“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sam nodded and lifted one hand as Cooper steered his rental car out of the yard and headed for the main road.
When the grumble of the car’s engine had died away and the only sound was that of leaves being pushed along the dirt by the wind, Sam turned to look at Maggie’s house. One light was burning—in her bedroom.
He wanted to go to her. Hold her and feel her warmth wrap itself around him. But he doubted she felt like seeing him at the moment. Sam shoved his hands into his back pockets and kept his gaze fixed on that slice of golden light framed in her bedroom window.
He pictured her there, in her bed, under the flowered quilt, and he wondered what she was thinking. Feeling.
Did she feel as empty as he did?
Was she lonely?
Or was the child growing within her enough to keep the shadows at bay?
Twelve
Over the next few days Jeremiah seemed to get ten years younger. His smile was broader, his eyes brighter and his laugh just a little louder.
Sam watched the older man and felt the sharp teeth of guilt take another bite out of him. He’d stayed away for his own selfish reasons but had never considered that he was punishing his family, too.
He hadn’t only avoided the Lonergan ranch and his grandfather, he’d also managed to ignore his parents in his own need to keep moving. To keep running from the shadows chasing him.
And now it was too late to make it up to them. Both of his parents had died five years ago in a small-plane crash. The old man’s other three sons were also gone now. Accidents, mostly. As if the Lonergan family were cursed. The only family he had left now were his cousins and grandfather.
He was only just realizing how important they were to him. How important living was to him.
All because of Maggie.
Shaking his head, he pulled the worn brown leather work gloves off his hands, tucked them in the waistband of his jeans, then pulled off his T-shirt. The morning sun was already heating up, and sweat streamed down his chest and back.
It felt good.
Good to be standing still rather than running.
Good to be working on a place that still held such a large part of his heart.
His gaze swept the yard and the surrounding fields as he tossed his damp shirt across the closest fence post. In the last few weeks this place had gotten to him again, as it had when he was a kid. And the thought of leaving was more painful than he’d expected.
But that probably had more to do with who he’d be leaving this time. Slowly he shifted his gaze to the small house where Maggie lived. She wasn’t home. He knew that. And yet…something of her remained even when she was gone.
For a few weeks he’d found peace in her arms. He’d found solace and comfort and a sense of homecoming that he’d never known before. Yet even while he enjoyed those feelings, they terrified him. Because he couldn’t stay. Couldn’t be what she wanted—needed.
Could he?
“How can one man have so many questions and so few answers?” he muttered, pushing his hair back from his face and tipping his head back. He stared up at the brilliant blue sky shimmering with the heat of the sun. He felt the sunlight on his face, the heat slipping into him as his skin baked.
And still he felt cold.
Right down to his bones.
The worst of it was he had the distinct feeling that it was all his own damn fault.
A car’s engine grumbled into the silence, and Sam turned, hoping that Jeremiah and Cooper were back from the homecoming tour of Coleville the old man had insisted on. God knew, Sam was tired of his own company. Too much time to think gave a man way too much room for self-reflection.
But it wasn’t Cooper’s rented SUV roaring into the yard. It was the ranch truck, with Maggie at the wheel.
Instantly Sam’s heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry. Sunlight glanced off the windshield, throwing a wide enough glare that he couldn’t see her. Strangely enough, though, that didn’t seem to matter. Just knowing she was close had his body tightening and his long-suppressed emotions racing.
She opened the truck door and climbed down, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she glanced at him. “Hello, Sam.”
Her smile was soft and sad and tugged at the corners of his heart. God, he missed her. Missed being with her. Missed laughing with her, talking with her.
And when he left her, he didn’t know how he’d make it without her.
“Is Jeremiah back yet?” she asked, closing the door and reaching over the side of the truck for the sacks of groceries in the flatbed.
“No,” Sam said, already heading for her.
“I thought I’d make a chocolate cake—a celebration since the two of you are here.” She went up on her toes, grabbed two plastic sacks and started to lift them.
“Don’t,” Sam said, stepping up to brush her hands away and grab the bags himself. Shooting her a quick warning look, he said, “You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things. Not now.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m fine, Sam. The baby’s fine. And I can carry groceries myself.”
Stung, he paid no attention and gathered up the bags anyway, lifting them over the edge of the truck’s side before looking at her again. “You’re not going to. Not while I’m here.”
Something flickered in her eyes and her smile faded. “I’ll have to do it when you leave.”
A cold fist tightened around his heart and gave it a squeeze that sent pain shooting through him. “I’m not gone yet,” he reminded her.
“Okay, then. Just set them on the kitchen counter.” She waved a hand at the main house and then led the way. She opened the back door and held it so he could go in first, and as he set the bags down, she started unloading them.
“I can do that, too,” he said, suddenly needing to help. To do what he could, while he could.
She set a box of cake mix onto the counter and looked up at him. “Sam, I know you’re only trying to be nice, but—”
“Maggie, it’s important to me to…help.” Damn, that sounded pretty lame, even to him. Help? He was going to help the mother of his child unload groceries now and then leave her completely in another couple of months? Yeah. Great plan.
