by JoAnn Durgin
“Oh, great. The Lewis patrol. I’ll show them.”
“Merle, don’t be foolish,” Sarah said, starting to put her hand on his arm before thinking better of it and withdrawing. “Pull over.” Her nerves threatened to take over.
Lord, please watch over us.
In a daring move, the Lewis truck—with Sam behind the wheel—passed them on the left, spun around sideways in the street and halted a few hundred yards ahead of Merle’s car. Slamming on the brakes, Merle cursed. Sarah screamed and held onto the arm of the passenger door for all she was worth.
The car skidded a few frightening seconds before screeching to a stop inches from the truck. Breathing hard, Sarah put her arm over her stomach, willing it to behave. Her head pounded, but other than a few broken fingernails, she was otherwise unharmed.
Within seconds, Sam was on her side of the car. Opening the door, he crouched down beside her. “Are you okay, baby?” When she nodded, momentarily unable to speak, Sam glared at Merle. “What do you think you’re doing, driving crazy like that in the middle of a residential street?”
Merle snarled. “All the kiddos should be tucked safely in their beds by now. Just havin’ a little fun. No harm done. Go take a wiz in somebody else’s yard and leave me alone.”
Sarah stared at Merle in horror. Why hadn’t she recognized the signs that he’d been drinking before accepting the ride? She moved her hand over her forehead, embarrassed and humiliated at how foolish she’d been to get in the car with a known drunk, supposedly recovering or not.
“Sarah, you wait in the truck. I’ll drive Merle home and then run back.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I’m close enough to walk home.”
“No, I’m taking you. Wait in the truck.” Sam’s voice was commanding. Not sure she liked being ordered by him, Sarah still couldn’t help but admire his protectiveness.
“The military hero speaks.” Merle smirked at Sam. “Look, Sam, I appreciate you givin’ me a job and all, but that doesn’t give you the right to interfere with my courting Sarah.”
“Your what?” That’s all she needed to hear. Sarah started to climb out of the car and allowed Sam to assist her. “I’ll wait in the truck.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks.” Closing the passenger door, he started toward Merle’s car. Sarah turned to look when she heard more screeching tires. She gasped as she saw Sam jump out of the way as Merle backed up his car. Swerving around the truck, he sped off into the night.
“Lord, help him get home safely,” she murmured.
Sam slid in the truck beside her. “I share that sentiment. Merle’s behavior is disappointing, to say the least.” He gripped the wheel, and bowed his head. A few seconds later, he turned to her. “Are you okay? Really?”
“I think so. A little shaky from my own stupidity, but otherwise I’m fine. Thank the Lord for your quick reflexes. Merle could have mowed you down!” Sarah moved her arms over her middle.
When she glanced at him, Sam turned his head, meeting her eyes. “Are you saying you care about me, Sarah Jordan?”
Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest. “Always. You called me baby.”
“Let’s go home. And yeah, I did.”
“Are you going to fire him?”
Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Not sure. Probably not. I’ll see if he shows up for work first. Then we’ll talk.”
They rode in silence for the short ride. When Sam pulled into her driveway, Sarah paused with one hand on the door handle. “Thanks for paying attention, Sam. Again. I owe you one.”
He nodded but didn’t look her way. “You’re welcome. Glad I was there, but you owe me nothing.”
“I hope you know I normally wouldn’t accept a ride from a man I don’t know well.”
“Good to hear.” His voice sounded tight, his words clipped. Was he mad? Although she was very curious about his date with Sylvie, she wasn’t about to bring up the subject. The timing certainly didn’t seem right. She couldn’t help but notice he’d ditched the ridiculous Nehru jacket and now wore a regular shirt. Red, the color she loved most on him since it brought out the brilliance of his blue eyes. Who was she kidding? Sam looked great in anything.
“Since Merle’s been working at the bank, I thought maybe he’d cut back on the drinking.” For some unknown reason, she felt a need to explain herself, not sure Sam would listen.
