The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance) (4 page)

They
meaning her father. She couldn’t disregard the dagger he’d thrust right into the heart of her guilt. Obviously he wanted to hurt her again, and he was doing a fairly good job. “I did what I had to do to make a life
for myself, Sam. Maybe you never understood it, but my dad always did.”

“You’re probably right about that,” he said. “But you might want to ask yourself if it was really worth it.”

With that, Sam spun around and strode away, leaving Savannah alone to ponder his words and the questions whirling around in her mind. Questions she didn’t dare ask him…or herself.

H
E’D NEVER SEEN A SWEETER
sight—except for maybe the one he’d seen earlier on the bridge. Sam immediately pushed thoughts of Savannah from his mind to concentrate on his daughter dressed in a pink polka-dot gown curled up in his dad’s lap, her thumb stuck in her mouth, her eyes closed against the overhead light. Her hair was as dark as his dad’s was gray.

Sam raked the baseball cap off his head and dropped down in the chair across from his dad. “How long has she been asleep?” he asked in a near-whisper.

Jamie’s eyes popped open and she raised her head. “I’m not asleep, Daddy. I’m just restin’ my eyes.”

Exactly what he’d told her several times when he’d drifted off in front of the TV during one of her favorite cartoons. “You looked pretty asleep to me, Joe. If you didn’t have your thumb in your mouth, you would’ve been snoring like your grandpa.”

She looked more than a little perturbed. “I don’t snore, Daddy.”

“Neither do I,” his dad added.

“Oh, yes, you do, Jamison McBriar,” came from the
direction of the kitchen. “Like a steam engine about to blow.”

Sam chuckled. “Guess Gracie would know.”

Jamie worked her way off Jim’s lap and climbed into Sam’s. “Did you see Ruthie?” she asked.

Lying was out of the question, but he’d have hell to pay if he told the truth. Vague would probably work best. “No, sweetheart,” he said as he pushed a curl from her forehead. “I just dropped off the pie and left.”

“Did you see Ruthie’s daughter, Daddy?”

So much for avoiding the truth. “Yeah, I saw her. I gave her the pie.”

She grinned and said, “Papaw says she used to be your girlfriend,” followed by a giggle.

Sam sent Jim a nasty look. “That was a long time ago.”

Jamie yawned and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m gonna miss Floyd. He used to let me ride on the tractor.”

Sam had always felt that Floyd considered Jamie the granddaughter he’d never had. “We’re all going to miss him, kiddo. He was a good man.”

“The best,” Jim said. “He would’ve given you his last pair of jeans if you needed ’em.”

Jamie raised her head and looked at Sam straight on. “Is Ruthie sad?”

“Yeah, I imagine she is.”

“Kind of hard to tell with Ruth,” Jim added. “She’s as strong as a barbed-wire fence.”

Jamie glanced at her grandfather before turning back
to Sam. “I want to see Ruthie in the morning, Daddy. I want to tell her I’m sad, too.”

He could think of several reasons why that might not be such a good idea. “Maybe we’ll see her in a couple of days.”

Jamie shook her head. “I want to see her tomorrow. We can go after we feed the cows.”

She looked so determined, Sam couldn’t refuse. “Okay, but we’ll only stay for a little while.” Otherwise, Savannah might decide to boot him off the premises.

Jamie put on her “old soul” face, as Darlene always called it. “Why do people have to die, Daddy?”

A question he wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s just a part of life, sweetheart.”

Fortunately, Sam’s stepmother entered the room with a book in hand before he had to offer a more lengthy explanation. As far as he was concerned, Gracie hadn’t changed much since the day she’d become their housekeeper. Maybe her hair was a little grayer. Maybe she had a few more wrinkles. But overall, she was still Gracie, the godsend. “You don’t need to worry your pretty head about that, sugar pie,” she said as she tossed her braid back off her shoulder. “Now let’s get you to bed so we can finish reading the penguin story.”

Seemingly satisfied to leave the question be for now, Jamie slid her feet onto the floor and started toward the hall. Sam halted her progress when he asked, “Are you forgetting something, Joe?”

She ran back to him and kissed his cheek. “’Night, Daddy.”

“’Night, sweetheart. Watch out for those bitin’ bedbugs.”

Jamie flashed him a dimpled grin. “There ain’t no bedbugs, Daddy.”

Sam started to correct her bad grammar, but he’d save that for later—right before he gave her back to her mother.

