“Have you seen her since?”
“A few weeks ago on a Stranding Team project.” He nudged her leg. “Enough about me. Tell me about the men in your life.”
They didn’t have time to talk about all the men who’d passed through her life. Most of them meant nothing. Some of them were only faces in her mind. “There’s only one that was serious.” Now that it was her turn, she felt under a microscope.
“Go on.”
Sam didn’t want to talk about herself, but Landon had opened up. It was only fair. “His name was Jeremy. He was a CPA in a big firm back in Boston.” What did she want to share about Jeremy? He’d been as close to a boyfriend as she ever had. They went everywhere together for over a year. After a while, he complained that she didn’t let him in, that she pulled away when he hugged her.
“What happened?”
He asked me to marry him. Caden was eight, and he was great with her. Sam had thought they were headed for marriage, but once he got down on his knee on the manicured lawn of Boston Common, fear rocketed through Sam. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest, and she couldn’t breathe fast enough to keep up with her pulse.
Even now, her mouth grew dry just thinking about it.
She shrugged. “It didn’t work out.”
“Come on. I spilled my guts.”
Landon’s big hand rested on his thigh. It was inches from her own, his long fingers tapering down to blunt fingernails. Hands that could tighten into fists and fend off an enemy. Hands that could open to caress and soothe.
“I don’t know what happened. He asked me to marry him.”
His eyebrows hiked upward. “He did?”
She scowled. “You don’t have to look so surprised.”
“It’s not that. It’s just—that’s pretty serious.” He studied her. “You said no?”
She remembered the way Jeremy’s face fell. Like gravity pulled everything downward in one slow, agonizing move. She had known they were moving in that direction; she just didn’t how she felt until he asked.
“It didn’t feel right.” You were afraid. There was no denying the fear she experienced when he pulled out the pink velvet jewelry box and opened it. She didn’t stop to question her decision at the time. She just knew she couldn’t do it.
Sam didn’t want to talk about Jeremy anymore. “So you’ve never proposed to anyone?” she asked.
“Nope.” He brushed her hair behind her shoulder, sending shivers along her scalp. The earlier tension had faded, but a new kind of tension filled the air, mingling with the smell of damp earth.
“Why?” It came out as a whisper.
His gaze swept across her face like a gentle caress. He was Landon, the boy who protected her from bullies, the man who was still her savior. His love for her shone through his eyes. Though she didn’t deserve it, she soaked it up.
He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Ah, Sam. You already know the answer.”
Her belly tightened, and the pain in her ankle was forgotten.
His eyes locked with hers, then lowered to her lips. He leaned toward her, and she could feel a desperate anticipation building inside.
“Mom?”
Sam drew back quickly at the sound of her daughter’s voice.
Landon’s head fell forward, his chin nearly touching his shirt.
She looked around him at Caden, who stared at them as if she’d forgotten what she was about to say. Sam realized her daughter was grown up enough to know she’d interrupted something. “What is it, honey?” She sounded out of breath.
“I was just—um—wondering if we could invite Amber over tomorrow.” Her sentence was a decrescendo, as if the importance of it had faded in light of this new discovery.
“We’ll see. Go on back to bed now.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“’Night,” she called.
Caden padded back through the bedroom doorway and pulled the door shut. Sam leaned her head back. The mood had been broken, and now she only felt awkward. She wondered what Caden was thinking.
“Your daughter has rotten timing.”
The corner of Landon’s mouth was tucked in. She couldn’t help but smile at his pitiful look.
“It’s late anyway,” he said. “You need your rest.” He stood and stretched, then retrieved three Advil and a glass of water from the kitchen. When he returned, he handed her the pillow and helped her shift on the sofa so that her foot was propped on the couch’s arm. Once she was settled, he draped the faded quilt over her and set the phone nearby.
He sat on the edge of the sofa beside her. “Want anything else before I go?”
She wanted the moment back. She wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted him to stay. “No,” she said instead.
“All right, then. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
“Okay.”
He pulled the quilt up to her chin and tucked the blanket around her. Then he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night.” The movement was soft but quick and left her wanting so much more.
As he walked away, turning the lock and shutting the door behind him, she felt like a petulant child.
Twenty-five
After Landon left, Sam couldn’t sleep. Keeping her foot elevated was a necessity, but sleeping on her back was a drag. From her spot on the couch, she could see straight into Emmett’s room. She could almost see his brawny frame coming through the door, the Winston clamped between his lips.
Sam threw off the quilt and gathered her crutches, pulling herself upright. The living room lamp turned on with a click, and she navigated the maze of furniture. When she made it to the doorway, she saw the letter from her mom lying on the bed. She stopped, balancing on one foot and the crutches.
She should have been told about the letter long ago. Yet again Emmett’s cruel hand reached from the grave. She remembered all the nights she lay in bed, listening to the water rushing the shoreline, wondering if the tide would bring her mom back to her the way it had carried her away. She waited and hoped and begged God to bring her home the same way she’d begged for her dad after he died.
