s game, but Logan could see her lips trembling.

  An orderly appeared at the door. “I’ve got a lovely lady here who needs a ride home. Any volunteers?”

  Behind him sat Aunt Mabel, regal in her wheelchair, her left arm plastered from fingertip to elbow.

  Eliza leaped to her feet. “Yes! I’m right here.”

  She paused awkwardly at the door. “We’ll finish your pictures at home, okay, Jade?”