by Deb Kastner
But so far, Sunday had been a good day of worship. Samantha loved playing the organ for the service, and today had been no exception. It was her gift to the church and the congregation, and she was always happy to do it, no matter how crazy the day before had been, no matter how many problems continued to plague her. She set it all aside when it came time to offer up to the Lord the music she carried in her heart.
She was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her family, including Genevieve, who always brightened the dinner table with her sweet smiles and innocent chatter.
And, if she was being honest with herself, she wanted to see Will.
He’d said he would be there, and she knew him to be good on his word. If she could sit near him or pull him aside at some point, maybe she’d get a better handle on what had happened at the end of their conversation; although to be honest, she highly doubted it. The man was an enigma. Every time she thought she grasped what he was thinking, he turned the tables on her and went off in a different direction. Now that she’d spent more time with him, though, she was beginning to suspect it was a defense mechanism. She couldn’t blame him for that—not after all he’d been through.
As soon as she’d arrived at her folks’ house for Sunday dinner, her mother had put her to work laying out place settings for the meal, using their best tableware. It wasn’t fancy china—not out here in the country—but it was Mom’s best set, the one she used when guests were present at their table. She treated Will like a son and Genevieve like a granddaughter, but they were company just the same.
As she worked, Samantha turned over the conversation in her mind again, hesitating only for a moment when Will and Genevieve arrived and seated themselves at the table. She tried to avoid his gaze, but she couldn’t help but glance at the man from time to time, nor could she help the way her heart leapt as she watched him amusing Genevieve by making animals with his fingers.
She knew the exact moment he’d shut down their conversation, the moment when she’d pushed him too far. Physically, he’d drawn away and his posture had straightened into rigid lines. His jaw had tightened until she’d been able to see the tendons straining in his neck. But most telling were his deep brown eyes, which had shaded over, fading to black. It was as if someone had dropped a dark curtain over his countenance.
She might have been distressed by his reaction had the man in question not been Will Davenport, but Will was a complicated man who often shut down when his emotions were tested.
What she found odd wasn’t so much the fact that he’d pulled away from her but that he’d been willing to open up to her at all. Out of nowhere, he’d trusted her with sensitive information she hadn’t even solicited, much less pushed him on. She knew he wasn’t the kind of man to go all touchy-feely, which was just one more reason she was confused by his forthright admission.
She had to admit that it was courageous for him to speak on those difficult topics. It couldn’t have been easy for him. Will was a restrained man, preferring to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, and yet he’d shared a very personal episode of his life with her. She suspected that he didn’t speak of Haley often. Her memory clearly pained him, and Samantha now knew that guilt and bitterness accompanied his tragic story.
Looking back at it now, it was easy for Samantha to see why Will had suddenly wanted to drop the sensitive subject.
The question was, where did they go from here? She now knew his history. It changed the tenor of their friendship, as did his pushing her to allow him to support her against Stay-n-Shop.
He’d said what he’d said for a reason. She’d heard his message loud and clear.
He didn’t believe she ought to face her war with Stay-n-Shop on her own. He wanted her to accept the assistance he offered.
But should she accept the assistance he offered? Could she let her guard down enough to allow him to stand beside her in this fight?
The idea—no longer fighting alone, having someone guarding her back—had its own appeal. Could she trust Will enough to let him in? To make him understand why she could not and would not share this burden with her parents? Would he keep her secrets?
With a perplexed sigh, she slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Will, Genevieve and Grandpa Sampson. All three were quietly eyeing the food her mother was placing on the sideboard. Samantha glanced at her father, who was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table, his rectangular blue reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he completed the daily crossword puzzle in the local tricounty newspaper.
“Thank you again for inviting us, Mrs. Howell,” Will said, nodding his head toward her mother. “It’s an honor to share your table and be a part of your family dinner.”
“It’s Amanda,” her mother corrected gently, a speculative look on her face. “Your folks weren’t the family dinner type?”
Will shook his head. “No, ma’am. Can’t say that we were. We usually ate off trays in front of the television, often in separate rooms. My pop wasn’t home much during the evenings, and when he was—”
His sentence dropped abruptly.
Her mom approached Will’s straight-backed figure and laid a motherly hand across his shoulder. “We can’t help who we grew up with, son, but we can certainly make things better when we have families of our own.” She shifted down the table to where Genevieve was sitting and leaned in to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
“Yes, ma’am,” Will replied. “I’m hoping to do just that.” He cleared his throat. “With Genevieve.”
Samantha knew how very much he wanted that to be true. When he wasn’t at work at the store or helping with her parents’ B&B, Will spent all his time with Genevieve, learning what it meant to be a father. Anyone with eyes could see how important the sweet little girl was to him, and if the smile on her face was any indication, he was learning quickly and succeeding brilliantly.
Her mother reached for a pitcher of sweet tea and started pouring it into their glasses. “I was a foster child, tossed around from house to house in the Dallas area.” Her gaze took on a far-off quality. “I had a good deal of trouble finding my way. Were it not for the Lord and Samantha’s father, I don’t know where I would be right now.”