“I hoped the same thing, but it’s the weekend, so he’s on his own time now.” When Sam turned to face her, she glimpsed the firmness in his jaw.
“You’ve done what you can for him, Sam. More than most people would have done.”
“Look, I know it’s not my right to tell you not to ever get in a car with another man, but please do us both a favor and don’t get in another car with Merle.”
“Agreed. Good night.”
“Good night.”
A sense of sadness threatened to overwhelm her, but Sarah had no idea why. After closing the passenger door, she started up the walkway, aware he waited. She liked that, too, even though he lived four doors down.
“Sarah?”
She turned, her stomach doing a little flip. “Yes?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
♥
Sam sat in the truck in his driveway, replaying the events of the evening in his mind. He’d been unsettled after his date with Sylvie, but for reasons he didn’t want to think about now. If he was honest with himself, he’d been unsettled before the date. Because of his discussion with Sarah. Why had she accepted the ride with Merle? She’d given him her answer, but he wasn’t buying it. In his heart, he knew.
Because she really is that innocent, that trusting. She’d also been really tired after working a double shift at the diner, bless her heart.
He’d been surprised by the force of his anger as he’d noticed Merle’s car weaving on the road. But was it anger at Merle for drinking again or more anger that Sarah was in the car with him? Not that he was angry with her. Sam couldn’t imagine ever being angry—gut angry—at Sarah, but he’d wanted to punch out Merle. Pound some sense into him for putting Sarah in potential danger.
He should take Merle to lunch, sit him down and have a heart-to-heart talk. Find out what demons, if any, lurked in the man’s soul. Why he felt compelled to find solace in a bottle of alcohol instead of in a healthier, more soul-satisfying way. Some men found their worth, their security, in a good job. From what his dad told him, Merle had never held down a decent job for more than a year at most.
Some men found their solace in the arms of a good woman. Merle wasn’t a bad looking man, a little paunchy around the middle but nothing regular exercise couldn’t help whittle away. A few years older than Sam, Merle had never married, never had children as far as he knew. Maybe loneliness was the issue?
After rolling up the side window—rain was expected in the night—Sam grabbed the silly jacket and climbed out of the truck. Even his bones were weary. It’d been a long night and he looked forward to getting to bed. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.
His dad sat in his pajamas, glasses perched on his nose, reading the newspaper in the kitchen when he entered the house through the side door. Slammed into the house was more like it, using more force than he should have as he shoved the door behind him.
“Take it a little easier on the door, son.”
“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t realize you were up.”
“I couldn’t sleep. There’s more warm milk in the pan on the stove. Pour yourself a cup and have a seat, if you want. Didn’t you have a date with Sylvie tonight?”
“Yep.” After pouring a mug of the milk, Sam pulled out the chair across from his dad and dropped into it. “The first date, and I think it might have been the last date.”
His dad didn’t appear surprised as he folded the paper. “Want to talk about it?”
Yes. No. Not really. Sam heaved a sigh. “She’s a nice girl, but after one—one—date, mind you, Sylvie’s already pushing me to
have dinner with her parents.”
“And you’re not sure that’s what you want?”
Sam raked a hand through his hair, thankful it had grown out to the length he liked. He’d never liked it cut short for the military even though it kept his neck cooler in the hot temperatures and was easier to maintain.
“It seems like such an important step. Like she wants to be serious. I haven’t even kissed her.”
With his brow furrowed, his dad sipped his milk. “I don’t know her parents well since they’ve only been in town a short time. Sylvie seems like a nice girl. Pretty, too.” He met Sam’s gaze over the top rim of his mug. “Not that being pretty is any reason to date, or kiss, a girl.”
His father’s words hung heavy with what he didn’t say. Sylvie was pretty, all right. She was good company, but she hung on his every word. That drove him nuts, and not in a good way. Sylvie agreed with every single thing he said instead of speaking her own mind. No one could agree with all of his opinions. He had half a mind to say something completely unfounded just to see if she’d concur. Sarah, on the other hand, challenged him at every turn. While she agreed with some of his statements, she’d argue her point against him just as often. In many ways, it kept him sharp and also attracted him to Sarah more than ever before. Nothing like a good sparring session to get the old hormones flying all over the place.
