by Patricia Kay
Watching her charm Justin, Sam felt a swell of pride. Any man would be proud to be with her . . . but she belonged to him.
She belonged to him.
In that instant, he knew there was no decision to make as far as Amy was concerned. The decision had been made for him.
She belonged to him. They belonged together. Always.
* * *
That night, there was an intensity and depth to their lovemaking that frightened Amy, because she wasn't sure what it meant. She had been trying not to think about Sam's going away, but she knew he soon would be. His vacation was nearly over. Only two more days, and then he'd have some new assignment and he'd be gone.
She told herself it didn't matter. He would be back. A temporary absence wouldn't change anything between them. It wasn't like he'd be leaving her forever.
But as their lovemaking climaxed, and he brought her to a shattering peak, Amy's response was tinged with desperation, and a silent prayer ran through her mind even as she shuddered in the throes of passion. And afterwards, as she lay in the warm circle of Sam's arms, his lips pressed against her forehead, one hand caressing her belly, she said the prayer over and over: Please, God, don't take him away from me . . . don't take him away from me . . . .
* * *
The following morning, Amy's fears of the night before seemed groundless and silly, just the way childhood nightmares had seemed in the bright sunlight, and by the time she'd had her breakfast she was once more her normal, optimistic self.
Sam left at nine, saying he would be tied up most of the day with errands and shopping, so Amy filled her day with shopping and errands of her own.
She finished up early and still had enough time to give the apartment a fast cleaning and wash a couple loads of laundry before she had to get ready for the evening. By seven, she was showered and dressed in a cool, white eyelet sundress and white sandals and waiting for Sam. She sipped at a glass of wine and idly glanced through her new Vanity Fair. She'd barely gotten through the Letters to the Editor, when she heard his car in the driveway. The anticipation of seeing him brought a quickening of her pulse and a smile to her face.
She heard the thunk of his car door, then light footsteps bounding up her outside stairs. As always, he was whistling their song.
And then her door opened. For a moment, he stood framed in her doorway, the late afternoon sun burnishing his hair and turning his pale green shirt and khaki pants golden. He grinned, and she felt a rush of love so powerful, so stunning, she could hardly breathe.
She knew it would always be this way. That all he would have to do was enter a room and she would be putty. That any absence, no matter how brief, would make his return seem like a glorious gift.
For a moment, he didn't move. His gaze clung to hers, then in three long strides he banished the distance between them.
Taking her face between his hands, he looked deep into her eyes, then kissed her with a sweetness that made Amy tremble. Afterwards, he held her close and murmured, "God, you feel good."
She kissed his neck. "You, too," she whispered.
"Let's sit down," he said. "I've got something to tell you."
She didn't have time to speculate, to feel afraid or any other emotion as he took her hand and led her to the couch. They sat, and he put his arm around her and tipped her face up with his free hand. Softly, almost shyly, he said, "I love you, Amy."
The most incredible joy flooded her. He had finally said what she had known all along. He loved her. He loved her. She touched his cheek. "Oh, Sam, I love you, too. So very much."
Their gazes clung for a moment, then he kissed her again. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of him, the taste of him, and the knowledge that now everything would be the way it was always meant to be.
Then, in a moment Amy knew she would never forget, he reached into his pocket and removed a small gray velvet box. He handed it to her.
Fingers trembling, she snapped open the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of satin was a large, oval emerald surrounded by a dozen diamonds. It was exquisite.
Speechless, Amy looked up.
Sam smiled tenderly. "With your eyes, I knew you had to have an emerald. Will you marry me, Amy?"
"Oh, Sam!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "Nothing would make me happier."
After another lingering kiss, he removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. Amy was astounded. "How did you know what size to get?" She raised her hand to let the ring catch the sunlight, and it nearly blinded her with its brilliance.
He grinned sheepishly. "I snuck that little silver ring of yours out of your jewelry box this morning."
