The One She Left Behind (Harlequin Super Romance) (7 page)

After the couple moved almost directly in front of the table, Savannah decided she’d seen quite enough. If Sam gave her even a momentary glance, she’d send him a look that could very well give away her shaky emotional state.

Savannah grabbed her purse and headed for the restroom, a refuge where she could gather her wits and touch up her makeup. She muttered a few unflattering comments directed at Sam and wished she could snap off her tongue when a spiral-curled redhead stepped out of one stall.

Savannah smiled briefly and hoped to leave it at that. No such luck, she thought when the girl grinned and said, “Hi, I’m Junie,” and without taking a breath added, “Is Sam McBriar your boyfriend?”

When she missed her lips with the gloss she’d been applying, Savannah inspected her teeth for coral smudges. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then he’s a friend?”

She was in no mood for twenty questions. “He’s an acquaintance. Why?”

“Because my friend Bethany, she’s the one dancing with him, and if he was your boyfriend, I just wanted you to know they’re not hooking up or anything. Her dad works for him. Besides, he’s too old for her anyway.”

Savannah tucked the gloss away in her bag and gave
the persistent pixie her full attention. “How old are you?”

Junie lifted her chin, looking somewhat indignant that Savannah would dare ask, a sure sign she was probably about to lie. “Twenty-one. How old are you?”

“Older than twenty-one.”

With that, Savannah grabbed her purse and marched out of the bathroom, thankful to be free of the inquisition, yet reluctant to return to her seat to witness Sam and Bethany dancing, even if they didn’t intend to “hook up.” But if Junie knew Sam the way Savannah did, anything was possible.

At least maybe by now Rachel and Matt were ready to leave. Yet when she reached the table, she found only five empty chairs and a note jotted down on a napkin, tucked beneath the fake-crystal salt shaker.

Savannah recognized Rachel’s handwriting long before she’d read the signature, as well as a ploy to throw two former lovers together. She perused the dance floor in search of Sam, but he’d clearly disappeared. Maybe Blonde Bethany or the buxom waitress had already claimed him for a ride home and a nighttime of fast fun. Now what?

Savannah dropped onto the stool and began shredding the napkin while she weighed her options. She could seek out Chase and request a ride, but when she looked
toward the back of the bar, she noticed he seemed preoccupied with some brunette. She could call a cab. Oh, wait. This was Placid, not Chicago. No cab company. She could go by foot, but walking home six miles in the dark didn’t seem advisable, and that’s if she could actually find her way. Surely she could locate some charitable, familiar soul and beg.

“Let’s go.”

Apparently she’d been wrong about Sam making a quick exit. “Go where?”

“I’m giving you a ride home.”

She slid off the stool and faced him. “Then you knew about this little note?” she asked as she gestured toward what was left of the napkin.

He afforded the paper pile a fleeting look before bringing his attention back to her. “I ran into Matt right when they were leaving. He asked if I’d take you home since Rachel wasn’t feeling well. I said okay, so you’re stuck with me.”

Lovely. “Fine. I’ll go with you, but only because I don’t have a choice.”

He released a low, skeptical laugh. “I don’t know about that. You could probably get a ride with any of the guys at the bar. They’ve been staring you down all night.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” And she hadn’t because Sam had earned most of her consideration for the past few hours.

He inclined his head slightly. “So what’s it going to be? The devil you know, or the devil you don’t?”

Savannah almost said “Neither,” but thought better
of it. She’d rather go home with Sam than with a stranger.
Ride
to her home with Sam.

She picked up her purse, threw the strap over her shoulder and said, “Just keep your horns and pitchfork to yourself.”

“You used to like my pitchfork.”

Some things never changed. “Shut up or I’ll reconsider and walk home.”

Without further commentary, she started toward the door to a chorus of whistles and catcalls from the aforementioned bar dwellers. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Sam had paid them to prove his point.

After she pushed her way through the exit and walked into the welcome night air, Sam trailed behind her as she scanned the rutted parking lot—and immediately located his truck. Not the shiny black one she’d seen at the diner, but the red single-cab 1968 Chevy that he’d driven in high school. “Manny,” short for Manly Truck.

Savannah turned around and paused in her tracks. “You still have Manny?”

He walked past her and opened the passenger door that squeaked like a rusty gate. “Yeah,” he said. “If you take good care of something, it can last a lifetime.”