After Jamie kissed her granddad good-night, she took Gracie’s hand and tugged her toward the bedroom, chatting all the way down the hall about visiting Ruth and meeting “Daddy’s old girlfriend.”

Sam tilted his head back against the sofa and momentarily closed his eyes. He opened them to his father’s “you’re in trouble, boy” stare, reminding him of other times when he’d had to face Jim McBriar’s wrath for something he’d done wrong. For the life of him, he had no idea what he’d done now. He imagined he was about to find out.

Jim stretched his legs out before him and rested his palms on his slightly bulging belly. “Did you have a nice talk with Savannah when you went to the Greers’?”

He should’ve seen this coming. “I didn’t go to the house. I met her on the bridge, handed over the pie and had a two-minute conversation with her. End of story.”

“Was there water under the bridge?”

Sam knew exactly what his father was getting at, and he refused to take the bait. “That gully’s been dried up for years.”

“That’s too bad because a bridge without water can be pretty useless.”

A few more moments of silent scrutiny passed before
Jim added, “You know, the word
grudge
rhymes with
smudge
. And that’s exactly what a grudge is—an ugly smudge on the soul that needs to be cleaned away.”

If there was one thing Sam couldn’t stand, it was beating around the bush. “What’s your point, Dad?”

“My point is that at one time, you and Savannah meant the world to each other. A little forgiveness goes a long way.”

“I have forgiven her.” But he sure as hell hadn’t forgotten the way she’d left, or why.

Jim leaned forward, hands clasped between his parted knees. “No, you haven’t forgiven her, just like you never forgave your mother. And let me tell you something, son. Savannah isn’t your mother. Your mother was running to something—a new life. Savannah was running away.”

Man, he didn’t want to hear this. “You mean from me.”

His dad released a rough sigh. “It was never about you, boy. There was a lot of hurt going on in that house.”

“Yeah, and Ruth was doling out most of it.”

Jim pinned him with a harsh stare. “Ruth’s reasoning is not for us to judge, Sam. Not unless we’ve lived in her shoes.”

Sam only knew that Ruth’s behavior bordered on cruelty where Savannah had been concerned. Ruth hadn’t been too keen on him, either, at least back then. “Can we just move out of the past and onto another subject?”

“Fair enough,” Jim said as he leaned back against the couch. “I hear tell that Ruth’s selling the farm to Wainwright.”

The course of the conversation wasn’t much better than the previous one. “That’s what I hear, too.”

“My guess is he’ll probably tear the house down and build something on it.”

“I don’t know what he’ll do with the house, but he’s going to lease the land to me.”

Sam didn’t think his dad’s face could get any redder. “What in the hell were you thinkin’ when you climbed into cahoots with that SOB?”

Gracie entered the room and nailed her husband with a glare. “Lower your voice, Jimmy. You granddaughter’s trying to sleep. And must we use such crude language when an impressionable child’s in the house?”

Jim pointed at Sam. “Our boy just told me he’s going to lease the Greer land from that snake Wainwright.”

Gracie’s gaze snapped to Sam. “What in the hell are you thinking, Samuel Jamison McBriar?”

So much for the crude language and lower your voice warning. “I’m thinking I might as well lease it or someone else will. Maybe even someone who wouldn’t treat the place the way Floyd would’ve wanted it to be treated. Wainwright could sell it to some corporate operation that’ll set up shop right next door to us. Not to mention we could use the extra money to hire hands from a whole slew of people who need jobs.”

Jim came to his feet. “You could use some horse sense, son. Deals with the devil come with a price.”

Maybe so, but Sam was willing to take his chances. “I’ll handle Wainwright.”

Gracie smirked. “And I’m going to fly over the fields tomorrow without the benefit of an airplane, too.”

“Does Savannah know about this?” Jim asked.

That was one obstacle he didn’t care to consider at the moment. “I don’t know what she knows, Dad, and honestly, I doubt she cares unless she has some fool notion to keep the place in the family. That’s about as likely as Gracie taking flight in the morning.”

He exchanged a smile with Gracie before his dad said, “I guess you know what you’re doing, Sam. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite you on the butt.”

Sam was too tired to argue the point. Besides, the deal with Wainwright was all but done, and he almost never went back on his word. Not in the past few years. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing, Dad. You didn’t waste your money on my college education.”

“You definitely have smarts, son,” Jim said. “At least when it comes to running this farm. Now, as far as your personal life goes, you might have been behind the door when they handed out the common sense.”

