With This Ring

by Patricia Kay

  * * *

  Sam drove too fast as he left Amy's, and he narrowly missed hitting some old geezer driving a big Lincoln town car at the intersection of River Oaks Boulevard and San Felipe. Sam laid on the horn and gave the old guy the finger, then was immediately ashamed of himself. He was also ashamed of the way he'd lashed out at Amy. He knew she hadn't been teasing him, the way he'd insinuated. She wanted him, but her conscience wouldn't let her do something she felt was wrong. She might be misguided, but she wasn't cruel or selfish.

  The trouble was, he was miserable. Emotionally and physically. And he knew he could not go on like this much longer. If Amy was going to marry Justin, Sam needed to know. Now. No matter how much it hurt. Because this limbo was killing him.

  For the first time, he seriously considered what he would do if that was her decision. He sure as hell would not stay in Houston. No way. He wondered how Owen would feel if he wanted to make his base somewhere else, maybe only work for the magazine part-time. It was not unheard of. Sam remembered another photographer who had worked out a similar arrangement a few years ago. He could also do freelance photography and be his own boss. He had the credentials now. He knew he would have no trouble finding work.

  Maybe instead of trying to find Holly a job in Houston, he would move out to California and see what he could do for her out there. He had connections. He could probably help her come up with something.

  He decided he would drive over to Owen's house right now. See if he was home, and talk to him about the future. Determinedly keeping his mind away from Amy and the unfulfilled need still burning away inside, he made a U-turn at the next light and headed west.

  * * *

  She was still wearing his ring.

  Nowadays, that was the first thing Justin looked for. But something was wrong. He hadn't been there five minutes before he realized she was not herself. But when he asked her, she quickly smiled and shook her head. "I'm just tired. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold," she said.

  He nodded, but he wasn't convinced.

  At nine-thirty, after they'd cleaned up the kitchen together, he slipped his arms around her and said, "Amy, I know something's happened. Tell me what it is."

  She laid her head against his chest and put her arms around his waist. Then, sighing, she gently extricated herself from the embrace. "Let's go sit on the couch."

  "Sam came by today," she said once they were seated.

  Justin stiffened. A sick feeling of dread settled into his stomach.

  "I realize now how terribly unfair I've been . . . to both of you."

  Justin didn't breathe.

  "I . . . " She took a deep breath and met his gaze squarely. "I think we should call off the wedding."

  He stared at her. He'd expected this from the moment he'd known Sam was alive, so why did it come as such a shock? And why did it hurt so damned much?

  She touched his hand, her eyes telling him how sorry she was, but he'd suddenly had enough. He stood. "Fine," he said tightly, determined he wouldn't show her how mortally she'd wounded him. He might have lost her, but he hadn't lost his pride. In that moment, he realized he'd forgotten something important the past couple of weeks. He would never have been able to build any kind of happiness with her if she'd come to him because she felt she owed him something. "Tell Sam I said congratulations." The words nearly choked him.

  She jumped up. "No, Justin, you don't understand. I haven't decided I want to marry Sam. That's not it."

  "What? Then why . . . ?"

  "I know you're probably thoroughly disgusted with me, and I don't blame you. In fact, I wouldn't blame you if you walked out tonight and never came back." She looked at him in consternation, wishing she could express her feelings better.

  "Amy," he said in exasperation, "would you please explain what the hell you're talking about?"

  "I just think it's not fair to keep you dangling like this. Maybe call off the wedding isn't the right thing to have said. What I mean is, I think we should postpone it until we can—"

  "Let me get this straight," he interrupted, blue eyes glinting dangerously. "Instead of making a decision, you want to postpone the wedding and postpone your decision indefinitely. Is that it?"

  "When you say it that way, I know it sounds . . . " She broke off. "Oh, God, I knew I'd make a mess of this. I've made a mess of everything else today."

