Strangers in Paradise (29 page)

Sam clenched his jaw, and his hands tightened into fists. “It was all over the news—another terrorist incident. Mom and Dad heard about it in Germany, but they had no idea, of course, that the tragedy had anything to do with me.”

“You weren't with them?”

Sam shook his head, eyes dulled and faraway. Cassie had all but forgotten that she wasn't going to look into his face anymore.

“I was in New Jersey. I'd been there a couple of years, working with a guy who's restoring old houses. I came home from work one day to a call from an attorney in Delaware—which is where the Glorys lived when they weren't on assignment somewhere in the Third World. Their will named me Mariah's legal guardian.”

“You didn't know that?” Cassie was confused. Apparently, he hadn't been able to make a go of marriage with this Moira, either. It must have complicated things when she'd married his good friend—not that Cassie wanted to hear anything about that. But wouldn't he, as Mariah's natural father,
expect
to have custody of her in the event her mother could no longer care for the child?

Sam nodded. “I knew,” he said hoarsely. “I just didn't think there'd ever be a need....”

His voice broke off, and he lowered his chin as though holding back deep emotion. He'd loved the woman so much?

Another stab of pain left Cassie feeling weak and tired.

“When I got to Afghanistan to collect Mariah, she was this silent huddle with big frightened eyes.” He paused. “Immediately after the funeral, I moved into the Glorys' home and began adoption proceedings. I tried to make her life as normal as possible, surrounding her with familiar things, but she hasn't responded very much. She's been in counseling since the beginning, but there's only so much medical science can do. She's suffering emotional pain, not some kind of chemical imbalance they can medicate. There is no diagnosis of a disease. There are always medications, of course, but some things you have to come out of naturally, on your own. Mariah has to
want
to return to us.”

“So she hasn't spoken at all?”

“Not a word.”

“Not even when she saw you?”

Sam shook his head.

“It's obvious she adores you.”

“We've always been close,” Sam said softly, almost apologetically, as his eyes met Cassie's. “Without you, she was my only shot at having a child in my life.”

Cassie ignored the first part of that statement. “You and her mother split before she was born?”

“Her mother and I were never together,” he said, his expression gentle. “At least, not in any child-making sense. Mariah's not my biological daughter, Cass.”

The breath slowly left Cassie's lungs. She felt dizzy, light-headed. But not relieved. Whether or not Sam had had sex with Mariah's mother made no difference to her; he'd certainly had sex with other women.

At least one while he and Cassie were married.

Because she didn't know what else to do, Cassie sat and listened while Sam told her about his best friends, the Glorys. All three of them—Brian, who was full-blooded Chippewa, Moira, a Peace Corps brat, and Sam—had met when they'd been leaving for a two-year stint overseas as Peace Corps volunteers.

Mariah's name came from a song she'd always loved. It referred to the wind. Sam said Mariah blew into their lives unexpectedly, but that she was vital to the very air they breathed.

While Cassie had been mourning their lost child, fighting to recover her life, Sam had been overseas making friends and helping other people, instead of caring for the wife he'd promised to love, honor and cherish. He'd been taking part in raising another child.

She'd have to tell him about that someday. When she was ready. When she felt she could get through the telling without falling apart. Emily's premature birth—and subsequent death a month later—wasn't something she spoke about. Ever. Even after all this time, the wounds were too raw. And it wasn't as though she owed Sam an explanation. He'd lost all rights to Emily when he'd deserted them.

Although she knew Sam wasn't responsible for the death of their child, any more than she was, she couldn't stop believing that if only he'd been there...

Yet, no matter how frozen her heart felt at this moment, Cassie was still glad to hear that he'd been doing something worthwhile during those years. Glad to know that, while he hadn't been there for his own child, little Mariah had been able to count on him.

Cassie had always figured he'd been enjoying the beds of coeds, like the girl he'd been with the night he should have been home with Cassie. Despite everything, she felt somehow consoled that this wasn't the case.

“We were pretty much the only family any of us had,” Sam said, obviously lost in time. Cassie hated the stab of jealousy she felt as she heard the affection in Sam's voice for these unknown people.

She'd never been petty. Or possessive. She sure as hell wasn't going to start now. Sam was nothing to her. Less than nothing.

He'd betrayed her trust. Nothing was going to change that. Ever.

