Jo was struck by his appearance. Despite his determination, Pops seemed a bit worn at the edges.
“So what did Earl say?”
“He told me the asking price. One point one million, which I think is a steal for a place like the inn, but Earl says he’s looked around, and it’s a fair deal.”
A million dollars. Although it was an unimaginable sum for people in these parts, to Jo it seemed like a small price for the future of her hometown.
“I guess I’d feel better about it if the buyer wasn’t a developer like Sid Diamond,” Jo said. “Did you ask Earl if he could put the place on the market awhile, see who comes around?”
“That’s the thing ...” Pops turned his hat in his hand. “No one knew about it, but apparently the inn has already been up for sale for six months, listed on a special website for Realtors. Earl says that Diamond is the first person to make a solid offer, and he’s afraid to let the fish slip away from his hook.”
“Fish on a hook? Old Earl has been spending too much time fishing in Florida,” Jo said, warming her hands on her coffee cup. “And it steams my clams to hear that he’s had the place up for sale without telling anyone. Without telling you. That’s just not fair.”
“His intentions are good,” Pops said. “But I can’t get over the feeling that this is one of those crossroads that determines the fate for hundreds of people.”
Her father was right; the inn was the lifeblood of this town. Which made Sid Diamond the Grim Reaper.
The door bells jangled, and four women in snow parkas entered.
Jo, Molly, and Pops turned and said, “Merry Christmas!” almost in unison. Then they turned back to face each other as the shoppers began to browse.
“Maybe Sid Diamond won’t tear the inn down,” Molly suggested. “I mean, it’s a moneymaker, right?”
“It is, indeed. We sell out during summer and ski season. The rest of the year we’re full on weekends, and the restaurant and catering business does well year-round. Yes, the inn earns a tidy profit.”
“So maybe things will stay as they are,” Molly said hopefully.
“That would be nice.” Jo clutched her coffee cup, disappointed that it had grown cold. She liked Molly’s optimism, but she couldn’t trust that a man like Sid Diamond would do the right thing. “Pops, what are we going to do?”
“For now, we just sit tight. I’m going to have another talk with Earl, once he gets settled back in Boca. Your mother and I stayed up late, going over our finances and such. We could pull together enough money to match half of the asking price, but in these economic times, that’s just not enough. We talked about selling the house—”
“Oh, Pops, not the house!” Built as a lodge in the 1800s and remodeled by Pops’s father, who was a carpenter, the house had been home to many generations of Trumans. “It’s the home of our hearts!”
“True, but if it’s a matter of saving either the house on Bull Moose or the town, you know what we have to do.” He leaned over the counter and pitched his cardboard cup into the trash. “It’s just your mother and me in the house now, and it’s worth a pretty penny, with the walnut paneling and built-in bookcases in the great room. If we bought the inn, your mother and I would have more than enough space in the owner’s cottage. It’s actually kind of cozy there.”
Jo shook her head. “Pops ...”
“I know, there’s the matter of you girls renting the space above the old carriage house.” He patted Jo’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t even thinking that far ahead. It’s just that ... the house. That’s where our family gathers. We can’t sell it off to strangers.”
“Don’t worry about it, sport. I don’t know if it would even sell in this market. In the meantime, I put in a call to Emma Mueller, down at the bank, but I’m not too hopeful about it. We all know they’re tight with loans these days.”
“If it means saving the house, I could loan you some money,” Jo offered.
“You know we’d never take from our children.” He replaced his cap and winked at her. “Besides, you’ve got a little angel of your own. It will all work out. We’ll figure a way. And speaking of the inn, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Watching him cross the snowy street, Jo bit her bottom lip. Despite Pops’s positive attitude, she could feel his hope draining. Sit tight, he’d said. But it was hard to sit back and watch as something you loved slipped through your fingers.