  Her words reinforced his belief that something had happened between her and Sam today, something she wasn't ready to admit. And as much as Justin loved her, as much as he wanted her, he knew he couldn't allow her to do this, even if it meant she was lost to him forever. "No, Amy," he said, calm now. "I won't agree to postponing the wedding. If we don't get married November 24th, the way we planned, we won't get married at all." He forced himself to go on. "If you want Sam, say so."

  It was so quiet in the apartment, Amy fancied she could hear her heart beating.

  "You're right," she said finally. "Sam feels the same way. He's tired of waiting, too."

  She looked so miserable, Justin felt sorry for her, but he knew they could not go on like this, so he hardened his heart. "Amy," he said, "decide. We continue with our wedding plans, or you call off the wedding permanently. Either way, I want your decision by the end of the week."

  * * *

  Later that night, as Sam lay in his hotel room bed trying to sleep, he decided he would not call Amy or try to see her again. No matter how much he loved her or how much he wanted her, he'd meant what he'd said. He would not wait around forever. The ball was in her court.

  * * *

  Justin lay awake a long time. He felt almost resigned now that he knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer. Just before he fell asleep, he decided he would not call Amy again. He would let her have the week unpressured, and whatever she decided, he would learn to live with it.

  * * *

  Amy didn't fall asleep until after three. She thought and thought and thought. She went over all the reasons why Justin would make her a better husband and all the reasons why Sam would make her a better husband. Unfortunately for Sam, Justin's list was a lot longer. If she were choosing with her head, Justin would be the clear winner.

  But what about her heart?

  At one point, she turned on her bedside lamp and opened her jewelry box, removing the emerald ring. Picking up Justin's ring, which she always removed at night and put on the dresser, she laid both rings on the bed and looked at them.

  How like the men who had given them to her they were. The emerald ring was gorgeous, eye-catching, and special, but almost too beautiful and too large to wear every day. The diamond was beautiful, too, but smaller and much more practical and sensible.

  She fell asleep still thinking . . . and still undecided.

  * * *

  Sam had a doctor's appointment Monday morning, so he didn't get into the office until after eleven. When he arrived, he found a message laying on the desk in his cubicle. It was marked "urgent" and from someone named Bill Castleman at a 212 area code.

  Sam frowned. Who was Bill Castleman and why was someone he didn't know at a Manhattan area code calling him?

  "Did this guy say what he wanted?" he asked Marianne, the clerical assistant who had taken the call.

  "Nope," she said, cracking her gum.

  Sam didn't return the call immediately, figuring Castleman was probably just another news hound, and he wasn't in the mood for that right now.

  At twelve-ten, his phone rang.

  "Robbins," he said.

  "Mr. Robbins, this is Bill Castleman from the Castleman Literary Agency in New York."

  "Oh?" Sam said warily.

  "I've got a proposition for you. You don't already have an agent, do you?"

  "No." Why would he need an agent?

  "Good, because I've got a publisher interested in a book about your experiences in Nepal and I'd like to represent you."

  Sam listened, at first astounded, then as the validity of Castleman's offer sank in, increasingly flatte
red and excited.

  They talked a long time, then Castleman, who was by now calling him Sam, said, "I'll fax you one of our agency contracts today, and if we're lucky, we'll have a concrete deal by the end of the week."

  After hanging up, Sam swiveled his chair around so he could look out the window. If Castleman could put this deal together, it would mean Sam could go back to Nepal and do something for the villagers who had done so much for him.

  For the first time since his return, Sam admitted to himself that he was restless, that even the thought of a new assignment in the near future hadn't mitigated that feeling. He wondered now if, because he'd fallen for Amy so hard, he had lied to himself, thinking he could change and become the kind of man she so obviously wanted. He seriously examined the possibility that he would never be contented with the kind of life he had imagined before the accident that had so changed things—not only between him and Amy—but inside himself.