She sighed and reached up to him, touching him for the first time in days. Her fingertips against his cheek felt cool and soft and more wonderful than anything else he’d ever experienced. God, he’d missed her touch.
And just when he was giving himself up to the sweet rush of sensation, she let her hand drop again. He tried not to notice just how empty he felt.
“Sam, I can’t do this,” she said softly, her eyes glimmering with a sheen of tears she determinedly refused to allow to fall. “I can’t…be close to you and not love you.”
“Maggie—”
She lifted one hand to quiet him. “And I can’t love you and think about you leaving. I’m sorry. I really am. But if you want to help me, then please…just give me some space.”
A flush of remorse and shame swept through him and Sam took a step back from her, though that one small action cost him. It felt as though dozens of knives were slicing off tiny sections of his heart, whittling it down to a cold, hard stone that would be with him for the rest of his life.
But this wasn’t about him. “You’re right. I’ll, uh, go back out and finish fixing the fence.” He turned for the back door and stopped, one hand on the knob. “Just…do me a favor and don’t lift anything heavy.”
She forced a smile that looked as empty as he felt. “I won’t.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out—” He broke off when the phone rang and Maggie stepped to one side to snatch the receiver off the wall hook.
“Lonergan ranch,” she said, fingering the old phone’s twisted yellow cord. “Hi, Susan. What’s—oh. Okay, I’ll tell him. Yes,” she said, glancing at Sam, “he’s right here. Okay, tell Katie not to worry.”
When she hung up, Sam asked, “What’s wrong?”
; “That was Susan Bateman. Their dog’s in labor and little Katie’s terrified that something ‘bad’ will happen. She wants you to come and help.”
“Me?” Sam laughed shortly and then frowned. “Katie knows I’m a people doctor, right?”
“Yes,” Maggie said, “but she’s a little girl who loves her dog. She’s scared. And she trusts you.”
Trust.
A heavy burden.
Especially to a man who kept trying to step back from people and all of their expectations.
Maggie sensed his withdrawal and wanted to cry. But then, since finding out she was pregnant, she’d done a lot of crying. It shouldn’t be this hard, she thought. Being in love, having a child…she should be happy. Celebrating the wonder of it all.
Instead she was already in mourning for the loss of the man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see what was right in front of him.
“You said you wanted to help me,” she said softly, watching his eyes, seeing the wariness and sighing for it. “If you really mean that, then go help Katie.”
His jaw worked as if he were chewing on words that tasted bitter. Finally, though, he nodded. “All right. I’ll be back later.”
Then he was gone, and Maggie leaned against the kitchen counter wishing she could change things. Wishing he could see that they belonged together. The three of them.
The dog wasn’t interested in his help.
A pale yellow golden retriever, she gave Sam a look that clearly said, If you’ll just keep out of my way, I’ll be done in a bit.
So he did. Sitting with Katie, Sam watched as the fifth puppy pushed itself into the world, then wriggled blindly until it found its way to its mother’s side.
“Does it hurt?” Katie asked, keeping a viselike grip on his index finger.
“A little,” he said, but added quickly, pointing at the dog lying on a bed of blankets, “but Duchess doesn’t seem to mind, does she?”
“No.” Katie scooted around to sit on Sam’s lap. “Look, another one!”
Sure enough, a sixth puppy was born, and after a few minutes numbers seven and eight made their appearance. Soon all of the puppies were cleaned up to their mother’s satisfaction and happily nursing while Duchess took a well-deserved nap.
“Mommy, they’re all here,” Katie called out.
Susan Bateman poked her head into the service-porch area and gave Sam a smile. “Thanks for coming over. She was so worried.”
“It’s not a problem,” he said.
“You can have a puppy if you want,” Katie said, tipping her head back so she could look at him. “Jeremiah wants one, and you could have one, too.”
“Oh, honey,” Susan said quickly, giving Sam an apologetic smile. “Dr. Sam’s not going to be staying here. And he doesn’t really have a home, so he couldn’t have a dog with him.”
He frowned a little, not much liking the explanation, but what could he say? She was right.
“You don’t have a house?”
“No,” he started to say.
“He’s a busy man,” Susan said for him. “He works all over the world.”
“But you don’t hafta,” Katie said, leaning back into him and giving his hand a pat. “You could stay ’n’ have a dog ’n’ a house ’n’ a little girl for me to play wif ’n’—”
“Katie…” Her mother sounded tired but amused. “Why don’t you go upstairs, wash your hands for lunch.”
“Ooookaaaaayyy…” Clearly disgusted, Katie did as she was told.
Once she was gone, Susan shrugged and said, “Thanks for coming over. It meant a lot to Katie.”
“No problem,” he said, standing up and brushing his palms together. “Happy to help.”
She didn’t look as if she believed him, but she smiled anyway. “Some people think I spoil Katie, I know, but it’s hard not to.”
“She’s an only child?”
“Actually, no,” she said softly. “We had two children. But our son, Jacob, died two years ago.”
Her quiet voice, the simple words, shook him hard.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said helplessly.
