The Rancher's First Love (16 page)

“I didn't ask you to. I'm amazed by you. And when I compare myself, I come up short.”

He leaned across the basket and touched his lips to hers. It was a sweet, simple kiss and he had a difficult time leaving it that way. With a sigh, he pulled away. “We could talk this to death, or we could just enjoy each other's company.”

She nodded, picking up her plate and filling it with food, letting go a lot easier than he would have guessed. He held a plate full of food and scooted next to her. They sat on the tailgate, feet dangling, plates balanced on their laps. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of leaves. A light breeze cooled the air.

He could get used to days like this. And to Sam in his life.

“We're having a potluck at church tonight,” he said.

“I told you, I don't bake casseroles.” She didn't look at him, but he saw her mouth tilt upward.

“Well, then, we'll have to get you a cookbook,” he teased. “But this doesn't require that you bake a casserole. I thought you might like to go with me.”

For a long time she didn't answer. She focused on the chocolate pie on her plate for a while, then stared at the creek. Eventually she shook her head.

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

One shoulder lifted and she took another bite of pie. “People will get ideas.”

“They already have them, Sam. It isn't as if either of us are strangers to this community. They know us. They know our secrets. Not that we have any.”

“Right, they all know. You're the pastor and I'm the woman who you sinned with.”

He sat back and gave her a long look. “That came out of nowhere.”

“No, it didn't. Like it or not, that's what we have between us. The elephant in the room is a child who turned nine last month.”

What could he say to that? He could be angry. But he couldn't change anything. He'd heard that a person's present is their future. That long-ago summer had followed them both, changing them both in different ways.

The woman sitting next to him had built up walls and closed people out. She was still shutting him out of her life. But he'd meant what he said; he wouldn't walk away from his ministry.

For him it was all or nothing. He wanted her to be a part of it all.

“I'd like to not live in the past,” he ventured with some caution.

“The past is always with us. It shapes us.”

“Yes, it shapes us. It doesn't have to hold us prisoner.”

“I wish that was true,” she said softly. “I get a letter a few times each year, like a calling card from the past.”

He reached for her hand because he didn't want to lose her with these words. “Sam, she's a happy little girl with a family that loves her. That's what those letters tell me. You did a great thing. It wasn't what you wanted. It wasn't the way we would have planned. But it happened and somehow God used it for good.”

“No, it wasn't what I wanted.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “I've gone to counseling. I've told myself she's better off. I've patted myself on the back and said what a good thing I've done. I've resented you for walking away without a scratch.”

“Is that how you saw me? The guy who walked away without looking back?”

She didn't respond.

“I had scars, Sam,” he assured her. “Some were from losing you. One your brother Brody gave me when he tossed me up against the barn wall. I still have that one if you want to see. I think I hit a nail.”

A short burst of watery laughter. “Stop.”

“Because you're starting to feel better and how terrible would that be?”

“I'm not sure yet.” She finally looked at him. She had a dot of chocolate on the corner of her mouth.

“I'm sorry.”

She nodded, then leaned into his shoulder. “Me, too.”

He drew closer to her, but before he could taste that sweet corner of her mouth, she licked away the pudding. He grinned and kissed her anyway, tasting the remnant of the chocolate on her lips, loving her on so many levels it was frightening.

He loved her. And he worried they wouldn't find common ground. He didn't know if she would trust him in the hard times or keep pushing him away.

One thing he did know, a relationship couldn't work if both people weren't willing to trust and lean on each other.

But he was going to try his best to get there. With her by his side.

Chapter Sixteen

T
he picnic with Rem had left Samantha more uncertain than she'd ever been about anything. The uncertainty came from knowing that eventually she'd have to make a decision about her relationship with Remington. Because that's what it had become. Somehow over the past few weeks, he had managed to create a relationship between them that she hadn't expected.

It shouldn't have taken her by surprise. After all, he was the only one who had ever made her feel this way. With each touch, each word, each kiss, she fell further.

It wasn't as if she hadn't dated anyone since Remington. She had. But she'd always managed to hold herself back. She'd kept her heart intact because she'd been unwilling to allow anyone close enough to hurt her or to let her down.

She was cleaning up after a last-ditch attempt to get some painting done in her kitchen when Kayla appeared in her bathroom door, cell phone in hand. Sam met her reflection in the mirror.

“What's wrong?”

“It's our mom. It's Sylvia. She's had a heart attack.”

The air felt heavy, hard to breathe and static. “Okay.”

Kayla pulled the phone from her ear. “I have to go. But I don't want to go alone.”

“Brody will go with you.”

Kayla shook her head. “I want you, Sam. I know it's selfish. But I want you to go with me. I want my sister.”

“I'm not sure if I can.” She faced her sister. “Kayla, I just don't know. I mean, I guess I can go. I don't want to see her but I can be there for you.”

“That's all I'm asking.”

Just then, her cell phone rang. Sam hurried to the kitchen to answer. The cell phone vibrated across the counter. She reached for it, glancing at the caller ID as she did.

“Rem,” she answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. I just wanted to give you one last chance to come to the potluck.”