She immediately thought of Rachel and Matt’s marriage. “You’re right.”

“Man, I’m actually right about something? It’s a miracle.” His tone was dry and somewhat accusatory.

“Yes, it is a miracle,” she said as she climbed onto the black cloth seat.

While Sam rounded the truck to the driver’s side, Savannah studied the familiar surroundings as a host of
memories tried to force their way into her overly tired mind. How many times had she sat in this truck snuggled up next to Sam? Many more than she could count. But tonight she would remain on her side of the cab, not parked in the center next to a man who’d probably prefer she ride in the truck bed.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut, jarring Savannah out of her momentary stupor. He switched on the ignition, turned to her and said, “You can stop choking the door handle. I’m not going to jump you.”

Irked by his observation, Savannah rested her hands in her lap. And just when she thought she could relax, Sam draped his arm over the seat as he backed out of the parking spot, his fingertips practically brushing her shoulder. She immediately recalled the day his dad had given him this truck. She remembered how proud he’d been when he’d come to pick her up to show off the gift. Remembered the times they’d sat in the cab while she’d cried on his shoulder after arguing with her mom. Remembered other times when they hadn’t talked at all.

She mentally stopped short, wondering how on earth she’d climbed on board that train of thought. Evidently reason had briefly left her, thanks to a patently tempting man. A man with whom she’d shared a bittersweet history.

After Sam pulled out of the lot and onto the rural road, Savannah rolled down the window, allowing the breeze to blow across her face. The smell of fresh-cut hay and damp air thrust her memories back into overdrive. She’d forgotten how dark the nights could be in
the country, how bright the stars. Wishing stars that shot across the sky in plain sight, only most of her wishes failed to come true, including her wish that she and Sam would have a future together. Marriage and children together, like Matt and Rachel. She’d been a child back then, with a child’s view of the perfect life. Now she was grown, and she’d come to learn that some things simply weren’t meant to be, exactly what Sam had said earlier that day.

They didn’t speak for the next few miles, the low hum of the engine the only sound breaking through the quiet until Sam asked, “Do you remember what’s around the next bend in the road?”

“What’s left of the old drive-in,” she muttered without much thought.

“Beyond that.”

She knew where he could be heading, yet she wasn’t sure why. She did know she didn’t dare play along. “My house.”

“The road to Potter’s Pond.”

The name that had been bandied about during dinner. The private piece of land where the town’s youth went to park. A rite of passage, some would say. The place where kids had been “necking for nearly a century,” according to Sam’s dad, although she always thought that to be an embellishment.

“We spent some pretty hot nights there,” he said when she didn’t bother to respond.

Very true, and very unwise to discuss it in detail. Feigning ignorance would be her best course. “Summers are always hot in Mississippi.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Oh, no, no, no….
She wasn’t going there. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Calm down. I was just seeing if you remembered.”

Savannah didn’t buy his innocent act one bit. She also couldn’t forget the sins of her youth, though heaven knew she’d tried. “I really don’t see the point in remembering a time when we were both incredibly ignorant.”

“Ignorant or not, we couldn’t get enough of each other.”

And she couldn’t get out of the conversation fast enough. “Like I said, we were ignorant. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Another brief span of silence passed, steeped in tension and turned-back time while they approached the well-worn path that had led to Savannah’s teenage downfall.

“I wonder if the place still looks the same,” Sam said when the rusty rail fence surrounding the pond came into view.

“I’m sure it’s exactly the same since not a lot changes around here.” That included Sam, who’d always been fond of teasing her without mercy. That seemed to be his goal tonight—doing his best to shake her up with the unwelcome nostalgia. Unfortunately, that ploy was beginning to work. She started to feel as if each breath she drew took great effort, exactly as it had been on those long-ago nights when she’d been high on anticipation and low on wisdom.

He sent her a fast glance and a somewhat sinister—
albeit sexy—smile. “If Manny could talk, he’d have more than a few stories to tell.”

“Could you just keep your eyes on the road and your mind on the present?”

And your foot on the accelerator,
she wanted to say when he appeared to slow down. She’d be surprised if Manny was chugging along above ten miles per hour while her heart had to be going at least a hundred.

One more minute and they would be at the gravel drive. One more minute and he could choose to make a turn that would lead them right down memory lane and straight into trouble. Just when Savannah prepared to protest loudly, Sam sped up and passed by the turnoff.

