Love Lies Bleeding (18 page)

I
stroll along the lane, smiling at the people I meet. Vacationers. I lower my head so they can’t see the amusement on my face. They remind me of ants scurrying this way and that without purpose, looking for any morsel to cart back to the anthill. They try to make memories, try to find excitement, something that they can trot out once they’ve returned to their mundane existence to convince themselves that their sad little lives have some sort of meaning. But they’re wrong. Their lives have no passion, and without passion there is no life.

I lift my head, the walkers now safely away from me. My smile fades. That’s one thing I have to give her—at least she had passion. Maybe it led her and those around her to destruction, but she did live her life. She didn’t run or hide from it. Not like Samantha.

Ah, Samantha—that little mouse, hiding away, thinking she’s safe. She wouldn’t know passion if it hit her on the head. Oh, wait, that already happened, only it was a tire iron. I smirk. It’s too bad that she survived. It would’ve been better if her sorry life had ended then. But again, her life had already ended. It was over when she allowed her art to be stripped away from her. Since that time, as far as I’m concerned, she’s only been going through the motions, and her actions only show how powerless she is.

I’m near the cabin now and I stop and take stock. Yes, Samantha is weak, but I’m not. I’m strong. The weak exist as prey for the strong. And prey on her I will. She is worthless, but Lawrence Moore isn’t. The way I was treated was so unfair and I resent my forced retreat into a life I didn’t choose. I allow myself a sly smile. But with a man like Lawrence Moore backing me, no one would stand against me. If I could only figure out a way to take Samantha out of the equation.

A frown replaces my smile. I see a problem—a six-foot blond problem. Anne Weaver is gaining an influence over Samantha. And that just wouldn’t do. In order for any kind of a plan to work, I need Samantha to be dependent on me, not on Anne. So how can I squelch this?

An idea comes to me. I may not know Anne well, but well enough to know her vulnerable spot. Her son, Caleb. Caleb could be the tool to undermine Samantha’s trust.

Hmm. I turn and walk back the way I came. Not ready to go home yet—I need to think. The seed of a plan begins to take root, and I hum to myself as I consider the possibilities.

Chapter Sixteen

W
hen they arrived at the lake, Anne and Sam picked up Roxy and drove the short distance to Sam’s cabin. Anne hadn’t mentioned the tunic since they left the store and Sam hadn’t either. Sitting next to Anne, Sam slid her eyes toward her. She had surprised herself. The anxiety that she’d felt for so long hadn’t been present during their shopping. She’d had fun. Had Anne? Her whole attitude over the tunic perplexed Sam. It was only seventy-five dollars, not as if she’d offered to buy her some designer bag for thousands. She really hoped that once they reached the cabin, Anne wouldn’t insist that Sam take it back.

Pulling up in front of the cabin, Sam gathered up her purchases and turned to Anne. “Greg’s well informed about dogs. How long has he worked for the animal shelter?”

Anne lifted a shoulder. “About five years.”

“What did he do before that?”

“Um,” Anne said, squirming, “he was a vet.”

“Really? Here?”

“No, in the Cities.”

“Does he have a practice up here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Anne hesitated as she pushed the car door open. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Getting out of the car herself, Sam opened the door for Roxy and, grabbing her leash, followed Anne. “You make it sound like it’s a secret.”

“No, it’s not,” Anne said, her voice short, “but it’s Greg’s story to tell, not mine.”

Subject closed . . . together they walked to the cabin. Once inside, Sam carried her new clothes back to her bedroom with Roxy hot on her heels. She’d opened the closet door when Roxy wheeled and ran barking down the hall. Sam hurried after her. She rounded the corner to see Jackson and Fritz standing in the kitchen. Fritz’s face wore an amused look as he watched Roxy carry on while Jackson, his expression tight, admonished the dog to be quiet. Noticing Sam, Jackson pointed at Roxy.

“Get her to shut up, will you!” he exclaimed.

“Shh,” Sam said with a snap of her fingers. The dog immediately stopped her barking and came to Sam’s side. Sam gave Jackson a triumphant look.

“You’d better teach her some manners,” he grumbled. “We can’t have her carrying on every time we have guests.”