Gracie slid onto the chair’s arm. “Leave the man alone, Jimmy. He’s just had some bad luck in the relationship department.”

That was the last thing he cared to discuss. “If you’re finished lecturing me, Dad, I’m going to tell my kid good-night and get some sleep.” He rose from the sofa and turned his attention to Gracie. “Since Jamie has her mind set on seeing Ruth tomorrow, do you mind taking her by the house?”

“She’s got to start baking for the summer festival,” his dad answered for her. “Lots and lots of cakes and cookies.”

Yeah, right. “Unless someone changed the date, the festival doesn’t start until Saturday.”

“True, but Gracie likes to get things done early.” Jim winked at his wife. “Isn’t that right, honey?”

After the confusion left Gracie’s face, she said, “That’s right. Besides, you should take Jamie by and check on the family. Ruth might need a hand with something.”

“Plus, we’ve already paid our respects and actually made it into the house,” his dad added. “And while you’re there, mind your manners and be nice to Savannah.”

Okay, he’d mind his manners. As far as being nice to Savannah, well, that was a stretch. He could play at being civil for his family’s sake but he sure as hell wouldn’t be her best friend. She gave up that right the day she walked out of town and never looked back.

M
UTED VOICES FILTERING IN
through the open bedroom window pulled Savannah out of a deep sleep. After glancing at the clock and noting the time, she practically vaulted out of bed. She rarely slept past dawn, much less 9:00 a.m., even on weekends. Her dad used to say that life was too short to snooze it away, and she’d never forgotten it. For a few moments she allowed the loss of her father, the ever-present grief, to subside before she faced the day—and her mother.

Savannah dressed in a faded purple T-shirt and a pair of tacky white knit shorts before heading to the hall bath to complete her morning ritual. Her unruly hair was a hopeless cause, thanks to going to bed with it wet, so she piled it into a ponytail and padded down the stairs in desperate need of caffeine. She found a fresh pot of coffee on the kitchen stove and blueberry muffins on the counter, but not a soul in sight. Then she recalled the earlier sounds of conversation and decided her aunt, uncle and mother had opted to enjoy their breakfast on the front porch.

Savannah ignored the muffins and grabbed a cup of coffee to take outside. The moment she opened the front door, the summer scent of fresh-mown grass assaulted her senses and resurrected more memories.
Good memories of walking barefoot in clover and chasing fireflies at night.

When she stepped onto the porch, Savannah pulled up short. Not only did she find May, Bill and her mother seated on the chairs scattered around the weathered wooden decking, two others had joined them. A little girl with dark, dark hair and cobalt blue eyes stared at her from her perch on the porch swing. And next to that little girl, the man who had occupied her dreams more nights than she could count.

“Have a seat, young ’un.” Uncle Bill stood and gestured toward the only unoccupied chair, which happened to be much too close to Sam. If he were in the next county, that would be too close.

Savannah refused to give in to the urge to sprint back into the house. Instead, she took the offered chair, coffee mug gripped tightly in her hand. “Good morning,” she managed, relieved that her voice didn’t give away her nervousness.

Her mother, in typical fashion, nixed the greeting to ask, “Where are your shoes, Savannah Leigh?”

She hadn’t even realized she was barefoot. She never went without shoes outside the house these days—under normal circumstances. Nothing about this little morning soiree seemed normal. “They’re inside,” she muttered, wishing she could crawl into the nearby well. She could only imagine how she looked—wild-haired, wild-eyed, worn-out and shabby. Not that she should care one whit what Sam McBriar thought about her appearance.

“You’re pretty,” the little girl said, followed by a
toothless grin. Then she turned to Sam and said, “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?”

Oh, Lord. This child was looking for confirmation from the wrong person.

“Yeah, she is,” Sam responded, surprising the fool out of Savannah.

She took a sip of coffee to soothe her parched throat. “You’re very pretty, too, and you must be Jamie,” she said, offering up a smile.

“You’re Savannah and you used to be Daddy’s girlfriend.”

Luckily she hadn’t taken another drink of coffee, otherwise it might have ended up all over the front of Uncle Bill’s overalls.

“That’s right, Jamie,” May answered when Savannah didn’t. “But that was quite a little while ago.”

“Before he met my mommy?” Jamie asked.

“A few years before,” Savannah said, although that wasn’t quite accurate. Darlene had had her eye on Sam since junior high.

Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, Jamie scooted off the swing and climbed into—of all people— Ruth Greer’s lap. And Ruth, who only moments before looked as if her face might crack if she moved her lips, gave Jamie the sweetest of smiles. “Are you sad, Ruthie?” Jamie asked.

