Strangers in Paradise (27 page)

She'd been so proud of herself back then. So sure that life was there just for her. Sure there wasn't anything she couldn't do, couldn't have, if she just got big enough.

She'd been sassy and confident and too smart for her own good.

And she'd chattered from the time she got up in the morning until she'd gone to bed at night, innocently sharing her every thought with anyone lucky enough to be around.

Sam had never tired of listening.

“Cassie is an animal doctor,” Sam told Mariah now, as she hesitated outside the door of the clinic. “She's the one who gave Muffy to Grandma and Grandpa.”

Muffy hadn't worked the magic on Mariah that Sam had hoped. The child, having always begged for a dog, had shown no pleasure at finding herself finally living with one.

But then, Muffy was old. And fat.

Sam had been saddened to see such obvious signs of the years he'd lost.

His parents had aged, too, but they still looked great. A little grayer, perhaps, a little more lined, but robust and healthy.

Apparently they walked a couple of miles every morning. And swam every afternoon. They were hoping to take Mariah out to the heated pool in the backyard with them this afternoon.

Sam wasn't sure he could persuade the little girl to let go of his hand long enough to walk into the next room, let alone outside the house. But he was willing to try. If anyone could reach Mariah, his mother could.

“Look, honey.” He gently guided Mariah's head in the direction his finger was pointing. “See the plastic fire hydrant? That's for boy doggies to go to the bathroom.”

Mariah might have been facing the fake hydrant, but he could see that she was still watching him out of the corner of her eye. Sam wished he knew what kind of expression could reassure the frightened child. A big smile? A calm, neutral look? A devil-may-care grin? He had no idea.

The inside of the clinic was as pristine and plush-looking as the outside. Brightly upholstered chairs lined the walls of the waiting room. At the moment, they were all empty.

There was a fancy digital four-foot scale along one wall. Sam supposed it was for animals. He liked the decor, the bright yellows and oranges, the tile floor that would serve for easy cleanup.

With Mariah by his side, Sam walked up to the waist-high solid oak receptionist's counter.

“Is Cassie in?” he asked, as though he stopped by often. As though he wasn't asking a question he'd been yearning to ask for the past ten years.

“Dr. Tate?” the college-age girl asked. “Yes, she's in her office.” She glanced down at the appointment book open in front of her. “Is she expecting you?”

“No,” Sam said, glancing down at Mariah's head. “I grew up with her here in Shelter Valley. I'm an old friend, just dropping in to say hello.”

“Oh!” The girl's expression changed from professionally polite to warm and friendly. “You're visiting?” she asked, rising to her feet.

Again, Sam glanced at Mariah. “Uh, no,” he said. “I'm moving back to town. Just arrived yesterday afternoon.”

“Welcome back, then,” she said. “My name's Sheila.” She grinned. “I've only been in Shelter Valley a couple of years, but I feel like it's been my town forever. I love it here.”

The town had a way of doing that to people. Unless you were the “savior of the world,” as Cassie had jokingly called Sam. The heir apparent, future mayor and all-around best guy for the job. The man loaded down with everyone else's expectations.

“Hi, Sheila. I'm Sam. You going to Montford?” he asked, years of Shelter Valley friendliness automatically kicking in.

The girl nodded. “I was, but I got married and just recently had a baby. Now I work here full time.”

Mariah's little hand was getting sweaty inside his. Releasing it, Sam slid his arm around her shoulders, as he smiled at the receptionist. “She's in her office, you said?”

“Shall I tell her you're here?”

“No,” Sam said quickly, and then added, “I'd like to surprise her, if you don't mind.”

He didn't want to take the chance that Cassie would refuse to see him.

“Oh. Sure.” Sheila grinned at him again. “You just go through that door, and down the hall. Her office is on the right.”

“Thanks.” Sam led Mariah through the open door. “Is her partner in?” he thought to ask as he passed Sheila. There had been two names on the placard out front.

“Zack?” the girl said. “Not yet. His first appointment today is at eleven.”