Lost in thought, Sam took a long drink, draining half the mug. How many years had it been since he’d had warm milk? So long he couldn’t recall. “Seems half the town expected me to take up with Tess Jordan,” he said finally, aware his father watched. “We’ve been neighbors and friends with her family for years, so I guess it’s a natural assumption. Tell me, Dad, are you one of them?”
“No, I’m not part of some big conspiracy to get you married to Tess or anyone else, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His dad’s words were tinged with humor.
“Sorry.” Unconsciously, he’d made his question sound like an accusation. Sam tapped his fingers on the table in a slow march. “Flying a plane in the Air Force was easier than trying to figure out a woman.”
Joseph chuckled. “I know what people expected, Sam, but you don’t always do what people expect. That’s a good thing. You have plenty of time to court a girl and get married. Don’t let all the overeager mothers and daughters in Rockbridge put pressure on you. Do it in God’s time, and you’ll be just fine.”
Sam shared a grin with his dad. He’d heard the story a few times about how his parents met and married. They’d been friends a long time and then one day—when they were both in their late teens—it clicked. Sam rarely heard them disagree, and they’d been married almost thirty years. Coming in from work just last week, he’d found a box on the doorstep, addressed to his mother, from one of those slinky lingerie places. Not knowing what to do with the box, he’d stared at it as he walked inside the door. His dad, seeing him with the box, had taken it from him. “You’ll understand one day when you’re married, son.” Wow. That had been an eye-opener.
Joseph cleared his throat, startling him. “I know Tess has dated a lot of the single men in Rockbridge.”
“What are you saying?” Crossing his arms, Sam leaned back in his chair.
“Mind you, I’m not criticizing Tess,” Joseph said. “But there’s a part of me that has to wonder why she’s dated so much and doesn’t stay with one fellow for more than a few dates.” Pushing away from the table, he walked to the sink. Rinsing out his mug, he placed it upside down in the drainer. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, and surveyed him.
“Could be because she hasn’t found the right guy yet and doesn’t want to waste their time.” That was to Tess’s credit. She might be flighty sometimes and put too much emphasis on the wrong things, but deep down, he knew she had a good heart. Swallowing the last of his now lukewarm milk, Sam followed his dad’s lead and moved to the sink to rinse his empty mug.
“On the opposite end of the spectrum, you’ve got her younger sister, Sarah, who apparently doesn’t date much at all. Any theories on that one?”
Sam considered it for a moment. “I’d have to give you the same answer.”
“Exactly, except to say I know a certain young waitress from Perry’s Diner who’s spent an awful lot of quality time with a bank officer in recent weeks. And you’ve been walking around town with a goofy grin on your face lately that I don’t think Sylvie Foster’s put there.”
With a quick squeeze of his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Joseph gave him a smile. “Get some sleep, son. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter 20
♥
The Next Morning
Sarah startled when Sam dropped onto the pew beside her. She scooted over, making more room for him. From the other side of Mom and Dad, Tess peered at her with narrowed eyes. She could already imagine the whispers behind her. Why did people gossip in church? Pastor McDonald had preached any number of sermons on that very topic, at least one per year, but that particular message must have fallen on some deaf ears in his congregation.
Sam laid his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry about those things I said to you in the diner last night. I was a real jerk and said things I didn’t mean. I hope you can forgive me.”
Her eyes filled with unwanted tears and Sarah squeezed them tight for a moment, willing them not to spill over onto her cheeks. That would be humiliating.
“Shhh.” Sam departed and came back within a minute, pushing a tissue into her hand.
“I’m not crying over you. I have something in my eye.”
“You’re a terrible liar. Always have been,” he said, his voice low as Juanita Rivers began playing the opening hymn. “If it makes you feel any better, that little voice inside me—otherwise known as the Holy Spirit—wouldn’t let me rest last night.”
