Back in Thunder Creek, Nick drove to the diner and parked in the lot. Seeing the curious look on his mom’s face, he said, “It doesn’t look like much, but the food’s great. I promise.” They got out of the truck and went inside, where the waitress greeted him by name.
“These are my parents, Lucca,” he replied. “I’m showing them the sights.”
She laughed. “That doesn’t take long.” Motioning with the menus in her hand, she led the way to an open booth.
Once all three of them were settled, Nick’s mom said, “You really have made this town your home, haven’t you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know the waitress by name, for one.”
“This is the only restaurant in town.” Nick shrugged. “Besides, Lucca goes to the same church I do.”
His mom reached across the table to take his hand. “I was worried when you agreed to this move to Idaho, but I can see that it’s been good for you.”
Nick thought about her words for a few moments. “Yeah, it has been good for me. In more ways than one.”
“Is Sam one of those ways?”
He didn’t hesitate this time. “Maybe.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Yeah. I’m sure she is one of those ways. But we’re just friends.”
For now.
Chapter 15
Heart hammering, Nick pulled his pickup over to the side of the road. Think, he told himself. Just take a breath and think.
After taking that recommended deep breath, he let his gaze roam the farmland on both sides of the country highway. Nothing looked familiar. Where had he been headed? A job. He knew that much. He’d driven into Caldwell on this Monday morning to get some documents from the office, but after leaving there, things had grown fuzzy. The longer he’d driven, the more lost he’d felt.
Early in his recovery, he’d become lost frequently. Panic had overwhelmed him when that happened. But he hadn’t gotten lost since moving to Idaho. Despite doctors’ warnings to the contrary, he’d begun to believe those episodes were a thing of the past. That he’d been cured of them. Apparently he was wrong and the doctors were right.
He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. “God, I don’t know where I am, and I don’t remember where I was going. Help me. Please.”
With the brief prayer lingering in the air, the panic left him, replaced by a quiet that seemed to enfold him like a warm blanket on a chilly night. It would be okay, he told himself. It would be okay. He could figure this out. He wasn’t in the wilderness. He was in the midst of farmland. Even if he couldn’t remember his destination, he wasn’t alone. He could ask someone for help, if worst came to worst.
He opened his eyes and looked around a second time. That barn up ahead on the left. He’d driven past it before. He was sure of it. Not today but recently. Yesterday? Last week? He couldn’t be sure of when, but he recognized it. He wasn’t lost. Merely confused. Another deep breath, and he felt brave enough to continue driving west.
“Keep your eyes open. You’ll remember where you were headed. You aren’t lost. Just forgetful. Keep looking.”
He pulled back onto the roadway, waiting, watching. When he came to a fork, he followed it to the right for no reason that he understood—until row upon row of grapevines came into view. And just like that, he knew the vineyard had been his destination all along. The fog lifted from his brain. He released a sigh of relief. Before long, Nick had joined his crew and was giving them new instructions for their installation.
But that evening, when he sat down at the table in his kitchen to eat dinner, his thoughts returned to that morning’s episode. It was a stark reminder of how his accident had changed him from the man he used to be. Would he ever be one hundred percent reliable? For himself? For anybody else?
The last silent question caused his imagination to go one step further. What if he was one day responsible for someone else? A little girl, perhaps. A little girl with green eyes and pretty red hair. What if he was supposed to pick that little girl up from school but forgot her? What if the day was cold and snowy and this imaginary child was all alone because he didn’t remember her or because he was lost on the side of the road somewhere?
He leaned back in his chair, his meal forgotten.
“I can’t put someone else at risk,” he whispered, his gaze lowering to Boomer who lay on the floor nearby. “I don’t have the right.”
Nick had a particular “someone else” in mind, of course. Samantha, with her green eyes and pretty red hair, so like that little girl of his imagination. But he couldn’t put Samantha—or her future happiness—at risk.
Almost from the moment he’d seen her in her grandmother’s hospital room, hope had taken root in his heart, although he’d done a good job of disguising it, even from himself. But when he’d watched Rudy and Chelsea at their wedding, when he’d seen the love they shared, he couldn’t deny he had a longing for more. A longing for more . . . with Samantha. And for a couple of days, he’d let that hope burn bright.
This morning reality had reared its ugly head.
“I was fooling myself, Boomer.”
The dog rose to all fours.
“You and me, fella. We do all right the way we are. Right?”
Boomer wagged his tail.
“Yeah. We do all right.”
The words tasted like sawdust in his mouth.
The grandfather clock in Gran’s entry hall ticked off the seconds, a soft but audible sound that was beginning to drive Samantha crazy. She moved the laptop aside and picked up her phone. The screen brightened. No missed calls. No missed texts.
She’d been so sure Nick would call her today. She’d expected it. She’d waited for it. Whether or not she should want him to call was a separate matter.
They had both enjoyed the other’s company on Friday and Saturday, and his warm greeting at church yesterday morning had seemed to confirm it. He’d even told her how much his mom and dad liked her—which pleased her a great deal. Perhaps more than it should, given her fears and uncertainty.
