Missionary Daddy (15 page)

“Scary probably. They had no idea what was in those woods.”

“Brave souls to venture across an ocean to an unknown world.”

“Very scary. No shopping malls.”

Her joke brought a quirk to his always eager-to-smile lips. He glanced at his watch. “Nearly noon. Hungry yet?”

“You’ve done all of the paddling. You must be starved.”

“If you don’t feed me soon, I won’t be able to row you home.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. To stay out here on the secluded river alone with Eric and never have to deal with the real world.

“There’s a little island up ahead.” She pointed at one of the many small islands dotting the vast river. “We could go ashore and have a picnic.”

“Sounds good. Two castaways on
Gilligan’s Island.
Hope there aren’t any bears.”

She feigned horror. “Why did you have to say
that?
”

Chuckling, Eric waggled his eyebrows and took up the paddles once more. With biceps flexing beneath the short sleeves of his white T-shirt, he turned the boat in a wide arc. He paddled close to the bank and Sam hopped out, grabbing the tow line. He followed, and within minutes the boat was secured to a willow weeping into the water.

Near the edge where she stood, tiny purple flowers covered a small clearing. Birds chattered in the scraggly pine trees and insects buzzed amid the low-growing tangle of Virginia creeper. The little island was pretty in a wild and rugged way.

“I forgot to bring a tablecloth,” she said. “Nowhere to sit.”

Eric stripped off his life vest. “We can sit on these.”

“Brilliant.” She peeled off the uncomfortable vest and tossed it onto the ground.

Eric was already on his haunches, pulling sandwiches out of the insulated picnic bag. He handed her one. In exchange, she handed him a soda from the ice chest and took a bottle of water for herself. They ate in hungry silence for several minutes.

After a while, Eric said, “I didn’t think I could possibly enjoy today.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s your fault, too.” He tossed the last bite of ham-and-cheese into the air and caught it in his mouth.

“Always have to blame somebody, don’t you?” she joked.

But despite the teasing words, Eric was serious. He dragged the makeshift chair close to her side. “You’re good for me, Sam.”

She didn’t dare return the compliment. Not here on this isolated and decidedly romantic island.

“I want to ask you something,” he said softly, seriously.

Sam’s pulse skittered. “If more shopping is on your agenda, I’m your girl.”

“Are you?” he asked. “My girl?”

The word
yes
formed in the back of Sam’s throat, but she trapped it there.

Taking her water bottle, she leaped up and said, “This place is beautiful. Let’s explore.”

Eric’s look was puzzled, curious, but he pushed up, dusted his hands down the sides of his camouflage shorts and followed.

When he captured her hand, she gave up the fight. She could no more resist Eric today than she could swim the length of this river.

“You want to explore the woods?” he asked, eyeing the dense underbrush ahead.

“Probably not. Bears, you know.”

“And chiggers.” He scratched at an imaginary bug bite.

They made a turn and sauntered around the edge of the island near the water. Insulted frogs leaped into the shallows at their approach.

Eric pointed at a felled tree. “Beavers have been here.”

They stopped to investigate and Sam perched on the downed birch. Dying leaves rustled with the sudden downward movement. She looked up to find Eric standing above her, one hand braced on an adjoining tree trunk.

Her heart fluttered in response to the intense look in his chocolate eyes. If only…

Before she could finish the thought, Eric dipped as if to kiss her. She stopped him with fingers pressed to his lips. If he kissed her today, she might forget her resolve.

“We need to head back.”

Again that quizzical expression. “Did I do something?”

“Of course not. Never.” That was the last thing she wanted him to think. “It’s my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

Everything. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she leaned forward to push at the tangle of grass and brambles rubbing her skin. “My legs are getting scratched.”

“Ah.” And then his serious mood passed and he squatted beside the log. “Piggyback ride back to the boat?”

She shook her head. “Silly.”

“Come on. Let me play the hero.” He backed toward her and patted the tops of his shoulders. “Hands right there and off we go.”

He would always be her hero, and she would never forget this lighthearted, lovely day. Refusing to regret one moment of joy with Eric, she climbed onto his back and clung like a monkey.

He took off in a gallop, intentionally bouncing her around. Once he headed straight for an overhanging limb, but at the last minute dodged sideways to miss it. Her laughter blended with his and echoed out across the deserted island.

When they reached the picnic site, he knelt like a camel. As she dismounted, Sam patted the top of his head and said, “Good horsey.”

“What? No tip?”

“Sorry, the service wasn’t that good.”

“The least you could do was feed me another cookie.”

