by Patricia Kay
"Sam . . . stop. Stop!" She pushed him away, managed to get her sweater back down.
"Amy," Sam said, "what's wrong?"
The footsteps were louder now, climbing, crossing the porch.
Amy could hardly breathe. The door opened.
Over Sam's shoulder, she saw Justin's face. His happy smile. His mouth open to greet her. And then, like a slow motion movie, his eyes widening, the smile fading.
Sam turned around. Amy's heart was beating so fast and so hard, she thought she might faint. Her stomach rolled. She didn't know what to do. What to say. The three of them stood there, frozen.
As understanding swept over him, Justin's face blanched, shock and disbelief pummeling him. Sam! Sam was alive! He stared at Sam's face. At his arm around Amy. At her swollen lips and disheveled hair and the guilty look on her face. He realized what they'd been doing when he came in. A sick feeling washed through him.
Sam's face spread into a wide grin, then he gave a whoop of joy. "Justin!" he shouted, releasing Amy and moving as fast as his still-stiff right leg would let him. He grasped Justin in a bear hug. "Oh, man, it's good to see you!"
It was only as Sam felt the rigidness in Justin's body and the lack of enthusiasm in his return embrace that he realized something was wrong.
He dropped his arms and backed away so he could see Justin's face. It looked frozen, the blue eyes filled with some emotion Sam couldn't identify. "Justin?" he said.
"Hello, Sam," Justin said stiffly. "You're alive, I see." Then his gaze swung to Amy.
Completely bewildered, Sam turned to look at Amy, too. Her expression was stricken as her eyes moved from Justin to him and back to Justin again.
"What's wrong?" Sam said.
No one answered.
"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Sam said, beginning to feel scared and not knowing why.
"Are you going to tell him, or should I?" Justin said, voice still strained and tight.
"Tell me what?"
When Amy, who seemed incapable of speech, didn't answer, Justin brushed past Sam to her side. He put his arm around her possessively, and the look he gave Sam was challenging. "Amy and I love each other," he said. "We're engaged to be married."
Chapter Twenty-two
The words fell like stones into the suddenly silent room, broken only by the thump, thump of Major's tail.
Justin took Amy's left hand and raised it.
Sam stared. The diamond on her finger blazed in the sunlight. He swallowed, raised his eyes to Amy's face. "Amy?" He wanted to say he didn't believe Justin, but the ring on Amy's finger was all too real. His mind spun. This couldn't be true. It couldn't. Amy loved him. She was engaged to him.
"Oh, Sam, I . . . " Her voice trailed off as she looked from one man to the other.
"It's true," Justin said, tightening his arm around Amy. He was frightened, terribly frightened, but determined not to show it. How could Sam be alive? he kept asking himself. How could he just walk in, as if nothing had happened, as if the past two years were nothing, and take over again? His mind reeled as anger, fear, and guilt churned chaotically. He didn't want to feel any guilt, didn't want to see the confusion and torment on Sam's face, didn't want to remember that this man had been his best friend for years . . . was still his best friend. The guilt made him even angrier.
"Sam . . . " Amy said helplessly, practically wringing her hands. "I-I'm sorry." Her heart filled with pity. She knew this was a terrible shock for Sam, and yet, there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. "It's been two years. We . . . we thought you were dead."
Sam stared at her. "So it's true? You . . . and Justin?"
"I-I'm sorry," she whispered again. Why? Why? she thought. Why did this have to happen?
"But you're engaged to me. I said I'd be back. You knew I'd be back."
"How could I know?" she whispered.
"Get real, Sam," Justin said. "You've been missing for two years. Two years! The authorities said you were dead. Amy had to believe it, whether she wanted to or not. We all did."
Sam just kept staring at Amy. He heard the words, but his brain wasn't willing to accept them. He kept waiting for her to deny Justin's statement. She couldn't be engaged to Justin. She didn't love Justin. She loved him. Slowly, as he waited and as the silence lengthened, a hard knot of pain replaced the bewilderment, followed by an anger so strong, he wanted to hit something.
