“Give me a chance to prove that I’m the man I should have been before,” he’d asked of her. And she had answered, “All right, Nick.”
That’s where they’d left it when he escorted her back to her grandmother’s house. While her reply had encouraged him, it also felt . . . tenuous. He was ready for certainty. She wasn’t in a similar place. Maybe she never would be.
Something Adrian had said from the pulpit a few Sundays ago returned to him. Something about the job of the Christian disciple being obedient to God and leaving the results to Him. Something about obedience being the blessing. What if Nick did everything right and Samantha still didn’t want to stay, still couldn’t love him? He wanted to resist that as a possible outcome, although life had taught him people didn’t always get what they wanted. Could he be obedient no matter what?
Boomer’s tail moved faster as he looked at his master, waiting for another throw. Nick obliged, but his thoughts were far from the dog or this backyard. He was facing the harsh truth about who he used to be. More so than he’d done in the past. Before the accident, he’d never given serious thought to marriage. His relationship with Samantha had lasted longer than most, but it had lasted because of her, not because of him. She’d held them together as a couple. She’d hoped for more than he’d been willing to give. Now it was his turn to hope for more. Would she be able to want the same a second time? Or had he destroyed his chances long before his accident?
He set his jaw. He wouldn’t give up. He was different, and he would prove it to her. Somehow.
“Come on,” he said when Boomer returned, ball in mouth. “Let’s call it a night.”
Although there were a few pieces of furniture in the living room and bedroom, the house felt empty. There was an echo when he spoke to the dog, his voice bouncing off the walls. He went into his bedroom and managed to find sheets for the bed after looking in a couple of boxes. Boomer stayed on the alert, moving from one side of the room to the other, watching Nick’s every action as he made up the bed.
“This is home, boy. You can relax.”
Boomer didn’t seem inclined to obey that suggestion, and he kept a close watch while Nick went into the bathroom to complete his nighttime routine. It was only after Nick had returned to the bedroom that Boomer sniffed at the plush dog bed, turned in several circles, and flopped down with a groan.
Nick chuckled softly, then groaned himself as he turned off the light and closed his eyes. He half expected more thoughts to churn and keep him awake. But he was asleep before that could happen.
Thirty-six hours had passed since Samantha and Nick walked in the park and he’d told her he loved her. Thirty-six hours, but the words he’d spoken hadn’t left her, not even in her sleep. They’d replayed in her dreams, greeted her first thing in the morning, and echoed in her memory the last thing at night. And they were with Samantha on Saturday morning as she drove toward Nick’s new home, a box of fresh-from-the-oven sticky buns and several thermoses filled with hot coffee on the passenger seat beside her.
Two trucks were parked well off the side of the road, one before and one after the driveway. When she turned in, she saw two more pickups parked on the grass. A U-Haul sat near the front door of the house, and Nick’s pickup was inside the garage, the door open. Men carried items from the moving truck into the house and came back empty-handed.
Samantha parked her car in the grass beside the other vehicles. Then, holding the box of pastries with one arm and gripping the handles of the thermoses in her opposite hand, she headed for the house. Her nerves churned faster with each step she took.
“Hey, Sam.” Derek stopped as he came out the front door. “Is that Gran’s coffee and goodies she promised to send over?” His grin said he knew the answer.
“Of course.”
Her cousin stopped, then gave a whistle to the men at the truck. “Sam’s brought coffee and something to eat from our grandmother.” He took the thermoses from her hand and motioned with his head for her to follow him. “You probably know it, but the kitchen is this way.”
She followed right behind.
The first person she saw was Nick’s mother. Tricia Chastain, wearing jeans and a sleeveless top, moved around putting plates and other dishes into one of the cabinets.
“Here’s Sam,” Derek announced as he set the thermoses on the counter.
Tricia smiled. “Hello, Sam. Derek told us we would see you this morning. And he promised that your grandmother’s pastries are the best.”
“They are.” She set the box on the counter next to the coffee.
As if to prove the reputation of Gran’s coffee and confectionaries, all of the men began to fill the kitchen and dining room. Samantha’s nerves quieted, and she laughed at the eagerness in their eyes and smiles.
“We’ve got napkins and paper plates.” Tricia opened a cupboard door. “And here are mugs for the coffee.” She set them on the counter, two by two.
Samantha stepped out of the way, and it was then she saw Nick, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and hall. He smiled, and her stomach flip-flopped. It shouldn’t surprise her that he could do that to her so easily, yet it did.
“How else can I help?” She moved toward him.
His smile remained, but it changed somehow. “I’ll bet Mom would like your company once all the guys get out of the kitchen again. Is that all right?”
“Sure.”
“I’m glad you came,” he added, his voice lower.
“It’s what friends and neighbors do for one another.” It was true, yet the words felt false as they passed her lips. There were other reasons why she’d come. Trying to figure out what she wanted, as he’d suggested, was one of them.
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s what they do.” But the look in his eyes said he was glad it was more than that for her.
