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Authors: Janice Carter

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BOOK: The Man She Left Behind
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“Come on,” he said, “pick up your clothes and stash them in the laundry basket. We’ll pop in on Sam on the way.”
 
LEIGH WAS SCARCELY aware of the drive home. Snippets of her day with Spencer zapped across her mind like a pixel sign. She figured the subliminal messages were a warning, rather than an advertisement.
Go home. Keep clear. Danger zone
.
She laughed at herself. Drama had always been Jen’s forte, not hers. Leigh had preferred the blunt mathematical correctness of truth and honesty. Which, of course, accounted for her unwillingness to bend the truth in any way. A promise was a promise. A declaration of love, a declaration of love. Simple enough, she’d thought. Then why had it all unraveled so easily?
She pulled up in front of her house. Leigh sat for a moment arguing with her inner self.
It all fell apart fifteen years ago. Who knows why? Who cares? Give it up and go on
. She’d been giving herself the same lecture for years.
Right, so when are you going to start listening?
The For Sale sign in the center of the front yard was a good reminder of the temporary aspect of her return to Ocracoke.
Time to quit playing games with the past, kiddo. It can’t be relived in any way and even if Spencer has changed, what happened then is stamped forever on your mind
.
She got out of the car and by the time she reached the porch, she’d already decided to cut short her stay on the island. There was no reason Evan couldn’t act as sales agent without her.
Speaking of Evan, she thought, pursing her lips, why hadn’t he closed the main door? Not that it mattered much in Ocracoke, but you never knew when some undesirable type might pass through.
Annoyance at Evan bloomed as she proceeded into the kitchen and found the coffeemaker still on. The man had even left his unwashed mug and spoon on the counter! Obviously her initial judgment of him had been way off base. He wasn’t nearly as fastidious as he’d appeared. Leigh put her bag on the table and headed upstairs to shower and change.
She’d been waiting for Spencer to suggest something for that evening, but now felt relieved he hadn’t. She doubted she’d have been able to decline; at least, not if he’d fixed those baby blues on her the way he had just before he’d kissed her. That kiss. Warmth crept back into her system at the mere thought.
His mouth definitely hadn’t changed, but his technique seemed more—Leigh searched for the word—sophisticated?
Nah, makes him sound like a lounge lizard.
How about restrained? She frowned. Yes, that seemed a bit more like it.
And I’d add a little patience and a dollop of confidence. ’Course, he had that in spades when he was seventeen going on eighteen
.
Leigh left the bathroom and walked down the hall to her bedroom at the rear of the house. She paused in the doorway. Something different here. Her brow wrinkled.
Must be my imagination
. She walked to the vanity to stare at herself in the mirror. She smiled, replaying the kiss one more time.
Then the smile disappeared. Leigh blew out a lungful of air. She might as well be sixteen all over again, judging by the giddiness, the tingling, the light-headedness. Even her resolve to keep him at arm’s length, determined on the drive home, was as weak as it had been years ago.
One touch, one kiss, and it’s game over
.
Leigh sank onto the edge of the bed and lowered her chin onto her cupped hands.
Brother
, she thought.
You’ve got trouble
.
Maybe she’d call Evan tomorrow to arrange his handling of the sale for her. No. Tomorrow was Sunday.
And Spencer is coming for dinner
. Leigh moaned. If she was lucky, Jamie would come, too. A fourteen-year-old would make a good buffer. Leigh kicked off her sandals and pulled off her halter top. Turning her head, she eyed the closet and paused.
That was what it was, she realized. When she’d first stood in the doorway, she’d had a sense of something different about the room. The closet door had been left open, probably by someone seeing the house. She finished undressing and slipped on the terry-cloth robe hanging on the hook behind her door.
When she opened the top drawer of her bureau to get clean underwear, she gasped. Someone had been rifling through her lingerie. She was beginning to feel like Goldilocks. Leigh yanked open the other drawers. Every one but the last had been rummaged through. Some attempt had been made to pat things down, but none of the little piles were symmetrical. If she hadn’t sorted through these just the other day, she realized, she’d never have noticed.
Her cell phone downstairs rang. Leigh tied the bathrobe sash and ran to get it.
“Ms. Randall? Evan Brown here.”
“Aha! Just the person I wanted to speak to.”
“Oh?”
“I think someone’s been in my house.”
“Quite a few people, actually.”
Evan the joker
. “I should have said, in my drawers.”
“In your
drawers?
”
Leigh counted to ten. “I think someone was looking through my chest of drawers—at my clothes and things.”
“Good heavens! Why would anyone do that?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself. So far I haven’t come up with any answers. Can you help me out?”
“Are you certain about this? I mean, I was with the clients all the time. Well, except maybe once when I was in the washroom.”
