Dixie gave Tess one more quick hug before stepping out of the way so the rest of the family could congratulate the soon-to-be-parents.
The sun shown down upon them from a cloudless sky and a light breeze stirred the aroma of grilling burgers and brats around them. It was a Norman Rockwell Fourth of July gathering…except for those missing.
Even as her heart swelled with happiness, it couldn't push out the ache. Of course Michael would always be missed. But there was another she missed—another who should be here.
Giggling pulled her back to the present. She smiled at Ben pushing one of the twins high on the swing while her sister snatched at her flailing feet and Bear loped circles around them. But even all that happiness couldn't hold her long in the present, not when the very swing set they played on reminded her of Sam. Had it been barely a week ago he'd worked late into the night assembling the set so it would be waiting for Ben when he got up the next morning. She wished Sam were here with them enjoying the fruits of his labors. She wished…
The throaty rumble of a motorcycle from the side of the house jerked Dixie's attention to the driveway circling between yard and outbuildings. Her heart lodged in her throat as a familiar silver and red bike rolled to a stop at the edge of the yard.
"Is that him?" Roman asked, stepping close to her like any protective big brother would.
She nodded. "That's—"
"Sam," shrieked Ben, launching himself across the yard toward Sam.
Sam dismounted from the bike, dropped his helmet, and caught Ben in his arms. The kid's arms tightened around his neck. He'd missed hugs like these…and the laughter and participation in all things family, real family. Above all, he'd missed Dixie. Love, longing, and regret tore at him.
She stood no more than a dozen steps from the back porch, all leggy girl in her Daisy Dukes and ripe femme fatale in her form-fitting tank top—all angel with her sun-gilded halo of loose hair. He ached for her acceptance—for her love. She took a step toward him. Just one away from the protective cluster of her family. Annie and Lou were there on the fringes, Annie looking worried. Nana was barely visible amidst the knot of towering men surrounding Dixie. There were a couple other females he recognized from pictures, namely her mother and sister-in-law.
He set Ben on his feet, let the kid take him by the hand, and tow him toward Dixie and her phalanx of family. They all watched him—looked at him like they expected him to call down on them an army of flying monkeys. He wanted to shout that he wasn't the witch. He was the Tin Man, his only crime he lacked a heart.
This was the point where the old Sam would have made his excuses and run. But he wasn't that man anymore. This Sam had returned to fight for a place in Dixie's life—for her.
Hopefully, he hadn't damaged her forgiving heart beyond repair, the heart Stuart had said she'd asked him to remind Sam she had. He'd taken the message as an invitation. She wasn't smiling. He hoped he'd read her intent right.
Ben stopped them in front of Dixie.
"Look, Mom," Ben said. "Sam's back."
"I see that," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"Hi, Sam," crooned the twins in unison, pushing their way to the front of the group, all flirtatious greeting.
At least there were three here happy to see him. But only one truly mattered.
He gazed into the cornflower blue eyes full of uncertainty, an uncertainty he'd put there. An uncertainty that was a mere blink away from disappointment and disappointment was the last thing he ever wanted those eyes to look with upon him.
Run.
No.
"You asked for time and space to sort all this out," he said. "I gave it to you."
"So you did," she said, her voice still low.
"I thought I was doing the right thing for Ben, when I first came here."
"You were," she said, all understanding.
"When I saw how well he was cared for—loved, I tried to leave."
"So you did."
"Then you needed me," he said.
"That I did," she said.
"So I stayed."
She nodded.
He glanced around the faces watching—studying him. Did they believe him, this family that knew he'd hurt Dixie? Even if she forgave him, could they? Family was important to her—what they thought of him important to her.
Maybe today had been the wrong day to face down his demons, this day when she was surrounded by loving, supportive family. Maybe she'd had second thoughts since having Stuart deliver the message about her forgiving heart. Maybe he shouldn't have returned at all. Maybe should give her up—leave her to find love with a worthy man.
"I just wanted you to know I loved—I love you, Red. That is the truth."
He started to turn away.
"Wait," she said.
He stopped, looked at her. But she was facing her brothers.
"Don't let him leave. I have something for him that'll make everything clear."
With that, she fled up the back porch steps, her flip flops slapping at her heels. As she disappeared into the house, a big hand cupped his shoulder.
"I'm Roman St. John," its owner said. "Dixie's brother."
Tentatively, Sam shook the hand Roman offered him, stating, "The contractor from Michigan's Upper Peninsula."
"Right."
"I'm Dane St. John," a second brother said through startlingly white teeth, also offering a hand.
"The action adventure movie star," Sam acknowledged.
"And I do all my own stunts," Dane said, his grip on Sam's hand tightening.
The third, and clearly youngest, gripped his hand with a calloused one. "Renn here, stunt rider."
The fourth and only dark-haired member of the St. John siblings simply stood behind his brothers, arms folded across his chest.
Sam nodded in greeting. "That would make you Jake, the former Navy Seal."
The Seal gave Sam a clipped nod in return.
"So how's this going to go down. You each taking a turn at punching me out or are you all going to jump me at the same time?"
