“I have a feeling it’s going to bring us all luck,” his mother replied, her eyes meeting his for a long moment before she lifted the fragile shell and, smiling, held it to the light.
Chapter 12
Emma tried not to fidget as she sat on the leather sofa in Dr. Herman Rozan’s office. She and Sam had been escorted there by the receptionist at the same time Margaret had been led off to one of the examination rooms. That had been nearly an hour ago—an hour that seemed more like an eternity to Emma.
She had long since taken in every detail of the large, uncluttered room, which was brightened by the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the doctor’s French Provincial desk. During the time that had passed, she had come to the conclusion that the artwork hanging on the walls was all original, the oval tray, coffeepot, cream pitcher and sugar bowl on the credenza were Georgian silver and the lush, ruby-toned carpet on the floor was at least a hundred years old.
What she hadn’t yet decided was whether the doctor’s pristine desktop—empty except for a modern, multi-buttoned telephone, a leather-bound blotter and a single, strategically placed, rather high-priced fountain pen and matching inkwell—was reassuring or a cause for deep concern.
She thought of asking Sam’s opinion, but she didn’t want to disturb him with what amounted to a lot of nonsense. What difference did it make if Dr. Rozan was obsessively neat and tidy? He had come highly recommended and had proved to be kind and conscientious. That was all that really mattered.
Talking to Sam would have been such a comfort, though—even about something so mundane. Since early that morning, when they had loaded the car and set out for Houston, he had been quieter than usual. Granted, he’d tried to make a little lighthearted conversation at the Seaside Café, where Margaret had thoroughly enjoyed her crab omelet. But Emma had heard the strain in his voice, and she’d known he had been dreading the hours of uncertainty still ahead of them as much as she had.
It was understandable under the circumstances. But he had also seemed so…distant again. Especially since they had been alone together in the doctor’s office. After last night, she had been so sure their newfound closeness—a closeness Sam had been the one to initiate—would continue. Now it seemed she’d been mistaken.
He had asked her to think of him as family, and she had readily agreed. Perhaps too readily, Emma thought, a blush warming her cheeks as she remembered how she’d stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
She had made the gesture without thinking, acting in the heat of what she’d considered a very special moment. Now she wondered if she had read more into Sam’s invitation than she should have.
She had been so overjoyed at finding the sand dollar. And foolish as it seemed in retrospect, her small discovery had cast a sudden, magical glow on the evening. A glow that could have caused her to assign an altogether different meaning to Sam’s words than he had intended.
Her special moment could have simply been Sam doing what he deemed to be his duty. She had been engaged to his brother, after all. And he was too much of a gentleman to leave her feeling totally abandoned.
Last night, lying in her bed, watching the play of moonlight on the walls around her, Emma had truly believed that there might be hope for them yet. Now, shifting restlessly on Dr. Rozan’s leather sofa, her gaze drawn to Sam’s rigid profile, she was suddenly much less certain.
Just as he had been doing for the past hour, he stood at the bank of windows, hands in his pockets, back turned to her, staring out at only he knew what. Twice already, he had also prowled around the room wordlessly, reminding her of a caged tiger. But even then, his roving gaze hadn’t lit upon her once.
Come to me, she had silently begged. Talk to me.
Instead, he had avoided her like the plague, eventually returning to his post by the windows, where he seemed to sink more deeply into his solitary thoughts.
She could go to him, of course. She could cross the lush carpet without him even hearing her. She could put her arms around him, rest her head on his shoulder and ask him to let her share his burden. Could if only she had the courage to risk being rebuffed.
He stood so tall and straight, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, his chin thrust out at a dangerous angle, alone against the world. Would he welcome her commiseration? Or was he so used to facing problems on his own that he would consider it a sign of weakness to reach out and take what she had to offer?
She had vowed to stand by him, and he had vowed to do the same for her. Yet, at that moment, she doubted they could have been further apart if they tried.
Be brave, Emma. More than that, be bold. Margaret’s words echoed in her mind.
And if not now, then when? she wondered. Waiting there in the doctor’s office for what might prove to be devastating news, they needed each other more than ever.
Making a valiant effort to set aside her fears, Emma rose to her feet slowly. The soles of her sandals glided across the carpet as silently as she’d expected as she crossed the room. Coming up behind him, she slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder.
For just a moment, he tensed, and Emma was sure he would pull away. But then, drawing a ragged breath, he turned and gathered her into his arms.
“Emma…”
He breathed her name on a sigh, rubbing his cheek against her hair and stroking his hands down her back as if to soothe her, and in doing so, soothing himself, as well.
She clung to him without speaking, tears of relief and regret stinging her eyes. She shouldn’t have waited so long to go to him, to offer him the comfort she had known in her heart he needed.
“I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to wait here quietly,” he said after several moments, his voice rough.
“I know what you mean,” Emma agreed, the warmth of his lean, solid body so close to hers reaching into her very soul. “I keep telling myself to hope for the best, then I start imagining the worst.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance we can hurry the good doctor along.”