Jo’s visits to the garage became a nightly occurrence, missed only on those rare occasions when Molly was out late—once for a celebration with other students after a semester final, and once for Christmas shopping down in Concord. Of course, Molly needed to be home for Ava. And Jo always waited until her little one was fast asleep before she tiptoed down the stairs to cross the snowpack of the lane.
A leading psychologist prescribed that single parents refrain from bringing a partner into their lives until their children were grown, and Jo saw the logic in that. Her Ava wasn’t going to feel threatened by men her mom was seeing. There would be no “transient daddies” in their lives. Jo had a daughter to raise, and Jo could wait.
But Jo’s heart trilled to have a secret love on the side.
On her end, Molly was the only one who knew about Jo’s developing relationship with Sam, and she didn’t ask nearly as many questions as Jo had anticipated. Jo suspected that her cousin understood how tenuous was the thread that connected them, and she gave Jo some space.
Since Tommy was never around at night, Jo suspected that Sam had hinted to her brother to keep his distance from the family garage. Tommy had never mentioned anything to her, but then again he did have a wife and kids at home, and it was Christmastime. Still, when they ran into each other, Tommy’s quiet smile and averted eyes gave Jo the message. He knew, but thank God he wasn’t saying anything.
For the most part, they talked. Although he didn’t like to discuss it, she learned that his good friend, a guy nicknamed Cackalacky, had been killed in the explosion that had injured Sam. Sam seemed to think that Cackalacky had more to live for than he did, and somehow they should have switched places. Hearing that made Jo vow to show Sam that he had so much to live for.
She snuck him a plate of leftover meat loaf and mashed potatoes from dinner, and he gave her a Christmas gift for Ava, a sign specially made for Ava’s room depicting a cow jumping over the moon, from her favorite nursery rhyme. Another night she brought him a tin of homemade cookies, and he assembled a small bicycle for Santa to put under the tree for Ava. She brought him a small decorated tree to take with him and cheer up his ma’s house, and he brought a small space heater to take the chill off the garage attached to her parents’ house.
Tonight he unrolled a sleeping bag on the floor of the garage and told her to stretch out, facedown, jacket off.
“Okay, this is a little weird,” she said, peeling off her down jacket. “I’m not a camper, and spiders are not my friends.”
“First off, this garage is cleaner than Betty Crocker’s kitchen. Besides that, what species of spiders can live through a New Hampshire winter?”
“Point taken.” She balled up her jacket and used it to cushion her face, then lay down. “But I’m still a little hinky about this.”
“I’ll stop whenever you feel uncomfortable. Just say uncle.”
“Uncle.” She punched her jacket and rolled to her side. “I’m not psyched about stretching out on the floor of the garage.”
“Okay. I was going to give you a massage, but I’m not the kind of guy who pushes a woman to do anything ...”
“A massage?” She flopped back onto her stomach. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Giddyup.” She felt a slight, warm pressure on her buttocks, and realized he had kneeled over her and lowered himself to straddle her. Such an intimate contact ... intimate yet innocent for a massage.
“Giddyup is right.” His voice was husky as his warm hands outlined her shoulder blades. “You are tight, just as I figured. You’re letting this d
eal with the inn eat away at you.”
“Yeah, I’m stressed. I can’t help it. There’s a lot at stake. But really—shouldn’t I be the one massaging you? You’re the one with the injured shoulder and all.”
“I got plenty of that during physical therapy. It’s payback time.”
Even as he spoke, his hands melted the iron set of her shoulders, infusing warmth. “It’s twenty degrees out there. How do you keep your hands so warm?”
“I run hot,” he said. “Didn’t you notice? I’m a hot guy.”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes and imagined that her sweater and bra were stripped away. No boundaries between them. That would be great, but it was a little too chilly in here to go that far.
As he pressed into tender muscle, she took the fantasy a step further, with the two of them in her bed. Her head was pressed into the down of her pillow as he worked on her back.
Only, neither of them was clothed. And her tender nerves could clearly define every part of Sam as he straddled her ...