Amy and Justin. The woman he loved more than anything or anyone in the world . . . and his best friend . . . the man he trusted above all others. Together all this time. All the time he was hurt and sick. All the time he was looking at Amy's picture and straining to remember. All the time he was struggling to return and picturing the happiness on both their faces. He wanted to shut his eyes to blot out the images that flashed through his mind.
Bitterness overwhelmed him as he remembered the way he'd teased Justin about Amy, how he'd thought it was harmless and flattering the way Justin had been so taken with her. "What a friend," he said, unable to stop the bitterness and pain from overflowing. "You couldn't wait to move in on me, could you? My good old buddy. I'll look after Amy, don't worry. And I believed you. Just how long did it take before you were in her bed, old buddy?"
Amy felt as if someone had stuck a knife into her heart and twisted it. She couldn't stand this. Couldn't stand the way they were looking at each other and talking to each other. She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to rush to Sam's side. To erase the look of pain and betrayal from his eyes. To shout it's all a mistake! But how could she do that? How could she hurt Justin that way? What had he done except be here . . . and love her?
Justin tightened his arm around Amy. Of all his emotions, the fear had won out, and it hardened his voice, because he knew he was fighting for his life. "If you're trying to make us feel guilty, forget it. You made your choice. You could have stayed here with Amy. You could have been married to her for nearly two years now. But you just had to go off and have your great adventure, didn't you? What happened is your own damned fault. You'll never change. You're the same old Sam. Taking all kinds of risks. Proving what a big man you are. Not thinking or caring about anyone but yourself.
"What did you expect Amy to do?" he went on relentlessly. "Wait around forever? Grow up. We were told you were dead. And I'm the one who was here to pick up the pieces. I'm the one who was here when she lost your baby."
Each word was like a poisoned dart aimed straight for Sam's chest. "My baby?" he said. "You . . . you were carrying my baby?" His mind reeled under the weight of this new disclosure. Pregnant. When he'd left, she'd been pregnant with his baby. The most unbelievable pain, worse than any he'd yet experienced, grabbed his heart and squeezed it. He could do nothing but stare at her. Her tortured eyes confirmed everything Justin had said. "I-I . . . " He couldn't think. His baby. Amy had been pregnant with his baby. And she'd lost it.
Amy's eyes filled with tears. Her bottom lip trembled. She couldn't stand to see the pain in Sam's eyes. It brought back all of her own feelings of pain and loss. She wanted so badly to go to him, to throw her arms around him. He should never have been told about the baby this way. Justin had had no right to tell him. No right at all. Yet even through her own pain, she understood why he had. He was scared, and her miscarriage was one of the few weapons he had against the accusations Sam had hurled.
She didn't know what to do. She knew she had to say something. Do something. But where did her loyalty lie? With Sam, who had promised her the world, then left her? Or with Justin, who had helped her survive the past two years?
She loved them both. She didn't want to hurt either one of them. It killed her that they were saying such awful things to one another, even though she understood the reasons on both sides. Justin was terrified of losing her. And Sam. She tried to imagine how Sam must feel—coming home with such joy and hope—and finding out the two people he loved and trusted most had—in his eyes, anyway—betrayed him.
P
lease, God, help me. Help me.
Sam's tormented eyes met hers again. He seemed to have gotten himself under some semblance of control. "Amy, I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am. And if there was any way I could erase the past couple of years, I would, but I can't." He ran his hands through his hair the way he always had when he was upset. "I-I think I understand how this all happened." He was obviously struggling, trying to be fair. His gaze slowly moved to Justin. "I shouldn't have said what I did. I-I'm sorry. I'm grateful for everything you've done for Amy, don't think I'm not, but I'm home now. And Amy and I . . . we belong together."
"I don't want your gratitude," Justin said. "I love Amy, that's why I did what I did."
Amy's heart felt as if it were splintering into thousands of pieces. She could feel the tremor in Justin's body, but his voice was calm as he continued.
"I'm glad you're alive," Justin continued, "but it doesn't change anything."