  Maybe Amy's mother and Lark and Justin and everyone else who had raised their eyebrows at the thought of Sam Robbins settling down to a normal, nine to five, picket fences existence had been right. Maybe he was all wrong for her. Maybe he could never make her happy.

  Maybe she would be better off with Justin.

  * * *

  Rumors travel fast in offices, which are very like small towns. On Wednesday, Justin heard through the grapevine that Sam Robbins was getting ready to sign a megabucks book deal with a big New York publisher.

  "I heard he's going back to that village," Justin's secretary said, "to take pictures and everything, then go stay in Minneapolis where the woman who's actually going to do the writing of the book lives. Gee, isn't that exciting?" she gushed. "He'll probably end up rich and famous and get asked to go on 'Oprah'."

  What did this mean? Justin wondered. Did Amy know?

  His heart felt heavy the rest of the day. How could he possibly compete with Sam? Everything Sam did was romantic, and everything Justin did was mundane and boring.

  Maybe Justin had been kidding himself, telling himself what he wanted to believe and not what was true. Maybe Amy would be happier with Sam.

  * * *

  By Wednesday, Amy had faced some hard truths. The first was that she could not give Sam up again.

  The second was that she would have to hurt Justin, like it or not, and she would probably lose his friendship into the bargain.

  Too bad, she thought wryly, she couldn't combine the two men. Take Sam's charm and sex appeal and the magic she felt when she was with him and add Justin's dependability and thoughtfulness and the feeling of safety he engendered. In other words, Amy, you want your cake and eat it, too.

  She called Lark that evening. "You doing anything tonight?"

  "Nope," Lark said. "The most ambitious thing on my agenda is calling Dominoes for pizza."

  "Want to make it a large one and feed me, too?" Amy said.

  "If you'll agree to extra cheese and extra mushrooms, you've got yourself a deal."

  "I'll see you in thirty minutes."

  Later, over the remains of the pizza, Lark said, "So what's on your mind?"

  Amy smiled. "You know me too well."

  Lark sat back in her chair and waited.

  "I've finally made a decision."

  Lark tensed, girding herself.

  "I'm going to marry Sam."

  Although Lark had been expecting this, she still felt stunned that anyone could give up a man like Justin for a man like Sam.

  "Well, say something," Amy said.

  "What? You want my blessing?"

  Amy flinched, and Lark was immediately ashamed of herself.

  "No," Amy said slowly. "I don't need anyone's blessing. I guess I was just hoping you'd say good luck and you knew it must have been hard to make the decision and you'd support me, no matter what."

  "Ah, shit, Amy, I'm sorry. Fine friend I am. I can't remember you ever sitting in judgment on me, even when I've done really stupid things—things I knew you didn't approve of at all—yet here I am . . . thinking I know better than you what's right for you to do." She reached across the table to clasp Amy's hand. "I do wish you good luck, and I do know it was a hard decision, and I do support you, no matter what."

  "Thanks, Lark." Amy's smile looked a little watery, and Lark felt a bit misty-eyed herself.

  "The only thing . . . " Lark said.

  Amy laughed. "I figured there'd be a qualifier."

  "I'm sorry. I just feel like I have to say this. Sam let you down once."

  "I know. Don't think I haven't thought of that. But he's changed, Lark. He's changed a lot. I think he learned his lesson. I think he's really ready to settle down, and I think we can build a good life together."

  Lark bit back the words she wanted to say, because she'd already said them. Things like, people don't change, and some men can't be caged, and you're still seeing things the way you want them to be and not the way they really are.

  "When will you tell Justin?" she said instead.

  "Friday night."

  Lark decided she would find someone to take her route Friday night, just in case.

  * * *

  The book became a done deal Friday morning. The first thing Sam did was go talk to Owen. "I've thought about this for a few days now," he said after describing what the publisher wanted and how he felt he could best deliver it. "And I think the fair thing to do is give you my resignation instead of taking a leave of absence. That way, you can fill my slot with someone else."

