Samantha's Gift (12 page)

“Okay, I'll do what I can. It might take some time.”

“According to Hannah, time is one thing we may not have a lot of,” Rachel countered. “Look, Sean, I know I'm no expert like you are, but even I can see that Samantha's got some king-size hang-ups. Who wouldn't? Especially since she saw the whole horrible accident.”

“If she really did,” he replied. “It's also possible that she imagined being there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Maybe because she subconsciously felt she should have been hurt, too. Or maybe because she thinks she could have saved everybody if she'd been with them.”

“What about the angel story? Do you really think she imagined all that?”

“Probably. The mind plays funny tricks under extreme stress.” He reached for Rachel's hand, meaning only to offer consolation, but the instant he touched her he knew it was more than that. Much more. An undeniable current flowed between them, connecting them in some intangible way.

She grasped his hand in both of hers and held firm,
looking up at him with misty, pleading eyes. “I want to help her, Sean. I have to. It's like she was
sent
here to me. Can you understand that?”

Understand?
Did he? From an intellectual standpoint, yes. From an emotional one, however, he had to admit he didn't have a clue. If he were to concede that there might be a Higher Power at work in anyone's life, he'd also have to acknowledge that the same Power could be affecting him. That concept was ridiculous, of course. Man was in charge of his own destiny. He, of all people, knew that. After all, he'd been just as apt as the rest of his family to lean on alcohol as an easy escape from reality, yet he'd managed to thwart those inherent tendencies. So far.

“It doesn't matter what I do or don't believe,” Sean said. “It's what you think that counts. If you want my assistance in dealing with Samantha, I'll be more than happy to help—as long as it's in the best interests of the child.”

“I'd never do anything that wasn't,” Rachel insisted.

“Not willfully, no. The only thing that worries me is how attached you're getting to her already.”

“She needs love. You can't tell me she doesn't.”

“Of course she does. We all do.” He felt Rachel's grip on his hand tighten and he laid his other hand over hers. “That doesn't mean you have to be more to her than her teacher.”

Rachel knew he was right. She also realized it was
too late to lock up her heart and keep it from responding to such obvious need as Samantha's, nor would she want to. But what about Sean's needs. What about her own? When he'd told her that everybody needed love, she'd sensed that he was speaking more from a personal standpoint than an objective one. Clearly, he needed somebody to love him unconditionally.

Not me!
she immediately countered. She already had her hands full looking after this year's class of five-year-olds and she didn't intend to take on the burden of worrying about a “lost” adult, too. Let him find his own answers, his own niche in life. Hers was already crammed with enough responsibilities to last a lifetime.

Oh, that was real Christian, Rachel,
she told herself.
What a wonderful example you make. How proud Jesus must be of you!

Ashamed of her selfish inclinations, she held tight to Sean's hands and boldly lifted her gaze to meet his. “I want to be Samantha's special friend,” she said softly, earnestly. “And yours, too.”

He didn't say anything in reply. He didn't have to. The gratitude and fondness in his expression spoke for him, leaving her so deeply touched that she wanted to open her arms and give him a hug of encouragement, of validation, the way she often did her emotionally needy students.

In Sean's case, she knew it wasn't very smart to consider putting her arms around him. It wasn't log
ical. But it was the right thing to do. And this was the right time.

Rachel didn't care if her nosy neighbors peeked through the windows, misinterpreted her actions and shouted about them from the rooftops. Sean Bates needed a hug and he was going to get one. Right now. From her. So there.

He looked a little surprised when she pulled her hands away, then responded instinctively when she slipped her arms around his waist and stepped into his embrace.

In any other context she might have fretted that her behavior would give him the wrong impression. At this moment, however, she was confident he understood.

Laying her cheek on his chest she held him close and listened to the steady beating of his heart. This was not the breathless, frantic embrace of two clandestine lovers. It was deeper. More poignant. Almost spiritual.

Rachel didn't know whether Sean was surprised or even if he was having the same kind of reaction to their closeness that she was. The only thing she was sure of was that she'd never felt this special, this safe, this
loved,
in her whole life.

I
n retrospect, Rachel wasn't sure which one of them had made the first move to relax their embrace. She only knew that they had thought and acted as one, perfectly in tune. How very unusual. How awesome!

Stepping back, she tilted her head to look up at Sean's handsome face and was astonished to see traces of moisture in his eyes. Deeply affected, without pausing to consider the possible repercussions, she lifted her hand and tenderly, lovingly, cupped his cheek.

Sean placed his hand over hers, drew it around to his lips and kissed her palm.

Unsteady, Rachel laid her free hand on his chest and felt the pounding of his heart as it raced with her own runaway pulse. Her eyes closed. Her lips parted, trembled.

Lurking unheeded in the back of her mind was the caution that she should break away, should call a halt to what was happening.

She ignored the warning. Even her most vivid fantasies had never shown her this kind of belonging, this purity of devotion and endearment. Stop it? On the contrary—she wanted this wonderful moment to go on forever!

Sean slid his hand around the back of Rachel's neck and pushed his fingers through the silky thickness of her hair. Then he tilted his head and bent to kiss her.