"Oh, Sam . . . that was so sweet . . . " Amy felt her eyes fill with tears.
"Hey, what's this?" He touched her cheek. "Why are you crying?"
She sniffed. "I don't know. I guess because I love you so much. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and even though I told myself you'd eventually realize we were meant to be, maybe down deep, I was afraid."
In answer, he just pulled her closer and kissed her again. And again. And then, hand in hand, they headed for her bedroom, everything else but how much they loved and wanted each other driven from their minds.
* * *
Later, she lay in the circle of his arms, and they talked. He told her about his new assignment and what a spectacular opportunity it was. "I'm going to miss you, though."
"I'll miss you, too." Her voice was subdued.
Sam looked at her closely. "Amy, it's not going to be easy . . . married to me. Your mother was right. My job keeps me away a lot of the time."
"I know, I've thought about that, but, well, after we're married, can't I go with you?"
Sam smiled. "Some of the time, yes, but there will be many times you can't. This assignment in Nepal, for instance, would not be one where I'd encourage you to accompany me. However, I've been thinking about this, too. From now on, I'll try not to take many of these kinds of assignments, and if I do, I'll try to keep them short." This was the compromise he had finally settled on, and he hoped she would accept it. "Can you live with that?"
She sighed and traced lazy circles on his chest. "It's not perfect, of course, but . . . yes, I can live with that." She reached up to caress his cheek. "I'd rather live with that than live without you."
"Amy, I do love you," he murmured, tightening his arms around her.
They kissed deeply, and Sam could feel his body stir again. His hand moved slowly down her arm, her hip, and then around to cup her buttocks. She groaned and pressed closer to him.
A long time afterwards, Amy said, "Sam . . . I want you to promise me something."
"What?" he said with his lips against her forehead.
"I know your work carries risk, and that you like that aspect of it—the danger and the excitement—but I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. So I want you to promise me you won't take any chances."
He kissed the tip of her nose. "I know how to take care of myself."
"That isn't what I asked you. Please, Sam. Do you promise?"
"Tell you what. I can't promise I won't take any chances, but I do promise I won't take any unnecessary chances. Does that make you happy?"
Amy wanted to say more, but she knew it would be useless. Sam was not the kind of man to be bound too tightly. She wasn't even sure she'd love him as much as she did if he was. Smiling, she traced the outline of his mouth with the tip of her forefinger. "Yes. That makes me very happy."
Chapter Ten
The moment Faith saw Amy's face, she knew. Her daughter's smile was blinding.
"Mom, Dad . . . " Amy held out her left hand. "Sam and I are engaged."
Something clutched at Faith's heart, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. A kaleidoscope of images swirled through her mind: Amy, five years old, lower lip trembling as Faith and Alan made a solemn ceremony of burying their sixteen-year-old cat, Tomasina; Amy, adorable in a starched white pinafore a
nd patent leather Mary Janes, starring as Alice in her elementary school production of Alice in Wonderland, causing her parents to fairly burst with pride; Amy, enchanting in a filmy sea green chiffon dress the night of her senior prom. So many milestones. And now, another. This one the biggest of them all.
Slowly, Faith lifted her gaze from the beautiful ring to her daughter's glowing eyes. She knew she must be careful. She had grave reservations about Sam, but she mustn't let Amy see them. Not yet. Not until she'd decided what, if anything, she should say. Above all, she did not want to alienate her daughter. "Oh, darling," she managed to say quite calmly, "how wonderful."
She and Amy hugged, then Faith turned to Sam. "I'm still a bit stunned."
"I am, too," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
After Alan hugged and kissed Amy, he clasped Sam's shoulder and said, "Welcome to our family, Sam."
"Thank you, sir." Sam's expression was appealingly tender as he looked down at Amy.
Faith, who was still overcome by emotion, tried to get herself under control. She had never dreamed she would feel this way—so ridiculously close to tears—she, who was always so in command of every situation. To cover her agitation, she said, "Why don't we all go into the living room where we can talk in comfort?"