Sam thought about the way Amy had kissed him. The way she had acted before Justin came. He looked at her. "Is that true, Amy?"
"You think all you have to do is crook your little finger, and she'll come running back, don't you?" Justin said, desperation goading him on. "That's the way it's been your entire life! Anything Sam wants, Sam gets. Well, you're wrong this time. Amy loves me. We love each other. We're going to be married November the 24th. Last week, we even mailed the invitations. Tell him, Amy. Tell him you don't belong to him anymore. You belong to me."
"Well?" Sam said tightly. "We're both waiting."
Amy couldn't believe this. It was like a bad movie. The two of them were squared off like boxers in a ring, each one looking for the knockout punch.
"Why don't you just go away?" Justin said through clenched teeth. "You will eventually, anyway. Why not save everyone a lot of trouble and go now?"
"How about it, Amy?" Sam said, ignoring Justin's taunts even though he felt like punching him in the nose. "Do you want me to go away, too? I've heard what old Justin here has to say, but now I want to hear you say it."
Suddenly, Amy was furious with both of them. What did they want from her? Blood? Did they want her to cut herself in two so each one could have a piece? "I don't belong to anyone," she said, her voice trembling with the force of her anger. "I belong to myself. I can't believe the way you two are behaving. You're supposed to be best friends. You're supposed to love each other. You both say you love me. Well, prove it, then. And stop trying to tear me apart!"
Then she yanked herself from Justin's grasp, whirled around, and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
"Happy now?" Justin ground out.
"What happened isn't my fault," Sam said. "I'm not the one trying to hold her against her will."
"I'm not trying to hold her against her will. I've never tried to hold her against her will."
"Sure you are. You were laying guilt on her with every word you spoke." He ran his hands through his hair. "I admit, I was angry when I realized what's been going on between you two, but I can understand it as far as Amy's concerned. She was going through a bad time. She was vulnerable. It's you I blame. Hell, you saw your chance, and you didn't give a damn about me or anyone else, did you? You just stepped right up and took advantage of her."
"Took advantage of her! You bastard!" It was all Justin could do to keep from smashing that cocky face. "She wanted to die after she lost the baby. It wasn't just a bad time as you put it. It was pure hell. I would have done anything to help her, because, unlike you, her welfare is more important to me than anything else."
They glared at each other, bodies taut, shoulders squared, fists clenched. Neither knew what to do. Sam was exhausted—the strain of the long airline flight and the emotional confrontation taking its toll. His right leg had begun to throb, and he knew he needed to sit down soon or he would collapse. But he couldn't show any weakness in front of Justin.
Trying not to limp, Sam walked over to the bathroom door. He rapped softly. He couldn't hear any sound from inside. "Amy." He rapped again. "Amy."
"What?" she said in a muffled voice.
He lowered his voice. "Please open the door, Amy. I-I'm leaving, and I wanted to say good-bye."
Behind him, Justin was afraid to hope. It wasn't like Sam to give up so easily.
There was a long silence. Then the door opened. Sam's heart twisted. Her tear-stained, puffy-eyed face looked up at him. He wanted to draw her into his arms. Kiss away the tears. Hold her gently and tell her how much he loved her. He kept thinking about the baby they'd lost. He wanted to ask her about it, share the pain with her. But he could do none of those things with Justin there.
If only she'd tell him to stay. If only she'd tell Justin to leave.
"W-where are you going?" she asked, her voice husky with the tears she'd shed.
He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't suppose my apartment is still around, is it?"
"Owen terminated your apartment lease over a year ago," Justin said. "He put your stuff in storage."
Sam didn't turn around. "I'll get a room in a hotel, then." He felt sick and drained. He had to get away. Sort out his thoughts. Try to figure out what to do.
"Okay," she murmured. She looked completely drained, too.
"I'll call you later," he said softly. "Let you know where I am."
She nodded, her eyes meeting his again. Something flickered in their depths, and suddenly, the need to take her in his arms, to put his stamp on her, to show them all whose woman she was, was too strong to deny. The kiss he gave her was quick and hard, and when it was over, he swung around, gave Justin a defiant glare, and trying his best not to limp, walked out.