She looked at the phone’s screen a second time, then tapped through to the messages. Just in case. Nothing. She set down the phone and drew the laptop back to her lap, but she found little there to hold her attention. She liked a few updates in her Facebook feed, but there wasn’t anything interesting enough to click through to. Not even one of those silly tests that would tell her the one word that described her—always, she’d noticed, a positive word, like loyal or peaceful or trustworthy.
Once again she set aside the laptop, this time closing the top to put it into sleep mode. Then she got up and strolled into the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, so instead of looking for a snack, she filled a glass with ice and water.
It felt strange to be in the house alone. Gran had gone out to dinner with friends. They had invited Samantha to join them, but she’d declined. Gran didn’t need her to tag along everywhere. Now she realized her real reason was the expectation of that call that hadn’t come.
She looked out the kitchen window toward the town park, one finger tapping the glass in her hand.
He doesn’t owe me a phone call.
They’d been two old friends, dancing at a wedding. That was all. She was making too much of it. But some of the songs replayed in her head, and she could imagine Nick’s arms around her as he turned her about the floor. She breathed in, and it was as if she caught the faint scent of the cologne he’d worn.
Her phone sang out her ringtone, jerking her from the memory. She set down the water glass and dashed to the living room. Instead of Nick’s face on the screen, however, she saw Daniel Greyson’s image. Disappointment washed over her.
Reluctantly, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Samantha. Glad I caught you.”
“Hi, Daniel.”
“Listen, sorry to bother you again. I know I’ve been texting a lot. But I’m wondering, is there any chance you could shorten your leave?”
How typically Daniel. No “How is your grandmother?” No “Hope everything is all right.”
“Because that gal who’s filling in for you is an idiot. She can’t do anything the way you do.”
Something snapped inside Samantha. Her patience was all dried up. “No, I can’t cut it short. And Marti is not an idiot. That’s her name, by the way. Marti. If she isn’t doing something the way you like, it’s because you aren’t explaining what you need.” Gracious! That might be the most honest thing she’d said to Daniel in years. She’d grown much too adept at swallowing her opinions rather than speaking them aloud.
Perhaps her reply caught him by surprise, too, because he didn’t continue right away.
“Was there something else you needed, Daniel?”
“Then you aren’t coming back soon?”
She drew a quick breath. “No. I’m not coming back soon.”
Another silence, then, “This isn’t like you, Samantha.”
“You’re right about that. It isn’t like me. But I’m trying to change that.” And I’m learning not to be afraid, starting with you. “Try to be nicer to Marti, and I’m sure she’ll do a good job for you. Take care, Daniel. I’ll see you later this summer. Bye.”
She ended the call without waiting for his response and stared at the blank screen while drawing several more breaths.
With a shout, she executed a brief hand-pumping dance, circling around in something akin to a victory lap. Then she released a laugh. Silly, perhaps, but it sure felt good to stop Daniel from pushing her around. And she hadn’t been unkind. Simply firm. It seemed a healthy first step. She could hardly wait to tell Gran about it.
After the men’s group study was over, Nick tried to slip away without being noticed. He failed.
“Care to tell me about it?” Derek asked, stopping his departure. “You seemed troubled tonight. Am I wrong?”
Nick wanted to shrug off the question, but honesty demanded an answer. “No, you’re not wrong.”
Derek watched and waited.
How much did Nick want to tell him? About the accident. About the past. About the future that seemed much more unsure than it had a few days ago. Finally he said, “It’s a bigger topic than a few minutes and one cup of coffee.” He motioned with his head toward the other men who stood in small clusters near the coffeemaker and dessert table.
“Come to my house for lunch tomorrow. Brooklyn has a seminar to go to in the afternoon, and Alycia’s in school. We’ll have the place to ourselves. We can take as long as you need and your job allows.”
“All right.” He almost added, If I can find your house. But that would invite more questions. “See you then.” With that, he walked out of the church.
One of the things Nick loved about this area of Idaho, situated on the western-most side of the time zone, was how late the sun set. Noticeably later than where he’d grown up or where he’d lived much of his adult life. In mid-May the sun didn’t go down until after nine p.m., and it would remain light enough to see until nearly half past the hour. Now, as he walked to his pickup, where Boomer faithfully waited for him in the truck bed, the first stars were beginning to appear in the twilight sky.
He remembered the spectacular brightness of the stars when he’d been in a boat at sea or in a camp in the Rocky Mountains, far from civilization. The vastness of the heavens had filled his heart with awe, but he hadn’t thought about the Creator back then, only the creation. He would like to experience some of his old adventures with his new perspective. Would he get to do that? His physicians warned against it.
He’d lost so much when his head slammed into that rock beneath the surface of the river, but it wasn’t old adventures that thought recalled. It was Samantha and the future he didn’t believe he could have.
“Hey, boy,” he greeted Boomer, giving the dog the anticipated pat. “Want to join me in the cab?”
As if understanding the words, the border collie sailed over the tailgate and raced to join his master. Nick gave him another pat on the head, then opened the truck’s door, and with a hand motion gave the dog permission to hop inside. Nick got in next, but he didn’t start the engine right away. He sat there, in the silence of the gathering night, and waited for that unfruitful sense of despair to pass.