She put her arms around his neck and raised on tiptoe to meet him boldly. This kiss began softly, cautiously, like the one on her front porch had, then quickly intensified until she lost all sense of reality. Instead of seeing the situation clearly, she imagined herself floating off into the clouds just like one of Samantha's angels.

It was Sean who finally tore himself away. He was breathing quickly and gawking at her as if he'd suddenly discovered a total stranger sharing his embrace.

Speechless, Rachel stared up at him. The tingle that had begun in her lips now included her entire being. Nothing seemed real except Sean. Nothing mattered but him. Being near him. Touching him. Trusting him completely. She wanted to ask him a thousand questions, yet her brain refused to cooperate and empower her voice. The loss of that much self-control was so
frightening that it helped wake her up and bring her back down to earth—at least partially.

Could this be what it was like to fall in love? Rachel wondered. Or had she suddenly lost her mind? Given her usually levelheaded approach to life, she suspected the latter. A few seconds ago she had been so emotionally unstable she might have done something really stupid—and sinful—if Sean had asked.

Thank the Lord he hadn't! Which proved that Somebody Up There was still looking out for her, she reasoned, although she knew she would have been the one ultimately responsible if she'd lost control and stepped over the line. It was no use trying to shift the blame to God when free will was involved. Clearly, she must never let herself get into that kind of a situation again with any man.

Rachel drew a shaky breath as the truth hit her squarely in the heart. No other man had ever affected her the way Sean just had! None had even come close. Not even Craig Slocum, the man she'd once planned to marry. Following that line of logic, breaking up with Craig had been a blessing, not the disappointing loss she'd imagined it to be.

Her eyes widened. Her jaw gaped. She stared up at Sean, finally managing a squeaky “Oh-oh.”

“Yeah. You can say that again.”

His voice was rough, raspy. Looking flustered and embarrassed, he cleared his throat as he took a step backward. “I think I'd better be going.”

All Rachel could do was nod. She followed him through the small house and out onto the front porch. It was one thing to know she shouldn't try to stop Sean from leaving and quite another to actually keep her mouth shut and let him go. What she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and beg him to stay, to hold her and kiss her again, to make her forget everything else.

Acting on that idiotic impulse was out of the question, of course. Seeing him every day at work was going to be difficult enough after this. Letting him know that she had developed a schoolgirl crush on him would make it a hundred times worse, especially since nothing positive or lasting could ever come of a relationship between them. To encourage him romantically would be more than foolish—it would be cruel.

Seeing him heading for his car reminded her of the original reason for his visit. She shaded her eyes against the brightness of the setting sun and called, “Do you still want to borrow my hammer or my electric drill?”

Sean's laugh was coarse, self-deprecating. “No, thanks. The way I'm feeling right now, redecorating is the last thing on my mind.”

 

It only took three working days for Sean to come up with the copy of the accident report that Rachel had requested.

He was thankful he'd managed to avoid running into her at school—probably with a lot of help from her—since their last ill-fated kiss in her kitchen. Now, however, in order to properly do his job, he was going to have to stop dodging her.

He contemplated slipping the report into her school mailbox rather than handing it over face-to-face. Delivering it like an interoffice memo would be a lot easier on him.

It would also be a cop-out, he reasoned, angry with himself for even considering such a thing. Taking care of the children he'd been assigned to was his sworn responsibility. If that meant he had to face the one woman who could tie his insides in knots with a mere smile, then so be it.

Had the report been faxed to the school earlier in the day, Sean could have passed it to Rachel at lunch or on her break. Unfortunately, he didn't receive the pages until well after three in the afternoon. That meant he had to let it wait till the following morning, try to catch Rachel before she went home or follow her to her house. That third option was out of the question. However, since their time to help Samantha was rapidly running out, waiting another day wasn't fair, either.

Which meant he'd better get a move on. He started looking for Rachel on the front lawn by the bus zone. She wasn't there. Hurrying to her classroom, he tried the door. It was locked. The lights were off.

Frustrated, he wheeled and jogged toward the one other place she might be—the faculty parking lot. Until he spotted her getting into her car, he hadn't realized how relieved he'd been when he'd thought he'd missed catching up to her.

He swallowed his pride and waved. “Rachel! Wait.”

She paused and looked back, her hand on the door, one foot already inside the car. As Sean drew closer, she straightened and faced him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” He waved the loose sheets of paper while he grabbed a few quick, extra breaths. “I knew you'd want to see this ASAP.”

“What is it?”

“The police report you asked for. About Sam's parents.”

Frowning and still gripping the open door, she eyed her car as if it were a lifeboat and the parking lot had suddenly become an ocean of hungry sharks. “You can see I'm on my way home. Why did you wait this long to bring it to me?”

“Had to,” Sean said. “It just came.”

“Oh.” Rachel was chagrined. “Okay. I apologize. So, what does it say? Was Samantha in the car that day?”

“I don't know. Haven't taken the time to read it.” He held out the papers. “I've been trying to find you ever since Mary told me this fax was here.”

“Well,” Rachel said with a sigh, “come on, then. Let's go sit in the shade and read it together. Then we'll both know what it says and we can discuss it intelligently.”