She glanced over at him. “Sam, you were my hero last night in getting me out of Merle’s car. I can handle a few insults about my choice of footwear.” She managed a small smile. “You can rest easy during your Sunday afternoon nap. You’re forgiven.”
A moment later, she heard his light chuckle. Daring to glance his way, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes, praying the skin around her eyes didn’t appear blotchy. Tess was the pretty crier in the family. Tess was the prettiest at everything she did. She might as well give it up and blubber like an idiot. When she peeked at him again, he was smiling.
“Care to share what you find so amusing?” When Sam angled his head at her feet, she adjusted her position on the pew and swung her feet out of sight.
“Nice shoes.” Placing his hand beneath her elbow, they both rose for the first verse of “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.”
She’d borrowed a pair of Tess’s sandals, the highest heels Sarah had ever worn. Walking in them without falling flat on her face was the trick, but if it brought that gleam in a certain man’s eyes, she’d gladly risk it. She certainly hadn’t planned on wearing the shoes, but as she’d reached for her own low-heeled shoes in the closet, she’d spied them. Black sandals with straps—respectful enough for church without being considered inappropriate except to a few of the more conservative older ladies perhaps. Ironic how she and Tess shared the same shoe size.
Lord, why am I thinking such things? In your house, of all places. With new resolve, Sarah concentrated on the lyrics of one of her favorite hymns. Hearing a commotion behind them a minute later, she turned. Sam took her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze. He nodded to the opposite side of the church. Following his nod, she almost cried aloud as she spied Merle coming in with Jimmy. As she watched, the row of Jimmy’s family moved down on the pew, making room for him.
The wooden pew creaked when Sam leaned close, his warm lips next to her ear. “It’s a great day in the house of the Lord.”
“Amen.” After last night’s events, it was a miracle Merle was even up for church. She had a feeling Sam might have had something to do with it. In any case, his nearness was doing all sorts of things to her. Things of which
Mrs. Bittenbottom, her former Sunday school teach, would definitely not approve.
Tiny shivers ran through Sarah. Not a good thing while sitting in church. Ranked right up there with mooning over a man.
♥
A Few Days Later
Sarah delivered a third glass of ice water to Sam along with a small bowl of lemons. “Maybe you should eat something to soak up all this liquid.”
“Good idea,” he said. “I could eat a mid-afternoon grilled cheese since I skipped lunch today. Can you come and sit with me on your break?”
“Yes, but not for another ten minutes.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait. I don’t have an appointment at the bank for another hour.”
“Not a problem. Is everything okay?”
“I’d just like to talk something over with you. Get your opinion.”
“Sure. Do you need anything else in the meantime?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks for the water. And the lemons.”
“Welcome. I’ll be back soon with your grilled cheese.”
“Something up with Sam?” Debbie said a few minutes later when she plopped down on a counter seat. “I could see his frown in that corner booth the minute I walked in here. That pout’s deep enough to sink a ship.” A rush of relief ran through Sarah to see her friend’s hair was back to its normal dark brown with reddish highlights. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, Deb was growing out her eyebrows again. Maybe Arnie had finally convinced her.
“He asked me to sit with him during my break. Said he wants my opinion on something.”
“Don’t you do that on a regular basis these days?”
“When I can, yes. Depends on how busy we are when he comes in, of course.”
Debbie gave her a coy grin. “You can’t see it, can you?”
As she gathered the ingredients for Debbie’s chocolate shake, Sarah shook her head. “I guess I don’t. Two scoops of ice cream or three today?” She nodded at Myrna as she walked by her with Sam’s grilled cheese in hand.
“Better make it two. Okay, here’s the thing. Sam comes in here every day. He’s fascinated by you. Those piercing blue eyes follow you around when he thinks you’re not looking. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. From where I’m sitting, I’d say he’s got it pretty bad.” Debbie winked. “I’m not just talking puppy love either.”