“I’m pretty certain, Evan. I just cleaned everything out a couple of days ago, and it was obvious as soon as I opened the drawers. Everything was a bit messed up.”
“Just a bit? So we’re not talking vandalism here, right?”
“Heavens no. It’s just that the little piles of clothes look as though they’ve been moved.” She heard his sigh of relief.
“So it may be that the drawers got jiggled somehow and shifted things a bit inside.”
“We haven’t had an earthquake, Evan. And you didn’t close the big front door and...oh, the coffeemaker was still on and your cup was left on the counter.”
“What? Hold on here, Ms. Randall. When I left, the door was closed and everything was shipshape in the kitchen. Do you hear me? Shipshape.”
Evan sounded so indignant Leigh decided to drop it. What did it matter, anyway? “Evan, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it, all right?”
“Is anything missing?”
“I don’t think so, but I haven’t really looked carefully. I’ll call you back if I find anything missing.”
“Call the police if there is. Ms. Randall, I apologize. This has never happened to me when I’ve shown a house. Seriously, I was with people every minute.”
“Except when you...”
“Well, a few seconds maybe.”
Leigh already regretted raising the issue. “Were there any offers today?”
“No, but some promising clients. A young family who want a summer home, a couple who were thinking of the place as a business investment, and there was an older woman who said she and her husband were interested in a retirement home.”
“It’s a bit big for a retirement home,” Leigh said. “My parents couldn’t manage the upkeep.”
“That’s what I thought, but she still seemed quite fascinated with the place.”
“Maybe she’s the one who opened my drawers and my closet.”
“Oh, dear, I might have opened the closet myself. Good heavens I—”
“So now what?” she interrupted.
“We wait. How about another open house in, say, three or four days?”
Leigh closed her eyes.
So much for my plan to leave earlier
. “Fine. I’ll make sure I’m here for that one.”
There was a brief silence until Evan set a date, his nose clearly out of joint, and rang off.
After her shower Leigh methodically went through all the cupboards, closets and drawers in the house. Nothing seemed to be missing. The boxes of mementos she’d decided to keep were stacked in her parents’ bedroom, and the leather valise was still under the bed. Who would want old photographs, anyway?
After a late dinner and an evening in front of the television, resurrected from an upstairs closet, Leigh headed for bed. Someone had certainly been in her house that afternoon after Evan had closed up. Perhaps Trish. She seemed to have a penchant for making herself at home in other people’s houses.
Leigh switched off her bedside lamp. The music of the night filled the room—the whack of moths and June bugs against the screen mesh, the muted roar of the incoming tide and the wind, gaining momentum in the treetops behind the house, whistling under the curtain hem. She settled into the hollow of the mattress and let her mind slip back into the afternoon—the sun, the sky and, most of all, the kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“G
RANDPA SAM?”
Leigh tapped on the edge of the screen door. She waited, then crooked a finger through the handle, propping it open with one hip while she sidled through, holding aloft the casserole dish and bag of groceries. She tiptoed into the kitchen, noticing at once that someone had tidied and cleaned and placed the food on the table.
“Sam? Are you awake?” The faint sound from his bedroom urged her toward it, her heart racing with fear.
But Sam was sitting up in bed, leaning against a stack of pillows. His smile was wan, almost apologetic. As if he shouldn’t be caught sick in bed.
“There’s my girl!” Sam croaked. The smile spread into his eyes and Leigh bent down to hug him as gently as she could.
“I won’t break, you know,” he chided her. “Clear those magazines from the armchair and bring it close enough so’s I can feast me eyes on ya.”
“Sure. Hey, I didn’t know you were into home decorating,” she teased, noticing some of the magazine titles.
“Ah,” he sighed, “what am I to do with all that stuff? There’s more in the living room, too. Books I’ve never even heard of. Dishes of this and that in the pantry.”
Chicken-rice casserole flashed in Leigh’s mind. “I’m afraid I’ve joined the parade—sort of. I brought dinner and a few things from the convenience store.”
“Nobody’s thought to bring me a cigar and a good bottle of port.”
Leigh smiled. “Thank goodness some people have common sense.”
“I don’t recall you havin’ that hard streak in you when you were younger.” Sam’s face looked stern, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
She leaned across to pat his hand. “How are you, Sam? Seriously?”
“Well, if everyone would stop pesterin’ me about my health and droppin’ in for a social, I’d most likely be up and out fishin’. As it is...”
“So the news has hit the island grapevine.”
“Seems like.” Another sigh. “Even had old Mrs. Waverly come by.”
“Did she ask if you were ready to sell?”
Sam sniffed. “Nope. In fact, she said she hoped I’d be here another ten years at least so’s the two of us could protest against all the newfangled ideas comin’ down the tube from the National Park Service.”
“What stuff?”