“Does that feel okay?” he asked.
“It’s amazing.” A warm glow emanated through her entire body, fired by thoughts of what they could do in another place and time.
Was Sam thinking of that, too?
Did he wonder how their relationship was going to progress beyond Mom and Pops’s garage? Although he hadn’t pushed her in any way, she sensed that he, too, wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Jo could think of nothing more delicious than a sensual romp with Sam, but she would have to be careful—and not just with birth control. Her relationship with Sam would have to remain a secret to protect Ava.
And that seemed okay with Sam, who had no interest in going out in public. So far he’d had her deliver all of the signs he’d made for Woodstock merchants, even for people he knew, like Carmine Giordano and Steve Balfour. Sam was content to be a hermit, and for the next few years, Jo would gladly visit his lair.
He rubbed his hands up and down her back, then ended by leaning over her so close she could feel his warm breath by her ear as he whispered, “How’s that?”
“Wonderful.” Every nerve in her body felt invigorated and alive—and aroused, too—but since she wasn’t ready to take that step yet, she turned her head toward him, and said, “Now it’s your turn.”
“That’s okay.” He squeezed her shoulders, then lifted himself off her.
There was a chill in the air above her as she rose to her knees and faced him. “Really. I’ve given you space and privacy for a while now, but it’s time.” When he frowned, she reached out and gently pressed the left side of his neck. “I want to touch you, Sam. I want to learn your scars and your sensitive spots. I want to know you.”
His face tensed. “You won’t like what you see.”
“No one wants to see how someone they care for got hurt, but now those scars are a part of you, Sam. I don’t think they define you, but they’re part of your body, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide from me anymore. Our bodies are road maps of our lives, a history of where we’ve been. Show me. Show me where you’ve been.”
“This is crazy.” He sat back on his heels and undid the top button of his flannel shirt. “Look, I won’t blame you if you want to turn and run out of here screaming.”
Jo snickered. “That’s not happening, so go on. Get your clothes off, man.”
“Just the shirt and hat. I didn’t get injured below the waist.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re going to be a stickler for detail?”
He actually grinned for a moment, then sighed. “Okay.” He pulled off the cap with the earflaps, raked up his hair, and turned so that she could see the left side of his head. She touched his cheek, where the skin was stubbly from a day’s growth of beard. His face wasn’t harmed, but under his hair was a rough patch of red raised skin where his ear should have been. Gently, her fingertips circled the shiny flesh and followed the scarring down the side of his neck, extending beneath the collar of his shirt.
“So you lost hearing on this side?”
“Yeah. The doctors were amazed that there wasn’t some brain damage. I guess sometimes it pays to be hardheaded.”
She drew back her hand and nodded. “Okay, buddy. Shirt off.”
His eyes glistened, his gaze intent on her eyes as if eager for a reaction. “You’re so demanding,” he said as he finished unbuttoning and slid the shirt off.
His chest struck her first, and not because of any injury. Those were the very definition of six-pack abs, the rippled muscles evident even in the shadowed light. Unable to resist, she ran a hand between his pecs, down his belly.
“Easy, there. You’re in the express lane. Missed your exit.”
“Oh.” She pulled her hand back, as if burned. “Sorry, but your abs are a huge distraction.”
“My left shoulder.” He turned toward the left. “The bomb shattered the bones, but the muscles stayed in good shape. I had to get a new joint, chrome and titanium. I’ve got a bionic shoulder.”
She cupped the braided scar that capped his shoulder. “Does it hurt when I touch you?” she asked.
“No, I can’t feel anything there because the nerves were severed. But I can feel things in plenty of other places.”
She ran her hand back down his chest, then pushed him away. “You boys never grow up. Here I’m trying to dole out some tender loving care, and your mind goes right back to the sex thing.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he said.
“Nothing wrong with it when two people are committed and responsible.” As the intense moment eased, she leaned back and crossed her legs.