Chapter 16
Come on, Sam. It’ll be fun.” Brooklyn leaned back in the chair across the desk from Samantha. No sounds from the coffee shop drifted through the closed office door.
“But I don’t have an artistic bone in my body,” Samantha protested.
“You know what I was told recently? We’re made in the image of God and God is the Creator. Thus, we are all created to create.”
“You didn’t see the finger painting I did in first grade.”
Brooklyn laughed.
Samantha hadn’t meant it to be funny. She was dead serious.
“I need you to go with me, Sam. I don’t want to be the only adult with five thirteen-year-old girls.” Brooklyn pushed the flyer across the desk so that Samantha could get a better look at it. “Everyone I know who has been to a paint-night event has said it’s a blast. These things are sweeping the country. You should experience it.”
Samantha stared at the image of daisies in front of what looked to be the side of a red barn. A professional had painted that picture. She couldn’t begin to imagine how.
“They provide the acrylic paints and the canvas, and they walk you through each and every step. How hard can it be?”
“There are a number of reasons I became an accountant.” Samantha pointed at the flyer. “This is probably one of them.”
Brooklyn laughed again as she stood. “I’m not taking no for an answer, so you may as well accept your fate. Besides, if you really hate the idea of trying, you can sit and watch the rest of us have fun.”
Hate the idea of trying? Ouch. That hurt. Was it true of her? Was she so set in her ways or so afraid of failing that she wouldn’t try something new?
“Not trying is worse than trying and failing,” she whispered to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “And yes, I’ll go with you and the girls.”
“Great!”
“That remains to be seen.” Samantha rose and walked out of the office with Brooklyn.
This late in the morning, the shop had only a few customers, people on their laptops making use of the public Wi-Fi while sipping their coffees or teas. That’s why Samantha chose to do the bookkeeping during this lull.
“I’ll pick you up on Friday at five thirty.” Brooklyn stopped and gave Samantha a hug. “You can eat before or you can order something at the restaurant where the event is held. Or you can eat burgers with us on our way there.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“We really are going to have fun.”
Samantha planned to keep her wait-and-see attitude about that.
She remained where she was, watching Brooklyn as she left Sips and Scentimentals, got into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot. She smiled to herself, realizing that over the past month she’d gained a special friend. She hadn’t expected that to happen when she came to stay with Gran.
Brooklyn always seemed so upbeat too. Remarkable, considering her past. She’d been abandoned by her mother and rejected by her father. After her husband left her, Brooklyn had raised her daughter on a waitress’s salary without help from the girl’s father. Yet Brooklyn’s peace about it all was deep and real. She’d placed her trust in God and hadn’t allowed the pain of the past to color her future.
“I’d like to be more like her.”
With a sigh, she returned to the office and turned off the computer, done with her work for the day. A short while later, as she entered the house, she discovered Gran in the kitchen baking cookies for that evening’s Bible study.
“Gran, I could have done that.” Samantha closed the door behind her.
Her grandmother smiled over her shoulder. “But I enjoy doing it, and the
re is no reason I can’t. I’m an expert with this scooter now.”
Samantha couldn’t argue. Her grandmother zoomed around the house. She didn’t need help in and out of bed or in and out of her chair. She didn’t need help with showering as she had before the cast was replaced with the boot. In some ways Samantha felt unneeded. Gran could probably take care of herself, except for the need of a driver when she had to go out, and she had plenty of friends who could do that for her.
However, her grandmother had made it clear that she wanted Samantha to stay with her. Which felt good. To be wanted.
She closed her eyes, disliking the feeling that had stolen over her. Self-pity wasn’t attractive. And she disliked the reason for it even more. Four days, and still no call from Nick. How pathetic she was. How like him to do this.
No, that wasn’t fair. She had no reason to expect him to call. He wasn’t under any obligation. Only it felt like rejection, and it hurt.
Nick arrived at Derek’s house before noon. He’d had a last-minute doctor’s appointment in Boise that morning and had driven straight to the Johnson farm from the city.
His host was watching for him. As soon as they were in the kitchen, Derek put cheese sandwiches into a frying pan. “Have a seat.” He motioned toward the table, where tall glasses of iced tea awaited them, along with a serving bowl of tossed salad and several types of dressing to choose from.
The two men exchanged a few remarks about the weather and Nick’s work at the vineyard. When the sandwiches were ready—the bread toasted and the cheese melted—Derek brought them to the table on a platter, sat opposite Nick, and said a brief blessing. But when it was time to eat, he also seemed to think it was time to talk. “Okay, Nick. Tell me what’s up.”
Until Samantha had come to Thunder Creek, Nick hadn’t told anyone about his accident. But in the weeks since, he’d opened up a little more to a few people like Derek. He hadn’t shared many specifics. He’d thought it would be better that way. He still hadn’t liked the idea of anybody feeling sorry for him. He’d always been proud of his ability to take care of himself in dangerous situations, so admitting he could be helpless in something as simple as driving to a jobsite was hard.
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