“I tried that the last time we were here. The receptionist sent me away with nothing but a cup of coffee and a verbal pat on the head to show for my efforts.”
“So you’re saying I’m just going to have to be patient.”
“Unless you want a cup of coffee and a verbal pat on the head.” Drawing back a step, she looked up at him and smiled slightly.
“No, thanks.”
He smiled, too, and Emma sensed that some of the strain he’d been under all morning had finally begun to ease.
“Anything interesting out there?” she asked, gesturing toward the windows.
“Sunshine, blue sky, tall buildings, lots of cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks.” His arm around her shoulders, still holding her close, he turned to peer out the heavy, faintly tinted glass. “I wasn’t really seeing any of it until just now, though. I was remembering…so many things—”
Behind them, the office door opened, sending a rush of cool air toward them. Together, they quickly turned away from the window.
Emma wondered if Sam, too, felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach as Dr. Rozan, nattily dressed in dark gray suit pants, a blue shirt and gray-striped tie, all covered by an immaculate white lab coat, stepped into the room. From the way his arm tightened around her shoulders, she imagined he had.
“Mr. Griffin, Ms. Dalton,” the doctor greeted them, his bland expression giving away nothing. “Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes before Mrs. Griffin joins us.”
He waited as they crossed the office and sat on the sofa, side by side, hand in hand. Then he took one of the matching wing chairs across from them.
“How is she?” Sam asked, obviously unwilling to waste time with small talk.
“Surprisingly, she’s quite well,” Dr. Rozan replied. “From what I could determine from the results of her blood tests, she seems to have gone into remissi
on again.”
Her relief almost palpable, Emma slumped against Sam, tears welling in her eyes. Letting go of her hand, he put his arm around her again and hugged her gently.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” She glanced up at him and saw tears in his eyes, as well. “How about you?”
“A hell of a lot better than I was five minutes ago.” Smiling, he hugged her again, then turned back to Dr. Rozan. “How long do you think it will last?” he asked.
“That depends on several factors. Your mother has refused to undergo another round of intense chemotherapy, and I can’t say I blame her. However, I’ve recommended she begin taking a new drug that has proved to prolong remissions in cases similar to hers without the more debilitating, and in your mother’s case, more life-threatening, side effects. She will probably experience some fatigue and achiness in her joints. As I told her, she’ll feel like she has the flu for the first week or so.
“The current course of treatment calls for four weeks on the medication, two weeks off, then another four weeks on, with blood tests weekly to monitor any radical changes in her condition. I’ve already talked to her doctor at Serenity General Hospital and arranged for him to handle that. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, I’ll see her again following the second four-week period.”
“I’m not sure what to say,” Sam murmured. “Thank you, Dr. Rozan.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the doctor warned. “The drug I’m prescribing has had a moderate success rate. However, that doesn’t mean your mother’s out of the woods yet. I can’t offer any guarantees for a permanent recovery. But then, I couldn’t do that with a more aggressive form of treatment, either. She’s going to have to continue to take it easy, avoid physically and emotionally stressful situations and keep up her strength by eating regular, well-balanced meals. At her age and in her somewhat weakened condition, all those things are imperative.”
“We’ll look after her,” Emma promised.
“I have every confidence that you will,” the doctor assured her. Then he added, “She’s a very courageous lady. I’d like to see her have every chance at a full recovery.”
Again, the office door opened, and Margaret, escorted by one of Dr. Rozan’s nurses, joined them, her eyes twinkling.
“Talking about me, are you?” she asked.
“Yes, but we’re saying only good things,” the doctor replied, standing along with Emma and Sam.
“You’ve given them the good news?”
“Along with instructions to keep you rested and well fed.”
“That used to be my job,” she grumbled, albeit good-naturedly.
“Not anymore,” Dr. Rozan warned, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ve earned the right to enjoy a little pampering, and that’s a right I fully expect you to exercise.”
“Yes, sir.” She offered him a mock salute. “Anything else, sir?”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. Make an appointment on your way out,” he instructed, smiling as he led them to the door.
They did as he said, then they retrieved the Volvo from the parking garage.
Emma wasn’t sure why Margaret and Sam were so quiet as they left the city behind, but she was still too stunned to say much of anything. She just wanted to hug the good news to herself and savor it awhile. As the doctor had said, Margaret wasn’t out of the woods yet. But there now seemed to be a good chance she would be with them much longer than they had originally been led to believe.
No matter how cautiously optimistic Dr. Rozan had advised them to be, she still considered optimistic to be the operative word.
“How about a late lunch?” Sam asked once they were well on their way down the I-10 heading west.
“Sounds good to me,” Margaret agreed from the back seat. “It’s been hours since breakfast, and you two hardly ate a bite then.”
“Me, too,” Emma said.