"Don't punch Sam," Ben said from the vicinity of Sam's knees, all round-eyed concern.
He'd forgotten the kid was there. It seemed so had his uncles.
Roman released Sam's shoulder and ruffled Ben's hair. "Nobody's going to punch Sam."
Nana pushed her way between her grandsons, giving them each a pointed look. "Not as long I have anything to say about it."
Check off another friendly among the picnickers, he thought as Nana herded Ben and the twins off to the sandbox in the back corner of the yard.
Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, muttering, "Though I deserve it after what I did to Dixie."
A woman who shared Dixie's flirtatious lips stepped forward. "Dixie said you stepped in and took over the kitchen when her chef bailed." The woman sandwiched his hand between her warm pair. "I'm Sarah St. John, Dixie's mother.
"I see the resemblance," he returned. "N-nice to meet you." He hoped.
A man with Dixie's eyes stepped forward, hand extended. "I'm her father, Mathew St. John."
"Sir."
"She said you invested in the restaurant," Dane added.
"Ben said he saw you kissing his mom," Jake said in an ominously flat tone.
Sam swallowed.
"I hear you talked Stuart Carrington to give up his fight for custody of Ben," Renn said.
"That can't be all she told you about me," Sam said.
"No. It's not all she told us," Roman said.
"Are my brothers tormenting you, Sam?" Dixie said, from the porch.
"Just getting to know each other," Roman said, his eyes still fixed on Sam full of meaning.
"Is that smoke I see rising from the grill? You four had better get back to grilling duty before every last burger and brat is incinerated."
"Come along, children," Dixie's mother said, gathering her brood of men.
Roman nodded, but not without a final warning look that belied his am
iable sounding, "Good to meet you, Sam."
Likewise, the other brothers followed Roman's suit. Though Jake, the oldest, took his time studying his sister before letting his mother herd him off toward the grill.
"They don't like me," Sam said.
"They don't trust you," Dixie said.
He looked up at her still on the porch, not surprised. They had no reason to trust him and she was too honest not to state the truth for him.
"Give them time," she added. "Give them a chance to get to know the real Sam and, as Michael used to say, wait until you meet Sam, You'll love him."
"Can you love a heartless bastard?" he asked.
She tipped her head to one side. "Oh Sam. Whatever made you think you were heartless?"
"The first night I was here, Ben called me the Tin Man. It struck me then that agreeing to do Stuart's bidding was heartless—that, like the Tin Man, I didn't have a heart."
"Silly Sam. Don't you remember how the story of The Wizard of Oz went?"
"I remember the Tin Man went to Oz to get a heart."
"But when he got there, he found out he had a heart all along, just as the cowardly lion already had courage."
"And Dorothy was already home," he said.
Dixie stepped out from behind the porch railing, stopping at the top of the steps. The flip flops she'd been wearing when she went up those steps replaced by a pair of ruby red, four inch heels, the high heels her oldest brother had given her for when she was ready to dance again.
The air went out of Sam, almost dropping him to his knees.
Up on the porch, Dixie clicked her heels together repeating, "There's no place like home."
When she stopped, she looked around wide-eyed as though she'd only just arrived at The Farmhouse. With an oh forming her lips she looked at Sam and said, "Why Sam, I think we're home."
"We?" he asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
"You got it Tin Man," she replied, launching herself down the steps.
He caught her in his arms, her momentum twirling them around once, twice, three times. When he settled her feet, she placed a hand on his chest and smiled up at him.
"Do you feel that, Sam? It's your heart beating. The heart you always had."
"You always believed I had one, didn't you, Red?" he said.
She hugged him close. "Never a doubt in my mind."
He clung to her and all she meant to him. "I love you, Red."
"And I love you, Sam."
the end
* * *
Addendum
You are cordially invited to the wedding of
Sam and Dixie…
in Book 3 of the St. John Sibling Series.
* * *
Excerpt from KELLY'S HERO: St. John Sibling Series, Book 3 by Barbara Raffin
"OMG, you're Dane St. John," squealed the teenage girl from the boat's bow seat, letting the tip of her fishing rod dip into the lake.
"Holy crap," hooted the younger boy on the middle seat of the small craft. "You're Hawk!"
"Watch the language Boy," the father said from the back bench seat, absently holding out his fishing license to Conservation Officer Kelly Jackson.
But his gaze sharpened on the man sprawled in the bow of her boat, muscled arms draped over the gunwale, legs so long he'd propped them on the center seat. He'd assumed that pose when she'd refused to allow him to help her launch the boat from shore. She was, after all, as capable of handling a boat by herself as any other Conservation Officer. Still, the indulgent grin of the newest action star to come out of Hollywood researching his next role in the remote Upper Peninsula of Michigan had taunted her all morning.
"You that that actor all the kids are crazed over?" the father asked.
"Mom likes him, too," said the boy through the wide grin he'd fixed on Hawk a.k.a. Dane St. John.