“A little,” Ruth said. “But Floyd wouldn’t want us to be sad. If he were here, he’d tell us to wake up—”

“And enjoy the day,” Jamie finished. “I bet he’s saying the same thing in heaven.”

Ruth brushed a stray hair from Jamie’s forehead. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Jamie slid from Ruth’s lap and took her hand. “Can we go work on the quilt, Ruthie?”

Savannah recalled the wedding-ring quilt she’d worked on with her mother when she was a little older than Jamie. The quilt she’d refused to work on after they’d moved to Placid.

“Maybe we should go home and let Ruth rest, Jamie,” Sam interjected.

“Nonsense,” Ruth said. “You come on in the house with me, sweet girl, and we’ll cut out a square or two, as long as your dad says it’s okay.”

“Can I, Daddy?” Jamie pleaded in a voice designed to persuade a resistant parent. Savannah had used that tactic with her own father and it never failed to work wonders.

“For a while,” Sam said. “Gracie needs you to help her bake some cookies when we get home, remember?”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I can do both, Daddy.”

And just like that, Savannah’s mother led Sam’s child through the screen door without a second glance at her own daughter.

Savannah didn’t know how to feel. Sad? Yes. Memories of a better time brought about some serious melancholy. Envious? A little, but not of Jamie. The envy came from the thought of what could have been between mother and daughter if their relationship hadn’t gone sour.

Bill shoved out of his chair and offered his hand to
May. “Guess we better get to town before lunchtime, darlin’.”

May stood and sent her husband a smile. “That sounds like a plan.”

Not to Savannah. If they left, she’d be all alone with Sam. “I could go for you, Aunt May.”

From the appearance of Sam’s cynical grin, he’d noticed the desperation in her tone.

May flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll take care of it, honey. We just need to pick up your mother’s headache medicine and a few groceries at the market.”

Groceries? They still had a mountain of food left from the wake. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any bother.”

Bill fished a set of keys from his pocket. “You just stay here, little britches, and visit with your friend.”

She would if she had a real friend present. Unless she found an excuse to make a hasty departure, she had no choice but to be stuck with Sam since her relatives had already made it halfway to the car before she could say another word. If she didn’t know better, she might believe this little private time between ex-lovers had been planned.

Tension as stifling as the humidity hung on the air as Savannah drummed her fingers on the table’s surface. She supposed going into the house was an option, but she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle a few minutes in his presence. After all the times they’d talked for endless hours about nothing—or everything—she couldn’t thing of one blasted thing to contribute to a decent conversation.

Fortunately, Sam broke the silence by saying, “Gracie wants you to stop by before you leave.”

“I will,” she said. “And I still can’t believe Gracie hung around after the grief you gave her.”

He rocked the glider slightly with one heel. “She’s still around because she married Dad a couple of years ago.”

Just one more monumental event she hadn’t been aware of. “I’m really glad for them.” And she was. No two people were better suited for each other. At one time, she would have said the same thing about her and Sam.

He leaned forward and dangled his arms between his parted knees. Another span of silence passed before he asked, “How’s your mother holding up?”

Savannah shrugged. “Okay, I guess. You know Ruth. She’s not one to share her feelings. Me, on the other hand, I still can’t believe he’s gone…?.” The nagging lump in her throat captured her words for the time being. She didn’t care to cry in front of Sam. In front of anyone, for that matter. Not that she hadn’t cried in his arms before. Many, many times. But that was then, and this was now, and she didn’t need his solace, nor did she expect him to offer it.

“Floyd talked about you all the time,” Sam said, his voice surprisingly absent of animosity.

Savannah could only imagine how thrilled Sam must have been to hear regular accounts of her life. “I didn’t realize you spent so much time with my father.”

He leaned back against the swing. “We had our share of discussions about farming and the latest fertilizer,
that sort of thing, but your name came up a lot. He thought you could do no wrong.”

“We both know that’s not true, don’t we?” When he didn’t bother to argue the point, she added, “He didn’t particularly care for you, at least when we were growing up, especially that time he caught you climbing up the trellis. I still can’t believe you handed him that ‘cat caught in a tree’ excuse when we didn’t even own a cat.” She couldn’t believe she was playing the remember-when game with a man who clearly had no intention of participating, evident by his lack of response.

He just sat there, studying her with narrowed eyes as if preparing to take his best shot. “Floyd wanted you to be happy, so are you?”