Savannah mentally compiled a laundry list of insults directed at him as she released the breath she’d been holding and unclenched her fists. Obviously he’d been bent on taunting her just to get a reaction from her, and she hated that she’d played right into his hands. The best way to thwart his attempts would be to not react at all, and that’s precisely what she planned to do from this point forward.

Yet by the time they reached the farm, her legs were so weak when she climbed out of the cab, she felt as if she’d run a marathon with forty-pound weights strapped to her ankles. Adding to her angst, when she closed the door and turned around, Sam was right there, maybe a foot away.

“Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, determined to get in the house before he could sense her discomfort and celebrate his victory.

Sam braced a palm above her head, halting her departure. “It’s still early.”

If she wasn’t careful, it might be too late. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

There went the old innocent act again. “Dredging up old times as if I’d be interested in taking up where we left off.”

“Aren’t you curious?” he asked.

“Curious about what?”

“About how it would be between us now?”

Unfortunately, yes. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his unwavering gaze trained on hers.

Savannah was only sure about one thing—she needed to leave now. Yet as she maintained contact with his dark, pensive blue eyes, her feet felt as if they’d been cast in cement. The sudden desire to relive the past, to satisfy that unwelcome curiosity, commandeered her common sense. An overpowering desire derived from a place she so wanted to ignore.

When he leveled his gaze on her mouth, she knew it could be only a matter of time before she crossed a line she’d sworn to never, ever cross again.

H
E KISSED HER
. O
N THE
cheek. Like someone would kiss their sister.

Savannah stared at him for a long moment, poised between disbelief and ridiculous disappointment. “What was that?”

“Just trying to be friendly.”

Yeah, right. “The way you looked at me a minute ago, friendship was the last thing your mind.”

“You looked at me like I was your last meal, sweetheart.”

He had a lot of nerve, acting as if that near-miss kiss was somehow her fault. As if this whole falling-into-the-past predicament was her fault. “Just when I decided to make the effort to get along with you while I’m here, you take advantage of the situation.”

He leaned closer, his mouth only a whisper away from her ear. “Lady, if I was going to take advantage of you, we’d be parked underneath that old oak tree at the pond and we’d both be naked about now.”

Savannah experienced a full-body shiver that she hoped he hadn’t noticed but most likely had. She took a step back, away from all that outrageous magnetism.

“Don’t look so worried, Savvy,” he said. “I’m not any
more interested in reliving the past than you are. But it sure was fun seeing your doe-in-the-headlights look.”

And it sure would be fun to haul off and slap that arrogant smile off his face. “Sometimes you can be a royal jackass, Samuel McBriar.”

He had the audacity to laugh, which prompted Savannah to ask, “Do you really find this so hilarious?” She didn’t see one iota of humor in the situation.

“Yeah, I do. I can count on one hand the times you said a curse word.”

She could think of one instance when she’d cursed him in a public place. “Technically speaking, a jackass is a donkey, so that doesn’t exactly meet the curse-word criteria.”

“Is that donkey comparison aimed at my attitude or my anatomy?”

“Your ego.”

“Whatever you say, Savvy.”

She detested the dreadful nickname he’d given her in high school when she’d landed on the honor roll the first time. “Please stop calling me that. I’m not a child.”

He streamed his gaze down her body and back up before returning his attention on her face. “Nope. You’re all grown up.”

In view of her rather heated reaction, he might as well have used his hands instead of his eyes. “Go home, Sam.”

“Not a problem, Savvy.” And just like that, he rounded the truck to leave. No argument. No protest. No real kiss good-night, which was a blessing in disguise.

As soon as Savannah had enough wherewithal to move, she started toward the house, with each step deriding herself for almost falling into his trap. After all her talk of maturity, she was still behaving like that infatuated girl of long ago.

And he became the rebel again when he shot out of the drive, stirring up dust the way he used to do after they’d had some silly, insignificant argument. She managed to make it to the porch in time to watch his tail-lights fade in the distance. Regrettably, she couldn’t say the same for her lack of composure.

Savannah dropped down on the glider and attempted to analyze exactly what kind of game Sam was playing and why. She did know she would be a fool to play along. But isn’t that exactly what she’d done? And isn’t that exactly what Sam had hoped she would do?

Right then she was too tired to scrutinize her actions or his motives. She needed to get some sleep, or at least try.