Fritz chuckled and held out his hand for Roxy to sniff. She approached him cautiously. “I’m sure she’ll adapt, Jackson,” he said. Squatting, he stroked her head. “Greg’s very particular about his strays and he wouldn’t have let Sam adopt this one if he hadn’t thought she’d provide a good home.”

Jackson eyed the dog skeptically, while Sam felt a rush of gratitude toward Fritz. It seemed that someone, other than Greg, had confidence in her.

“One thing about having a dog,” Fritz continued. “No one will approach the cabin without Sam being aware of it.”

“Lawrence isn’t going to like this,” Jackson muttered under his breath, but Sam caught it.

She cocked her head, her eyes drilling into him. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, still staring at the dog. Suddenly his demeanor shifted and he lifted his head, smiling at her. “Did you have fun shopping?”

Okay,
she thought,
he’s making an effort. I will, too.
Relaxing, she smiled back at him. “Yes, and I found the perfect dress for tonight.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought there’d be much of a selection around here.”

Sam’s irritation sparked. “Why? Because we’re not in the Cities?”

Before Jackson could answer, Fritz broke in, turning to Anne, leaning against the counter. “Are you available tonight?”

Sam grinned. Anne was invited.

“See? Aren’t you glad—” she began.

“Megan can’t help serve tonight, so I’m shorthanded,” Fritz interrupted, dashing Sam’s excitement. “Would you be able to come at six?”

Anne opened her mouth to answer, but Sam didn’t give her a chance. “Fritz, I invited Anne to accompany us,” she said, smiling sweetly. “You said ‘the more the merrier,’ didn’t you?”

“Well, yes—”

Sam crossed to Jackson and linked her arm through his.
You’d better back me up on this,
she thought, keeping her attention on Fritz. “I haven’t been out much and I tire easily,” she explained. “With Anne there, Jackson can enjoy the party without worrying about me. Isn’t that right, dear?” she finished looking up at him.

Jackson hesitated, then looking down at Sam, he smiled. “I always worry about you, darling, but I think it’s an excellent idea,” he said, returning his attention to Fritz. “Not for my sake, but for Sam’s. She hasn’t had a chance to get acquainted with that many people around the lake, so I think having Anne at her side will make her more comfortable.” He turned on a charming smile. “That is, if you don’t mind?”

Pleased and grateful for his support, Sam gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Of course not,” Fritz said graciously. “It will be fun having you as a guest, Anne.”

“Thank you, Fritz,” Anne replied, shooting Sam a knowing look. Shoving away from the counter, she glanced at the clock. “I’d better get home.”

“I think I left one of Roxy’s toys in the backseat,” Sam said smoothly. “I’ll walk you to the car.”

Once they were off the porch and out of earshot, Anne whirled on her. “Why did you do that? I’ve never been to one of Fritz’s parties as a guest.”

Sam snorted. “It’s about time that you were, then.”

“I don’t move in Fritz’s social circle,” Anne argued.

“Greg will be there, won’t he?”

“If he doesn’t change his mind at the last minute,” Anne grumbled.

With a wink, Sam gave her arm a friendly poke. “Make sure he doesn’t.” Her tone grew serious. “Please come—I haven’t been among strangers for a long time, and it would be nice to have at least a couple of friendly faces there.”

“Jackson will be with you.”

Sam shook her head. “Jackson’s like a butterfly at these things—flitting from group to group. And now . . .” Her voice trailed away as her attention moved down to her leg. “I don’t know if I’m up to that.”

Anne stopped at the car and placed her arms on the roof. “Okay, I’ll go, but I’m going to be nervous the whole time.”

Sam chuckled. “Good—we can be nervous together.”

In the bathroom, Jackson stood in the doorway watching Sam as she applied her makeup. His eyes met hers in the mirror. A lazy smile lit his face, and in the mirror, Sam saw that he was holding both hands behind his back.

Pushing away from the door, he strolled toward her.

She turned and returned his smile. “What?” she said with a teasing note in her voice.

He took a strand of her short hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to a party.” Withdrawing his other hand from behind his back with a great flourish, he presented Sam with a long, black velvet box.

“Jackson,” Sam said with a sigh, “you didn’t need to buy me a gift.”

“I thought the occasion needed a little something special.”