Samantha’s jaw dropped. In the past, her mother had only shared pieces of the story with her, and she realized there was much she didn’t know about her own kin. Unlike most of the other residents of Serendipity, her mother had been born and raised elsewhere. Samantha knew she’d aged out of the government system, but her mother had never spoken much of her childhood. Samantha was ashamed to realize she’d never given much thought to how her mother had grown up.
She’d never placed herself in Amanda Blake Howell’s shoes.
How could she have been so insensitive, not to have known her mother had struggled through childhood? But then again, she’d never had a reason to suspect her mother had been anything less than happy. Amanda Howell was a cheerful woman, vibrantly in love with her husband of many years and clearly content with her family life. Her rock-solid Christian faith had helped many others in Serendipity make their way through adversity. However and wherever she’d grown up, she’d turned into a beautiful person.
“Thankfully,” her mother continued softly, “for the most part, I was raised in good homes with churchgoing folks who cared enough to set me right with the Lord.” She paused, an unfamiliar frown marring her brow. “But over the years it was inevitable, I suppose, that I’d stay in a few rough houses—I wouldn’t go so far as to call them homes—where the money my guardians received from the government for supposedly keeping me fed and clothed didn’t go to necessities.”
She shook her head as if to clear her mind of the unpleasant memories, and then her smile returned to her face. “I seemed to have fallen off track here. All I meant to say, my dear man,” she said, nodding at Will, “is that I not
only sympathize, but empathize with where you’re coming from.”
Her mother moved to the head of the table, where she stood behind Samantha’s father and rested her gentle hands on his arms. Her dad covered her mom’s hands with his, sending a loving glance and an affectionate smile over his shoulder.
“When I met Samuel,” her mother continued, “he was taking classes at a community college and I was working in the cafeteria, trying to save up for my first semester of school. He ordered a grilled-cheese sandwich with a dill pickle on the side. I took one look into his big blue eyes and I knew I was a goner for sure.”
Samantha tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. Her parents had been married for thirty-five years and they still shared a special spark. It was a relationship to which Samantha could only aspire.
Maybe that was why she was so reticent to form a relationship of her own. She was waiting for the kind of love her parents shared. Only God could provide her such a soul mate. Having a husband was one of the deepest desires of her heart, but it had to be the right man at the right time. Until then, she had a business to run—or save, rather—and a family to enjoy.
She smiled at her parents’ beaming happiness. No way was Samantha going to let anything screw that up for them.
With a contented sigh, her mother finally took a seat next to Samantha and they immediately joined hands to say grace.
As she bowed her head, Samantha’s heart lay heavy with her unspoken burden. Her father prayed a simple blessing over their food and their family. Samantha’s petitions were not as trouble-free. She prayed for Will, for him to find peace from all the grief that haunted him and for him to be able to bond with his little girl. She prayed for Genevieve, who was still facing major upheaval as she settled into her new town and school. She desperately prayed that she would find patience and be able to seek the Lord’s will in her life, especially for guidance and clear direction on how to deal with the situation with Stay-n-Shop. What could one small-town businesswoman do against a large, well-financed corporation? The situation seemed impossible, when looking at it from a human perspective.
All things are possible through Him who gives me strength.
The Scripture verse was one she’d memorized as a child. It silently entered her mind, filled her heart, and gave her new hope.
She might be one small person in the big scheme of things, but her God was mighty. With God’s strength and power, she could fight Stay-n-Shop, and she would do so with every fiber of her being.
But what she wouldn’t do was involve her family. As she watched her parents laughing and sharing conversation over supper, Samantha renewed her determination to win this war alone. Anyone could see how happy they were, finally being able to live out their dream without worrying about Sam’s Grocery.
When her mother spoke of expanding her opportunities to serve others through their new bed-and-breakfast, her entire face lit up with joy. And Samantha knew how much her dad loved to tinker around with construction and plumbing. They’d be in paradise.
And Will? Will had his grief to work through and his daughter to get to know. He didn’t need the added burden of worrying about a grocery store he’d only been employed at for a few weeks.
No—this was something Samantha needed to settle on her own.
After the main course of country-fried chicken with sides of homemade potato salad, baked beans, deviled eggs and a cheesy broccoli casserole that was her personal favorite, Samantha rose and helped her mother clear the dishes.
“Anyone for pie?” her mom asked.
Will groaned in anticipation and patted his lean stomach. “I wish I had known about the pie before I took that second helping of chicken. I’m stuffed.”
“I’m sure you can find a little room left in your belly for a slice of Phoebe Hawkins’s cherry pie,” her grandfather commented with a satisfied grunt. “She makes the best pies in all of Texas, maybe in the whole U.S. of A.”
Will chuckled and held his hands up in concession. “Okay, you got me. I’m a sucker for cherries, and this Phoebe Hawkins of yours sounds like a diamond.”