Kelly took the license from the father's fingers, not even bothering to glance Dane's way. She knew he'd be flashing his pearly whites for his fans. He'd done so at every boat they'd stopped. And if their passengers weren't fans already, a wink from his brook-blue eyes won them over. Somehow, she'd managed to remain immune to his charms. Maybe it was his longish hair or the smug way he watched her through his Ray Bans…which he removed whenever they pulled up to another boat. Couldn't pass up an opportunity to show off those famous blue eyes. Though, judging by Daddy's frown, maybe she wasn't alone in that immunity.
"OMG," the girl squealed again, this time dropping her fishing pole into the bottom of the aluminum boat and producing a cell phone from the purse on the seat beside her. "No one's going to believe this unless I get a picture!"
"Me, too," said the boy, likewise discarding his pole and jumping to his feet.
Their boat rocked and Kelly shifted her attention from license to overall situation. "Sit," she commanded.
The boy obeyed and the father added, "And mind your poles. What if you get a bite?"
The boy had plopped his backside down on the bench nearest the DNR craft, which left the small fishing boat listing to one side.
"OMG! OMG!" the girl kept repeating, raising her phone in front of her face, and twisting in the bow to get herself and Dane in the same frame, her movement adding to the already precarious tilt of their boat.
Dane grabbed the neighboring bow and tucked it in close to the larger DNR craft, holding it steady…all the while posing practically cheek to cheek with the girl while she snapped pictures with her phone.
"Teenagers," the father grumbled.
Kelly smiled at him. "Bet she's begging you for car keys all the time."
"Not a chance of that for another couple years," the father said through a sigh of relief, and Kelly ticked off any necessity to check for further licenses. A good C.O. didn't always have to ask direct questions to gain information…like whether or not the teenage girl was old enough to need a license herself.
Having given the father's fishing license a cursory once-over, Kelly handed it back to the father. "I see you've got one of Sven Maki's boats."
"Renting a cabin from him, too," the father said.
"My turn," the boy said, rocking the boat again as he leaned from his seat toward Dane.
A muscle popped in Dane's arm and a vein bulged in his neck. He was really one-handedly keeping that boat from swamping…or showing off big time.
"Settle down there, champ," she said.
"Use your own phone," the girl groused.
"I left it at the cabin," the boy said
"Take a picture for your brother," the father said, mumbling under his breath about how the boy had at least the courtesy not to bring his phone on their fishing trip.
"Your sister will take a picture of you and me together, won't you little lady?" Dane said in his deep, slightly raspy Hawk voice that females seemed to swoon over. But not her. Definitely not.
Dane had a stilling hand on the boy's shoulder and was bathing the girl in his high wattage smile. She was blushing, her fingers flying over the phone's keyboard.
"I'll just finish this twee—" She glanced into Dane's blinding smile and her fingers went still.
"So," Kelly said, turning her attention back to the father, "Catch anything yet?" mentally, ticking off her script of Conservation Officers questions.
The father eyed his kids huddled in the bow of the boat getting their pictures taken with Dane St. John. "Just a movie star."
#
Kelly kind of knew how the father felt. A double major in conservation and criminal justice and trained alongside Michigan State Police candidates and she was still being handed fluff jobs like babysitting an actor researching his next movie role. Boat stowed and morning duties behind her, she led her charge along a ridge through the woods, stewing over the fact she still had to prove she was more than the token minority hire.
"Nice family back there," her charge said, dogging her heels…too close. "But since you scoped them out with your binoculars, why'd you still check on them?"
"The girl was g
iving her dad grief about her life-preserver. Didn't want to buckle it up. That's something we can't ignore."
"So you'd have given him a ticket because she refused to buckle up?"
"I could have if she hadn't buckled up by the time I got to their boat," she said.
"But you wouldn't have, right?"
There was something in the tone of his question—something almost pleading as if he would have found her lacking if she even admitted she would have written a ticket. And damn, but it made her want to tell him what he wanted to hear.
"A true law and order C.O.—" Like my father. "—would have written a ticket."
"But there's room to give a person a break, right?"
"Kids and life-preservers, that's black and white—life and death," she said, avoiding giving him a straight answer.
"But the dad was trying to do the right thing and teenagers can be contrary."
She glanced over her shoulder at Dane. "What do you know about teenagers?"
He grinned. "I was one for seven years."
Before she could stop herself, she rolled her eyes. One corner of his mouth twitched. She stifled a groan and turned her attention back to the trail in front of them.
"You wouldn't have ticketed him," Dane said, sounding way too sure of his assumption.
"It's a moot point," she said. "By the time we caught up to them, the dad had gotten the daughter to buckle up."
"Yeah," he said, still sounding like he didn't believe she'd have ticketed the father.
Maybe she wouldn't have. Maybe the threat would have been enough to make an impression on the girl about how serious her lack of compliance was. She did see things more in shades of gray than black and white like her father. That was one of her issues—her failings as her father saw it.
Behind her, Dane's nerve ruffling voice lifted. "I heard you tell that dad where to take his kids for some fishing action this evening. That was nice of you."
"Just spreading a little good will," she returned. "Good for the tourist trade."
"Is that part of the job?"
"As a matter of fact, it is."
Finding Home (St. John Sibling Series Book 2) Page 20