Summer Lovin (21 page)

“So not much time to socialize, not many close friends, and no serious relationships at the moment. We have more in common than you'd think, wouldn't you say?”

She murmured a noncommittal reply, hoping his question was a rhetorical one.

Before they could discuss anything else, the bus station loomed before them. He pulled into a parking space in a large lot and suddenly all the things they had in common took a back seat to those that pulled them apart.

 

R
YAN STRODE INTO THE TERMINAL
, Sam's keys in his pocket. Though it wasn't easy, he tried to push aside all that they'd discussed during their trip here. His questions during the car ride were so obviously meant to get her to think more about
them
that they were laughably transparent. Yet she still fought the notion. Considering all that was going on at the moment, he welcomed the time to bring her around.

He refused to contemplate the possibility that she wouldn't recognize their compatibility or the depth of her feelings for him. Nobody, not even this stubborn woman, would opt to be alone forever.

At least he hoped not or he was doomed to the same fate.

He approached the customer-service counter and the grumpy-looking man seated behind it. “Hi, there.”

The man took his time lifting his gaze from the crossword puzzle on his desk. “Yeah.”

Ryan placed Sam's key on the counter. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Yawning, he reached for the key. “Looks old, but yeah it's one of ours.”

“Can you tell me who this locker number is registered to today?” Ryan asked.

The man shook his head. “No. None of your business.”

Zoe slipped up beside him and leaned forward on her elbows. “We'd just like to know if Faith Baldwin's name is still on locker 811.”

“Did you say 811?” His voice perked up suddenly.

“Yes. It's on the key if you'd bothered to—Ooomph,” Ryan grunted as Zoe nudged him in the ribs.

“Does that number sound familiar to you?” she asked sweetly.

“Another man was here asking about that locker number around lunchtime.”

Ryan took the man's words like a punch in the stomach.

“Can you describe him?” Zoe asked before Ryan had had a chance to catch his breath.

“Tall, gray hair, wearing a suit.” He rolled his eyes. “He looked like any businessman with money who comes through here every day. What do you people want from me, anyway?”

Zoe patted his hand reassuringly. “You're doing just fine. Now can you tell us if you keep old paperwork on file from people who've rented lockers in the past?”

“I'll tell you what I told the other guy. He said it could have been rented as long as seventeen years ago, and that's too long a time for us to keep anything we might have found in that locker.”

The description along with the time frame cemented the fact that Uncle Russ had been here asking questions about Sam's keys. He was involved in something and had an agenda, just as Zoe had thought. Disappointment churned in Ryan's gut, but he reminded himself that he didn't know
why
his uncle had interest in the keys. Maybe there was a plausible explanation.

“What did the gentleman say to that?”

“Stormed off, angry.”

Now that sounded like his uncle when he didn't get his way, Ryan thought.

Zoe shook her long hair so it fell onto the counter, an obvious attempt to keep the clerk's attention. “Well I'm a little more patient and I'd like to know if you have any old records we might be able to peek at.”

The other man looked into her green eyes, which she fluttered ever so nicely, and reached down to his keyboard. “We're computerized now. Didn't used to be. So things aren't always accurate. Let's see. Nope. We only go back five years, then we wipe the files clean. Of course there's a storage room with old records. It's a dusty old place that nobody likes to go into.”

“Yes!” Zoe said.

Ryan felt the excitement ripple through her.

“And if I were to make it worth your while, would you please let us into that old storage room?” she asked. “You see, our sister took that locker after she ran away all those years ago, and if there's any way of tracing her whereabouts, even from that long ago, we'd be so grateful.”

The man looked from Ryan to Zoe, then down to the counter, where Ryan realized Zoe was slipping a twenty-dollar bill his way.

The guy snatched the cash and gestured with a nod of his head. “This way.”

He led them down a long hall to a back room. Unlocking the door, he let them inside. “You won't be disturbed. Nobody wants to go back to the archives because of the dust,” he said laughing.

“And you didn't tell the other man about this room?” Zoe asked.

The guy shook his head. “He didn't ask about it.”

Ryan stifled a laugh because his uncle's temper and impulsive nature had worked against him, whereas Zoe's patience and smarts, not to mention feminine wiles, had gotten them one step farther.

Zoe turned back to the other man. “By the way, what happens to the old contents of a locker?”

“We try to contact the owner and if nobody shows up for it, it goes into lost and found for a while. Then we give the stuff away to shelters or dump it if it's garbage. If you're lucky, somebody will have written information down on the card that was filled out when the locker was paid for. Good luck,” he said and shut the door behind him.

Ryan took in the old cardboard filing boxes piled one on top of the other all around and groaned. “Well, might as well get started,” he muttered and started walking toward the back of the room.

“Ryan, wait.”