She might someday be able to forgive him. Had been aiming toward that goal for the past several years. But even if the day came when she could be truly free of the pain he'd caused her, the trust was gone. Once trust was broken, it couldn't be restored. It simply ceased to exist. How could you believe in someone you couldn't believe?

“Moira's parents were still alive back then, though they're both gone now.” He shook his head grimly. “I'm glad they weren't around to know what happened to their daughter. They died of a viral infection in Africa, within a week of each other. Even when they were alive, they were always in service somewhere obscure. She saw them once a year if she was lucky. And Brian was an orphan.”

Sam didn't bother to explain about his own aloneness. Perhaps there wasn't any point.

He gave a sudden laugh, and Cassie sensed sadness there as well as mirth. “I was the one who proposed,” he said.

“To Moira, you mean?” So he and Brian had both been in love with the woman?

“No.” He steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “They were such blind fools. Even after they were expecting Mariah, they couldn't figure out that they were crazy about each other. I had to point out the obvious and then drag them off to Atlantic City to tie the knot before they could talk themselves out of it.”

Cassie had never had a friendship that close. Not since Sam. She envied him.

She had Zack, though. And Randi now, too. Zack had pulled her through some rough times in those first days after she'd made the decision to get on with her life and reenter college. At Arizona State, not Montford University. There was no way she could have gone back to Montford.

“When Mariah was born, I had to do most of the coaching because poor Brian was so scared seeing Moira in pain, it made him sick.”

Sam had witnessed a birth, had coached another woman through those hours of pain. Another woman... This was why she couldn't be with him, why she couldn't spend any more time with him. Everything he said hurt too much.

“Tell me about Mariah,” she said now, needing to get him back to the only thing that could matter.

Her life's work involved helping emotionally devastated people. And she hadn't been able to get that little girl out of her mind. Couldn't bear to have the child living so close, to run the risk of running into her over and over, without finding out if there was something she could do to help.

She wasn't interested for Sam's sake. Never for Sam. But because this was what Cassie did. What made her feel good about herself. What gave her a reason to get up in the morning.

Sam sat forward, his hands hanging helplessly. “Only she could tell us what's on her mind at this point. There were reports of the things that happened during the twelve hours the plane was held captive, but they varied depending on who was talking, where they were sitting. Every report was clouded by the witness's own terror. Not a lot of people noticed the mother and little girl sitting in the back of the plane—”

He paused, then continued. “Brian was beaten up pretty badly—we do know that. Used as an example, the reports said. We're guessing because he was an American. And because he tried to protect his family.”

“And Mariah saw that? Saw him...hurt?”

“Who knows?” His eyes met hers, his agony evident. “I'm assuming she probably did. The plane wasn't that big.”

“And Moira?”

“They slit her throat.”

“Oh, God.”

Feeling sick to her stomach, Cassie leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “In front of the child?”

“We think so. Apparently, Mariah kept crying for a Band-Aid. No one else knew that Moira had been hurt at that point.”

“And you said you've had Mariah in counseling.”

“Of course. And we've been referred to someone in Phoenix who comes very highly recommended, but at this point, the doctors say that what she needs most is time. And to be surrounded by safety and love.”

“She'll get plenty of that in Shelter Valley.”

“That's why we're here.”

Not for Sam, but for Mariah. He hadn't come back for his own reasons. For his parents or his town—or Cassie.

“I sure could use your help, Cass.”

She'd already anticipated his request. “We'll start with Zack's dog, Sammie,” she said, her mind hard at work. “But I think it'll probably be best to get her a puppy of her own, one who can be with her permanently. And I'd like to call Phyllis Langford in to help, too. She's a new psychology professor at the U. She's incredibly gifted when it comes to working with damaged emotions—”

Sam stood, grabbed Cassie's hand, pulled her up. “I meant, I could use a friend.”

“No.” Snatching her hand away, Cassie slipped behind the chair, her hands clutching the back of it.

“I'm not asking for anything else, Cass. Just a friend, someone to talk to.”

“We are not, nor can we ever be, friends.”

Nodding, Sam headed for the front door.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?” He turned, waiting.

“I'd like to try to help Mariah. Pet therapy might work.”

“You don't have to do this for me. Like I said, the woman in Phoenix comes very highly recommended.”

