by Leger, Lori
“Hey,” she said, breathlessly.
“Where’ve you been?” a hoarse voice whispered.
She passed her hand over the curls plastered to her wet cheeks, wishing she’d remembered to pick up her umbrella this morning. “Excuse me?” She wasn’t altogether certain she’d heard him correctly.
“Where’ve you been, Carrie?”
“Who is this?” Terror gripped at her. “Who are you?”
“You’ll learn soon enough, sweetness. Just like you’ll learn you can’t move to get rid of me. I’ll always find you.”
“What do you want from me?” She waited, her breath coming in shallow, frantic puffs. In the next several seconds of jaw clenching silence, she’d almost begun to believe he’d hung up.
The voice answered, in a slow, evil sounding hiss that made her skin crawl.
“Everything.”
She wrenched the phone away as though it scorched her ear.
By eight o’clock, Sam had dialed the number at least a hundred times. Finally hearing something other than the dreaded busy signal, he waited with bated breath for the sound of her voice. Hell, at this point, he’d take anyone’s voice telling him she’d made it home safely. His imagination had gone wild, creating all kinds of tragic scenarios caused by the weather conditions and her frame of mind when she’d left. He’d mentally kicked his own ass seven kinds of ways since then, wondering when he’d ever learn to keep his big mouth shut.
Carrie stared at the ringing telephone. Her head throbbed, and her stomach had long ago morphed from mildly upset to a lump of dread and queasiness. She grabbed the phone off the coffee table and gave the answer button a hesitant press. She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”
The short silence on the other end of the line finally produced a nervous clearing of a throat. “Is that you, Carrie?”
Carrie clapped her hand over her eyes. “Sam?”
“Yes, finally! I’m a dumb son of a bitch, Carrie. I’m sorry. I know you must be tired of hearing me say that, and thinking I must be a hell of a slow learner, but if you give me one more chance, I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“Sam!” Relief washed over her in waves at the sound of Sam’s voice. She wiped at a trickle of tears from the corner of one eye. “I wanted to call you back, but I washed your card in the pocket of my jeans and I couldn’t read it anymore.”
“The number’s been busy, Carrie. Did you take the phone off the—”
“He called again. And he spoke to me, and the things he said to me. I-I don’t know how he got this number. How’d he know I wasn’t at my old house anymore? He said there’s no place I could go where he wouldn’t find me.”
“Jesus, Carr—”
“So I called the police department and they called the sheriff’s department, and just like before, it’s the prepaid cell and they don’t know who’s calling, but this time—this time he was close. He was just ten miles away from me.”
“Oh, God.”
“And I know he knows where I am. I’m afraid, Sam. There’s a cop parked outside the house, but I’m still afraid.”
“God, Carrie, what can I—”
“And I washed the card with your number on it, and I tried to get it. I checked the phone directory and called information trying to find your number.”
“I’m not listed—”
“I was afraid you’d think I didn’t want to talk to you, but I did. I really d—”
“Carrie, stop,” Sam cut in. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
Something about the sound of his voice made her give in to the rush of emotions that bubbled to the surface. “Yes. No. Oh, hell, I don’t know!”
Tears flowed, hot and heavy, down her cheeks, as she paced back and forth, trying to calm herself. It didn’t help. Nothing helped, and before she knew it, she was blubbering into the phone like a two year old.
The hammering in Sam’s chest increased as his panic level rose. “Listen to me, Carrie. Everything will be okay.” His voice sounded calmer than he felt. If only he knew whose sick ass to kick for this. “Can you hear me?”
“Y-yes.”
“I’ll be there in an hour or less. I’ll leave this minute.”
“I-I d-don’t know, S-Sam.”
“Let me come over, Carrie. I only want to help.” Sam paced his living room, one hand clutched at the back of his neck as the other pressed the phone close to his ear. He felt the strongest need to help her, to hold her as she cried. “How do I get there once I get into Gardiner, Carrie? Give me some directions.” His heart broke at the sound of soft sobbing.