He turned to see Zoe lingering near the door. “What is it?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I'm sorry, maybe? I know I said it before, but I am. I'm sorry that my hunch was right. I'm sorry that your uncle was here looking for something that involved your sister and didn't tell you about it.”

“Maybe he had his reasons.” He could only hope.

She nodded, obviously not wanting to pick a fight on this subject. “What month and year did Faith run away?” she asked instead.

“March 1988.”

“At least that's a start. Now we just have to pray these boxes are in some sort of chronological order.” She started looking at one end, then walked to another section, then another.

He wanted to help her. But now he had something to say first. “Zoe?”

She peeked her head up above one of the boxes. “Yeah?”

He met her gaze. “Thanks for not saying I told you so.”

She grinned and got back to work.

It felt like ages before they'd narrowed things down enough to start digging through a select group of filing cartons. Even so, it took hours to sort through the individual boxes and papers.

The man hadn't been kidding about the mess. Zoe's eyes were tearing and her nose was running from all the rising dust that flew around each time they touched something that hadn't been disturbed in years.

“Oh my God! I found something,” Ryan suddenly said, clearly stunned.

Zoe left her box and scrambled over to where he sat holding an old, yellowed paper. “What is it?”

“The card Faith filled out when she rented the box. It's dated March 15, 1988.”

“Let me see.” His hands shook and she eased the paper out of his grasp. She scanned the faded page and faint handwriting. There were the basic questions, but the answers didn't mean anything to Zoe. “This isn't your parents' current address.”

“You're right. It belongs to a good friend of Faith's. Patty Wheaton was one of Faith's best friends. She was a couple of years older than Faith. Of course my parents disapproved of their friendship because Patty was a little fast, wore too much makeup and liked to have fun more than she liked to study.”

“Hmm.” Zoe narrowed her gaze. “I'm sure you followed up with Patty when you were looking for Faith.”

“She was one of the few people my parents checked with right after Faith went missing. Patty said she hadn't heard from her. The P.I. I hired talked with her again, but she insisted Faith hadn't been in contact with her since she'd run away.”

Zoe sighed, hearing the defeat in his voice.

He glanced at the card again. “This isn't my parents' phone number either.”

“It's probably Patty's. Is it possible she still lives in the same place?” Zoe asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Doubtful. But her mother would know where she is and her parents are still local.”

“It's worth a shot. We can talk to her again. See if anything from the locker ended up with her.”

“Who'd keep old stuff from a friend who died years ago?” The edge in his tone spoke of his frustration.

Zoe slapped her hand on his knee. “I won't let you sound defeated before we know anything for sure.” She rose and stood over him, then sat straddling him with her thighs. She felt his body heat penetrating between her legs and liquid desire pulsing through her. But her own feelings weren't what counted now.

Ryan's emotions were in turmoil, his past and present coming together in a painful way, and she wanted to be there for him as he worked his way through it. For a woman who'd always been independent, floating through life in a vacuum that only included her family, this sudden, deep need to care for another person took her off guard. Yet it was her feelings for Ryan that guided her every move right now.

She leaned forward and briefly touched her lips to his, lingering long enough to taste him and let the sensation of caring for him overwhelm her. Only then did she sit back on her heels. “We'll follow this trail as far as we can, okay?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “We?”

“Have I abandoned you yet?” She immediately realized the depth of her question and didn't want him to press her any further. So she held out her hand and pulled him to his feet. “At the very least, we're one step ahead of your uncle, so we can get on this first thing in the morning.”

He nodded. “I'd just like some answers.” His gaze never left hers—as if he were telling her he knew something deep existed between them and he wanted her to acknowledge it too.

She feared she couldn't put off facing that issue much longer.

D
IRTY AND TIRED
, Zoe wanted nothing more than to pick up Sam and head back to Ryan's. She intended to get a good night's sleep before she had to tackle the next part of their search. She certainly didn't need to arrive at the Baldwins' house to find Sam had gotten herself into trouble while they'd been gone. But she had.

“Accidents happen,” Vivian said to Ryan and Zoe. “But when the plumber comes for a service call and finds a scrunchie clogging the toilet, then we're talking about a deliberate stuffing.” Vivian shook her head, her exasperation obvious. “By the way, what
is
a scrunchie, anyway?”

Zoe bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “It's a ponytail holder. Only bigger.”

“Well the water overflowed and created quite a mess.” Vivian's posture and tone showed the weariness she must be feeling after a few hours with her granddaughter.

“Where's Sam now?” Ryan asked.

“Upstairs in your old room thinking about what she did and why she did it,” Vivian said.

Zoe shot Ryan a glance.

“You punished her?” he asked, surprised.

“What else should I have done? She showed no thought to basic etiquette when visiting someone else's home.” His mother stiffened her shoulders defensively.