Savannah heard no genuine concern in his tone, only mild curiosity. In fact, he’d probably like to hear that her life was a mess just so he could say he’d told her so. “I have a great condo and a great job.”

He came to his feet, pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “No boyfriend? Or do you have several?”

Savannah hadn’t expected he’d ask such a leading question or that he would come so close to her. Then again, most likely he’d traveled into her personal space and private life to throw her off balance. In a way, it was working. She wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as if she needed protection from him. Maybe she did. “I really don’t think you should be so concerned about my dating habits.” Which were basically nil at the moment, a little tidbit she didn’t dare toss out.

“Then the answer is no boyfriend.” He looked much too pleased with himself.

She’d rather eat red dirt than admit four years had passed since she’d had a serious relationship. “The answer is, it’s none of your business.”

“Sorry to hear you don’t have someone to keep you occupied.”

No, he wasn’t, and why did so many people believe she needed a man to be content? “I have a lot to do to keep me occupied, thank you very much. Chicago is a very exciting place. Lots of things to see and do.”

“Unlike Placid.”

“Definitely not like Placid,” she said. “I don’t have to travel far to shop for a decent pair of shoes.”

He barked out a cynical laugh. “I still remember the day we met. You were hoppin’ mad because there wasn’t a mall nearby.”

She’d been angry over leaving her friends behind in Knoxville and moving to Podunk, Mississippi. “I was barely fourteen, Sam. At the time, hanging out at the mall was my life.”

“You were spoiled, that’s for sure.”

Savannah’s ears began to ring. “I wasn’t spoiled. I just happened to be a typical teenager, not some hay-seed who thought riding around in the back of a pickup through the town square constituted a good time on Saturday night.”

Sam didn’t look the least bit ruffled by the insult. In fact, he seemed smug. “I’d rather have clean air and good neighbors than rush-hour traffic and strangers living next to me.”

Savannah lifted her chin in indignation. “I have neighbors.”

He sent her a skeptical look. “Oh, yeah? What are their names?”

She’d strolled right into that one. “Nancy and Phil.” Or maybe it was Janice and Will. She’d spoken to them twice since she’d moved into the condo three years ago.

Way past time for a subject change, and to restore some modicum of civility before they really started going at it. “Jamie’s a beautiful little girl, Sam. You and Darlene should be very proud of her.”

“We are.” Both his tone and expression verified that.

“And she’s so friendly,” Savannah said. “I’ve never seen my mother so taken with a child.” Not even her own child. Especially not her own child.

“Just a word of warning,” he said. “Dad told her the story about you chasing the sow.”

Great. Jim McBriar could have gone for an eternity without sharing that tale with anyone, much less a six-year-old. “Did he tell her that you let the pig out on purpose just so you could see me slip and slide through the mud while I was trying to get her back into the pen?”

“Probably not, because I never told him about that.”

Of course he hadn’t. “Good. I wouldn’t want her to know exactly how conniving her father can be.”

He narrowed his eyes into a glare. “That’s a little of that old ‘pot calling the kettle black’ behavior, isn’t it?”

So much for friendly conversation. In an effort to avoid more conflict, Savannah asked, “Are you still raising pigs?”

“Cattle. Last year I bought the Miller place so I could have extra pasture.”

One more shocker among many. “That land has been
in the Miller family for years. I never thought I’d see the day when they’d give it up.”

Sam’s expression turned suddenly somber. “They’re not the only ones, Savannah. The Delta is economically depressed and people are suffering. Whole towns have closed up shop and family farms are being bought up by vultures like Wainwright. It makes me sick to see it happening and not be able to do a damn thing about it.”

“Then why do you stay?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Anger called out from his eyes and in his voice when he said, “Because my family helped build this town. Because if I don’t stay, then Placid might not survive. I’ll spend my last dying breath trying to prevent that from happening. Maybe you had no trouble walking away without looking back, but I never would.”

Sam’s loyalty to the town wasn’t new to Savannah, nor was his continued condemnation of her choices. Many times in the past he’d echoed the same sentiments. Still, she couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to champion a possible lost cause, or choose to permanently reside in a place with so few opportunities. Then again, she’d always known that Sam had wanted nothing more than a simple way of life. “I guess we both got what we wanted. I have my law career, and you got the farm, wife and child. Congratulations on meeting your goals.”

“Minus the wife,” he corrected, his gaze now fixed on some unknown focal point in the front yard.