“Glutton.” Sam poked the peanut-butter cookie between his teeth and began collecting their belongings.

When Eric helped her into the boat, he held on a little longer than necessary, smiling softly into her eyes.

Her rib cage expanded with the interesting mixture of contentment and anxiety. If only today could last forever.

He took up his paddle and this time she joined him, eager to work off lunch. Funny that she’d eaten two cookies and hadn’t even counted the calories.

“I wonder where the kids are?” Eric asked.

“Probably back at the center still congratulating themselves.”

“I’m glad they pulled it off.”

“Me, too.” She’d always have the memory of today.

“Even if I do this?” He flipped a few water droplets in her direction.

“Bully.” She dipped her fingers into the water and returned fire.

“Wimp.” He pulled the paddle into the boat and shook the droplets in her direction. Then, grin mischievous, he scooped a handful of the James, threatening.

Sam backed as far away as possible, which wasn’t far in the small canoe. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare? Did you say
dare?
” Flinging the water away, he came toward her. The boat rocked from side to side, but Eric was a sure-footed sailor, balancing perfectly. He loomed over her. “My middle name is
dare.
”

Shrunk up into her end of the boat, Samantha laughed and slapped at the water, ineffectively splashing them both.

Eric lunged. At the same time, Sam feinted to the left to escape. Without considering the consequences, she dipped under his arm and sprang up behind him. Eric spun and the narrow canoe rocked wildly. Arms out to each side, Sam flailed in the air looking for a handhold and finding none.

“Oh, no!” she cried.

And just as she thought she would go overboard, two strong arms caught hers. After a precarious moment while the boat teetered and Eric fought to maintain balance for both of them, they tumbled down, sitting hard on the damp floor of the boat.

A wave, caused by the near mishap, washed overboard. Sam yelped at the sudden slosh of cold water against her skin, heated from the warm day.

“You okay?” Eric’s face was so close she could count the gold flecks in his eyes. A glint of humor danced in their depths.

“I thought we were going for a swim.”

“We still can,” he said, teasing.

“You first.”

He laughed. His warm breath, smelling sweet from the cookie, brushed over her mouth. She suppressed a shiver, both dismayed and intrigued to discover how quickly her mind went from taking a cold plunge to longing for a warm kiss.

“You have mud right here.” He touched a place along her cheekbone, the calloused bed of his fingers a pleasant contrast to her carefully tended skin.

He studied her face thoroughly, as if she were a work of art. The tilt of his mouth intrigued her, playful, tender, quizzical.

In the depths of his amused eyes, she saw something else.

Her blood started to hum, a special melody that only played when Eric was this close. She should move, should disentangle her arms from his, should scoot back to her end of the boat, but she didn’t.

“Eric,” she said softly. “Maybe we should—”

But before she could finish the thought, his lips closed over hers. Her heart bumped hard against her ribs. Something exquisite and tender washed through her as Eric’s strong arms held her and his fabulous mouth kissed her.

She reveled in the moment, letting her own feelings flow out. She had traveled the world and made a small fortune, but in Eric she found what she needed most. Someone to love.

Now that it was too late.

With great reluctance, she ended the sweet kiss. But Eric didn’t let her go. Heart in his eyes, he watched her.

“I love you, Sam. So much. I want—”

Suddenly afraid, realizing her mistake, she placed her hand over his mouth to stop the flow of words that would break both their hearts. He’d been moving toward this moment all day. She should have realized as much. Maybe she had. But she had no better idea of how to handle it now than she had last night.

In usual Eric fashion, he nipped her fingertips, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm. Her heart turned over with it.

“I love you, Sam,” he said again, very serious now. “I’ve loved you since that first day in Africa.”

Her brain chanted,
No, no, no.
Not now. Not when she’d already set today as her last special memory of the man she’d fallen in love with. Oh, how she wanted to admit she loved him, too. To forget the reason why she couldn’t. But she wouldn’t do that to Eric. She loved him too much. She also knew what he would do if she shared her secret now. In his knight-in-shining-armor manner, he would say it didn’t matter. Sam knew better. Eric wanted a house full of kids. He deserved to have his dreams come true. Letting him settle for less would be the most selfish act of all.

“No,” she murmured and watched his happiness fade. Watched hurt and disappointment take its place. “You can’t love me. I can’t love you.” How did she explain without lying? At a loss, she said, “I’m sorry.” He would never know how much. “But it’s impossible. We can’t. I can’t.”

Eyes glued to hers, he slowly loosened his hold and leaned away. “Are you saying you don’t have any feelings for me? Because I’m going to have a real hard time buying that.”