“All that environmental poppycock. Ha! In my day, people never had to feel guilty about earnin’ a livin’. We fished exactly what we needed to dry and salt for ourselves, and we had just enough to heat our houses and feed us through the winter. We knew how to keep our boats and engines clean, and we never took anythin’ from the sea we couldn’t eat or sell.” He stopped to take a breath that turned into a coughing fit.
Leigh reached for the glass of water on his bedside table and held it for him while he sipped. Sam fell back against the pillows, his open mouth sucking in gulps of air.
It was then that Leigh knew he was more ill than she’d thought. He looked almost as bad as her parents had in their last weeks. Sadness overwhelmed her. She didn’t want to think of Ocracoke without Sam Logan.
“I hear you’re entertainin’ tonight.”
That grapevine!
“Yes,” Leigh murmured. “Spencer and Jamie are coming to dinner. And you’d be coming, too, if you were feeling better.”
Sam coughed again. He sipped some more water and paused. “Glad to see Spencer getting out. He’s lived like a hermit for too long.”
“That’s difficult to believe. There aren’t that many eligible bachelors in Ocracoke, I’m sure.”
Sam’s cackle rolled into a spasm. Leigh raised his pillows and put the water on the table. When he was finished coughing, he continued, “I think you’re on a fishin’ expedition, my girl.”
Leigh’s face warmed. “You always were good at reading people.”
“Only some people. I’m afraid I missed the warnin’ signs about my own granddaughter.” He paused, then said, “When Jen left, Spencer just about went wild looking for her and Jamie. Drove up and down the coast to see every friend and relative I never even knew we had.” He paused again, taking a few breaths.
“Maybe you should rest, Sam.”
He waved a hand at her. “Got to get this out now before it’s too late. After a few months Spencer got a letter from Jen tellin’ him she was applyin’ for a divorce.”
“He must have been shattered.”
“Yep. But I doubt it was ’cause of her. He loved that boy.”
“Why didn’t he try to get custody?”
“He got himself a lawyer—spent what little he had—only to find out he didn’t have much chance unless he could prove Jen was an unfit mother.” Sam paused again for breath. “He’d never do that. And don’t get me wrong, Jen loves Jamie, too. These troubles with the boy—they didn’t start until after she remarried. By then he was a teenager and used to havin’ her to himself. Poor boy. First he lost his daddy, then his ma. No wonder he’s all confused.”
Sam lapsed into silence. Leigh pictured Spencer driving up and down the coast of North Carolina searching for Jen and Jamie. He’d never been one to give up easily. Even after the prom-night accident and the inquest, he’d telephoned or come around to her house so many times Leigh’s mother refused to lie for her anymore. After Leigh had left for university in Chapel Hill, the telephone in her dorm had rung so often the house mistress had complained.
Persistence had been his second name, until the last time he tried to contact her. He’d traveled all the way to Chapel Hill one stormy night in late October. Leigh had persuaded her roommate to tell Spencer she was at the library. But he’d stood outside in the driving rain under a willow tree, hunched into his windbreaker. She’d watched him through a gap in her curtains for almost an hour.
All she could think about was the image of Spencer and Jen at the prom, entwined in each other’s arms, and then later, the scene in the ladies’ room where she’d confronted Jen.
“You had your chance, Randall, and you blew it. Spencer’s had it with you and your big thing about leaving the island to go to college. He wants to be with me now.” Jen had flashed a triumphant smile. “You go with the others to Portsmouth. I’ve got better things to do.” Then she’d sashayed out the door.
So instead of running to him that night in Chapel Hill, Leigh had locked herself in the bathroom and cried. Later she’d written him a long letter, explaining why she couldn’t see him. He’d never replied and never called again. A few weeks later he and Jen eloped.
“Funny how things turn out,” Sam murmured.
Leigh raised her head. From the expression on Sam’s face, she guessed he’d been delving into the past, too.
He looked across the bed at Leigh. “I always figgered you an’ Spence would be the ones to run off together, not him and Jen. I mean, Jen had been itchin’ to leave Ocracoke most of her life, so I was expecting her to take off right after graduation. She could have gone to some college—even with her grades—but she never wanted to apply. Wouldn’t talk about her plans at all. Came as a complete surprise to me when she an’ Spencer run off.”
A surprise to me, too. Although, be honest—was it? After that night didn’t you guess that Spence would head right back to Ocracoke and Jen?
“Anyhow, what’s done is done.” Sam sighed wearily. “I reckon everyone is happier now for how it all turned out. What do you think?”
Leigh ducked her head, picking at loose threads in Sam’s blanket. She let his question hang in the air until he sighed again.
“That’s what I reckoned. I got a feeling Jen is the only one who’s happy about how things ended up. But then, like I said before, Jen was always a survivor.”