Suddenly a potluck sounded great. “I can't.”

“It doesn't require a casserole. It doesn't require anything, really.”

“I know.”

“But you can't. Or won't?”

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, wishing she could tell him how much she needed him. She opened her mouth to explain, to ask him to come with her to Dallas.

“Sam, what's going on?”

She choked on emotion, holding it together as best she could.
Tell him
, her heart urged.
Let him in
.

“I have to make a trip to Dallas with Kayla.”

“Do you need me to go with you?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. But she answered, “No, I've got this.”

“Sam, let me come with you. Make room in your life for me. For us.”

“I'm trying, Rem. This is me trying.”

“Still afraid I'll let you down?”

“Old habits are hard to break.”

“Yes, but there's that new habit we're working on, right?”

“We can't change everything with a few days spent together.”

“Fine. Call if you need me,” he said. But it sounded like a question.

She did need him, but she didn't tell him. Instead she hung up and told herself she could do this. She and Kayla could do this together.

She plugged her phone in to the charger and watched as Kayla poured a diet cola over ice and sucked it down.

“That's not good for you,” Sam warned.

“I know, but I need caffeine or I'll go crazy. Do you want to drive?”

“I'd prefer it.” If she didn't drive, she'd be forced to think about Remington, about the way he'd sounded hurt. About how much she wanted to let down her guard and let him take up residence in her heart and her life, nothing held back.

A few hours later she and Kayla were driving through Dallas. The city lights lent a glow to the dark nighttime sky. Traffic still buzzed along the main highways. Sam rolled down the windows and let fresh, humid air blow through the cab of the truck. In the passenger seat Kayla remained silent.

“You okay?”

Kayla startled and then nodded. “I'm good. We take the next exit.”

“Got it.” Sam continued to drive, trying not to think about Sylvia, about memories that her brothers had given her about the day their mother left. She'd heard the stories so many times she could picture it. But she'd been little more than a baby at the time. She'd been a toddler clinging to Jake and his twin, Elizabeth. Brody had screamed and cried, trying to go after her as she drove away.

Following the GPS directions, she pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Here we are.”

“Yes,” Kayla agreed, her tone flat. “I'm not sure why I've continued this relationship. Maybe because I worried that I'd be like her and I wanted to believe someone would be there for me.”

“You're not like her.”

Kayla got out of the truck. “How do you know?”

“From what my brothers have said, she was always this way. She didn't live thirtysome years normal and suddenly wake up unstable. She was this way even when Jake and Elizabeth were babies. Aunt Mavis said that our mother was always a little off, even as a child. She had problems, Kayla. I guess if she'd gotten help, taken medication, she might have been better. But she might not have.”

Kayla preceded her through the sliding doors. “Sometimes it's difficult not to question my own sanity.”

“I understand. But
you're
not her.
I'm
not her.”

In the past, Sam had asked the same questions about herself, though. What if she was like her mother? What if she got married, had children and fell apart someday?

No, she wasn't Sylvia Martin. She wouldn't become Sylvia. Neither would Kayla. They got off the elevator and walked down a tile-floored hallway with bright fluorescent lighting. At room 205 they stopped.

“This is it,” Kayla announced. She stood in front of the door, her hand poised to push it open.

Sam wrapped an arm around Kayla's shoulders and led her into the room. For her sister she could be the strong one. It also gave her the chance to be the detached one. She was here for Kayla. End of story.

But in a heart-stopping moment, her detachment ended. The second she looked at the woman in the hospital bed, her dark hair turning gray, her eyes hard and angry, everything changed. This pinched and drawn woman was her mother.

This was the woman who had left her little girls behind. Not because she didn't love them. Sam repeated words a therapist had once shared with her, that Sylvia might have left because she loved her children and hadn't wanted to hurt them anymore. Sylvia had loved them to the best of her ability.

That softened the reality and let Sylvia Martin off the hook. Samantha had never been in a place where she wanted to let this woman off the hook. Her own pain had been too raw, too deep. She'd needed to blame someone. That was the person who had left her alone.

“Kayla.” Sylvia reached for Kayla's hand. “Look at you, losing weight.”

“Look at you, in the hospital. How are you feeling?”

“I'm not good. They think I'm having a baby.”

Dementia or psychosis? Sylvia had self-medicated with hard drugs, leaving her with brain damage. Sam's brothers had kept her updated on their mother's condition, whether she wanted the updates or not. Kayla shuddered and Samantha put a hand on her arm to offer her strength. “Mom, I brought Sam.”

“Sam?” Sylvia shook her head, but the effort cost her and she laid back on the pillow. “I don't know Sam.”

Sam told herself it didn't matter. So what if Sylvia didn't remember her? She'd forgotten Sam long before her memory started to fade.

Kayla took the seat next to their mother's bed. “Samantha is your daughter. She was your baby before me.”

Sylvia reached for Kayla's hand. And there it was, the bond that Sylvia had with this one child. She'd left Kayla behind, too, but Kayla had sought her out and forced her to reciprocate in a relationship.

