Some Day Somebody (41 page)

“Oh God,” she groaned. “What the hell is going on, here?” Women like her didn’t have stalkers. Actresses, models, beautiful people had stalkers, not below-poverty-level divorcees with three kids.

She cried some more, knowing this would be so much less complicated if it
had
been Dave, instead of some mysterious Marlboro smoking man with good handwriting. Dave, she could handle. “I never could count on the son of a bitch to come through when I needed him. Why should now be any different?” she sobbed to herself.  

Ten minutes later, she dried her tears, telling herself to quit being a big baby. She’d handle this. If she could put up with ‘Crazy Dave’ for nearly two decades, she could handle anything.

Carrie picked up the radio, longing for the comfort of strong arms, a big barrel chest, and that oh-so-enticing smell he wore so well. “Sam,” she groaned, wishing she could hear just one word from that resonating base. She wanted so bad to feel even one touch from his gentle hands. “Sam,” Carrie repeated, in a whisper this time. She pressed the ‘push to talk’ button ever so softly. “I think I love you,” she whispered, and released it...while Sam slept soundly.

CHAPTER 19

Carrie rose
at six-thirty, made her morning preparations, and was ready to hit the local grocery store by seven o’clock. Her three teens still slept, but Carrie woke Grant gently to let him know she was headed to the store. She grabbed her purse and keys and quietly slipped out of the house, locking the door behind her. The offensive message had been scraped off of her car’s rear windshield. Sam? She didn’t doubt it for a minute.

She was inside the toasty warm Market Basket three blocks away in two minutes. “I could get used to this,” she said, thinking of the fifteen minute drive to a grocery store from her old house. Her mouth watered from the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She followed her nose to the bakery section, knowing that’s where she’d find the complimentary coffee. After helping herself to a large cup, she took her first sip and closed her eyes in pure bliss.

“Is it that good?”

She opened her eyes, and stared up at her and Sam’s policeman neighbor. “Morning, Doug. I try not to talk to anyone before the first cup.” She glanced at his basket and grinned. “I always wondered if the cops and donuts thing was true.”

“My turn to buy for the office,” he answered. “They’re good here, if you’re interested.”

“I better not. I need to buy some real groceries and Sam’s coming for breakfast. Enjoy them, though, and thanks for helping last night.”

He shrugged. “That’s what we do. See
ya
, neighbor.”

Thirty minutes later, Carrie had the oven preheating as she unloaded several bags of groceries. The kids had brought her set of cookware and one pizza pan, so she was able to bake biscuits while frying up bacon and eggs.

She removed the pan of scrambled eggs from the burner just as Sam knocked on the door.

He walked in as she opened the door for him, and raised his nose to the air. “
Mmmm
...
Biscuits and bacon, the breakfast of champions.”
He leaned down to give her a kiss. “Good morning, pretty girl. Did you sleep well?”

She returned his kiss eagerly. “I did, thanks, and breakfast is ready.” She handed him an empty plate. “Serve yourself. You want juice or milk?”

She brought him a glass of milk and served her own plate. They stood at the snack bar to eat their breakfast and talked quietly about the day’s plans.

“I got a phone call bright and early this morning from my Mom,” Sam told her. “She and Pop would like to meet you when you’re up to it. Want to go after breakfast for coffee?”

“I guess we could,” she said, feeling a little nervous. Suddenly, she developed a new appreciation for Sam’s composure during his harrowing meet-the-family experience a day earlier.

Sam lifted a finger in warning. “Remember, Pop may speak to you in a mixture of French and English.”

“He’ll probably sound a lot like my Grandpa Hebert, my dad’s dad,” she said. “He used to mix both languages when he cussed.”

“Go on, give me an example,” he goaded. “You know you want to.”

She gave him a playful shove. “
Fils
de Putin, de la
merde
, de son of a bitch!’
That was like,
his
thing...
his
infamous string of cuss words.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Now that sounds like my old man. He loves to cuss in French.”

“We lived next door to Papa, and there were eight of us, so one of us was always getting into something we weren’t supposed too.”

“Even you?”