By the time they were settled, Faith was once again self-possessed.
"Sam and I have talked about it," Amy said, "and we've decided we want to be married December 19th."
"So soon!" Faith said. "But why?"
"Well, with school and all, the Christmas holidays are the only time I'll have off for a honeymoon."
"But Amy, that's only four and a half months away. I don't know if we can—"
"Mom, we don't want to wait."
Faith was not accustomed to being interrupted, but she hid her irritation. "I don't think you understand how much there is to do. What I started to say was I don't know if we can get everything ready that quickly."
"We just want a simple, small wedding," Amy said. "So it shouldn't take that long to prepare."
"But darling, we have so many friends, and their feelings will be hurt if they're not invited to your wedding." Faith looked at Sam. "I'm sure Sam does, as well."
"There are no more than a dozen people I care about inviting," Sam said. He reached for Amy's hand, and they exchanged a look.
"We really want to be married over the Christmas break," Amy said firmly.
Faith thought fast. Perhaps she wouldn't argue this point. She'd learned a long time ago that one picked one's battles. If she conceded on the date of the wedding, it would probably be easier to get Amy to agree on the number of guests later—that is, if the wedding actually took place at all. "All right," she said briskly. "Christmas it is. Oh, dear, I just remembered . . . "
"What?" Amy said.
"Your father and I are going to China for two weeks in October. Perhaps I shouldn't go."
"No, Mom, don't cancel your trip. It'll all work out. I'm going to have a lot of free time in the next few weeks, because Sam will be leaving soon on a new assignment." Amy smiled at him, her heart in her eyes. "I'll miss him, but I'll use the time to good advantage."
"Where will you be going, Sam?" Alan asked.
As Sam told them about the upcoming shoot in Nepal, Faith only half listened. Her mind was busily selecting and discarding ideas for the wedding and reception. Amy would be married at St. John's, of course. The Carpenters had belonged to the parish since before Amy's birth. Faith hoped the date was open. Amy didn't realize how far ahead people planned. And the reception would be at the River Oaks Country Club, where Faith and Alan had been members for more than twenty years. She'd better call both places in the morning and nail down those dates. She refused to think about what she'd do if one or the other couldn't accommodate them. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.
Her mind turned to the wedding party. She was sure Amy would want Lark as her maid of honor and wondered who else her daughter would choose. Since Courtney's death, Amy hadn't formed any other close friendships. There was always her cousin Hannah—the daughter of Alan's only sister Marian—but Hannah was six years older and she and Amy had never been close. Still, she was Amy's only female relative of her generation. Faith decided she would talk to Amy about Hannah. One thing, the girl was lovely and would make a beautiful attendant, just as Amy would make a beautiful bride.
Faith wondered if Amy would want to be married in Faith's wedding dress, which had been carefully preserved, or if she'd want a dress of her own. Knowing her daughter, she'd probably love the idea of wearing her mother's dress. Suddenly, Faith was filled with excitement. Despite her reservations about Sam, planning a wedding would be such fun! And no matter what Amy said, Faith was determined to have the kind of wedding that would be a fitting showcase for the daughter of Alan Carpenter.
She smiled in satisfaction and turned her attention back to the conversation.
"Sam has promised that this shoot will be his last long one," Amy was saying. "He's also promised to take me with him whenever he can."
Faith carefully kept her expression and tone neutral. "But aren't many of your assignments dangerous, Sam?"
"They can be, but I wouldn't take Amy anyplace dangerous. You don't have to worry about that." Once again, he and Amy exchanged a smile.
"You've always gone everywhere with Dad," Amy pointed out.
"I know, but accompanying your father to London or Brussels or even New Delhi is not the same as trekking in the Himalayas or in some tropical jungle," Faith said.
"Sam has already said he won't take her anyplace dangerous," Alan said.
