by Leger, Lori
Sam was running on pure adrenaline by the time he pulled up into his drive. He’d hauled ass all the way to the hospital, only to hear she’d been released already. He’d missed her by fifteen minutes. Relieved, but no less frustrated as hell, Sam cussed his way back to his truck then stood there, debating on whether to go home or head back to Christie’s. Consideration for Carrie’s injuries, even though the nurse had assured him they were minor, convinced him to head back towards Kenton. He drove by Carrie’s, hoping to see some sign of life, but got only darkened windows.
Sam walked inside and collapsed in his recliner, too drained to kick off his boots. He grabbed the phone and sat there, praying it would ring. She knows I’m looking for her, so she’ll call…right? He sat, trying to calm the rapid beat of his heart, feeling about as useless as a bikini at the North Pole…
CHAPTER 25
Sam’s ringing telephone woke him from a fitful sleep, jarring him so bad, that it fell from his lap to the floor with a loud clatter. He sat up, blinking, and wiped the drool off of his face. He reached for the phone while squinting at the walk clock. How the hell had he managed to sleep for an hour? He finally caught the phone and hit the talk button. “Hello?”
“I’d about given up on you answering. I thought maybe you’d gone to bed already.”
He sat up straight as Carrie’s voice washed over him like a soothing balm. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I got a bump on my head when my car slipped in the ditch, but that’s it. I was embarrassed to go to the hospital, but Mom insisted.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“I guess.” She paused, and he could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “Christie said you called, and Mack said you came by.”
“Yeah, I uh…I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?” she asked.
Again, he thought how sore she probably was and decided not to push her into an argument tonight. “Aw, it was nothing, just wanted to check up on you. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Well…If you’re that worried, you could come on over here and check me out for yourself,” she drawled.
“You want me to drive back to Gardiner tonight to see if you’re okay?” he asked, on the brink of being annoyed.
“I didn’t say anything about driving.”
“What?”
She chuckled seductively into the phone. “I’m here, Sam, in my house. Are you coming, or what?”
He leaned over to pull the curtain aside and saw a soft glow coming from her house on the corner. “Are you packing up?”
Carrie lit another candle and placed it on the end table. “Nah, decided I’d stay for awhile.”
“Oh yeah? What brought that on?”
“More like who…My mom. It seems she met my kids at the hospital and gave them a talking to.”
“Oh yeah? What’d she say to them?”
“Don’t know, exactly. No one’s talking. All I heard was that she wasn’t too happy with them.”
“I bet she wasn’t.”
“Whatever she said, it worked, because my kids walked into the emergency room and told me they were wrong.”
“No…Really?”
“Yep…Said, they were willing to give Kenton a chance, as well as you.”
“I knew I liked your Mom.”
Carrie grinned at his comment. “Yeah, I guess I’ll keep her.”
“Uh huh, I like you too.”
She smoothed down her red and black silk blouse, and spun around in her living room, causing the matching skirt to twirl gracefully and settle against her legs. “So, are you going to get your six foot three butt over here, Langley, or do I have to go meet you?” She heard a knock on the door and walked warily over to it, for a moment forgetting that Tim Hardin was no longer a threat.
“Hey Carrie?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah,” she said reaching for the light switch to the front porch.
“Open the damn door.”
Carrie flipped the switch and sucked in her breath at the more than welcome sight of him standing there with a cordless phone to his ear. She dropped her hand to her side and pulled open the door. “Hey.”
He lowered his hand, hitting the end call button, and then stepped slowly across the threshold to meet her. He closed the door behind him and took one deliberate step closer. “Look, lady. We’re gonna get something straight here and now.”
She nodded, keeping her silence.
“Don’t ask me to stay unless you want more than friendship from me. I mean it…I can’t take anymore goodbyes.”
She shook her head. “I won’t.”
Sam’s brow rose ominously. “You won’t what?”
“I mean…I want you to stay.”
He nodded, and took a step closer. “How long have you been
here?”
Carrie looked at her watch. “About forty-five minutes.”
Sam shook his head slowly, clucking his tongue. “You should have called me sooner, Baby. Think of all the time we wasted.”
“A girl needs time to fix herself up when she’s about to throw herself at the man she loves. And Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love it when you call me Baby.”
CHAPTER 26
Slowly…very slowly…Carrie became aware of her surroundings. Her head lay on a broad chest, and she could feel, as well as hear, the steady thump…thump…thump of his beating heart.
Sam’s heart.
The heart of the man who claimed to love her.
So…Did she believe him when he said he loved her?
Absolutely.
Would he love her enough to forsake all others?
She believed with all her heart that he would.
Could she love him the same way?
Carrie passed her finger softly along the side of his face, smiling at the twitch of his nose in his sleep.
Could she?
Hell…She already did.
EPILOGUE
Carrie Langley passed the duster over the items on the large credenza placed below the fifty inch flat screen hanging on the wall. She picked up the shadow box, filled with mementos of their wedding for closer examination. They’d been married in a simple civil ceremony in early December, nearly a year after the Tim Hardin incident.