Wondering if Zack was her husband as well as her partner, Sam braced his shoulders and strode forward. As a Peace Corps member and then a national disaster-relief volunteer, he'd spent the past ten years rescuing people from sickening, tragic situations.

He could handle a ten-minute meeting with his ex-wife.

Chapter 3

N
o matter how many times Cassie flipped through the pages of her calendar, there were no upcoming trips written in anywhere. She'd traveled so much over the past eighteen months, launching her nationwide pet therapy program in cities and universities across the United States, that Zack had been left to handle much of their Shelter Valley veterinary practice by himself. Her travel schedule was why she'd invited Zack, who'd been working at a practice in Phoenix, to go into partnership with her in Shelter Valley. His first marriage had just ended, and he'd been eager for a new start. And now, two years later, Cassie's wedding present to him and Randi was to stay in town a while.

But damn, a trip sure would be nice. Help her put life in perspective again.

“Hey, stranger.”

Planner pages between her fingers, Cassie froze, staring at the month of May. It was coming up in a matter of weeks. She'd be—

“Cassie?”

She hadn't imagined the voice. There was only one man who said her name in just that way. With that slight emphasis on the second syllable.

Heart pounding, Cassie didn't know what to do. Sam was really back. After all this time.

She had to look up. To get through this. Making plans for May seemed so much safer.

Thank God, she was in her office. Private. No one was going to see if she messed up.

Except Sam.

He was standing in front of her desk. She could feel him there. She just couldn't bear to look at him. Couldn't be sure she wouldn't make a total idiot of herself and start to cry.

Sam hated it when she cried. Nearly as much as she did.

There was movement over there, close to Sam, but not really where he was standing. It drew Cassie's eye.

There, with her little hand clasped in a bigger one that could only belong to Cassie's ex-husband, stood a little girl. A very solemn, beautiful, dark-eyed little girl. She appeared to be part Native American.

“We—” Sam raised the child's hand “—Mariah and I just got into town last night. I couldn't be in Shelter Valley without seeing you first thing.”

Oddly enough, Cassie understood that. She didn't like it, but she understood. She and Sam would never truly be strangers, or casual acquaintances who just had chance meetings on the street.

“You could have called first,” she said, her eyes riveted on the child. His daughter?
His
daughter?

Pain knifed through Cassie, so sharp she couldn't breathe. When he'd left her all those years ago, he'd taken from her any hope that she might have children of her own. Taken away any hope of the family and the life she'd wanted. And now he had the nerve to waltz back into town with a child who should have been theirs.

“I was afraid you wouldn't see me,” he murmured.

“You were probably right.”

Was
the child his? With her obvious coloring and that coal-black hair, the girl didn't look anything like him. Yet her white heritage was noticeable in those striking blue eyes.

Sam had green eyes.

“This is Mariah,” Sam said, sounding less sure of himself as she continued to watch the silent little girl. “She's my daughter.”

The knife sliced a second time. Lips trembling, Cassie nodded. And tried to smile at the child. After all, it wasn't Mariah's fault her father had hurt Cassie so badly.

“Hello, Mariah.”

The little girl stared wordlessly at her father's waistline. Which, now that Cassie noticed it, looked as firm and solid as it always had. Clearly, Sam was still in remarkably good shape.

“You're looking great, Cass,” Sam said, an old familiar warmth enlivening the words.

“Thanks.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Cassie forced herself to look up, to meet Sam's gaze.

And then looked away again almost immediately. His eyes were exactly the same. They met hers—and touched her all the way inside.

Without waiting for an invitation, Sam sat in one of the leather chairs facing her desk, pulling Mariah onto his lap.

“How old is she?” she asked. Morbid curiosity.

“Seven.”

Cassie's daughter would have been ten this year.

“So how've you been, Cass?” Sam asked, glancing around her office at the degrees on the wall behind her, the thick texts lining her shelves. “You've accomplished a lot.”