Everything in her wanted to tell the truth, that she was crazy about him. That she wanted to be with him. That she’d give up her career, her money, anything to be the woman he thought she was.

Instead she said, “I care for you, Eric. You know that. We’re friends, but love, well, I’m not ready for love.”

And she never would be.

“I don’t believe you. Come on, Sam. Talk to me. What’s going on? Why the sudden change of heart?”

She wasn’t ready for that question, either. Insides trembling, she looked away, staring into the glimmering wake of the ancient James. She hated herself. Finally, she grasped the only acceptable excuse. “My work. I need to get back to it.”

Which was true in a sense. Her career screamed for attention and without that platform of celebrity, who would listen to her crusade against eating disorders?

“Your work? Modeling?” Bitterness edged his words. She knew without a doubt that her answer verified his original impression—that she was every bit as shallow as he’d thought.

She fought down the fire of sorrow threatening to spill tears enough to capsize the boat. Years of pretending to be fine took control.

“My agency is howling for me to get back to work, and Style Fashions is pressing me to do more appearances. There’s no room in my life for a serious relationship. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression about…us.”

“Sorry?” He looked at her another long, painful minute while overhead an osprey cried. “Yeah. So am I. Real sorry.”

And then face set like stone, he took up the paddle and brought them back to reality.

E
ric felt like an idiot.

The Sunday lunch crowd filled the Starlight Diner with lively chatter while smells of home cooking tantalized the senses. Normally, Eric enjoyed coming here after church. Today, however, he’d come alone instead of with friends. The last thing he wanted to do was socialize and pretend everything was all right.

He’d made a fool of himself. How could he be so stupid as to think someone like Samantha Harcourt would choose him over the lifestyles of the rich and famous? Just because he’d led her to Christ didn’t mean she’d fall in love with him.

But he thought she had. He thought she felt the same. She gave every indication that he was someone special.

Her words echoed in his head. Friends. She wanted to be friends.

No thanks. He had plenty of friends. He wanted a partner, a love, a mother to his children, as well as a best friend.

But hadn’t she once claimed to want those things, too? Had he totally misunderstood her?

Sandra Lange sashayed over to refill his tea glass. Eric nodded his thanks.

“Something wrong with the roast beef?” she asked, her kind eyes studying his nearly untouched plate.

“It’s great.” He tapped his belly. “Not too hungry today.”

“Uh-oh. Problems?”

He blinked up, taking in her familiar monogrammed blouse and pink apron. Being a bachelor, he ate here often and considered Sandra a pleasant acquaintance. But she wasn’t close enough for Eric to share his heart trouble.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Maybe a carry-out box for later?”

“Sure thing.” She winked and zipped away, filling tea glasses as she went.

In the back of the room, directly in Eric’s line of vision, Sandra stopped to chat with a table of familiar faces, one of whom was his co-worker and Sandra’s biological daughter. Kelly had been stolen from Sandra as a newborn by Barnaby Harcourt and adopted illegally. Ever since it was discovered that Sandra was Kelly’s mother and her biological father had been the former mayor, Sandra and Kelly had formed a nice friendship. But Eric sometimes wondered about the ache Sandra must carry in her heart for missing out on raising her only child.

Like the one in his heart for Matunde and Amani.

Kelly was joined by Anne Williams, Meg Talbot Kierney and Leah Cavanaugh. If their laughter was any indication, they were in a much better frame of mind than he was.

He turned his attention to a James Dean poster.

Yesterday at the river, Sam’s kiss had said she cared for him. But her words had said she didn’t. He’d known all along her career was important, but she’d also claimed to be restless and dissatisfied with the lifestyle. Reevaluating, she’d said.

His mouth twisted in self-derision. Apparently, she’d finished the evaluation and decided to go back to the bright lights and the big city.

“Eric. Hey, buddy, what’s going on?”

Ross Van Zandt slid into the booth opposite him.

Ross was a friend, but today Eric wasn’t in much of a mood for talk, nor was he good company. He should have gone directly home from church instead of coming here. But he’d hoped the surroundings would cheer him up. They hadn’t.

“Nothing much.” An understatement. His entire life was on hold right now. Sam and the boys no longer part of the future he’d dreamed of. “How about you?”

“Came to pick up my wife, but as you can see, she’s not quite ready to go home and put up her feet. They’re planning a baby shower for Rachel.”

Kelly was a strong and independent woman. Eric thought it a bit odd that her husband would have to drive her home from a meeting with friends, unless…

“Is something wrong? Something going on at the agency I don’t know about?”

