Today was different.
“Mom tells me you knew Nick in Oregon,” Jeff Chastain said. He was seated on Samantha’s left at a large round table, both watching while another photograph of the bride and groom, their parents, and the attendants was taken.
“Yes.”
“It was rough on him, letting go of the life he used to have there. I thought for a while the loss would leave him bitter.”
She turned toward Jeff. He looked the most like Rocky of the three brothers who were present, and he seemed the more serious one too.
“All we cared about was that he would live through it,” Jeff added. “We almost lost him a time or two early on.”
“Nick and I have never talked about what happened to him on that kayaking trip. Not in any detail. He doesn’t seem to like to talk about it, so I haven’t asked him to share more.” The admission made her wonder if she’d done the right thing. Perhaps it wasn’t Nick who was reluctant to talk as much as it was her not wanting to listen.
Jeff’s gaze moved back to Nick. “Well, he sure looks happy and healthy now. Coming to Idaho has been good for him.” Once more he looked at Samantha. “Maybe it’s running into you again.”
She felt warmth enter her cheeks. Embarrassment or pleasure? She couldn’t be sure. She lowered her eyes to her hands, now folded in her lap.
“What I can’t figure out,” Jeff continued, his voice louder now, “is why someone as pretty as you is with him. You could do a whole lot better, Ms. Winters.”
“Get lost, Jeff,” Nick said from somewhere close by.
Surprised by his nearness, Samantha looked up. He was scowling at his older brother from the opposite side of the table, but there was humor in his expression too.
“For some crazy reason, bro,” Nick said, “Rudy wants a couple of photos with you in them.” He jerked his head toward the photographer.
Laughing, Jeff rose from his chair. His gaze went to Samantha. “Don’t go too far. I’ve got stories about some of this guy’s antics that’ll curl your hair.”
“As if I’ll let him do that,” Nick muttered as he sat in the chair next to hers. The teasing grin returned. “I prefer your hair straight rather than curled.”
“I don’t need to hear his stories to do that. I remember what you were like.”
Her honesty surprised them both. She saw it in his eyes and felt it in her heart. But perhaps it was good to remember what he’d been like before—and to let him know she remembered. Because a man never strayed too far from who he was at his core. Right? Nick might seem different now, but how long would it last? How long before he reverted to the man he’d been when they were together?
She needed to heed the warning in those questions. Or was it too late for that?
Nick felt something trying to inch its way in between them, and he knew what that something was. His old self. Her memories of him, the way he used to be. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t the same man, that he would never be the same again.
She wouldn’t believe me. I have to prove it to her.
But would God give him the time he needed to do that? The weeks were melting away. Her grandmother was on the mend. All too soon she would go back to Oregon.
Say something, his heart demanded. Ask her to give you time to prove you’re different now.
Jeff returned to the table, his hand landing on Nick’s shoulder. “You’re wanted at the mic. Time for the toast.”
Samantha glanced away, and the opportunity to speak vanished.
He stood. “I won’t be long.” He headed toward the small stage, pulling a slip of paper from his shirt pocket as he went. He’d made sure to write down what he wanted to say since he wouldn’t have trusted himself to remember more than three words once he was at the microphone.
“Hello.”
The mic squealed and he took a step back, wincing. Soft laughter rolled over the room. He stepped forward again.
“I’m Nick. Rudy’s brother. And it’s my job to give the toast.”
He glanced at the sheet of paper.
“I plan on making this short and sweet.”
He looked up again, and his gaze went to the newlyweds.
“I don’t think it’s a secret that Rudy fell in love with Chelsea at first sight. So, when I was looking for something to say today and came across a poem by John Clare, I was convinced Rudy could have written it for his lovely bride.”
He drew a breath. “It’s titled ‘First Love’ . . .
I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale,
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start—
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter’s choice?
Is love’s bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love’s appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more.
Pausing at the end of the poem, he looked up. This time his gaze went to Samantha, and the dreamy expression on her face made him long to be more like his younger brother, the romantic. If only . . .
Realizing the entire room was waiting for him to say more, he cleared his throat and checked the paper in his hand again. Quickly, he repeated the words in his head before looking toward the bride and groom.
“And so, in the words of St. Augustine, I say, ‘Insomuch as love grows in you, so beauty grows. For love is the beauty of the soul.’ And in the words of Lennon and McCartney, I remind you that ‘love is all you need.’ ” He lifted a champagne flute. “To the bride and groom.”
“To the bride and groom,” voices echoed throughout the room.
As Rudy leaned in to kiss Chelsea, Nick stepped off the stage. At the same time the lead singer invited the bride and groom to the floor for their first dance. Rather than make his way back to his table, Nick stopped to watch the couple.