* * *
Justin swiftly moved to Amy's side. He put his arm around her and kissed the side of her forehead. "You okay?"
She nodded, but she wasn't okay. She could hardly think, let alone talk. Sam's kiss was still imprinted on her lips.
"Let's sit down," he said gently. "You've had a shock."
"Justin . . . " Her voice didn't sound like her own. "I-I'm really sorry, but I want you to leave, too."
He stiffened, momentarily tightening his grip on her shoulders. "Amy—"
"Please, Justin. You're right. I have had a shock. And I want . . . I need to be alone right now."
She knew it wasn't fair to ask him to go, but she just couldn't face talking about this right now. She thought he was going to protest, but after a few seconds, he said, "All right. I understand. I'll go. But I'll be back later."
"Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow."
He was terrified, but he knew he would not be helping his cause if he pushed her. "All right," he agreed. "Tomorrow."
She lifted her face and he kissed her, but there was no real enthusiasm in her response. He tried not to let this lack hurt him, telling himself it was just the shock and not any change in her feelings towards him. "Try to get some rest," he said as he gently released her. "I'll call you in the morning."
Once Justin was gone, Amy sank onto the couch and stared into space. The cats, sensing her distress, butted up against her legs, then settled around her in a kind of protective circle.
The events of the day seemed unreal. She couldn't believe how, in just hours, everything had changed. This morning she was happy and comfortable with her decision to marry Justin. She had been looking forward to the future. Now her entire world lay in shambles. And she had no idea how to go about putting it back together.
* * *
Lark had just gotten home from a three-day trip, and she was exhausted. God, she had to find another job. She just wasn't up for all this traveling anymore. She walked into her apartment and immediately began shedding clothes, letting them stay wherever they landed. The apartment felt stuffy from being closed up for three days, so she turned on the air conditioning.
She was in her bedroom, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, when the doorbell rang. She hastily zipped up the jeans and walked barefoot out to the living room.
Her heart jumped when s
he opened the door to find Justin standing on her stoop. He gave her a little half-smile and said, "Hey."
"Hey." She smiled, trying not to reveal how rattled she felt by his unexpected presence. "What are you doing here?"
"What kind of welcome is that?" he countered, his tone light, even though he looked tired and unhappy, with lines of strain around his mouth and eyes. It was obvious something was wrong.
"I'm sorry. C'mon in." Her heart had finally begun to slow down. "God, this place is a mess." She picked her navy blue uniform jacket and pumps up from the floor. "Sit down. Do you want a beer?"
"Yeah, make it a triple."
She raised her eyebrows. "That sounds ominous."
He nodded wearily. "You don't know the half of it."
"I'll be right back," she said. What could be the matter? she wondered as she walked into the tiny kitchen and took two cans of beer out of the refrigerator. She'd talked to Amy before leaving on this latest assignment, and everything had seemed to be rosy with her and Justin—so rosy it was hard for Lark to hear about it without feeling an ache of emptiness. Distractedly, she dumped the uniform jacket and pumps on the kitchen counter, then headed back to the living room. He was still standing, but at least he'd taken off his jacket. Lark couldn't help smiling to see that unlike her, he'd draped it neatly over a chair.
She handed him a beer.
"Has Amy called you?" he asked.
"No. At least I don't think she has. But I haven't checked my answering machine yet. Why? Has something happened?"
"I guess you could say that." He took a swallow of beer.
"What?" she said softly. Had they broken up or something? She hated herself for the spark of hope that leaped into life.
He laughed, the sound so filled with bitterness and pain, it tore at her heart. "Sam's back, that's what."
Lark stared at him, sure she'd misheard. "Sam's back?" she repeated incredulously. "You . . . you mean he's alive?"
His mouth twisted. "Yep. Alive and kicking."
Holy shit! For once in her life, Lark was speechless. Sam was alive! "Oh, my God," she said, finally finding her voice. "Does Amy know?"