When the crew of men—including Nick—had downed both pastries and coffee and headed back to their moving duties, the kitchen felt twice the size it had moments before. Samantha drew a breath, then asked Tricia, “What can I do to help you?”
Nick’s mom smiled as she pointed. “Those two boxes have food items that should go in the pantry. And don’t worry about where you put things. Nick doesn’t care if peaches are mixed in with cans of green beans.”
Samantha laughed softly. “I remember.”
Tricia didn’t say anything, but there seemed to be new understanding in her gaze.
Ducking her head, Samantha went to retrieve the first box and began to set its contents on the eye-level shelf. Cans of fruit, vegetables, and soups. A few boxes of prepared foods. A sealed bottle of ketchup.
As she worked, she remembered the first time she’d looked for something in Nick’s Corvallis kitchen. They hadn’t been dating long at that point, but she’d believed the man was organized and meticulous. Until she saw his pantry. It had been a disaster. When she commented on it, he’d responded that he never gave much thought to what he ate.
Understatement. Nick had lived too large to care about a neat pantry. His home decorating had been minimal too. Just enough for basic comfort and occasional entertaining. His garage, on the other hand, had been a work of art. Three kayaks. Two bikes. A couple of tents. There had been outdoor supplies beyond anything she could comprehend, and everything had been stored in its proper place.
A strange feeling tugged at her insides. It took a moment to realize what it was.
“Excuse me, Tricia.” She stepped out of the pantry and turned. “I’ll be right back.” Then she headed outside.
The men who were emptying the moving truck paid her little attention as she walked to the detached garage. One of the two doors was still open. She moved to it, stepping to one side of Nick’s truck so that she could see the other side of the building’s interior. She noted the bike he’d ridden when he brought her to see the property. Other boxes cluttered the cement floor, all with handwriting on the tops, indicating the contents. A few large tools—shovel, rake, post-hole digger—leaned a
gainst the far wall. And near them, raised by two sawhorses, was a familiar red kayak.
She moved farther into the garage. As she got closer to the kayak, she saw that it was damaged. Was it the one he’d used on that ill-fated trip? She thought it must be. Could it be used again? Fear surged through her. It must be usable. Why else would it be there? He hadn’t changed. He wasn’t different. He still wanted the danger, the risk, the thrills. The realization terrified her and broke her heart at the same time.
“I’ll put it in the garage for now.”
She turned at the sound of Nick’s voice. A moment later, the door to the second bay of the garage opened. Nick carried a pair of snowshoes. Two other men held large boxes.
Nick’s eyes widened. “Hey, I didn’t know you were in here.” He grinned.
“I . . . uh . . . I was going to head back to Gran’s. Looks like you’ve got the truck about empty.”
“Almost.” He leaned the snowshoes against one of the sawhorses. “I’m taking my mom and dad out to dinner tonight. Could you and Ruth join us?”
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t they rather spend their time with you?”
His smile dimmed a little. “I’d like them to know you better, Sam.”
“I’ll have to check with Gran. She might have plans.” Her gaze flicked to the kayak and snowshoes—painful reminders—then back to him. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay.” A frown furrowed his brow, and he lowered his voice, even though the other men had put down the boxes and left. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, not sure if she was lying to herself or to him. “I’ll call you,” she repeated, then turned and hurried to her car, not caring that she’d left the thermoses behind.
Tears began to fall the moment she left his driveway. “God, help me. I don’t want to be afraid all the time. I’m tired of it. So tired of it.”
You don’t have to be afraid.
She hiccupped on a sob, wanting the whisper in her heart to be true.
Chapter 29
Ruth knew something was amiss the instant she saw Samantha’s face. It was set like stone. Her granddaughter barely said hello before hurrying to her upstairs bedroom. At that moment Ruth despised her broken ankle more than ever. She wanted nothing so much as to climb those stairs and get to the bottom of things, but she was trapped on this lower level. She would have to wait until Samantha came downstairs again.
To help pass the time, she rolled her scooter into the kitchen and began to make salads for lunch. She washed and tore the lettuce. She mixed in fresh spinach leaves. She sliced cherry tomatoes in half. She added slivers of cucumber. All the while her thoughts roiled. She had plenty of questions and no answers. She wanted answers.
After setting the serving bowl on the table, she added a bottle of Samantha’s favorite salad dressing and a container holding homemade croutons right next to it. Two plastic tumblers filled with ice and water followed. Her last trip from cupboard to table brought salad plates and utensils.
With still no sign of Samantha, she decided the next move was up to her. She rolled to the stairs. “Sam? Lunch is ready.”
Silence.
“Sam?”
“I’m not hungry, Gran.”
“Well, come sit with me while I eat. I need company.”
Another lengthy silence.
“Samantha, please.”
Ruth took a deep breath, her gaze focused on the top of the stairs. She was about to give up when she heard movement from the floor above. A moment later, Samantha stepped into view. Her expression hadn’t changed much. Or perhaps it looked even sadder.
What on earth had happened?