Faith laughed softly. "I know. I'm being a mother hen, aren't I?"
Amy got up and came over to Faith, leaning over to hug her. "It's okay, Mom," she said softly. "I know you're just concerned because you love me. But everything is going to work out beautifully. You'll see."
* * *
"If this is what you want, Amy," Lark said the following morning when Amy called her to tell her the happy news, "I'm glad for you."
"This is exactly what I want, and I also want you to be my maid of honor," Amy said. "Will you?"
"You know I will."
"Oh, Lark, I'm so happy! And I can't wait to show you my ring. Do you want to meet for lunch today?" Amy held out her hand to look at her ring again. Prisms of light danced on the ceiling as sunlight fired the stones.
"I wish I could, but I've got a dentist's appointment at noon. Tell you what. How about if I stop by afterward? Unless Sam's going to be there, of course . . . "
"It wouldn't matter if he was here. But he's not going to be, so don't worry."
"Good. See you about two."
After hanging up, Amy thought about Lark and her obvious antipathy toward Sam. Surely Lark would begin to like Sam better now that he and Amy were going to be married. Yes, of course, she would. She just had to get to know him, that's all. And once she did, how could she help but think he was wonderful?
Amy hugged herself. She was so happy. She had everything she had ever wanted. Her life was perfect. And she knew it would only get better. Everything, absolutely everything, was going to be wonderful from now on.
* * *
Justin's initial reaction to Sam's news was shock. His second was envy. "I never thought I'd see the day," he said, recovering from both nicely.
Sam grinned.
Justin clasped Sam's shoulder. "I'm happy for you, man. She's a great girl."
"Thanks."
"When's the big day?"
"December 19th."
"Wait'll I tell Mom. She always said if the right woman came along, she'd change your mind about marriage." Fleetingly, Justin thought of Jessie. No matter what she'd said about it being easier to forget about Sam if he were committed to someone else, Justin knew this news would come as a blow.
"I want you to be my best man," Sam said.
"I'd be honored."
"Something else . . . would you keep an eye on Amy while I
'm gone? I'd like to give her your phone number to call if she needs anything."
"Sure, no problem."
"I know you're halfway in love with her yourself," Sam said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes, "so make sure you remember whose girl she is."
Justin felt his face heating and inwardly cursed.
Sam's laugh rang out as he clapped Justin on the back, and soon Justin joined him.
* * *
Faith didn't have a chance to talk to Amy until late the following afternoon. When she heard Amy's car pull into the driveway, she put down the book she'd been reading and walked to the back door.
"Hi," she said as Amy walked out of the garage.
"Hi."
"Where've you been all afternoon?"
"I had lunch with Lark." Amy smiled. "I asked her to be my maid of honor."
"I thought you might. Listen, do you have a few minutes? Why don't you come in and have a cup of tea with me?"
"Okay."
Ten minutes later, the two of them were settled in the sun room, a laden tea cart in front of them. Faith poured them each a cup of the English tea she preferred, then settled back onto the chintz love seat. She chose her words carefully. "Darling, I had a very hard time falling asleep last night."
Amy chuckled. "I can imagine. What were you doing? Going over the guest list for the wedding?"
"Nooo, not exactly."
Amy's smile faded as she studied Faith's expression. "Is something wrong?"
"I am worried about something," Faith said.
"Something to do with the wedding?"
Faith hesitated. "Shall I be very honest with you?"
"Yes, of course."
"All right then. I . . . I'm troubled by your engagement. I'm not sure you really understand what you're letting yourself in for by marrying someone like Sam."
Amy stiffened. "Someone like Sam? Just what does that mean?"
"Amy, darling . . . " Faith put down her cup. "Please don't be angry. Sam's a lovely man. He is. I can easily see his appeal. He's attractive and charming and very engaging, but he's . . . well, he's not exactly the kind of man who is good husband material."