“It's not for you, Sam. It's for her.” And it was. Almost completely. “We've seen some amazing results in cases like this, where people have been traumatized by other people. Rape victims. Severe spousal abuse. Instances where trust has been irrevocably broken. In such cases, counseling alone doesn't often help, since it's impossible for the patient to trust anyone, including the therapist. But we've found that sometimes these patients can trust an animal, and once trust is reborn, they slowly learn to have faith in people again, too.” She paused. “Some people, anyway.”

Rubbing his chin, Sam said, “I've never heard of a vet doing counseling before. I'm impressed.”

“My undergraduate degree was in counseling,” Cassie told him. “I'm fully certified. And I work very closely with a team of psychiatrists from around the country.”

“I'm more than impressed.” He was proud of her. She could see it in his eyes. Cassie looked away.

“Pet therapy might help Mariah,” she said. “What could it hurt to try?”

“Nothing,” he answered, his hand on the doorknob. “I'm willing to try anything if it could bring that little girl back to me.”

“And back to herself,” she whispered.

She saw the agony on his face, and her heart ached for him, this man who'd once been so honorable. Who was now just lonely. And alone.

“I'll talk to Zack and Phyllis, and someone will give you a call.”

Sam stared at her for longer than she could handle, and when she glanced away, said, “Thanks, Cass, I owe you” very softly. And let himself out.

He was gone.

She'd survived.

Maybe.

Chapter 5

F
ollowing his patient out of the examination room, a chart in his hand, Zack Foster grinned. He'd just had the pleasure of telling Shelby's owners that their six-year-old German shepherd was going to be a mother again. They'd been trying for a couple of years.

“Just make sure she's not out in the heat too much,” he reminded the man and woman who were taking turns petting Shelby and telling her she was a good dog. Zack hoped Shelby was as happy about the upcoming event as her family was.

“We will, Doctor, thanks.”

In her own doggy way, Shelby looked happy. In each of her previous two litters, she'd produced seven puppies, several of them now show-ring champions. She'd mothered them possessively and tenderly.

And speaking of mothers... Zack thought of Randi and what a great mother she'd be. They'd talked about having a baby but hadn't decided on timing.

Zack was already in his thirties, and though he'd been in Shelter Valley for only two years, he'd already fallen into the town's family-oriented outlook—the larger the better, as far as families went.

Maybe he'd bring the idea up with Randi tonight. A romantic evening... He'd buy her a gift—a new pair of white tennis shoes to go with the twenty other pairs she'd lined up on her half of the closet floor. Maybe a sweatband or two, soften her up a bit. He grinned as he planned his seductive persuasion. Dinner in Phoenix and then—

“Zack?” Cassie called out to him from her office. She wasn't due in until this afternoon. She was supposed to be home catching up on her sleep. Taking care of herself.

His grin vanished. Clutching the chart with both hands, he stopped in her doorway. “You're here ahead of schedule, huh?”

With her crisp white blouse and navy slacks, she was impeccably put together, as always, but she didn't seem at all rested or relaxed. She was pale, and her eyes were hollow and bruised-looking, as if she'd had no sleep.

“Sam came over last night.”

Zack's heart dropped. He'd never actually met Sam Montford, but he sure hated the guy. Zack had been the one who'd helped Cassie pick up the broken pieces of the life Sam had left her with.

“If he's giving you a hard time...”

She held up her hand. “Not really. He just wants to be friends.”

Zack sank into a chair. “Where was he ten years ago when you needed a friend?”

“In the Peace Corps.”

That surprised him. He'd expected to hear that the guy had been partying on a beach in Jamaica. “For ten years?”

Cassie shook her head, focusing on the top of her desk. “For the past couple of years he's been restoring old homes in New Jersey.”

“You always said he was brilliant. Had a career in law and politics ahead of him.”

“He
is
brilliant. He was attending Montford University on full academic scholarship, and he never really even tried. But apparently he'd rather waste his mind than use it.”

“I'm more inclined to believe the man's an idiot,” Zack said, not bothering to hide his derision. Years ago, when he and a much younger, more fragile Cassie had spent a lot of time together studying and talking, he'd experienced firsthand the damage the man had done. Montford had taken the life from a lovable, bright young woman and left her little more than an empty body. Back in those days, Zack had fantasized regularly about meeting up with Sam Montford in a dark alley someday.