She was hungry—really hungry—for the first time that day. Like Sam, she had chosen to forego an omelet earlier, nibbling nervously on a slice of toast instead. Hardly a bite, as Margaret had said. But with the worst of her anxiety eased, her appetite had definitely returned.
They stopped at a place that served Texas-style barbecue and gorged on ribs, potato salad, baked beans and corn on the cob, followed by a generous portion of ice-cream-topped peach cobbler they prudently opted to share.
Finally sated, they continued on toward San Antonio, and from there, to Serenity. In the back seat, Margaret settled back and soon dozed off to sleep.
Her soft snores made Emma smile. Sam’s expression softened, too, she noted, glimpsing at him from the corner of her eye.
“She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?” he murmured as if reading her mind.
“Yes, I think she is,” Emma answered, her smile widening as she glanced at him.
For just a moment, he met her gaze and smiled, too. Then he surprised her by reaching out and taking her hand in his.
“I meant to thank you for your…support at the doctor’s office.”
“Not necessary,” she assured him. “We’re family, after all.”
“Yes, we are.”
He threaded his fingers through hers as he’d done on the beach the night before. Warmed by his gesture, Emma looked out the window.
The rolling hill country stretched ahead of them, a sure sign that their journey was almost at an end. Contented as she was, Emma wished they had miles yet to go. She could sit beside Sam forever, her hand clasped in his.
All too soon, the Serenity city-limit sign came into view, and five minutes later, they were pulling into the Griffin’s driveway.
“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” Margaret said, stirring behind them. “I wanted to suggest that you take Emma back to her house, Sam.” She paused, reaching out to touch Emma on the shoulder. “Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, but after almost a month of playing nursemaid, I imagine you’re more than ready to go home. And with Sam home now, and me on the mend, there’s really no need for you to stay on. You have most of your things with you, don’t you?” she added. “And the rest you can collect whenever time allows.”
“Yes, I have almost everything,” Emma admitted, trying to hide her dismay.
Talk about being careful what you wish for…
Just days ago, she had been longing to return to her house. The mere thought of living under the same roof as Sam had tied her stomach into knots. She had been so sure they would never find any common ground, that every meeting between the two of them would drive them further apart rather than draw them closer together.
Now just the opposite seemed to be true. They had made such progress, especially last night and again that afternoon. And only by seeing him, being with him, could that progress continue. If she stayed at Margaret’s, the opportunities would have been endless. Living in her own home, she would have to make much more of an effort. And in their case—at least for her—making an effort was going to take no small amount of courage.
“Well, then, Sam, why don’t you drive over to Emma’s house now?”
“Is that all right with you?” he asked as he turned to look at her.
Still holding her hand, he stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. But he was wearing sunglasses, so his expression was hard to read.
Did he really care, one way or another?
Seemingly not, she decided after a few moments. Otherwise, he would have found a reason for her to stay whether he needed her help or not.
Maybe he’d gotten all he wanted from her already. Maybe a little moral support during the most trying moments, now past, was all he’d really intended with his talk of family.
That possibility hurt Emma deeply, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she offered Sam a bright smile as she answered him.
“Yes, of course. That’s quite all right with me.”
Nodding once, taking her at her word, he let go of her hand, shifted the Volvo into reverse and bac
ked the car out of the driveway.
“I hope you don’t feel like we’re putting you out, Emma,” Margaret ventured. “Having you with me has been a wonderful blessing. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindheartedness, though. You’ve done so much for me, but now it’s time you had a break.”
“I’ve enjoyed staying with you,” Emma assured her friend, turning to face her. “But I suppose it is time I got back to my own routine. Promise me, though, that you’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do for you…and Sam.”
“I most certainly will. And you’ll do the same, won’t you?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“How about Sunday dinner, then?” Margaret asked, a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “You’ll feel like coming over for a visit by then, won’t you?”
“I’ll jot it down on my calendar the moment I get in the door,” Emma replied, her smile no longer quite so forced.
At her house, Sam parked in the driveway, then got out to help with her suitcase. Emma said her goodbyes to Margaret, reminding her again to call if she needed anything.
“And if you need anything, Emma,” Margaret said, then paused a moment, her gaze steady, “you call.”
All too aware that Margaret’s idea of anything involved her son, Emma nodded, then gathered her purse and followed Sam to the front porch.
“Thanks a lot,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she pulled her keys from her purse and opened the door. “I can manage from here.”
“I guess you’ll be busy all week.” Ignoring her words of dismissal, he picked up her suitcase and shifted it into her entryway before she could do it herself.
“Yes, I will. I have a lot of catching up to do around here as well as at the library.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Yes, on Sunday.”
He hesitated a few moments longer, and Emma thought that he might say something more, might do something more. Or maybe he was waiting for her to—
“Emma…?”
“Yes?”
Finally, she glanced up at him, then quickly looked away, her heart pounding. He had left his sunglasses in the car, so there was nothing blocking the sorrow in his eyes. Sorrow edged with a longing that tugged at her heart, making her want to weep.
The Major and the Librarian Page 14