Ruth glided her scooter into the kitchen, with Samantha not far behind. Once both were seated at the table, Ruth said the blessing, then slid the serving bowl toward her granddaughter. Dutifully, Samantha used the tongs to move a small amount of salad to her plate.
The silence chafed at Ruth. “How was everyone over at Nick’s?”
“Fine. Very busy. The men almost had the truck emptied by the time I left.”
“You weren’t gone long. I thought you would stay and help awhile.”
“I . . . I helped a little.” She speared some lettuce. “I left the thermoses. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. Nick or Derek will make sure they’re returned.”
Samantha put down her fork and reached for the bottle of dressing. “Nick wanted us to go to dinner with him and his parents tonight. But I said I would have to check with you.”
“Oh, I would love to go. I want to meet his parents.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a breath, a look of defeat on her face. “I’ll call him and find out the time and place.”
“Sam.” Ruth gave her granddaughter a stern look. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged.
“No. Don’t put me off, dear. Tell me.”
“I guess,” Samantha began, “that I’m still afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of falling in love with him again.”
The confession didn’t take Ruth by surprise, but the war going on inside of her granddaughter made her heart ache. How can I help her?
“He’s different, Gran, but I don’t know if he’s changed enough for it to work between us. As much as I wish it could.” Samantha placed her napkin next to her plate and stood. “I’ll go call him now.”
“Sam, wait—”
But her granddaughter was already out of the kitchen, having said everything she intended to say for now.
Nick grabbed his cell phone off the counter and answered it. “Sam.”
“Hi. I talked to Gran. She would love to go to dinner with you and your parents.”
He noticed she didn’t say the same was true for herself. “Great.”
“Where should we meet you and what time?”
“There’s room in my truck. We could swing by to get you.”
“No, thanks. We’ll meet you wherever you say.”
Frustration welled inside him. Only a couple of days had passed since he’d asked her to give him a chance to win her love. Only a couple of days since she’d agreed to give him that chance. And already she was pulling back. If only he knew why. How could he fix it if he didn’t know the reason why?
“Nick?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I thought we should try out Delaney’s. It’s a new restaurant Brooklyn told me about. The food’s supposed to be excellent.” He reached for a slip of paper and read aloud the directions Brooklyn had given him. “I made the reservation for six thirty. Does that work for you?”
“Yes. Six thirty is fine.”
He heard her take a breath, sensed her desire for the call to end.
“Okay,” he said. “See you then.”
He lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the screen before it went dark.
“That was Sam?” his mother asked.
“Yeah.” He met her gaze. “She and her grandmother are able to join us for dinner.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad I’ll get to meet Ruth and spend more time with Sam.”
“Me too.”
“I hope to know her better over time.” His mom cocked an eyebrow.
There was no point denying it. “That’s what I’m hoping, too, Mom.”
“I thought as much.”
He gave her a wan smile.
“Doesn’t she return your feelings?”
“It’s complicated.”
His mom laughed. “When isn’t love complicated.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve been in love. And it’s the real deal.”
“I’m glad for you, Nick. I’ve wanted you to find someone special. Even when you didn’t think you needed anyone, I’ve prayed for it to happen.”
“I hope God answers your prayers, Mom. I really do.”
Before his mom could reply to that, his dad entered the house through the sliding doorway t
o the deck. Boomer followed right behind, tongue lagging out one side of his mouth.
“Your dog would chase a ball from dawn to dusk if anybody could keep throwing it.” His dad leaned over and ruffled Boomer’s ears. When he straightened, he tossed the slobber-soaked tennis ball to Nick.
After catching it, Nick grimaced. “Thanks, Dad.” He laughed as he shook his hand, as if to flick off the moisture. More symbolic than anything else. And he was thankful for the distraction. He needed answers from Samantha before he tried to respond to more of his mom’s questions.
Delaney’s was located in a converted 1940s home not far outside the Nampa city limits. It had what could only be described as “character,” complete with curved archways, rounded corners, and pastoral wallpaper with shepherdesses in billowing green skirts holding crooked staffs. The wood floors were new. Or looked new after old carpeting had been ripped out and the wood refinished. Either way, the rich tone added an overall warm glow to the establishment.
As the five guests were led to a table near a window overlooking an emerald green lawn, shadowed by two giant weeping willows, Samantha tried to imagine how the home had originally looked. Walls had been removed to open up the space, and yet the architect had somehow managed to keep the homey feel.
Gran must have thought much the same thing. “This place is charming. I’d never even heard of Delaney’s until Sam told me where we were going.”
Nick answered, “Brooklyn promised we would love it.”
They took their places around a large round table. Nick sat on Samantha’s left, Gran on her right.
Looking at Gran, Tricia said, “Brooklyn should know. Her inn is utter perfection.”
“I’m glad you’re finding it so.”
Tricia glanced at her husband. “I may be able to convince Rocky to spend an extra night or two before we fly home so we can enjoy it a little longer.”
“Not sure we’ve had a chance to enjoy it at all,” he replied with a wry smile. “I think we were so tired last night we could have slept on a slab of wood and thought it wonderful.”
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