Tim Hardin, the man who had been responsible for the rape of sixteen women in three different states, only one of which had lived to tell about it. She shivered, clearing her mind of the evil that had come so close to her and her loved ones.
Her mind returned to their wedding, which had been attended by their children, other family members, close friends, and several of their co-workers. Carrie lifted the latch on the shadow box to open it, revealing the treasured items. The guest book, signed by the attendees, a snapshot of the hall…decorated in festive red and green by a co-worker, and now a dear friend, Joan. Another one of the cake, her soul sister, Darlene’s contribution…a beautifully simple and delicious concoction, covered in frosting she’d tinted to match the antique white table cloth covering the bride’s table.
The invitation was an especially treasured memento, hand drawn and designed by Dale, their supervisor who had passed away from cancer several years ago. She passed her hand lovingly over the photo of her and Sam’s thinner, younger versions of themselves. Photos, all taken by Jeff, their co-worker, who’d graciously acted as wedding photographer.
Memories of that cold, rainy, December day came flooding back to her. The hall, filled with the aroma of good food, cooked by Sharon and Randy, and the sounds of their favorite music being played on a sound system by D.J. Mike, an old friend of Sam’s. Grant had walked her down the aisle to meet Sam, and Amanda and Nick had signed the license as witnesses. Sam’s mother, Mrs. Lucia, had baked one of her ‘special’ three layered, homemade coconut cakes with the boiled cream filling that Carrie loved so much, such a success that Carrie and Sam didn’t get a slice.
Despite the dismally wet day, it had turned out be
autifully. The family photo showed the two of them, beaming, along with their five children. Amanda, big and pregnant with Austin, the first of their grandchildren, stood next to the only in-law at the time, Joe.
Carrie closed the case, wiped it free of dust, and placed it back onto the credenza. She reached for the most recent family portrait of them, taken last Christmas at the Chicot Lake cabin she’d rented…Everyone smiling, wearing a New Orleans Saint shirt of some kind. She counted seven grandchildren in that photo. Amanda and Joe’s Austin and Emmelia, Gretchen’s three…Cathryn, Allie, and stepson Drew. Lauren and Bryan’s contributions were Gage, and Ava.
Nick stood next to Trisha, a lovely girl, tall, dark haired, with the same exotic dark eyes as his. Grant stood alone in that portrait, but since had begun seeing Anna, a beautiful girl they’d known since she was in Kindergarten with the twins. This year’s photo would include Gretchen’s new baby girl, Lilly, and Lauren’s baby boy, Colt, as well as Anna, Grant’s girlfriend, and her four year old son, Logan. Hopefully the youngest member of the family, Grant’s baby boy, Kadin, would be there, too. Before he and Anna had begun dating, a lady friend of his had conceived his child. The situation had proven to be a challenge for everyone, but Carrie admired both Anna and Lindsey, Kadin’s mother, for handling the situation as well as they had.
Sam had recently retired from the survey crew and worked as park keeper for the baseball park there in Kenton…a huge advantage during ball season, since all grandchildren seemed to be drawn to the sport. Carrie had seen B & L Engineering grow from one resident engineer to three, all of whom were younger than her, one young enough to be her son. They were still a close group, although some faces had changed. Roxie retired, and J.C. had moved on, but others had taken their places and become friends as well.
Sam’s parents had both passed away, but Carrie’s mom, Elaine, was alive and well in Gardiner.
Sam and Carrie had a good life. They weren’t rich, but didn’t want for anything. Love and trust ruled their lives, as well as a good dose of babysitting grandchildren. They tried not to complain, realizing how lucky they were to have the children and grandchildren close enough to be a bother sometimes.
For whatever reason, their marriage had worked, and the two were as in love with each other as they had been in the first year of their marriage. Sam was a doting grandfather and a wonderful influence on Carrie’s children and grandchildren, well, most of the time, anyway. There were always the occasional lapses in grandfatherly judgment when he taught them how to make fart noises with their mouths, showed them the old ‘pull your finger’ joke, and got them in trouble at school. Gage’s innocent comment that his Paw Paw Sam had a dog named ‘Dammit’ had earned Lauren a talk with his teacher.
Carrie smiled at the memory, able to confess that she still loved that man so completely, it hurt. More importantly, she knew he felt the same way.
Sam chose that moment to walk in and find his wife lost in memories of the past. He moved in behind Carrie and wrapped her in his arms. “I love you pretty girl,” he whispered in her ear as he kissed the side of her neck.
She smiled as she rested her head against his broad chest. “And I love you, Big Boy…I always will.”
God has definitely been good to us.
BOOK EXCERPT
of
LAST FIRST KISS
Book 2
La Fleur de Love Series
CHAPTER 1
Early January
Jackson Broussard crawled out through the gaping hole left by his blown out windshield. He struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain that shot through his left knee. He stood in place to get his bearings, a lone observer standing in the midst of chaos. Within moments the shriek of sirens joined the wails and cries of other survivors.
He tensed as a fire truck’s air horn jarred his traumatized senses, and then gasped and coughed, regretting the deep breath he’d taken. He choked on the acrid smell of burning rubber, and something else, a putrid odor that burned as it settled at the back of his throat. He fought the urge to vomit as he watched in horror, while inky fingers of smoke billowed skyward.