“Did you explain that to her?” Zoe asked.

“Of course.”

Ryan stepped forward. “And did you yell, scream and threaten to throw her out and never let her come back as you did to Faith?”

Zoe sucked in a harsh breath, taken aback by his sharp tone and biting sarcasm. “Ryan…”

“No, that's all right.” Vivian ran her hand down her bob, straightening her already perfect hair. “Believe it or not, I thought long and hard before asking you if I could take Samantha for the afternoon. I revisited many of my past mistakes.”

“Say that again?” Ryan looked into his mother's eyes.

“I'm admitting I made mistakes, Ryan. It's not the time to get into this now, but I am trying harder with Faith's daughter. She's going to have to realize there are consequences to her actions, though.” Vivian gestured to the circular stairs. “Shall we go talk to her?”

“In a minute,” Zoe said, stepping forward, knowing she was intruding on Ryan's family, and not caring. Not when she needed answers to questions that would directly affect Sam.

“Yes?” Vivian turned her head to face her.

“Why?” Zoe asked.

The other woman wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why punish her? Why teach her that there are consequences? What point are you trying to make?” Zoe pushed the other woman to explain herself, knowing full well she had no right to do so.

Vivian paused in thought. If she was annoyed or put out by Zoe's question, she didn't show it. “Well I suppose I want to teach her the proper way to behave for one thing.”

Zoe tried not to cringe or pass judgment; instead she waited.

“And I realize now that Faith never knew we loved her.”

“If that bothers you, then why didn't you search harder when she ran away?” Ryan asked.

Real tears suddenly filled the older woman's brown eyes, which Zoe now realized resembled Ryan's. “We had a pattern in our home. All our fights would focus on how Faith's wild rebellion reflected on the family. We'd yell and scream as you pointed out. She'd storm off to her room and the same type of thing would happen again the next day. It became a cycle we couldn't seem to break.” She dabbed at the inside corner of her eye, attempting to stem her tears.

“Did you punish Faith?” Zoe asked softly.

“We tried, but no matter what we did, she never listened. Mostly because the screaming was such a large part of our lives, nothing had any impact. So when she ran away, after we checked all the obvious places, we thought,
let her get it out of her system and then she'll come home.
”

Ryan stiffened his shoulders. “But she never did.”

Vivian shook her head. “At the time we thought she made her choice, but I see now how wrong we were. We were the parents and she was the child. We should have kept trying.”

Zoe swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the woman's pain.

“And all this brings us back to Samantha,” Vivian continued. “When Ryan brought up the idea of bringing Faith's child here, I was completely against it since I feared the past would repeat itself. I knew when I looked at Samantha, I'd see my failures as a mother. And I did. I still do.”

“Mom—” Ryan stepped forward, but his mother waved him away.

Though Zoe hurt for him, she sensed this moment was a turning point for them both. As the instigator of the conversation, but outsider to their family, Zoe could do no more than watch it play out, and in doing so she realized she was watching her family's role in Sam's life coming to an end. The thought brought a piercing ache to her own heart.

Vivian stared, focusing her thoughts. “I need to say this and I need to do it without your sympathy and without my falling apart.”

Ryan nodded in obvious understanding.

“Dinner the other night was a complete replay of our lives with you children except that Samantha had you and Zoe to protect her. And the child has more spunk than anyone I've ever met,” she said, with what sounded like affection in her tone.

“Spunk is a good word to describe Sam's behavior,” Ryan agreed, his eyes filled with warmth when he gazed at his mother.

Even Zoe had to admit she was touched by the woman's willingness to try and change. Relief filled her, as well, since Sam would benefit from her softening and changing.

“I didn't sleep that night. And I realized then that I could continue to play the socialite who cared more for rules than her family and thereby lose Faith's daughter, too, or I could take the initiative and try to change my attitude. For the sake of my family, I decided that an old dog
should
learn new tricks.” Vivian forced a laugh, but her body trembled with the emotion of the afternoon.

Emotion Zoe shared, since she now had no choice but to take the distance she'd tried to maintain and place it firmly between herself and Ryan. He was a good man and on the verge of having his niece accepted by his family. Zoe would have no place in their lives beyond that of a long-distance friend. She couldn't when she and Ryan, for all their passion, had so little in common.

She glanced at Ryan and met his gaze, her throat heavy with grief. No matter how much her heart begged her to believe otherwise, her mind told her that their different lives, different ways of doing things, and completely opposite families would never mesh long-term. On a selfish note, his family's way of life had the potential to stifle the strong woman she prided herself on being and the independent person she intended to become.

Giving him an encouraging nod, Zoe then watched as he changed his focus toward his mother and, knowing it was time, Zoe stepped back and away.