Once in the foyer, Savannah glanced to her left to discover her mother seated in her favorite chair in the living room, dressed in a faded pink housecoat, a book resting facedown in her lap while she sported a typically stern demeanor.

She instinctively wanted to ignore Ruth and run to her room, but as she’d previously mentioned to Sam, she wasn’t a child any longer. “Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked as she stepped inside the parlor.

Ruth came to her feet slowly, reminding Savannah that her mother’s advancing age had begun to take its toll. “I waited up so I could tell you that the attorney
from Jackson will be by to go over your father’s will tomorrow afternoon.”

That information could have been held until morning, which led Savannah to believe the proverbial other shoe was about to drop. “Okay. Is that it?”

“No.”

Great. She was thirty years old and about to be lectured by her mother—or grounded for the duration of her visit. And like an adolescent, she felt the need to defend her actions. “If you’re going to scold me about going out so soon after Dad’s funeral, I needed to be around my friends so I wouldn’t feel so sad.”

Ruth clutched the book against her chest. “You’re a grown woman, Savannah. It makes no difference to me how you spend your time. I just wanted to say that dredging up the past isn’t always wise.”

“You mean hanging out with old acquaintances?”

“I mean you and Sam.”

Had her mother been spying on them? Of course she had. The curtain shielding the front window was wide open, giving Ruth Greer a bird’s-eye view of the front drive illuminated by the yard light. Although there hadn’t been all that much to see, Savannah could imagine how it might have looked. “We’re just friends.” A bit of a stretch, but she was too exhausted to go into more detail.

Ruth shook her head. “You’re so caught up in your own little world, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Anger as sharp as a carving knife sliced through Savannah. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Sometimes it’s best to quit running away from the truth, or one day you’ll wake up to find you’ve run out of places to go.”

She was too tired to decipher her mother’s riddles. Too rattled by the night’s events to argue. She clung to self-control only long enough to say, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, Savannah headed into the hall and sprinted up the stairs. She’d be damned if she let her mother get to her again. The same held true for Sam, although tonight she’d almost lost that battle.

She did agree with Ruth on one count—dredging up the past wasn’t necessarily a smart thing to do. In fact, if you let it sneak up on you, it could be downright detrimental to the heart.

“Y
OU TRYING TO SNEAK
out, boy?”

After only two hours’ sleep tops, Sam had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone when he walked into the kitchen. He also wasn’t in the mood for a chat. But out of respect, he turned from the back door to find his dad seated at the breakfast nook wearing a white T-shirt and light blue boxers, a cup of coffee in hand. “I thought I’d get an early start.”

Jim glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even close to dawn. Are you gonna work by candlelight?”

“Last I checked, we had electricity in the barn. I need to fix a couple of stalls.” Hammering a few nails might alleviate some of his frustration. “What are you doing up so early?”

“You were making a lot of racket in the bathroom and I’m a light sleeper, thanks to you.”

Nothing like being blamed for a parent’s poor sleeping habits. “What have I got to do with that?”

Jim scooted his chair closer to the table. “I had to learn to sleep with one eye and both ears open to make sure you didn’t leave the house after your curfew.”

Yeah, he’d managed to do that a time or two, and he’d almost always been caught. Almost. “That was a lot of years ago and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown man. I should be able to come and go as I please at this point in my life.”

“Yep, you should at that.”

Someday soon he’d build a house of his own so he wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of living at home. “If you’re finished playing watchdog, I’m leaving now.”

“Gracie won’t like it if you don’t have your breakfast first.”

“I’ll come back in for breakfast.”

Jim gestured toward a chair. “Have a cup of coffee first. We need to chew the fat a bit.”

No use in trying to fight the man when he had a bone to pick, Sam decided. He strode to the kitchen counter, poured a cup of coffee from the pot and took the seat across from his dad. Might as well get to it so he could get to work. “Talk.”

Jim leaned back and rested his hands atop his belly. “Darlene called looking for you last night.”

He predicted his ex might have taken exception to him leaving Jamie at home for the evening, but it wasn’t
as if he’d completely abandoned their daughter. “What did she want?”

“After I told her you were out with the old gang, she told me to tell you that since it’s festival weekend and the kiddo wants to be there, she’ll pick Jamie up on Saturday instead of Friday.”