Finally, she sputtered, “I’ll b-be o-ok-kay. M-my n-nerves are shot, th-that’s all.”
He continued to speak in soothing tones. “I want to go to you, Carrie. Tell me how to get there.”
“Oh, God, this is so hu-m-miliating,” she stammered. “And my head is k-killing m-me.”
“Do you have any aspirin in the house? Maybe a shot of whiskey?”
“I don’t know, g-give me your number again and I’ll c-call you back in a while.”
Sam hated to end the connection with her. “Please, let me go to you, Carrie.”
“I c-can’t let you do that, Sam,” she said. “I’ll call you. Give me your number.”
He sighed, praying it wasn’t a line. He called out the digits, then cleared his throat. “Maybe you should take your phone off the hook until you’re ready to call back.”
“You b-bet you’re a-ass, I will.”
He smiled at her return of spirit. “Promise you’ll call me back?”
“I p-promise, Sam.”
“Okay.” He hit the disconnect button and set the phone down on the counter.
Sam paced back and forth in his small living room. A room that, until one week ago, held nothing but a sofa, recliner, console television set, and a space heater against one wall. Now it boasted a seven-foot tall, fresh-cut Christmas tree in the corner by the windows. Every pass of his body sent the smell of pine wafting through the air.
The full tree, sparsely decorated with a handful of wooden ornaments he’d found in a discarded box and some colored lights, mirrored the room’s emptiness—both victims of the death of a marriage.
He waited a full forty-five minutes before breaking down to call her back. By then it was nearly nine p.m.
“Hey, Sam.” She sounded stronger, although still somewhat hesitant.
“You sound better. Are you okay?”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“You should be. You broke your promise.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m mortified at falling apart like that. I just couldn’t make myself call.”
“Don’t feel that way with me, Carrie.” He stopped pacing as silence filled the airwaves. “Are you there?” His shoulders drooped in relief at the sound of her slow, but audible, exhale.
“I’m here. I swear I was fine until I heard your voice.”
“Well, hell, that can’t be good.”
“Actually, it is,” she began. “It’s like talking to my mom when I’m upset but trying to hold it together. If I hear her voice, it’s over with. I fall apart. She makes me feel secure enough to let go.”
Another silent pause filled the airwaves, as Sam let her comment sink in. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
He stood in front of a grouping of various-sized framed mirrors, one of the few things Linda had left when she walked out. His smile at her comment reflected back in multiples. “So, can I go to you?”
“Sam—”
“Just say the word, Carrie.”
“Thanks for offering, but I can’t ask you to do that. Tomorrow is a busy day for me,” she said. “I’ve got to help my mom with some baking for Christmas Eve. I’m sure you have some last-minute shopping and other things to do.”
“I’m actually done with my Christmas shopping.”
“No last minute food preparation?”
Sam chuckled.
“Nope. I only have the one big meal with my family and kids on Sunday, and leftovers for lunch on Christmas Day. I’m a poor bachelor, so they don’t ask me to bring anything but my bright, shining countenance.”
“Of course. I’d forgotten how shamelessly your mom and sisters spoil you, Baby Sam.”
Ever since the day she’d heard about his nickname, he’d had to put up with her merciless teasing. “I bet you look good in envy green.”
“Bright, shining countenance, my ass,” she grumbled.
Sam chuckled. “Hey, I figure as long as they don’t ask for my incontinence, I’m okay.”
Her laughter rang out, sounding lighthearted and sincere. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?” He remembered how it felt to hold her face in his hands earlier—wished he could do it again.
“Take me from feeling really crappy to laughing so quickly.”
“I’m glad I could help you out.” Damn this feels right.
Another hour of phone talk revealed a wealth of information about each other. As ten o’clock neared, Sam heard Carrie’s failed attempt to suppress a yawn.
“I’d better let you go, lady.”
“Yeah, I’m tired,” she admitted. “But your phone call saved the evening for me.”