And all that time, her mom’s final letter lay in the next room. Maybe it would have closed the door on Sam’s dream of her return. A closed door was better than a false one. She had learned that lesson well.
Sam wondered if Landon thought she was a coward for not reading it. The thought chafed. Maybe you are a coward, Sam. It’s onlyan old letter, words on paper. How can it hurt you now?
She was many things, but a coward was not one of them. She crossed the space in one clumsy movement and snatched the letter from the quilt. Tucking it under her arm, she pulled the door shut and returned to the couch.
Her foot ached from all the motion, so she propped it on the wooden coffee table and leaned back. The envelope was well worn, like it had been opened and read a hundred times. She couldn’t imagine Emmett lingering over it like a lovesick fool.
Before she could stop herself, she pulled up the flap and slid out the sheet of notebook paper. Her mom’s neat script slanted across the page. Sam’s eyes devoured the words.
Emmett,
I’m sorry I left you the way I did. I knew if I told you how I felt you would sweet-talk me into staying, and I’m not strong enough to say no to you. There is a restlessness in me—it has always been there inside me. I was suffocating there on the island where so many bad memories lay waiting for me.
When we married I thought I would be able to pick up and move on after John died. I have tried my best, but I now know that marrying you wasn’t fair to either of us. I signed the house over to you. It’s all I have to give you. I will file for divorce as soon as I have the money.
I’m sorry.
Ellen
Sam scanned the words again. She looked for her name or some mention of her but didn’t find it. The hollow place inside of her swelled and swallowed her whole. Her mom never mentioned her. Not once.
Emmett hadn’t kept her mom’s
last words from her. None existed.
The letter was only about her mom. Her thoughts. Her feelings. Her life. Well, what about me, Mom? What about the child youabandoned so you could follow your own selfish dreams? What aboutthe kid who sat at the end of the pier, watching for your boat for weeksafter you left? What about the girl who cried alone in the darkness ofher closet?
Sam’s hands shook with anger. She folded the letter and ripped it in half, then ripped it again and again for good measure, until all that was left was bits of paper. Some landed on her lap; other pieces fell to the floor between the sofa and table.
Many nights she’d lain in bed wondering if her mom was out there somewhere aching for the daughter she left. Sam imagined her guilt and regret. She imagined her showing up on her doorstep someday, full of apologies.
Now the truth smacked Sam in the face. In one quick gesture, she swept the pieces of paper off her lap. She felt rejected all over again. She’d thought her mom didn’t have the power to hurt her anymore. That she’d already done all the damage one mom could do.
She was wrong.
Sam awoke to a knock on the door. Her eyes were heavy, and the sun shining through the curtains stung them. She lifted her foot down and realized the Advil had worn off sometime after she fell asleep.
“Caden,” she called. “The door.”
“Take your time,” Landon called from the porch. “It’s just me.”
By the time Caden padded through the living room, she’d rubbed the sleep from her eyes and ran her hand through her tangled hair. A yawn threatened, but she stifled it.
Caden unlocked and swung open the door.
“Breakfast is served,” said Landon. He balanced a white box on his palm like a server with a tray.
“Donuts!” Caden clapped her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet.
“Good morning, ladies.” He set the box on the coffee table.
Landon’s presence warmed Sam from the inside out. “’Morning.” She knew she was a mess. She hadn’t fallen asleep until way after midnight.
“Caden, can you get the paper plates and napkins?” Landon asked.
“Sure.” She watched her daughter run to do his bidding, wishing Caden were so compliant for her.
Her ankle hurting, she set her foot on the table and reached for the bottle of Advil.
After dining on donuts, Sam showered as best she could on one leg while Caden and Landon piled the living room furniture into the kitchen. By the time she was dressed, Landon was sweeping the wood floor in preparation for the polyurethane finish, and she remembered her mom’s letter. Sam looked at the center of the living room, now bare. The bits of paper were gone, and she wondered what Landon had thought when he saw them. It doesn’t reallymatter, does it? I have a right to my anger.
Determined not to let her mom ruin the day, Sam decided to put the letter behind her. With fresh perspective, she surveyed the room. Now that the rugs and furniture were gone, she could see stains. Her heart sank.
“Don’t worry,” Landon said. “I refinished the floors when I moved into my mom and dad’s, so I know how to get those out. They look like surface stains. Are you sure you don’t want me to refinish the floor? If I run out of time, I could always finish it after you leave.”
“While you’re working extra hours to make up for this so-called vacation? I don’t think so.”
Landon retrieved his dad’s old drum sander and insisted she sit in the sun while he worked. “It’s going to get hot and dusty in here,” he explained. “Anyway, you could use some fresh air.”
He brought her a fresh bandage and the bag of frozen peas, and she rewrapped her ankle and set the bag on it. The Advil had kicked in, and for the first time since the injury, her ankle didn’t hurt.
Since Caden couldn’t help with the floor, Sam let her invite Amber over. They drew pictures on the pier boards with sidewalk chalk until the sun grew hot, then they waded into the cool water, squatting until their slender shoulders skimmed the surface. Their laughter floated on the breeze, mingling with the leaves that danced overhead, shading her from the hot sun.