Ross frowned and ran a hand over his perpetual five-o’clock shadow. “Nothing definite, but I stopped by earlier to make sure the building was secure.”

“And was it?”

Ross nodded. “It was. But I had an eerie feeling, as though someone was watching, waiting.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Only Florence, but that’s pretty normal. She prefers to polish floors when the offices are closed.”

“Understandable.” Although the cleaning woman was not Miss Congeniality, she was efficient and dependable. “Kelly hasn’t gotten another threatening letter, has she?”

“No. Thank the good Lord. But this undercurrent of hostility from some unknown force feels like déjà vu all over again.”

“No clue yet to who’s responsible?”

“None.” Ross’s jaw tightened. “But they’d better walk softly around Kelly. I won’t allow a repeat of last time.”

Eric had no doubt the private investigator was not just blowing smoke. He’d do whatever it took to protect his pregnant wife. Whoever the troublemaker was had no idea how formidable an opponent he could face.

Before Eric could comment further, the door to the diner opened and all thought of the agency problems flew out into the afternoon sun. Ross’s voice faded into the background noise of the busy diner as Sam, with her sister and nephew, entered the diner.

Drop-dead gorgeous in some kind of gauzy print dress and high heels, Sam didn’t see him right away. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Ashley said something to Sam, who nodded, and the pair of women started toward the empty booths behind him.

Heart in his throat, Eric didn’t know where to look. What to do. How to react.

He considered a quick trip to the men’s room, but before he could make his excuses to Ross, Sam spotted him. Her perfect smile faded. Something—was it pain or his imagination?—flickered across her face. She faltered, slowing. Then, short of outright rudeness, she had no choice. She stopped at his table.

“Eric,” she said softly. “Hi.”

“Sam.” He swallowed, at a loss. What did you say to a woman who’d broken your heart?

Her eyes searched his. “You okay?”

Pride made him say, “Great. Couldn’t be better.”

She shifted, as uncomfortable as he was. “Well, nice seeing you.”

At his curt nod, she whirled away, disappearing to the farthest corner out of his line of sight. He blew out an audible sigh.

Ross cleared his throat. Eric had all but forgotten the private investigator.

“That was weird. And uncomfortable. I thought you two were a hot item.”

“Past tense.” Eric’s jaw tightened with anger. “Her career got in the way.”

“Her career? Wait a minute. She told Kelly she planned to cut back on her schedule and work from here. In fact, I think
settle down
were the words she used.”

Interesting.

“I guess she changed her mind. About me anyway.”

Ross shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t add up. She and Kelly were talking about babies, of course.” He grinned. “That’s all Kelly talks about anymore. And Sam said she longed to have a family of her own but didn’t know if it was possible.”

Eric narrowed his eyes, puzzled. “What did she mean by that?”

“I figured you’d know better than I would. According to the grapevine—” Ross’s grin deepened “—mostly a bunch of teenagers who volunteer at the agency, Sam’s crazy about you.”

“I thought she was. Or maybe it was only wishful thinking because I was crazy about her. Still am.”

“Maybe it’s my suspicious detective nature,” Ross said, “but the conversation between Sam and Kelly was very recent. Like this week. At the doctor’s office. How could she change her mind that fast?”

“Sam didn’t say anything about seeing a doctor.” Was she sick? He looked toward the back of the room, trying without success to see her. It would be just like Sam to hide a terrible sickness from him, to spare him. Hadn’t she hidden the anorexia from everyone she loved?

His mind went crazy with possibilities. She was so thin. What if she had cancer or some other terminal illness? Wouldn’t she try to spare him? Wouldn’t she bravely go it alone?

“Woman’s doctor,” Ross said, bringing him back to reality.

“Oh.” One of Ross’s comments kept fluttering around the edges of his mind like a bird beating against a windowpane. If she wasn’t sick, and yet she’d told Kelly a few days ago that she wanted to settle down in Chestnut Grove, what had changed her mind?

The day of Sam’s appearance on
Afternoons with Douglas Matthews
dawned rainy and muggy. After fielding a call from her agent, three from Matthews’s staff, and still another from the advertising guru of Style Fashions, she’d chosen an outfit she hoped would suit all of them. Style wanted her in their clothes, of course, and expected a healthy dose of free publicity.

The television program was broadcasting live from the Starlight Diner. Douglas Matthews and his staff were smart. They knew very well the down-home, nostalgic appeal of the 1950s-style restaurant. If the show was indeed trying to impress the networks, this program could very well do the trick.