Jackson cringed at a woman’s sudden hysterical screaming, not wanting to think about what she’d seen that made her lose control. Cries and moans of others joined in, collaborating to form a chorus of misery and death. The accident involved more vehicles than he could see or count. Male and female, young and old…Death would have no sympathy for the innocent.
It took him another five minutes to find Chloe, his wife, where she’d landed after being ejected from his truck. Her face was a bloody mass of bones and shredded tissue, her thin body bent and broken beyond repair.
He fought back another wave of nausea, knowing one seat belt could have made the difference between life and…this. As usual, she’d refused. Nobody told Chloe what to do, law enforcement, or otherwise.
Should he believe she was gone? Or was it just another one of her cruel tricks to try and humiliate him? He studied her broken body again…no, there would be no coming back from this one. He wondered…Would death bring her the peace she obviously lacked in her lifetime?
Jackson rose on shaky legs, allowing his mind to drift back to the moments before the accident. In typical Chloe fashion, she’d spent the last moments of her life berating him, screaming because his single act of kindness toward others had inconvenienced her. He squinted against the pain in his head, the soreness of his chest. What had he done to piss her off? Fighting off the dizziness, the sudden urge to pass out, he struggled with a missing piece of the puzzle, knowing how important it was.
Frustrated, he put both hands to his head, and willed himself to think…to retrace the events that lead to this moment: The stadium’s malfunctioning traffic light after the benefit concert ending at one p.m., him allowing several cars to turn in front of him, how he’d stopped to let one more vehicle pull out in front of him…the black Expedition and its occupants, and the last action, the catalyst for Chloe’s steady stream of jibes that had escalated into increasingly ugly accusations.
He swung around, total recall causing his chest to tighten in panic. “Oh God, where are they?”
Jackson spotted the SUV lodged against the guardrail and uttered a silent prayer as he staggered over. His heart hammered in his chest when he saw his friend in the driver’s seat, then sank to his stomach at the unnatural tilt of his head. He reached through the shattered window, searching for a pulse, and found none. “Toby,” he groaned, despair stunning him for a moment as he realized his friend was gone.
“Giselle…” he whispered, making his way around to the passenger side. His heart plummeted at the blood pooled around the gouge on her forehead, until he saw the rise and fall of her chest as she labored to breathe. He ripped a piece from his already torn shirt to wipe the area clean, and allowed himself to relax once he saw the bleeding had nearly stopped. He thought of the couple’s two young daughters. What would happen to them if they lost both of their parents? “Oh, God, she has to be okay,” he spoke in a tortured whisper. “Help…she needs help,” he croaked, stepping away to find someone.
He staggered back to Chloe’s body, swaying unsteadily as he struggled to remain on his feet. He fought the blackness closing in on him, determined to remain conscious until he made sure someone helped Giselle. Finally, two EMT’s ran to him.
“Sir, are you seriously injured?” one asked him.
He grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes against the sudden pain, then fell on his knees beside Chloe. “My wife is gone…you can’t help her.” He struggled to lift a finger toward the black Expedition. “My friend Toby didn’t make it, but his wife has to live, for their little girls.” He grabbed for the debilitating pain in his head again before collapsing onto the I-210 roadway.
***
He woke trying to scream, jerking away from the image of Chloe’s bloody face filling his mind.
“It’s okay Mr. Broussard, it’s okay,” the ER nurse spoke in a calm voice.
She smiled down at him. “You’re at St. Luke’s hospital, and you’ve got a mild concussion but you’ll be all right. How’s the pain?”
He reached slowly for his head and felt. No bandages. He grabbed the nurse’s hand as one particular memory rushed at him. “I need to find somebody.”
“And I’ll help you do that, Mr. Broussard. Is it a family member? Was there a passenger in the vehicle with you?”
“No, my wife was with me, and she…didn’t make it,” he said, his voice calm. “There was a black SUV with a couple in it. The driver was my friend and I…his neck…I couldn’t find a pulse. His passenger, his wife, had a cut on her head, but she was breathing. They have two young girls and no other family. I need to see if she’s okay.”
“I need her name and a description.”
“Her name is Giselle Granger. She’s tall and slim, about 5’8”, with shoulder length, curly, brown hair and green eyes. She had a big cut on her forehead, right about here.” He touched his own head above his right temple.
“I’ll check, and be right back. You stay here, Mr. Broussard.”
He grabbed her hand again. “What did they do with my wife? She…” He swallowed the bile as the image of her flashed in his mind again. “She went through the windshield.”
The nurse gave him a look of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Broussard. I’m not sure if they’ve transported her yet. I’ll check on that for you, too. If she’s not already in the morgue, she will be soon, and we will need you to ID her.”
He nodded at the nurse and tried to sit up. “I can do that whenever you need me to, but can you help me find Giselle? She’s a co-worker of mine and her husband was a close friend.”
She nodded. “I’ll go see if I can find her.”
“Ma’am, did I have a phone on me?” he asked before she could leave.