Quickly Sam opened the box and her eyes widened. A bracelet made of tiny interlocking gold leaves nestled inside. Sam held it up to the light with trembling fingers.

“The pattern is so delicate,” she gasped. “It’s gorgeous.”

Jackson took the bracelet from her and fastened it on her wrist. He finished by pressing a kiss to the soft skin above the clasp.

“Thank you,” she said with a quick peck to his cheek.

Pleased, he smiled more widely. “Do you remember last fall, when we were at my old house, going over the restoration plans with the contractor?”

“Yes,” she replied, staring at the bracelet. “After he left, we took a walk through the hills behind the house—through the woods. The leaves had turned, and I remember how beautiful and peaceful it was.” She looked up at him. “We were so happy.”

Jackson ran a finger over the tiny leaves. “When I saw this, it reminded me of that day.” Placing a knuckle under her chin, he lifted it. “We can be that way again.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. Now,” he said, and gave her bottom a playful slap, “finish getting ready and let’s go party.”

She moved away from the mirror and headed toward the bedroom. Jackson followed.

“You surprise me,” he said abruptly.

Sam halted. “How?”

“Your relationship with Anne. A short time ago, you didn’t want her here, and now—”

“I thought you and Dad wanted me to cooperate,” she interrupted.

“We do, but your turnaround is unexpected. Not that we aren’t pleased, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated, and continued to the bedroom. Jackson stopped at the doorway, watching her.

Sam went to the closet and removed her dress. Laying it out on the bed, she stole a glance at Jackson over her shoulder. “I know my change of heart seems abrupt, but Anne really is good at her job and she doesn’t let me slide.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

Sam whirled in surprise. “You suppose?”

Jackson leaned against the door. “We weren’t happy that she let you take that fall. Your father—”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “That wasn’t her fault.”

“She should’ve anticipated what happened.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sam scoffed, tightening the belt of her robe.

“And I’m sure your father is going to hold Anne responsible for your adopting that dog,” he grumbled.

“Anne had nothing to do with it,” Sam answered, tossing the rest of her clothes on the bed. “And Roxy isn’t
that dog
—she has a name.”

Jackson pushed away from the door and took a step. “You know, if your father does object to
Roxy,
it isn’t too late to give her back. I know a breeder of cute little Pomeranians,” he said hopefully.

“Like Marcy Crane’s dog?”

Jackson missed the note of warning in Sam’s voice. “Yes.” Smiling, he took another step. “A dog like that might fit into our lifestyle better,” he said, his attention moving to Roxy, lying on the bed.

Sitting down next to the dog, Sam laid a hand on her head. Roxy’s tail beat the mattress. “Marcy’s dog snarls and nips every time anyone gets close.”

“And your dog doesn’t?” he asked.

Catching the tone in Jackson’s voice, Roxy lifted her head and stared at him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she laid it back down and her eyes closed. Sam had the impression that the dog didn’t think Jackson’s comparison mattered. She agreed. Marcy’s dog was aggressive, but Roxy barked only when someone surprised her, and she had never tried to bite.

Rising quickly, Sam felt her vision suddenly blur as black dots danced across her line of sight. Plopping down, she rubbed her forehead.

Jackson hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She let her hand fall and stood again, more slowly this time. “A dizzy spell. I’m okay now.”

He stepped aside, allowing her to cross to the dresser. Opening the drawer containing her underclothes, she sighed. “Roxy’s going to be fine. She’ll quiet down, and once she gets over her nervousness around you, you’re going to love her as much as I do.”

Jackson eyed the dog skeptically.

With a shake of her head, Sam selected her underwear and moved back to the bed. Sinking down, she threw an arm over Roxy. “She makes me feel safe,” she said defensively. “So safe that I didn’t have nightmares last night.”

Jackson strolled over to the nightstand and picked up Sam’s bottle of medication. “Did you consider it might be the meds, and not the dog?”

“I know it’s not the pills,” she argued. “I forgot—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

His eyes narrowed as he opened the bottle and, shaking them out in his hand, quickly counted them. “You haven’t been taking them,” he accused as he returned them to the bottle.

“I have a couple of times,” Sam answered, stretching the truth. In reality, she hadn’t taken one since the night she’d seen the woman on the dock.