  "I'll miss you," Owen said. "But in the best interests of the magazine, I think you're right."

  Sam had thought he'd feel sad; instead he felt free.

  "When you're finished with the book, maybe we can work out freelance assignments," Owen said.

  "I'd like that."

  The two men shook hands, then in one of his rare shows of affection, Owen hugged Sam. "Congratulations, son. And good luck."

  The next thing Sam did was call Amy. She was at school, but he left a message on her answering machine telling her he had to see her that night. "It's important," he said. "I have some news."

  * * *

  That day Amy felt better than she'd felt in weeks, years maybe. Now that she'd made her decision, she understood what people meant when they said they felt as if a load had been taken off their backs.

  When she got home that afternoon, the first thing she did after greeting her cats and looking at her mail was head for the answering machine.

  Sam's voice startled her: Amy, this is Sam. I have to see you tonight. It's important. I have some news.

  News? What news? Was he leaving for another assignment? Already? But he was still under a doctor's care. Her mind churned as she hastily dialed the magazine's number and asked for him.

  "I got your message," she said a little breathlessly, because hearing his voice after not hearing it for a while always affected her this way.

  "Can I come over now?"

  He sounded funny. Tense, or maybe excited. It was hard to tell without seeing his face. Her stomach clenched. "Sure."

  The thirty minutes she had to wait for him to arrive were agony. What was so important it couldn't wait? Had something happened?

  When he arrived, some of her anxiety drained away, because he didn't look upset. His eyes were bright and his smile was the old Sam smile—the kind that made her heart turn over.

  She listened, dazed, as he told her about the book. "Are . . . are you planning to take the offer?" she finally said.

  "Yes."

  But where did that leave her? Where did that leave them?

  He took her hand, his voice filled with intensity as he tried to explain. "I know this is a shock to you. But Amy, this offer has clarified everything in my mind. It's shown me that I've been kidding myself . . . and you . . . for a long time."

  She could do nothing but stare at him, while her heart beat too fast, and her entire being was filled with fear.

  "I can't be the kind of man you want me to be. I wish I could
, but I can't. I'm who I am, Amy, and even though I love you and want you, I can't make myself into someone different. I've resigned my position at World of Nature," he continued. "I'm going to Minneapolis on Tuesday, to meet Cheryl—Cheryl Gerhardt—she'll be the collaborator on this project . . . do the actual writing, that is . . . then I'll come back here and make all the arrangements for my return to Nepal. Hopefully, I can head out before winter sets in, because I don't want to wait until spring. Then, when I'm finished in the village, I'll go back to Minneapolis and stay until the book is finished."

  Amy felt stunned. She couldn't believe this. It was so ironic. Only two days ago she'd told Lark that Sam had changed. That he would never again let her down. That he had learned his lesson. That he was ready for marriage and all that it meant.

  And now . . . he was showing her so plainly that nothing had changed. Sam would always be off chasing rainbows. Leaving her behind to cope and wait. She would never be first in his life.

  For a long moment, neither spoke.

  "You could come with me, Amy."

  "Come with you?" she said dully.

  "Yes," he said eagerly. "I know it's not what we planned, but it could still be a good life. Who knows? You might even find you like it."

  "Sam . . . I-I have a job. A contract. I can't just walk out in the middle of the term. And . . . how would we live? Wh-what about my things?" She looked around, her gaze settling on Delilah, who was delicately giving herself a bath. "What about my cats? What about . . . having a home and . . . children?"

  The eagerness slowly faded from his eyes. "Of course, you're right." His smile was self-deprecating, his voice gentle. "I knew it was a long shot, but hell, can't blame a guy for trying." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry for the way I've hurt you. I never meant to. And you're right, I know you are. Justin's better for you than I am. He can give you all the things I can't. He'll make you a good husband."

  And then, he took her in his arms and kissed her good-bye, holding her close for long moments before whispering, "Be happy, Amy."

  Five minutes later, he was gone.