He was still fantasizing about it.

Sam Montford had a lot to answer for.

Cassie had recovered very slowly, healing physically and emotionally while she found the inner strength to pursue a career. Though she'd very thoroughly and permanently closed herself off from any future romantic relationships, she'd managed to create a successful, contented,
useful
life.

Zack was not going to sit idly by and watch her lose it again.

“His little girl needs help, Zack.”

Zack frowned, dropping Shelby's chart on the edge of Cassie's desk.

A couple of nights ago, Ben Sanders, Montford's cousin and Zack's good friend, had told him about Montford's adopted daughter. The details were harrowing, and Zack wasn't sure how much Cassie knew, but ever since he'd heard them, he'd been half afraid she'd want to get involved.

Ben hadn't met Sam and Mariah yet, but Carol Montford had been keeping Ben apprised of family events. Ben had an adopted daughter who was just about Mariah's age and was still recovering from the beatings inflicted by her natural father several months ago. Carol was hoping the little girls would be able to help each other heal.

“She's got a great therapist in Phoenix,” Zack said now, having grilled Ben for everything his cousin knew about the situation.

Cassie leaned forward. “She's been in therapy for almost six months,” she said earnestly. “And she's made virtually no progress.”

Pushing back from the chair, Zack shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He paced slowly in front of Cassie's crammed bookshelves. Perusing the titles. Retaining none of them.

The situation was delicate, but the answer clear.

“From what I understand, the child was severely traumatized,” Zack said. “She might be beyond any sort of help until some of those memories fade.”

“But we might be able to reach her.” Her voice was full of compassion. And something more. It was the “something more” that made him nervous.

He turned toward her. “You might not make any difference at all,” he reminded her gently.

“As long as there's a chance that we can reach her, I have to try. And I want to use Sammie, at least to start with.”

Cassie's gaze was strong, steady, unrelenting. Zack knew he'd lost before he'd even begun to fight.

“At what cost to you?” His words were softly delivered; the look he gave her was not. They'd been through too much together, too many dark days fighting demons. He couldn't just calmly let her risk her hard-won hold on happiness on such an unsubstantial possibility.

“How can I measure my own well-being against that of a child?”

Hands on her desk, Zack leaned over until his face was only inches from hers, staring her straight in the eye. “You can't save everyone in the world,” he told her.

“This isn't the
world,
Zack. It's my hometown. The town that nurtured me as a child, that has loved me every day of my life. The town that helped me gain back my self-esteem when I thought I had no reason to go on.”

Zack held his position. “She's not from this town.”

“She's a Montford now.”

“And are you sure that that isn't why you're doing this? Because she's Sam's daughter?”

Cassie shook her head. The movement conveniently broke eye contact with Zack. “I've helped people all over this country, Zack, and you know it. I certainly have to do everything I can for someone right here at home.”

“For Sam...”

“For
anyone
right here at home. I'd feel the need to make this offer even if she was a total stranger. You know that.”

He did. Damn it. Cassie was world-renowned for her innovative approach to emotional therapy—using animals to achieve remarkable results with emotionally traumatized people who'd lost their ability to trust.

“Maybe this one's a little too close to home.”

“There's no maybe about that.”

He pushed away from her desk with so much force, it moved. Why should Cassie have to risk more grief? Hadn't she already suffered enough at the hands of Sam Montford? Could she survive another assault on her emotions?

“Let me do it,” he said, knowing the words were asinine even before they left his mouth. He had no training in Cassie's area of expertise. He was good at lessening the loneliness of old people, at helping a newly blind man find the courage to shower again with a dog by his side, or encouraging a quadriplegic to try to retrain his muscles. He knew next to nothing about emotional disorders.

Cassie smiled, but didn't even bother with a response. Her glorious long red hair was clipped up into some sort of twist, making her look, at that moment, like his fourth-grade teacher.

Arms folded across his chest, he stared at her. “Can you assure me that you won't get hurt?”

“Does life ever offer that assurance?”

Zack stood there for several more minutes before settling back into the chair. “How are you going to do this, Cass?” he finally asked softly. “Seriously, how can you possibly involve yourself with Sam again? In any capacity?”

Her shrug did very little to reassure him. “I just know I have to try.”