Ryan reluctantly turned from Zoe to stare at his mother and his head spun. He was in awe, completely blindsided by her admissions, her guilt and her desire to do better. Shock, gratitude, and even love for this woman who'd always remained distant swirled inside him.

Ignoring her attempt to remain stoic and alone, Ryan placed his arm around her shoulder. If
he
needed the physical connection to his parent, he decided that she must need it, too. To his never-ending surprise, she wrapped her arm around his waist, acknowledging his gesture.

But he couldn't take his eyes off Zoe. She stood off to one side, her expression soft as she smiled. She was clearly touched by the mother-son moment. But as the silence continued, she grew more uncomfortable. She shifted from heel to heel and appeared unusually alone for a woman normally filled with confidence.

He wanted to pull her into the moment, but she obviously wasn't ready for such a move.

“I want you to understand that I was questioning you for Sam's sake, not for my own,” Zoe said into the silence.

His mother eyed Zoe warily. She obviously still didn't know what to make of Zoe's place in this situation and Ryan wasn't ready to fill her in. Not when he knew even Zoe wasn't ready to hear the truth.

Before he could ease the tension, Zoe started to talk. “You see, my family has been where you are. Sam has tested us, too, and we discovered that she responds well to punishment based on caring, but she rebels against rules for their own sake. All Sam wants is to be loved, accepted and to know she fits in.” She finished quickly, out of breath.

“That's…”

“I'm rambling.” Zoe interrupted his mother. She waved a hand through the air. “This is all between you and your son.” She took a step backward, and then another.

Ryan knew she was searching for distance. He couldn't allow her to find it. Zoe was used to love and acceptance from her family, yet she'd closed herself off to the possibility of finding love with him.

Ryan had every intention of changing that.

 

N
EAR MIDNIGHT
, Ryan, unable to sleep, opened his door to find a light shining from the living room. He figured it was Zoe, but instead found Sam wandering around the room, looking at his framed pictures. Most were of family and he could understand her curiosity. He still had a lot of questions about Sam herself. They hadn't spent much time alone since they'd met and he figured now was as good a time as any to try and forge a deeper bond with her.

He strode into the room and cleared his throat.

Sam jumped back, a squeal escaping her throat. “You scared me.” She hugged a framed photo tight against her chest.

“I didn't mean to. What are you doing up so late?”

She shrugged. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither. So what are you looking at?” he asked.

She placed the picture face down on the table and stepped back almost guiltily.

He joined her and turned over the frame. It was the one he had of her mother. He stared at the familiar blond hair and bone structure and shook his head. “It's amazing how much you look like her,” he said, turning the photo so she could see it again.

“My memories were getting blurry.” Sam pulled the picture from his hand. Glancing at the photo, she blinked and a tear fell.

In her oversize pajama pants and tank top, she was an odd mixture of child and young adult. He wanted to hug her, but knew she wouldn't accept comfort from him yet. “You can keep the picture,” he said instead.

“You mean it?”

“I wouldn't have offered otherwise.”

She looked at him with gratitude in her wide eyes. “Do you have one for yourself?”

He shook his head.

“Then—”

Realizing she was about to decline his gesture, he came up with a more acceptable idea that would help them both. “How about we take this to a photo machine and make you a copy? You can even pick out your own frame.”

She smiled. “I'd like that a lot.” She paused, biting on her lower lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He leaned against the wall and studied her.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He hadn't known what to expect, but she'd stumped him with that one. “Any reason I shouldn't be nice to you?”

She glanced down at her bare feet. “I don't deserve it.”

He swallowed hard, surprised at how her sudden insecurity and vulnerability affected him. “I'll admit you can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but it's part of your charm.” He laughed. “Besides, you're family.”

“So?” She curled her toes into the hardwood, her body a bundle of raw nerves.

He wondered if she was serious. Glancing up, meeting her gaze, he realized she was. As Zoe had tried to tell him time and again, Sam didn't understand being loved and accepted. It would take a long time to convince her there was nothing she could do to change the way he felt about her.

“
So,
you're my niece and that binds us. You can stuff all the toilets you want and it won't get you tossed out of here. You can run away and, mark my words, I'd find you.”

“You mean it?”

His throat filled as he looked at the young girl. “I mean it. I guess what I'm saying is, you're my family and I love you.” He held his breath, wondering if he'd gone too far too fast.

But when Sam unexpectedly stepped forward and gave him a quick hug, he realized his honesty had been a good thing for them both. “You should get some sleep,” he told her.

“Yeah. I have a big day ahead of me. I promised Grandma Vivian I'd help her fix up the garden.”

“You did, huh?”

Sam raised her shoulders. “Ima messed it up. It's right I help fix it. Besides Grandma said if I did, she'd build a special pen for Ima to stay when we come visit.”