Cassie stared at the little television in the corner. Wishing she hadn't turned it off after the news ended half an hour ago. It would have given her something to focus on. Taken her thoughts off the bitter pain that had already seized her.

Off the man in front of her.

“Your parents told you about the pet therapy program, I imagine,” she said. It was the sum total of her life's accomplishments. Had they told him that, as well?

If this was just a guilt-induced duty call, he could leave now. She didn't need his polite compliments. Or his pity.

The flood of anger felt good.

“They haven't mentioned you at all,” he said quietly. “I don't know the first thing about a pet therapy program. I'm just impressed with this office, the clinic, your degrees.”

Cassie shrugged. “I imagine you went on to greater things. You're probably a lawyer by now.”

Not that she cared. She just figured he'd finished college and pursued postgraduate work. Entered some highly regarded profession. Sam had been the more intelligent of the two of them. He hadn't particularly liked to hit the books, hadn't enjoyed learning as much as she had, but it had all come so naturally to him. Even in high school he could ace a test with a five-minute look over his notes, while Cassie would study for an entire evening to get the same grade.

“I don't even have a bachelor's degree.”

Shocked, Cassie frowned at him. His hair was longer, his face lined with experiences she knew nothing about. “Why not?”

“I never went back to school after I left here.” There was no apology in the words. No excuse, either.

“But you had a perfect grade point, a future...”

“...that I didn't want,” Sam finished for her, his jaw firm. Then he smiled, which instantly softened his face. It was as though he'd learned to control the emotions that had once flowed so freely.

When they were young, Sam had been the most passionate man she'd known. Passionate about everything, from kissing her to saving an abandoned dog on the outskirts of town. She'd loved that about him.

“So what's this pet therapy business?” he asked. “Analyzing neurotic poodles?” He grinned in an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but his expression sobered when she didn't respond. “Seriously,” he muttered. “Tell me.”

Mariah's arm slid up around Sam's neck, and she laid her head against his chest.

She was too skinny. And quieter than any child Cassie had ever seen. It almost seemed as though something was wrong with her. Her stomach seized at the thought. The little girl was so beautiful.

She couldn't imagine Sam with a handicapped child. Everything had always come easy to him. Perfection had been his for the taking.

“I, uh, developed a bit of a name for myself by using animals as a way to treat mentally, and sometimes physically, ill patients,” she said slowly, her attention on Sam's little girl.

There was something heart-wrenching about her. Something pathetic in seeing her tucked so securely in Sam's arms.

Sam.
She couldn't believe he was here. Sitting in her office.
Damn him.

Her life wasn't ever going to be the same again, with Sam back in town. The memories, the reminders—they'd all be right in front of her. Mocking her. He'd just shot her carefully won peace all to hell.

Sam asked a few more questions—intelligent, thoughtful questions—about pet therapy, which Cassie managed to answer. Somehow, with him sitting there, work wasn't the first thing on her mind. It was an odd sensation.

A very unwelcome one.

* * *

Sam didn't know what he'd been expecting to find that morning, but the woman sitting across from him wasn't it. Her beauty was still as potent, her figure perfect, her hair still that glorious red. But despite all the similarities, he could hardly believe how much ten years had changed her. Was it just growing up that had made her so self-composed? So unemotional?

Or was it only with him that she was this way?

The thought sickened him. Saddened him. He'd carried the image of his vivacious and tender ex-wife with him every day of the past ten years, used it as a sword to punish himself—and as a reminder of the penance he owed.

“So who'd you end up marrying?” he asked now, forcing himself to confront reality, to see the woman Cassie had become, to not linger on memories of the days when he'd known her as well as she'd known herself. “You are married, right?”

Cassie shook her head, and Sam froze.

“You aren't married?” he asked, his shock more evident than he would have liked. She
had
to be married. It was all Cassie had ever wanted. Marriage and a family.