He hadn’t really planned to attend the annual event, but if his daughter wanted to go, he’d suffer through it. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” His dad stretched his arms above his head and stacked his hands behind his neck. “She asked if Savannah was going to be at the get-together last night, I told her yes and then she said something about you following her advice.”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about.” Oh, yeah, he did.

Jim took a drink of coffee and smacked his lips. “At first I thought maybe she was pleased to hear you’ve been with Savannah, but I can’t quite wrap my mind around the ex-wife encouraging the ex-husband to make time with the ex-girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t imagine where that was anyone’s business. “Darlene told me to get out more, and I did. End of story.”

“But did you get reacquainted with Savannah?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.” After what he’d done to her last night, he’d pretty much guaranteed that wouldn’t happen. “Now if you’re finished with the questions, I need to get started.”

“Just one more thing. Ruth called and said the attorney’s coming by this afternoon to read the will. He’ll
drop off the lease paperwork from Wainwright in the next couple of days for you to go over before you sign it.”

At least Sam could move forward on that front. But he couldn’t help but wonder how Savannah would react once she learned that the old home place was about to sell, and that he was going to be the one working the land.

He figured she’d do one of two things—accept the inevitable, or raise holy hell. He would lay down money on the last one.

“E
XCUSE ME
, M
R
. F
ARLEY,
could you please repeat that?” Not that Savannah really needed to hear the attorney’s words again. She’d understood exactly what he’d said—she just didn’t quite believe it.

The balding, bespectacled lawyer smiled as if repeating the will’s terms didn’t bother him a bit. “Since the property is jointly titled, all proceeds from the sale of the house, equipment and land will go to Ruth.”

She stared at her mother, who sat on the floral sofa, stiff as a skateboard. “But you’re not going to sell the farm now, correct? This clause is in case you want to do that in the future.”

“I’ve already sold it.”

“Who bought it?” Savannah asked.

“Edwin Wainwright,” Farley said.

Savannah could barely contain her shock. “Mother, you have got to be kidding.”

Ruth sent her a quelling look. “We’ll discuss it later.
I’m sure Mr. Farley would like to finish up so he can go back to Jackson.”

“I do have one more appointment,” Farley said. “But as soon as we go over the last of the details, feel free to look over the will, Miss Greer, and then call if you have any concerns.”

Oh, she had some concerns, all right, but most had to do with her mother’s decision to sell the farm to Wainwright, not her father’s last wishes.

To that point, her aunt and uncle had been standing against one wall in the parlor, observing the proceedings. Savannah had all but forgotten their presence until Farley said, “Mr. Taylor, Mr. Greer bequeathed you his autographed baseball collection. And Mrs. Taylor, he wished you to have his stamp collection.” He leaned over and handed Bill a document. “This is the appraised value of the items.”

From the way her uncle raised his eyebrows, she assumed they were of some monetary as well as sentimental value. Many an evening Savannah had sat at the dining room table and listened as her dad talked about those collections. And several times she’d regretfully cut him off to join her friends or finish her homework.

“Ruth and Savannah, you are to divide any remaining keepsakes how you see fit,” Farley added. “But there is one item your father specifically designated you be given, Savannah. The wooden cradle made by his great-great-grandfather.”

Savannah recalled the beautiful spindled cradle stored safely in the attic. No matter how long or hard she’d begged as a child, her mother hadn’t allowed her
to play with it. With adulthood came insight, and she now understood why that rule had been established. Her father had hoped to one day see his own grandchild occupying that treasured heirloom, something that would never happen now. That fact alone threatened to send Savannah into an emotional tailspin and with great effort, she stopped the urge to cry.

Farley then handed her an envelope. “He also left you this.”

Savannah wanted to wait to open it, but it seemed everyone expected her to reveal the contents right away, especially her mother. She lifted the flap and withdrew a five-thousand-dollar life insurance policy naming her as the beneficiary. And attached to the certificate, she found a personal note.

Savannah stared at the letter through a mist of tears she’d tried so hard to keep at bay, her emotions battered by the realization that her offspring would never know how wonderful her father had been. They would never know how much he had influenced her, how much he had adored her.

Then and there, she silently vowed to keep his legacy
alive by sharing the stories he’d told her, the lessons he’d taught her, provided she decided to have children.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing, raised her chin and said, “Thank you, Mr. Farley. Is there anything else?”