The band began to play a Chris Young song, “You’re Gonna Love Me.” Nick saw Rudy mouthing the lyrics to Chelsea as he turned her around the dance floor, and he felt another tug at his heart. Once again he wished he was more like his brother.
Only he didn’t want to be more romantic with just anybody. He wanted it with Samantha. He wanted to take her in his arms, to move with her in time to the music, to ask her to take a chance on him a second time.
But would that be fair to her? He frowned, hating the question he returned to again and again. After all, what could he offer her? The career he’d once had was gone. His life’s savings and most of his material possessions had been eaten up by hospital and doctor bills. And the brain injury he’d incurred might continue to impact him for the rest of his life.
He’d tried to tell her that day in Ruth’s kitchen how bad things could still be for him, but pride had kept him from being thorough. Maybe he’d hinted at things a time or two since then, but no details.
And yet, what if he was over the worst of things? What if he could offer her more than he thought? He didn’t want to throw away a chance at happiness with her. Not if one existed.
Movement on the dance floor pulled him from his inner thoughts. The bride now danced with her father while the groom danced with his mom.
I envy them.
Drawing a breath, he made his way toward Samantha. When the ritual of wedding dan
ces was over, he wanted to be ready to ask her to dance with him before someone else could. As he neared the table, she looked his way. A faint smile appeared, as if to say she was glad he’d rejoined her.
Another song began. Nick glanced toward the floor. More couples had joined the newlyweds. He returned his gaze to her and held out his hand. “Shall we?”
Her eyes widened, and he suddenly remembered that she’d once told him she loved to dance. Yet even knowing that, he’d never taken her dancing. Not even just to please her.
I was a lousy boyfriend. What did she see in me back then? Why should she give me another chance now?
He took her in his arms, grateful that their first dance together was a slow one. He wanted an excuse to hold her close. They moved easily in time to the music. He caught a whiff of her fruity-scented shampoo and wanted to bury his face in her hair.
As the melody ended, Samantha drew back and looked at him. “You’re a good dancer.” There was a hint of a question in the statement.
“Mom made sure her boys all had lessons. But I never cared for dancing much.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Her tone was wry.
“I think I may have been mistaken in my opinion.”
That faint smile returned. “Really?”
A different song began. Another slow one.
“Mind helping me be sure?” He held out his arms again.
She stepped into them. He hoped they would keep playing slow dances for hours.
Chapter 14
Ruth was rolling her way back to the living room, a couple of books in the basket of the scooter, when she heard voices from the front porch through an open window.
“I had a wonderful time,” Samantha said.
“Me too.” That was Nick of course.
“It was fun getting to know your family.”
“They’re a good bunch. Wish you could have met Peter too. Another time.”
Ruth smiled, hearing something more than politeness in those words about the future.
“Yes, another time.”
Silence followed. More than a few moments for someone to think of something else to say. But perhaps less than Ruth would expect if a kiss was involved.
“I’d better go.” Nick’s voice barely carried through the open window this time. “See you at church tomorrow?”
“Yes. Gran and I will see you there.”
Spurred into action, Ruth rolled the scooter backward down the hall, listening for the sound of the opening door. Only when she heard it did she push the scooter forward again.
“Gran?”
“I’m here, dear.” She rolled into view, hoping she didn’t look guilty for eavesdropping.
Samantha stood in the entry hall, her sweater over one arm, her clutch in the opposite hand.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. The wedding was absolutely perfect. How they put it together in such a short time amazes me.”
“I hope I’ll get to see pictures.”
Samantha set her clutch and sweater on the entry table. “I took some photos with my phone. I’ll put them on my laptop so you can see the larger versions.”
“I’d like that.” She pushed on to the recliner. Before settling into the chair, she removed the books from the basket and set them on the end table within easy reach.
“Did you manage all right while I was gone?”
“I managed fine. Mostly I read and napped. But Camila had lunch with me. By the time I am rid of this boot and scooter, I am going to be spoiled so rotten I won’t be able to do a thing for myself.”
Samantha laughed. “As if.” She walked to the sofa and sat down. “What are you reading?”
“A couple of old favorites by Catherine Marshall.”
“I’ll bet Christy is one of them.”
Ruth smiled. “Yes.”
“And the other?” Samantha leaned over and pulled off the boots she wore.
“Adventures in Prayer.”
Her granddaughter straightened. “I’ve never read that one.”
“It’s a classic, in my opinion. Would you like to read it now? I can wait.” She lifted the book from the table and held it toward Samantha.
“Thanks.” Her granddaughter took the slender paperback. “There’s lots I need to pray about.”
“Anything you want to tell me?”
“Oh, Gran. I don’t know.” Samantha leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.
Ruth said nothing more, knowing it was time to wait.
Samantha felt something give inside of her. She sat up straight again. “Gran, you already guessed how I used to feel about Nick.”