“Sure.”

Only, Sean wasn't sure. Not about anything. The moment he'd sighted Rachel his heart had leapt into his throat and lodged there, cutting off half his air and leaving him thoroughly disconcerted. He knew it was impossible, yet every time he saw her she seemed prettier. More appealing. Sweeter. Each time he parted from her he'd be positive she could never improve on such absolute flawlessness. But she always did.

Falling into step behind her, he watched her graceful walk, noticed the way fine tendrils of hair had escaped from the pinned-up twist at the back of her head, saw how light her step was even though she had to be weary from a long day. He grimaced. It wasn't fair of her to look that good when he was trying so hard to do the right thing by staying away from her and not letting himself get involved.

Too late,
his conscience insisted.
You're already more than involved. You're in love with her, you dummy. Now what are you going to do about it?

Nothing,
Sean countered firmly. A woman like Rachel needed a husband who came from a normal family, a man who wasn't afraid to become a father. Someone who could give her children without wor
rying about passing on the tendencies toward alcoholism and addiction that had polluted his lineage for generations.

And she also needed someone who fit into her world a lot better than he did, he decided easily. Judging by what he'd already observed, even if he did eventually find his niche in Serenity, he'd never be one of the “natives.” That was a state of being a person was born into, not one that could be adopted.

Knowing he was right, Sean's heart ached. Some things were obviously meant to be. Others were not. It was bad enough that he'd kissed Rachel the first time. Repeating that mistake had been totally reckless. Idiotic. He'd let himself follow his heart's leading, and now he was stuck living with the consequences, the memories.

Sean sighed quietly. There was no way to undo the damage already done, but he could still protect Rachel. She'd be fine, as long as he never let on that he'd fallen head-over-heels in love with her.

 

Rachel led him into the shade of a broad oak and settled herself on one end of the bench beneath it.

Sean remained standing until she looked up at him quizzically and asked, “Why don't you sit down? You're making me nervous.”

“Okay.” With a purposely nonchalant shrug he took a seat as far from her as the bench would allow.
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, ostensibly ignoring her.

If Rachel hadn't been so engrossed in the sketchy report she was reading, she'd have stopped right then to question Sean more. For the past few days he'd been acting ridiculous, dodging her as if she were some kind of predator and he were her prey!

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. After all, she hadn't thrown herself at him. In both instances their kisses had been his idea, not hers. So how dare he avoid her as if everything that had happened between them was her fault?

The instant she finished scanning the report she thrust it toward him with a terse “Here.”

He straightened and took it. “What's the matter? Didn't you find out what you wanted to know?”

“The report says Samantha was in the car, just like she told me she was. There's no mention of any good Samaritan lending a hand, like you thought.”

“That doesn't mean there wasn't one.”

“True.”

Sean scowled over at her. “Why are you acting like you're mad at me? I didn't write the stupid report.”

“The way I feel right now has nothing to do with that report,” she countered. “It's you.”

“Me? What did
I
do?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Giving in to frustration, Rachel jumped up and began to pace in front of the
bench. “You've been treating me like I have the plague.”

“Me? You're the one who's been avoiding me!”

“I have not.”

“What about the time you got up and left the lunchroom the minute I walked in?”

“I happened to be finished eating. But how about when you were coming out of your office yesterday and I was walking by? You turned around and ducked back in, the minute you saw me.”

“I did not. I— I just left something on my desk and had to go back for it, that's all.”

“Right. And pigs can fly.”

Sean couldn't help smiling as he glanced at the sky and ducked for effect. “I sure hope not.”

“It's not funny.” Rachel was having trouble remaining irate in the face of his captivating grin.

“Yes, it is. Know what? You're really cute when you're upset.”

“Upset? Who said I was upset?”

“Are you telling me you're not? Tsk-tsk. I think your halo is slipping, Ms. Woodward.”

“If I have one, it's probably down around my ankles right about now,” she countered wryly. “I told you Christians weren't perfect. I keep trying, though.”

“If I wanted to keep you all riled up I'd tell you you're
very trying,
but since I've promised myself I'll behave when I'm around you, I won't say it.”

“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel
much
better.”

“I knew it would,” Sean said with a laugh. “And you're right. I have been avoiding you. I thought it was best.”

Rachel heaved a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. I guess we're being silly. After all, we do have to work together. There's no way we can both occupy such a small campus and not accidentally run into each other.”

“I suppose not.”

She smiled. “The past few days have been interesting, though. I almost fell this morning when you popped out of your office and I ducked into the ladies' room to avoid you. The floor had just been mopped. For a few seconds there, I thought I was going to slide into the sinks, fall down and break my—neck.”

“That sounds pretty drastic,” Sean said, “and awfully hard to explain on an accident report. I suggest we both stop acting like kids with grudges and begin behaving like sensible adults.”

Rachel pulled a face. “Aww. Do we have to?”

“I intend to try.”

“Really? You aren't going to grab me and kiss me again?”

“I certainly hope not.” He sobered. “I realize what a terrible mistake that was.”

Chin raised, she defended her wounded pride with a terse “It certainly was.”