Leigh clasped Sam’s hand in hers. “We’re all adults now, Sam, and capable of planning our own futures. Don’t worry about us.”
“I worry about Jamie.”
“Don’t. Jamie has two parents who love him very much. There are lots of kids who don’t have even one.”
“Well,” he sniffed, “you’re right about that, I reckon. What are your plans, then?”
“Oh, sell the house. Go back to New York.”
“No temptation to stay longer?”
“What? Here in Ocracoke?”
He pulled a face. “Ain’t that bad here, is it? You managed to have a wonderful childhood and all.”
“I didn’t mean I don’t love Ocracoke, Sam. It’s just that—” she searched for the right words “—I’ve outgrown it.”
“Gone on to bigger and better things?”
“Well,
different
. things.”
“And any special person in your life back there?”
Leigh smiled. “I have some good friends, but no love interest. Talk about a fishing expedition!”
His grin was sheepish. “Guess that’s a no, then, though I can’t imagine why.”
“It’s been great coming here to see all of you, but to be honest, Sam, I don’t think one can turn back the clock. Coming home again is...okay, but definitely not the same. Everything’s different.”
“‘Course it is! Why’d you expect otherwise? Life goes on. All that stuff. Don’t mean it can’t be tried again. That you don’t get another chance.”
Time to change the subject, Leigh decided. “Perhaps. Listen, Sam, before I go, is there anything I can get you? More water? Juice?”
Sam scowled. “Nope. Unless you got a bottle of port in that bag of yours, don’t bother.”
“No way.” She leaned across the bed to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be off, then. Got to prepare a good dinner for tonight. I hear Spencer has become quite a gourmet chef.”
“Don’t know about
goor-may
, but he’s darn good. Maybe if you stick around longer, he’ll cook for you at his place.”
Leigh smiled. “Stop matchmaking!” She stood up. “I’m sure Spence will drop by later this evening on his way home.”
Sam shook his head. “Get Jamie to do it. That’ll give you two more time.”
“Sam!”
“Not matchmakin’,” he protested. “But I’m sure you both have some talkin’ to do. Things to clear up. You know—” he stumbled, catching the look in her eyes “—from the past.”
“As you’ve just said, Sam, the past is gone. Why bother?”
“Because, my girl, it’s damned hard to get on with the present—forget about the future—if you’re draggin’ the past along with ya.”
Leigh slung her purse over her shoulder. “And what makes you think I’m dragging the past along with me?”
“I see it in your face, Leigh Randall. I hear it in your voice every time you say Spencer’s name—or Jen’s.”
“I think you’re seeing too much, Sam Logan. And now goodbye. Get some rest.” She moved toward the door.
“Wait.”
Leigh stopped, but reluctantly. She didn’t want to hurt Sam’s feelings, but he was encroaching on some dangerous territory. Couldn’t he see that?
“Hear me out. Indulge an old man, and one who’s known you since you were a babe. You’ve got to lay all those ghosts to rest and soon. Don’t play with time! You’ve got to stop blamin’ yourself for that stupid accident. Fifteen years ago you were all young and reckless kids.”
But not me. Never young and reckless. Just weak
.
“Ain’t no one blames you for that trouble. No one but a sad lady who most likely feels guilty about something else.”
Laura Marshall’s mother, he meant. Leigh could remember Laura complaining about her mother’s overprotectiveness. There’d been many quarrels in the Marshall family, and Leigh had been privy to some of them. What Sam had implied made sense, given Mrs. Marshall’s inability to cope with her daughter.
“That may be, Sam. But I’ve only been back in Ocracoke a week and sometimes I have the feeling no one’s forgotten what happened, even if it has been fifteen years.”
With obvious effort Sam raised himself from the pillows. His face was red with the strain.
“Sam, don’t get up!”
“I’m not,” he panted, using his elbows to prop himself. “Maybe there’s too much pussyfootin’ around the whole thing. People are
bound
to be reminded if you get that stricken look on your face every time someone even hints at it.”
A pulse of annoyance throbbed at her temples. If it wasn’t Sam speaking... Then Leigh recalled the moment at lunch a few days ago when a simple comment about the lighthouse had dampened the party. Granted, she’d managed to laugh it off, but perhaps her face had revealed what her voice had not. Perhaps Sam was right. Perhaps she herself had kept the tragedy alive long after everyone else had finished with it.
Then again, maybe not. Maybe Sam’s the one who can’t see
. “Sam,” she said, looking down into the wizened face upturned to hers, “I think you’d better get some rest. And don’t worry about me. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
He fell back against the pillows. “I’d like to believe that, Leigh.” He gave a feeble wave. “Go now. Send the boy over later. Give his daddy a break.”
Leigh closed the bedroom door softly behind her and leaned against it for a long moment before she felt able to move.
BOOK: The Man She Left Behind
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