After dinner, Melanie called. “I was getting ready to come get Amber and wondered if Caden would like to spend the night again.”
The girls responded with loud squeals, especially when Melanie promised to take them to the beach the next day.
By the time they left, twilight had settled over the yard, bringing out the night sounds she remembered so well. Sam leaned back on the porch chair, listening to the orchestra through the screen, her hand resting on Max’s head.
“The dust has settled if you want to go back inside.” The door squeaked as Landon stepped through it. He handed her a glass of soda, and the ice tinkled in the glass as she took it.
“Nah. It smells better out here.” The smell of paint fumes had faded, but all the sanding left a sawdust smell.
Max walked to the screen door and pushed, letting himself out.
Landon sank into the chair beside her. “It’s all cleaned up and ready for a coat of varnish. Sorry the stains took so long. I’d hoped to start varnishing this afternoon.”
“You hardly owe me an apology. Anyway, I think I’ll be able to help tomorrow, so we’ll get back on track.”
Sam could feel his gaze on her. “You don’t want to rush it.”
“It hardly even hurts now. And I can put my weight on it.”
He stared at her. “Sam.”
She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I’ll take breaks.” She pinned him with a look until she was sure he understood that she wasn’t backing down.
“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I prefer to call it determined.”
“Most stubborn people do. And don’t forget, I taught you to drive.”
Sam humphed. “What’s that got to do with anything?” She lifted the soda to her lips and let the fizzy liquid glide down her throat.
“Do the words stick shift and ’Sconset ring a bell?”
She hadn’t thought about that in years. A smile threatened. Emmett wouldn’t let her use his car, so Mrs. Reed let Landon teach Sam to drive in her old beat-up Citation. It had taken them two hours to reach ’Sconset, normally a fifteen-minute drive.
“So it took me a while to get there.” She cocked her head like Max. “With a little determination, I managed.”
“And then insisted on driving back.”
“So what?”
“In the dark.”
“Are you afraid of boogeymen?”
“Three hours and forty-five minutes to ’Sconset and back. My knuckles were white for a week.”
“But I learned to drive a stick shift.”
“Stubborn.”
“Determined.”
Sam relaxed into her chair, listening to the oscillating buzz of insects and the ever-present whoosh of waves lapping the shoreline. Darkness had swallowed up the heat of the day, and the breeze that slipped through the screen refreshed her.
“Listen to that,” Landon said. “It’s so peaceful.”
She closed her eyes and let her ears do all the work. To her, the sound was comforting. It had lulled her to sleep many a night when everything else was so frightening. “You love it here, don’t you?”
A loon called out from somewhere near the shoreline.
“I really do,” he said.
She remembered loving this place before her dad died. But then things happened that tainted the island, coloring it a gloomy shade of gray. She had to admit the shadows had lifted a bit recently.
“The winters stink,” she said. Especially along the shoreline, where cold winds whipped across the ocean. It was almost impossible to keep a house warm. Not to mention expensive.
“True. But the summers are worth it.” The cushion on his chair crinkled as he shifted. “Besides, I have good memories here.”
The irony struck her that although they had grown up two doors apart durin
g the same time period, their childhoods were polar opposites. She laughed wryly.
“Come on, they weren’t all bad.” She could tell he’d turned toward her by the sound of his voice. “Remember the time capsule we buried? It took you five weeks to decide what should be in it. If it had been up to me, I would have taken five minutes.”
Sam opened her eyes and turned toward him. She hadn’t realized the chairs were so close together. “I remember.” They’d dug it up the summer they graduated and laughed at the items she’d selected: An unopened pack of Hubba Bubba bubble gum, two ticket stubs to Home Alone, a cassette tape of The Joshua Tree by U2, and a beaded bracelet Landon had made for her. She wondered what they’d done with those things.
The light from the living room window lit Landon’s face, and a shadow settled into the cleft of his chin. “And the time you found that dead bird and insisted we have a memorial service.”
That was before her dad died, before all the good had been sucked from her life. She found the starling under a bush in Miss Biddle’s yard. Her tender heart had broken. “That’s not a good memory.”
His lips twitched. “You sang Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sparrow’ and buried the thing in a Pop-Tarts box.”
Sam remembered Landon digging the shallow hole in his mom’s flower garden and waiting patiently for her to finish. “Okay, I see the humor.”
“And then there was the time—”
“Okay, okay, I get your point. There were good memories too.” It was just that the bad outweighed them by a sandy beach mile. She studied Landon’s face. He was at the center of every good memory since her dad’s passing. His presence brought her joy and peace. Maybe that’s why her life had been so empty since she left the island. Maybe Landon was the healing water that would quench her loneliness. She let the thought wash over her the way Landon’s gaze washed over her now. In the depth of his eyes was a fathomless pool of emotion. In the strength of his arms was stability. In the heart of his soul was a steadiness she longed for.
His eyes flickered down to her lips. “Sam,” he whispered.
The sound of her name on his lips ignited a yearning in her. A yearning for comfort. For joy. For love. A need to surrender to this aching desire.
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