“Mmm.”
“Well, it seems like seeing him has stirred up a lot of old memories.” She thought of the way he’d held her on the dance floor, and her pulse quickened. As if to deny the reaction, she added, “I’m not even sure what I’m feeling.”
Gran watched her with a tender gaze that said she knew the truth.
“No. You’re right. I do know what I feel. I’m attracted to him, and I’m afraid.” She took a breath and released it on a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again.”
“By Nick.”
She nodded slowly. “But I shouldn’t be afraid of that. After all, I’ll be going home in a couple more months.”
“Hmm.”
Samantha lowered her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap. “He was different in lots of ways when I knew him before. He loved to teach, especially the more adventurous aspects of it. Like taking his students out on the ocean to fish for sharks. Crazy, huh?”
Gran made a soft sound, acknowledging that she was listening.
“We broke up over the trip he had planned for spring break. We were both angry that night, and it ended badly. I tried to apologize not long after, but he never replied to either my e-mails or phone messages.” She met Gran’s gaze. “I thought he didn’t want to hear from me, and that made the pain even worse. But the real reason he didn’t reply was because he was in the hospital. He never knew I had tried to contact him.”
“Oh. I see.”
Samantha rubbed her eyelids with her fingertips, wondering how things might have been different if Nick had known of her attempts to apologize. Then with a sigh, she lowered her hands. “But I was right about that trip. He was reckless. He did get hurt.”
“Is it important to you that you were right?”
She sighed. “I guess not.” She got up from the sofa and moved to the front window. A car went down the street. A couple holding hands strolled on the sidewalk, headed toward Main Street. “I guess I’m afraid that I’ll care too much and then something else will happen to him. I’m afraid that he’ll put himself at risk again. I’m afraid because I don’t know what my own future looks like, let alone his.” And I’m afraid that I’ll love him and he won’t love me in return.
“Sam.”
She turned to face her grandmother.
“None of us knows what the future holds. Much of what happens in life will never make sense to our mortal minds. But nothing is random or by accident. Our God still reigns, and He still has a plan for every one of us. All things still work together for good for those who love Him.”
Samantha struggled against Gran’s words. “Are you saying that your broken ankle was part of God’s plan?”
“Perhaps it happened so that you would come to stay with me and discover how not to be afraid. Or so that you could see Nick again.”
“Couldn’t God have arranged that some other way than dumping you off a horse?”
Gran’s smile was gentle even as she answered a question with a question. “Will the pot argue with the Potter?”
“And Nick’s accident?” Samantha challenged, not ready to give in. “Was that part of God’s plans too? He almost died.”
Her grandmother’s smile disappeared. “I don’t have all the answers, Sam. If I did, I wouldn’t need faith. And if you had all the answers, you wouldn’t need it
either.”
The urge to argue drained out of Samantha, leaving her spent and frustrated. She wanted those answers from God. She wanted to understand the things that happened to her and to have a good plan for her future. She hated the unknown. She wanted her path to be well defined and as smooth as possible.
She returned to the sofa and picked up the boots she’d left on the floor. “I’m going to change.” She took a couple of steps away, then added, “Thanks for the talk, Gran.”
Nick had just enough time to change his clothes and feed Boomer before his parents arrived at his house. Like Nick, his dad now wore a dark-colored T-shirt with his Levi’s. His mom had on a pair of denim capris with a yellow blouse and light sweater.
“Mom. Dad. This is Boomer.” He stroked the dog’s head, keeping him at a sit.
His mom smiled. “Hello, Boomer.”
Nick released the dog, and Boomer trotted over to meet her.
“What a good boy you are.” She ruffled his ears.
His dad’s gaze swept the area—the small house, the few outbuildings, the farmland surrounding them. “Lots smaller from the house you owned in Corvallis.”
“You think?” Nick laughed at the understatement.
His dad grinned. “This seems to suit you.”
“It does. Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour. It should take about five minutes, max. Then I’ll drive you into Thunder Creek.”
It wasn’t much longer than those promised five minutes before the Chastain family was on the road into town, Nick’s mom in the front seat beside him, his dad in the backseat, and Boomer riding in the truck bed near the cab’s rear window.
Nick slowed the truck to twenty miles per hour as they entered Thunder Creek from the east side. As if he’d been a resident for years, he pointed out places he thought might interest his folks, including the church he attended and Ruth Johnson’s shop. “I wish I could buy you a coffee or pastry, but they close early on Saturdays.”
He drove them out the other side of town and on toward the Snake River. He pointed out the winery where he and his crew had started work earlier in the week. On the return route, he took them past Derek’s organic farm. He shared a little of the concept for the new irrigation system his company had installed, and that made his dad, usually the silent type, perk up and ask a few questions.
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