“It’s okay. No reason why you should. Come with me, I want to show you something.” She gave him a smile and led the way into the living room. Sunlight slashed through a wide bay window to lay across overstuffed furniture and a faded braided rug on the gleaming wood floor. It was a big room, cozily crowded with kids’ toys, magazines spread across a wide coffee table and several books stacked on an end table.
Susan walked to the far wall, where dozens of framed snapshots and collages of family pictures cluttered the wall with smiling faces. There, she showed him a studio portrait of a laughing boy about three years old with pale blond hair and shining blue eyes just like his sister’s. “That’s Jacob.”
“He’s beautiful.” Sam slanted her a look and felt his heart break a little to know that child had died. Looking back at the child who would forever be three years old. “What happened?”
She sighed, folded her arms across her chest and said simply, “When we moved in here, we’d planned to put in a fence out front. But we hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” Her voice went faint, distant. “We got busy.” She shook herself and added, “Jacob chased a ball into the street. The driver of the car never saw him.”
God. “I’m so sorry.”
“So were we,” she said quietly and turned to look at him as she took a long, deep breath to steady herself. “It took a long time, but life finally goes on anyway. We still have our memories of Jacob. And we have Katie and—” she patted her flat abdomen, “number three is on his way.”
Even after experiencing something no parent should have to live through, she’d found a way to go on. To try again. Touched by her courage, Sam asked, “How do you get past the pain?”
“You don’t,” she said. “You just learn to live with it. But you know that already. Jeremiah’s told me about your cousin Mac.”
Some of us live with it, Sam thought, as Susan left to check on Katie, and some of us run from it. It shamed him to admit that this woman showed more quiet courage every day of her life than he’d been able to find in the last fifteen years.
And in the next instant his world suddenly came into focus. Heart pounding, eyes stinging, throat tight, he finally got it. Finally understood that running wasn’t healing. That hiding from pain didn’t protect you. That unless he found a way to really live again, he was just as dead as Mac.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” Sam said, staring out over the dark, still water of the lake. Strange as it seemed, he could have sworn that he felt Mac’s presence. And he was grateful for it. “Sorry I let you down that day. Sorry it took me so long to come back here.”
The wind kicked up and ripples spun across the surface of the lake, spreading out from edge to edge in a silent, inexorable march.
“I still miss you. Every damn day.” He bent down, picked up a rock and tossed it high and far, watching it until it splashed down in the center of the water and quickly sank beneath the surface. “But I think I’m finally going to be okay. I just…wanted you to know that.”
Then he stood in the silence, and for the first time since that summer day so long ago, he felt…alive.
A knock on her door startled Maggie enough that she spilled her hot tea down the front of her pale green shirt. Glancing at the door, she fought down a surge of excitement and told herself to get a grip.
Sam hadn’t come to her since the day she’d told him about the baby. And that was the way she wanted it.
Right?
Muttering under her breath, she set her mug down on the coffee table and stood up. She crossed the room, opened the door and stared up at Sam.
But this was a different Sam than the man she’d seen a few hours ago. This man’s eyes were alive with joy, with hope, and she felt a quick jolt of something like hope herself.
“Sam?”
“Can I come in, Maggie?” Both of his hands were braced on the doorjamb as if he were a
ctually holding himself back from charging into the room.
“I don’t know—” Hope was there, but she couldn’t let herself believe. Couldn’t set herself up for disappointment.
“Please, Maggie. There’s so much I want to tell you—ask you.”
Chills swept up and down her spine and she swallowed hard as she followed her instincts. Stepping back, she waved him inside. He strode in with a few long steps that carried him to the center of the room. Then he turned to look at her.
“Maggie, I’m an idiot.”
“Okay…” She closed the door quietly and waited, afraid to believe. Afraid to wish.
He pushed both hands through his hair, then let his hands drop to his sides. “Something clicked for me today.”
“What?”
“You. Us. The baby.” He laughed and threw his hands wide. “Life.”
Frowning, she stepped away from the door and walked a few steps closer to him. “What’re you talking about, Sam?”
“I love you.”
She staggered and slapped one hand to her chest as if she could hold her foolishly thumping heart in place. “What?”
“I love you, Maggie,” he repeated and came toward her. “I think I have from the first time I saw you. I was just too stupid—or too scared—to realize it. To let myself believe in it.”
“Sam, I don’t know what to say….” Oh, God, she prayed silently, please let him mean this.
“Don’t say anything. Let me talk. Let me tell you what you mean to me.” He came to her, cupped her face between his palms and stared down into her eyes. “You reminded me what it was like to live again, Maggie. You laughed with me, argued with me. You showed me that life without love isn’t life at all.”
“Sam…” Her voice broke and she blinked away tears that were blinding her. She didn’t want to miss this. Didn’t want to be blinded to the emotions flashing in his eyes.
“I’ve spent fifteen years running,” he said, his fingers spearing through her hair as his gaze moved over her features slowly, like a lover’s touch. “I’ve hidden away from everything and everyone I loved. I lost time with people who were important to me. Time I can never get back. I clung to guilt because I thought I wasn’t allowed to be happy. I buried my feelings because to care about someone meant risking that horrific pain again.”
Expecting Lonergan’s Baby Page 12