Will’s words immediately had Samantha bristling like a porcupine and wanting to point out that Phoebe was happily married with two children.
What is that? Jealousy? Over a woman who bakes a good pie?
Just because Samantha couldn’t cook to save her life didn’t mean she had nothing unique to offer the world. She played the organ for church every Sunday, and she was a crack shot with a BB gun. She could pop tin cans off a log faster than a person could number them.
Baking pies, indeed.
And what did it matter, anyway? It wasn’t as if she was trying to get Will’s attention—especially not after what he’d shared with her on Friday afternoon. The man was nowhere near ready to move on. He needed time to heal. That was exactly why he’d moved to Serendipity. To find peace and to spend time with his daughter. Yet more reasons for her to release whatever crazy notions that were constantly niggling at the back of her mind.
Samantha passed out thick slices of pie, stuffed to the brim with fresh-picked cherries and smothered with large dollops of whipped cream. Though in general she watched her portions, she allowed herself a small piece, seeing as it was Sunday. Sundays were special occasions. Sundays were all about dessert.
“You like your work at the store?” Grandpa Sampson queried of Will.
“Yes, sir,” he answered promptly, scooping another large bite of pie onto his fork and swallowing rapidly. Apparently good pie might be a deciding factor in his life, Samantha thought with a little smirk at her own private joke.
“So it’s going well, then,” her father added. He was clearly pleased that Will had segued into daily life in Serendipity.
“Yes, sir,” Will said again, directing a nod at her father. “I like serving the local folks. It’s all good, except for this Stay-n-Shop nonsense. It looks like they’re making good on their threat to set up competition in the area. If you ask me, they’re wasting their time.”
“What?” Samantha’s mother screeched over the clatter of forks hitting dessert plates.
All eyes were on Will—except for Samantha’s. She took in panicked glances from the people she loved most in the world, watching as their peaceful existences tumbled into a pile of rubble akin to the Tower of Babel.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to crawl under her chair and cover her head with her hands. She wanted to pummel Will for opening his big mouth.
What had he been thinking? He had to have known this would upset them. She’d told him to leave it alone. Why would he blow her cover on purpose?
“I—I’m sorry,” Will stuttered, looking from face to face with a bemused expression on his face. “I just assumed you all knew. The correspondence I read...” He cleared his throat. “The first letter was dated quite some time ago. Naturally, I thought—”
His speech came to an abrupt halt as Samantha’s father stood and slammed his palms down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle with the force of his impact.
“Samantha!” he roared. “Do you care to explain yourself?”
Samantha’s gaze dropped from her father’s frosty stare. “I have been... There are... We received...”
How in the world was she going to explain her rationale to her family so they wouldn’t be angry with her for keeping them out of the loop? Everyone was frowning at her. Even the message in her grandfather’s eyes was clear and distressing: I’m so disappointed in you.
A mixture of conflicting emotions went off like Roman candles in her chest. Anger. Fear. Shame. Desperation.
“I didn’t want to burden you with this,” she murmured in a choked voice. Tears flooded her eyes. She had the distressing tendency to cry when she got angry, and she was spouting steam right now.
Her gaze narrowed on Will. Thank you
very much.
He frowned as if to say, How was I supposed to know?
The answer hit her like a two-by-four. He couldn’t have known. Because she hadn’t told him. She hadn’t told him that she was keeping her family in the dark about the Stay-n-Shop. So he hadn’t realized the fight was hers alone.
The truth was, the situation with Stay-n-Shop would have come to light eventually, Will or no Will. What had she expected? That her family would be grateful? That there would be no repercussions for keeping it a secret?
She wasn’t fool enough to believe they wouldn’t be upset, but if she’d already resolved the conflict, at least their distress would be short-lived. They would be proud of her for saving the day. Now she’d never hear the end of it. That she’d kept the secret out of the best intentions of her heart was no longer relevant. Not to her father, or her mother, or Grandpa Sampson, who’d owned and operated the store long before she was even born.
“Genevieve, dear,” her mother finally said, “why don’t you go see if you can find your little dolly Natalie to play with? I think I saw her in the toy box in the play room. Or there’s a video game set up in the living room, if you’d rather play that.”
Everyone at the table waited silently until the little girl was out of earshot, not wanting to upset her. But the moment she was gone, all eyes turned to Samantha.
“You didn’t want to burden us with what?” her mother demanded in the clipped mom voice Samantha immediately recognized as censure.
Samantha cringed. She might be a full-grown adult, but her mother was still her mother. She sat back in her seat, wrapped her arms in front of her and stared at her untouched plate of pie. The cherries, which only moments before had appeared delicious and mouthwatering, now twisted her stomach. She knew she’d never be able to hold down a single bite.
She’d essentially been outed, and now she had to deal. When her family discovered the full extent of Stay-n-Shop’s manipulation, and all that she was keeping from them, she might not be invited back for Sunday supper until she was ninety.