The sound of suppressed tears filled him with dread.

She was hurting already.

She'd said she was okay, but he knew better. He knew better, dammit, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Except be there to hold the pieces if she fell apart.

* * *

Sam, feeling disjointed, drove his truck slowly into town. He reached for Mariah's hand, the tiny fingers lost in his big, work-roughened palm. “Are you excited to meet your new cousin, honey?” he asked, infusing his voice with a cheer he couldn't really feel. “She's seven, just like you.”

Glancing sideways, he smiled at Mariah, willing her to care. If his determination could make something happen, Mariah was going to get well. Sam was sending her every bit of energy, of strength, that he possessed.

How many times in the past seven years had he been discouraged, overwhelmed with the self-hatred that was always there, and found solace in the love of this little girl? Without ever knowing, or trying, Mariah had brought a joy to his life he'd never thought he'd find again.

He'd been there for her conception—or practically, passed out in the very next room. He'd been there for her birth. For every birthday and Christmas. The first day of school. And days in between.

And how many times had he sat with her, wondering if he and Cassie would have made a child as special as Mariah?

Brian and Moira were Mariah's parents, and they'd had the privilege of listening to her childish pronouncements every day. Of being there for her first step. Of chasing her through the house in her pajamas. Of listening to her earnest prayers every night, then tucking her into bed. Drying her tears.

For him, the pleasure of Mariah's company had been, of necessity, occasional. He'd seen the Glory family as often as possible, but sometimes they were away for weeks or months at a time. Mariah always accompanied them, as Moira had accompanied her own parents on the same kinds of trips.

If he'd stayed around long enough for him and Cassie to have the family they'd always planned, he'd have known the same satisfaction as Moira and Brian. If, ten years ago, he'd known the immeasurable completeness a child brought to life, the incredible store of love and excitement, he'd never have left home.

Or would he?

Pulling onto Main Street for the first time since he'd been back, Sam wondered about that. He'd been so unsure of himself in those days, so unsure of who he was. How could he possibly have experienced—or even understood—the kind of joy Mariah now brought him?

How could he possibly have been a father, responsible for another life, when he was barely responsible for his own?

“Before we meet your new cousin and her daddy, we're going to see a statue of my great-great-grandfather,” he told Mariah, slowing the truck. “Which means he's your great-great-great-grandfather.” He lifted their clasped hands, tickling her neck. Though she flinched, the movement was almost imperceptible. She certainly didn't smile as he'd half hoped she might. She didn't even blink.

“I haven't seen it yet, so you and I can see it together for the very first time, okay?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

She continued to watch him.

Sam pulled into one of the angled parking slots along Main Street's curb, got out and helped Mariah climb down. They'd be meeting his cousin, Ben, and Ben's daughter Alex, in this park a few minutes from now. And though he didn't really understand why, Sam had very mixed emotions about the meeting.

Somehow Ben's existence threatened him.

The statue was easily visible from the road, but until Sam got close to it, it was just a statue that his mom and dad had told him about. Which was probably why he was so unprepared for the tremor that shot through him as he got close enough to read the inscription, to see the face.

The resemblance was immediately recognizable. And startling.

The man was a legend. Sam was not. At least, not in this town.

“Hey, Mariah, do you think he looks like me?” He lifted her up for a better view.

The child stared at him; she ignored the statue. She had one hand around his neck, and with the other, she was clutching the collar of his shirt.

“His name is Sam Montford, too. And since your name is Montford now, he's related to you, just like he is to me,” he told her, constantly trying to reinforce the fact that she wasn't alone in the world. That she had an entire family surrounding her, loving her, whether or not she let them.

“He's the man who started this whole town,” he explained. Maybe a sense of history would help her. A story that was enough like one of the books Moira used to read to the child, to mean something to her now. To provide a sense of connection. “He moved out to Arizona from back East; just like you,” he rattled on, repeating some of what he'd known growing up as the only Montford heir. But he'd learned much more of his ancestor's history in the five days he'd been home. The previous year, Becca Parsons, the wife of Montford University's president, had spearheaded a project to honor the original Sam Montford, which included a biography, a play and the commissioning of this sculpture. She'd apparently tried to find Sam, to bring him home for the unveiling of the statue, but Sam hadn't left a forwarding address. His phone number had been unlisted.