“Sam,” Sylvia whispered and she looked past Kayla to Samantha. “You were a terror.”

Sam laughed a little and it helped. It shook things loose inside her. She wiped at her eyes because she didn't want the tears to fall. “Yes. I was a terror.”

The little girl in Sam waited for her mother to say more, to apologize, to tell her she loved her and was sorry she had to leave. Sylvia never said those words. She didn't say anything. She closed her eyes and slept with Kayla holding her hand.

Sam slipped out of the room. She found a vending machine and bought snacks and bottled water for herself and Kayla. When she returned, Kayla was still holding Sylvia's hand, still talking to her as if she heard. She told Sylvia about the grandchildren she had in Martin's Crossing. She told her about Duke's No Bar and Grill. She didn't mention her own life, her family, and Sam found that troubling.

After depositing the snacks on the table next to the bed, Sam picked up a second chair and moved it close to her sister. She handed Kayla a bottle of water and pushed the snacks toward her.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Kayla picked a candy bar. “I used to dream that she'd come back to Austin, that she'd be the perfect mom and that my dad would suddenly be in love with her. We'd start a new family, the three of us.”

“I'm sorry.”

Kayla gave her a sharp look. “It's your story, too, Sam. You aren't removed from this.”

Sam grabbed a bag of chips and opened them. She was far from removed. Instead she thought of her story, Kayla's story and another little girl who would someday wonder where her own mother was. Would her little girl dream up stories of a perfect mom, a perfect dad and imagine how they would rescue her?

She shook her head. No, her daughter was happy. Marlie hadn't been abandoned; she'd been offered a family.

“Sam?” Kayla's hand settled on her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” She managed what she hoped was a carefree look.

“Right, of course you are. You're always fine, aren't you?”

Yes, she was always fine.

Until she wasn't.

* * *

Remington's phone calls were going unanswered. He'd tried Thursday and Friday to reach Sam. No man wanted to admit he was starting to feel a little desperate. But when she didn't answer, didn't call back, that's how he felt.

At Duke's on Saturday morning he spotted Brody sitting with a few local guys. He sat down at their table. Brody kicked back in his chair and reached for the cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

“How's things at the Rocking J?” Brody asked as he set his cup back on the table. “I heard you brought in a few new horses to strengthen bloodlines of your herd.”

“We bought a couple of mares and a new studhorse,” Remington admitted. But it was the last thing he wanted to discuss. Might as well get it over with. “Got him over at Stephenville. He's out of First For Cash.”

“Racing stock, nice.” Brody put a hand over his cup when Ned tried to refill it. “I've got to get home. But thanks, Ned. You're the only reason I come into this place.”

“That and free coffee,” she quipped as she filled Remington's cup. “Do you want breakfast, Rem?”

“An egg and toast. Thanks, Ned.”

“You boys are all so polite today. You'd think you were tiptoeing around a subject you're not man enough to tackle.”

“Now, Ned, give the man a break. He's sweating bullets over there,” Brody teased with a big grin over the rim of his cup.

“I'm not sweating. You asked about our new horse and I told you.”

Ned patted his shoulder. “Don't let him get under your skin.”

“No worries, Ned.”

“What about this horse of yours,” Boone Wilder asked. “What color?”

“Chestnut,” Remington answered. “How's the new business going?”

“Decent. We've been getting a few jobs a month. Lucy is on a job now,” he said, referring to Lucy Palermo, one of his partners.

“That's great, Boone. How's your folks?”

Boone's dad had suffered a serious heart attack while Boone had been in Afghanistan. The past few years had been pretty tough on the Wilder family.

“They're good. Staying strong and praying hard to keep the ranch.”

“We'll add our prayers to theirs,” Remington said.

Brody glanced at his watch and made to get up.

“Brody, about Sam...”

Brody settled back into his chair. “I wondered when we would get around to her. She's at work. Been there a few days, as far as I can tell. She's been calling, asking me to feed her animals.”

“Why is she staying there?” Remington didn't really need to ask. He figured Sam was avoiding him, avoiding her feelings about her mom and avoiding the family that wanted to help her through it all.

Remington leaned back when Ned approached with his plate and to refill his coffee.

“Working overtime,” Brody said with a shrug. “I guess they lost a nurse and Sam is taking her shifts until they can hire someone.”

“How's Sylvia?” Remington asked.

Brody shook his head. “Coma. I doubt she'll come out of it. I guess she was conscious when Sam and Kayla got there, but during the night something happened. They're doing tests but they think she had a massive stroke.”

“That's tough, Brody. I'm sorry.”

“Thank you. I guess none of us are really sure how to feel. Right now my biggest concern is Sam. She does her own thing, always has. Most of the time that keeps her lonely.” Brody stood and tossed money on the table. “Tell Ned that's for her, not for the coffee.”

Brody left. Conversation around the table skipped from topic to topic. Cattle prices, the never-ending need for rain, a truck someone had for sale. Remington took part, but his mind drifted to Sam. After breakfast he tried to call her again. She still wasn't answering.

If she was going to send him packing, she could do it face-to-face.