“You are one buff guy for someone who spent a year in rehab. Better put your shirt back on before I lose my senses and attack you.”
He slid his arms into the sleeves. “I had access to a gym and plenty of time on my hands. What else was I going to do?”
“Well, apparently you weren’t throwing a pity party and eating bonbons. Which is to say, you look great. I wish the scars didn’t keep you from going out in public.”
“I don’t want to be a freak. The beast that scares little kids in grocery stores.”
“Little kids see things through their own filters, and they are a lot less judgmental than most adults in the world. But that’s another issue. I’m just saying, it doesn’t look as bad as you think.”
He nodded. “Whatever. I’m scheduled for another skin graft on the side of my head in the new year. That is, if I ever get down to Concord to the VA hospital to meet with the doctors. I haven’t been too good about that since I landed here.”
“Sam Norwood! You’d better take care of yourself. Get your butt down there this week.”
“It’s Christmas—they don’t want to see me now, and it’s all the way down in Concord.”
“What is wrong with you? Concord isn’t that long a drive.”
“I’ve been busy. Got a job in an auto shop, and someone gave me a dozen signs to paint by hand.”
“Those things can wait,” Jo insisted sternly. “Your health comes first.” She thought about Sam in the hospital alone, how he’d recovered through months of surgery and skin grafts. “And you’d better let me know when your procedure is scheduled, because I’m not letting you go through it alone this time.”
“Going to hold my hand?” He sounded skeptical.
“I’ll drive down with Molly. She’s almost finished with her nursing degree, and she’ll be able to make sure you’re getting the best care.”
Sam raked his hair back and stared at her, as if he didn’t believe her promise. “That’d be good.”
“We’ll be there for you, Sam. I’ll be there,” she said, knowing that, in her heart, she was already committed to loving Sam.
It would just take a few years for the other details to fall into place.
Chapter 11
“What’s the big deal?” Tommy asked across the engine of the truck. “You want an invite to Christmas dinner, I’m inviting
you now. Don’t wait on my sister, because the brain of a woman works entirely different than a man’s, and you’ll never understand what’s holding her up.”
Sam wiped oil off the stick and plunged it in again. “But I want it to come from her. I’m not going to just show up Sunday night.”
“Why not? You know she wants you there. She’s probably just freaked out about Ma and Pops finding out about you two. Jo hasn’t dated much since Shane died.” He tipped his hat back and scratched his head. “Actually, I don’t think she’s dated at all.”
“It’s okay, man. I’ll wait till she asks.”
“Just saying, you’ll be waiting a long time, pal.”
Sam released the hood of the truck and he and Tommy stepped back as it slammed shut. “And why is that? What’s Jo afraid of?”
He had a theory, though he hoped it was wrong.
Their late-night meetings in the Trumans’ garage were magical, but you couldn’t make out with a woman in the backseat of a classic Mustang forever.
They were two adult people, who were obviously attracted to each other. Jo rarely missed an evening with him, but during other times of the day, she was distant and inaccessible. It was almost as if she couldn’t acknowledge him. They had to keep their voices down in the garage because she didn’t want her parents to know about them, and though she had faced his scars without flinching, he was beginning to worry that it had soured her feelings for him.
Granted, his wounds looked hideous. He knew that. But still ... he’d hoped that Jo would be the one person in this world who would see past the physical scars.
For whatever reason, Jo refused to be seen with him in public. She wouldn’t associate with him beyond their late-night meetings in the garage.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with my sister,” Tommy muttered, wiping his nose with the cuff of his coveralls. “You got a question for her, you’d better ask her yourself.”
So much for insight from Jo’s brother, Sam thought as he climbed into the truck and pulled it out of the garage bay. When he pulled into a spot in the lot, the car that pulled in beside him looked familiar. The man who stepped out had the look of a former marine, and Sam recognized him as the guy who was hiring a ballistics expert for the Old Man of the Mountain Monument.
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