The small diner was always busy, but today it was jammed with people. A section of the diner carried on with business as usual. Waitresses and customers looked on with bug-eyed curiosity at the other side, which had been cordoned off for the live interviews. Outside the large windows, passersby peeked in, waving or offering the peace sign in hopes of being on TV.

From previous experience, Sam knew the general workings of a program like this. The crew had spent all morning in preparation, filming promo pieces and intros. She, fortunately, had missed out on all that. Her part was brief. Show up a little early for the mike check, look nice, plug Style and talk. And with the Lord’s help, her talk would be the start of something important.

In a beehive of activity, a production crew set up the sound and video equipment, checking and rechecking with multiple tests. A gaggle of staffers and fans fluttered around the charming talk-show host, who seemed to love the attention.

Sam, who had been on television before, was not overly impressed with all the hubbub. Celebrities like models and movie stars were ordinary people doing a high-profile job. The real heroes of the world were men like Eric who sacrificed fortune and comfort for the sake of others.

Moving deeper into the noisy diner, her gaze drifted to the booth where she’d last seen Eric. When she had glanced up to see him there, looking exactly as she’d felt, she’d nearly crumbled.

She’d wanted so badly to sit down with him and pour her heart out. To explain that she’d broken it off not because she didn’t love him, but because she did.

Sam forced a smile, lest some camera catch a candid shot of her melancholy. After noting that all staffers were busy, she headed toward the talk-show host himself.

Douglas Matthews, one hand in his slacks pocket, now stood talking to
Gazette
reporter Jared Kierney. Sam figured Jared was writing a story on the popular talk-show host and the persistent rumor that his program was about to go national. According to her agent, the rumor was true and that was why Style wanted her to appear. It was also why Douglas had asked her. The “hometown girl made good” angle meant for strong ratings.

As she approached the men, Jared was saying, “The
Gazette
thought you might be interested in airing a program in conjunction with the series of articles I’ve been working on.”

Matthews tilted his golden head, a perfect component to his artificial tan. She had to hand it to the man. He was nice-looking with a certain charisma about him.

“And what series would that be?”

“The one on Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency,” Jared answered. “They’ve gotten a bad rap because of misdeeds that occurred long ago. Together we could bring the truth out into the open.”

Matthews’s charming, capped-toothed smile evaporated. “I wouldn’t be at all interested, Mr. Kierney.”

“Why not? The public is fascinated by the stories. Combining our audiences would be an excellent deal for both of us, as well as for Tiny Blessings.”

Douglas’s blue eyes went arctic. His hands fisted at his sides. “I said no. And I mean no. Adoption is a private matter. Reporters and private investigators should stop sticking their noses into other people’s private lives.”

Before Jared could say more, the talk-show host whirled and stalked off. The fawning staff members closed around him immediately, but he barked out, waving them away. Surprised at the uncharacteristic behavior, they shrank back.

“I don’t think he appreciated your suggestion,” Sam said.

Jared raked a hand through his hair, expression speculative. “No kidding.” And then as if he had only just recognized her presence, he added, “Hello Sam. What are you doing here?”

“I’m on the show today.”

Jared’s eyebrows shot up. “Score one for Matthews.”

Sam didn’t comment on that. “I wonder why he was so rude. Your idea was a good one.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has an opinion about the adoption scandals. Now we know his.”

Sam considered that good news. At least Douglas wouldn’t question her on screen about the Harcourt family’s part in all the trouble.

“I don’t think I’ve met your friend,” she said, smiling at the pretty brown-haired woman standing silently next to Jared.

“My apologies, ladies. Sam Harcourt, meet Lori Sumner. Lori is a colleague of mine at the
Gazette,
a crack reporter. If I don’t watch out she’ll have my job.” He smiled to let them know he teased.

The women exchanged pleasantries and then Sam asked, “Are you going to be working here in Chestnut Grove?”

“Some,” Lori said. “When Jared is on other assignments. I’m really interested in the adoption issue, which is why I came along today. I’m in the process of adopting a little girl myself. We were hoping to convince Matthews to let me work with his staff on a mutually beneficial program. Maybe several if the public responded well.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

They all looked toward the talk-show host, who had regained his composure and was chatting amiably with a man wearing headphones around his neck.

“Miss Harcourt.” A bespectacled woman carrying a clipboard approached her. “I’m Phyllis, Mr. Matthews’s assistant. He’s asked me to make sure you have everything you need. It will be a while until you’re on. Would you like to wait in Mr. Matthews’s dressing trailer? It’s very comfortable, air-conditioned with all amenities. We could have lunch brought out to you.”