“There are a lot of successful single women these days,” she said, her tone tinged with sharpness. “I would never have been able to accomplish everything I have if I was married. I've spent the past couple of years traveling all over the country, setting up pet therapy programs in universities and in hundreds of mental-health facilities.”

Sam stared at her, not understanding. “But you wanted to be a wife and mother more than anything in the world,” he said.

He hadn't been wrong about that. Had he?

Cassie's gaze slid away from him, her shoulders stiffening. “People change, Sam.”

Mariah's fingers dug into Sam's neck; he rubbed her back reassuringly.

“You never had children?” He just couldn't take it in. Didn't want to. Didn't want to believe he'd had anything to do with her decision. It was one of the reasons he'd left town and never come back. So that Cassie could get on with her life.

Or that was what he'd always told himself. He'd assumed, without question, that she'd meet someone, marry, have kids. He thought briefly of his syndicated comic strip—another secret. The origins of the Borough Bantam were unknown to the people of Shelter Valley and yet it was based on them. Cassie was the gazelle. And in one of last month's episodes, the gazelle had given birth to twins.

“I don't have any children,” she said, then stood as though dismissing him. “I'm happy your parents finally have you back, Sam,” she said, then added, “You always were the light of their life.”

Another too-familiar stab of guilt hit its mark. Sam also stood, sliding Mariah down to the floor beside him. The child's eyes were pleading when he looked down at her. She was ready to go. Now.

Odd. He hadn't realized that he was learning to communicate with her, to understand her, even without words. The thought brought a strange sort of comfort.

“I guess I'll be seeing you around,” he said, guiding Mariah back into the hallway. He needed to tell Cassie about Mariah. And he would, as soon as he had a chance to talk to her alone. He needed to tell her the child wasn't his. Or not biologically, in any case.

Cassie had never married. God, he felt sick. And ashamed. A bone-deep shame.

“Okay” was all she said. So why did he hear,
Not if I can help it?

After ten years, she still hated him so much. He deserved it; he knew that. Why had he been foolish enough to hope that the years might have dulled the consequences of his sins?

Mariah walked stoically beside him down the hall, which seemed to have grown a mile longer during his stay in Cassie's office, and he realized that if he was going to get through this, he had to concentrate solely on his new daughter—her needs, not his own. Just as they reached the door that would lead them back to the waiting room, she turned, looking over her shoulder.

“Cassie's a nice lady, don't you think?” he asked gently, his heart rate speeding up.

Mariah didn't answer him, but for the first time since her parents were killed, she'd shown an interest in something. It might not be much, but it was a start.

At that moment, Sam was willing to settle for anything.

“Let's go see if Grandma has lunch ready, okay?” he asked, squeezing Mariah's hand.

He might as well have been talking to himself.

* * *

Cassie didn't see Sam again for two days. She was walking home from the clinic on Wednesday evening—since she'd left her car at home that morning—enjoying the balmy Arizona spring day, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the cabbage rolls she'd made over the weekend and was going to have for dinner.

She'd had a good day. Had helped a collie through a difficult birth, managing to save all six puppies and the mother, as well. They'd been so adorable, she hadn't been able to resist when the collie's owner had offered Cassie pick of the litter. Now that she wasn't going to be traveling so much, she'd been planning to get a dog. And she'd always loved collies.

“Can we give you a ride home?”

Still reacting to that familiar voice, even after all these years, Cassie didn't stop walking. “No, thanks,” she called, barely glancing Sam's way.

He drove a white truck.

She'd have expected him to drive a Lincoln Continental, or some other expensive car. But the truck seemed to suit him. Not that she really knew anything about Sam, or what would suit him. Nor did she want to.

Back to cabbage rolls. Yes, they'd be good. She'd treat herself to two. That would leave two more meals' worth in the freezer. It was a good thing they'd only take a few minutes to microwave. She was getting hungry and—

“I have a cousin.”

Sam came up behind her, on foot, Mariah's bony little legs moving quickly beside him. Glancing back, Cassie saw his truck parked at the curb.

What did he want with her, for God's sake?