He gave one loud ‘ahem’ to brace himself. “Here’s the thing, Carrie. I tell myself to go slow with you, so I don’t scare you off. I mean, hell, I’ve been single a lot longer than you have, and I’m ready to move on with my life. But you may not be ready yet.”
“Mentally or physically,” she added. “I’ve had three kids, two of them a set of twins. Big twins. God, I was huge. My body, Sam. It’s-I-I don’t look like I did the last time I dated.”
He identified with the self-doubt in her voice. “You think I do? Do you honestly think I don’t have all the same insecurities as you?” He waited out her prolonged pause at his question. She finally responded with a lowly spoken comment.
“I haven’t had sex in over a year.”
“That long?”
She gave a sudden gasp. “Sweet Jesus, did I say that out loud?”
“Either that or I’m incredibly adept at reading your mind.”
“I have to go now,” she groaned.
“Carrie, wait.”
“Goodbye Sa—”
He cut off her words. “Listen to me. All I’m trying to say is that maybe we could allow ourselves the chance to be happy again.” When she didn’t end the call, he lowered his tone, hoping to comfort and encourage her. “I care about you, Carrie, and I won’t hurt you the way he did.”
Her sniff had him worrying she was crying again. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. It’s just that you make me feel special.”
“You are special.”
Several seconds passed before she spoke again. “Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am, I aim to please.”
“Good night, Sam.”
“Good night, Carrie.”
Sam dropped the phone on the sofa and walked over to the large, sparsely-decorated tree. He watched the multicolored lights twinkle in the semi-darkness of his living room and wondered what Carrie would think of this place. He’d called this simple wood structure home for two decades. He’d always thought it was good enough. But would she?
He gave it a slow walk-through, taking mental notes of things he could change to make it more appealing. New carpets, paint, fancier trims, and built-ins. Would it matter to her?
He walked onto the front porch and gazed out at the houses up and down his street, most decorated and ready for Christmas. What would she think of this town? His ties were here, but hers were in Gardiner. Would she be willing to pull up roots if they ended up together? If. He didn’t want to think about the shape he’d be in if this didn’t work out.
He remembered the day J.C. caught him watching Carrie at the office. His co-worker had given him a hearty slap on the back. “You’re a goner, man. Don’t even try to deny it, it’s written all over your face.”
A noise from the vacant rent house on the corner lured him out to the end of the sidewalk. He saw the owner, and old classmate of his, struggling to unload a washer from his truck. Sam hurried over to help, arriving just as one corner of the washer tilted dangerously off the bed of the pick-up.
“I got it, Len.” He shifted the weight of the appliance to his shoulder. “Damn buddy, next time come ask me for help before you try to do something like this.”
The small framed man peered around the corner of the washer. “Thanks, Sam. Ten years ago, I could have handled this son of a bitch by myself. Now I’m glad for the help.”
Within ten minutes, the two men had both the washer and dryer placed in the home’s utility room.
Sam brushed his hands on his jeans and stepped back to look around. “You’ve got this place looking good, man. I hadn’t been in it since old man Bordelon lived here.” He squatted to pass his hand over the glossy floors. “New oak flooring in a rent house?” His low whistle pierced the air. “Business must be good.”
Len muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Those last renters had two dogs in here—big dogs—Rottweiler breed. I had to replace every floor in here. I figured I’ll put this in and I’ll be finished for a while.”
“Until the next pet-owning renter comes along.”
“Nope. No more animals. That’s what the fenced in backyard is for.”
Sam checked out the neat three-bedroom home and turned to the other man. “Who’s my new neighbor?”
Len hooked his thumbs on the loops of his carpenter jeans. “I don’t have anyone yet. I was so disgusted at the shape of this place, I nearly sold it.” He released a deep sigh as he scanned the surroundings. “But, it was Gayle’s mom and dad’s old place.” He paused for a few seconds to clear his throat. “Before she died, she told me to hang on to it for Scott. I figured I’d rent it out and any money I make goes into my boy’s college fund account.” He nodded and blinked a couple of times. “That’s a better start than I ever had.”