“
Oui
, Sam.
Moi
aussi
,” she said.
“Even me.
Usually jumping off bales of hay in the barn, or stealing one of his empty barrels to have races. Sometimes we’d have wars with berries from the big old China Ball tree in front of dad’s work shop.”

“You played war with your grandpa?”

“No, but if he got caught in the crossfire, he’d let it rip and we’d fly in all directions.”

Sam helped Carrie clean up, and within a few minutes they walked into the home of Sam’s parents.

“Hey Mom and Pop,” he said to the two older people who met them at the door. “I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet. Carrie
Jeansonne
, this is my mom, Lucia Langley.”

Sam’s mother surprised Carrie by giving her a big hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Carrie. Come on in,” she said in a thick Cajun accent. “You’re taller than I thought you’d be. About the same height I used to be before I got old and shrunk,” she said, her green eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Yes ma’am, I see where Sam gets his height. It’s wonderful to meet you,” Carrie told her.

Sam’s father, a much shorter man than Sam, stood quietly to the side with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Carrie smiled and held out her hand. “Comment ca
va
, Mr. Fred?”

The old gentleman smiled broadly, obviously pleased by her effort.
“Ca
va
bien
…ca
va
bien
!”

“Bon!” she replied.

“
Tu
parle
francaise
?” he asked.

“Petit-
peu
parle
francaise
,” she answered, and held up her fingers to indicate a
little bit.

The old man laughed and pulled a chair out for Carrie.
“Ca
c’est
bon.
Sit
tois
.”

“Carrie, would you like some coffee?” Sam’s mom asked her.

Carrie turned to her. “Yes, please.
Mais
oui
,
sil
vous
plait.” Once she’d prepared her cup she took a sip and closed her eyes in appreciation. “It’s strong like my mama’s.
Ca
c’est
du bon café’.”

The four of them passed a pleasant half hour as Carrie practiced her limited, but appreciated vocabulary of Cajun French words and phrases. After her second cup, Carrie turned to Sam and reminded him of the busy day ahead of her. She thanked the older couple and promised to visit them again.

After using Sam’s phone to set up her utilities accounts, she walked back to her own place. She entered and smiled at Grant eating breakfast at the snack bar. “We’ll have the phone by tomorrow morning.”

Grant gave her a brief nod before licking his finger. “Good food, Mom.”

“Thanks son. Hey, I have to go into Lake Coburn to do some shopping. Please don’t forget to bring Toto back with you tonight.”

“I won’t,” Grant answered. “Anything else you want us to bring from the house?”

Carrie shrugged. “Ask your dad and bring whatever he’s willing to part with. He needs it too, and there’s nothing there that’s worth fighting over.”

“You said something about gas money?” he reminded her.

She pulled two twenties from her wallet. “That’s a tank up with some left over. Lock up before you leave and drive carefully.” She gave him a hug and drove over to meet Sam.

He met her at the door with good news. “I found you a windshield and they can replace it today if you leave your car with them. I can take you shopping, and my pickup will hold a lot more than your car. I’ve seen that list of yours.”

Three hours later, Carrie pulled her car and its sparkling new windshield into her driveway.  Sam parked his truck beside her to help her unload the groceries and household items she’d dropped a bundle on. By three that afternoon, all of Carrie’s purchases were unpacked and placed, giving the place a much homier feel.

Carrie stretched on her toes to hang the last curtain rod in its bracket then stepped back to get a look at the large window, now completely covered by curtains. She nodded in satisfaction as Sam walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “The place looks great. How about I take us all to supper to celebrate?”

She leaned back and rested her head on his chest. “That would be nice. I’m too tired to cook. Is it okay if I call my kids from your phone?”

“Sure,” he said as they walked back over to his place.

Carrie dialed her old number, and stiffened when Dave answered. “Hello Dave,” she said.

“Look, before you start
raggin
’ my ass, I was at the bar with Jay last night when all that stuff happened. I didn’t do it,” Dave insisted.

“I know that.”

“Good.”

“But you could have put someone else up to it.”

“I didn’t, and as a gesture of good will, I’m sending Grant over there with five hundred dollars to fix your windshield. I don’t know how much it’ll cost, but just keep anything that’s left over. I owe you, anyway,” he said, his voice heavy with remorse.