Sam kept quiet, leaving his friend to his thoughts. He knew Gayle had suffered for two years battling ovarian cancer and that Len and Scott suffered every day they lived without her.
“We sure miss her, Sam.”
“I know you do, buddy. Makes you wonder sometimes, with all the awful people walking this earth.”
“Anyway.” Len’s voice boomed, belying his small stature, “Know anybody decent who needs a rent house?”
Sam cocked his head to the side and looked down at the man. “I know somebody I’d sure as hell like to see in here, but I bet it’s too steep for her, even if I could convince her to move from Gardiner. Divorced, raising three teenagers, and she has dog’s but she’s mentioned them being outside pets.”
“Is she a friend of yours or something more?”
“A friend, but I’m hoping for more,” he admitted, giving his old buddy an ear-splitting grin.
Len nodded. “Good for you, Sam. I’d let her have it cheap. Two hundred a month and I could easily get six for this place. All appliances included, even a new washer and dryer. If you can vouch for her, it’d be worth it to me to have someone in here that won’t trash the place.”
Hours later, Sam lay in bed, wide-awake and imagining what it would be like if Carrie lived a few houses down from him. He mentally prepared a list of pros to use in his favor next time he spoke to her and slipped in a quick wish for the cons to take care of themselves. Though he considered himself more of a ‘have a chat with the man upstairs’ type of guy than a praying man, he added something a little more specific tonight.
All I want for Christmas is Carrie. Please, keep her safe and let her come to me.
The day before Christmas Eve proved to be uneventful for Sam. Perusing the local pharmacy for some OTC meds for Nick’s lingering cold, he stopped at the greeting card section on his way to checkout.
A holiday card To the One I Love caught his attention and he picked it up. H
e scanned it, along with a few others, and returned them to the slots, knowing he wouldn’t find anything appropriate. He settled for a blank card with a beautiful Christmas Village scene and paid for his purchases. It wouldn’t hurt to jot down a few thoughts for the next time he saw her.
On his way out, he stopped at the display of animated toys—singing Santa’s, Dancing Reindeer, and a dog that barked Here Comes Santa Claus. Just as he was about to leave, he found something at the back of the tallest shelf. Grinning at how right it was for the situation, he walked back to the counter to pay for it. Just in case. He walked out of the store, as pleased as a first grader bringing a gift home to his mother.
Carrie’s day was going quite differently. She’d awakened with a stress/crying/alcohol-induced headache, but at least the puffy eyes were minimal, thanks to Sam. Her thoughts lingered on him as she paused from filling a box with baking supplies. One corner of her lip curved at the heady excitement of possibilities. She caught sight of her reflection in one of the glass-inset doors of Christie’s upper cabinets.
“Stop it,” she chided herself, forcing the silly grin from her face. No way would she get her hopes up. She’d concentrate on getting her own place and leave her friendship with Sam at that.
They’d learned a lot about each other during that marathon phone call, and he’d asked again to take her to dinner and a movie. Again, she’d refused, afraid to upset her kids. She could take losing anyone’s respect but her children’s. How did Dave do it? How could he do the things he did and not worry what their kids thought of him?
She loaded the box in the backseat of her car. By the time she went back to get her purse, she had to stop to answer the phone, tensing only slightly as she waited for an answer.
“Hey, Sis!”
Tension rolled off Carrie’s shoulders as she heard Christie’s voice, thankful it wasn’t his. “Are you and Max back in town?”
“No, and it turns out I won’t be leaving until tomorrow. I want to give Max more time with his dad. I should be back at Mom’s for lunch though. I tried to call you last night, but I think the phone was off the hook, because I kept getting a busy signal.”
Carrie was quiet for a minute trying to decide how to break the news to her sister. “It was off the hook until nine, and then I was talking to Sam for an hour.”