My Husband, My Babies, page 20
“We haven’t talked all evening, but I heard there’s a storm coming and I don’t want to get stuck in Redding and not be able to get over the pass.”
“Why don’t you stay? I still don’t understand why you aren’t going to be here for the twins’ first Christmas. You were with us in the delivery room. You’re a part of their lives.”
Kristin’s eyes filled with dismay and…guilt, but the emotions were replaced by stubbornness. “I have prior commitments, Jen. People who need me more than you do. I can’t let them down.”
Jenny looked at Sam for help but he moved his shoulders as if he didn’t understand her reasoning, either. “I invited her to come to the ranch Christmas party. We have a new employee. Lars dropped him off last week. He’s a good-looking guy. Probably single.”
Jenny and Kristin exchanged a look. “Probably?”
“Lars said he found him wandering around up near the mine. Apparently the guy suffered a head injury in a motorcycle accident during the big storm that came through last month. Doesn’t seem to remember much about his past. Lars named him Harley after the emblem on his jacket. He let him recuperate in his cabin at the Blue Lupine for a few weeks, but you know how suspicious Lars is.”
Jenny had visited Lars’s old mine once years before with Josh. She knew the crusty old miner’s reputation as a pot-smoking hermit. Sam was practically his only friend.
Kristin made an impatient gesture. “Well, thanks for the attempted matchmaking, Sam, but you’ll have to introduce him to Andi. Or Jenny, for that matter. I’m not in the market for a man.”
“Me neither,” Jenny said.
Sam flinched—just barely, but Jenny noticed. She’d been referring to the new man. But she’d spoken the truth. Hadn’t she? She wasn’t in the market for any man. To hide her confusion, she stepped down to hug her sister goodbye. “Drive safely. Especially if there’s a storm coming.”
Kristin squeezed her fiercely. “I will. Give Tucker and Lara a big kiss for me. ’Night, Sam. Merry Christmas, and remember what I told you.”
She turned and dashed down the stairs, slipping into the antique store a second later. Jenny took a breath, deliberating on what to do next. Go back to the party or stay here. With Sam. Alone.
“What did she tell you?”
Even in the dim light, she spotted the discomfort on his face. “I’d rather not say.”
“Why? Was it about me?”
“In a way.”
She stepped to stand directly in front of him, bringing them eye to eye. “I hate secrets. Tell me.”
“She said you weren’t going to need a year to mourn.”
A blush heated her cheeks. “Really? Is that all?”
He shook his head, then took a breath before adding, “She said if I waited too long, you’d get scared and run away.”
Her sister knew her well. She was probably right, but that didn’t make Jenny any less furious. “I’m going to kill her.”
“No, you’re not. You love her,” Sam said, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. “Like I love…Josh.”
Had he meant to say Jenny? She didn’t ask. Instead, she kissed him. And Sam responded as though he’d been kissing her all his life. He tilted his head and started to deepen the kiss, but she stopped him. “This is a very public hallway.”
“And you’re worried about what people will say.”
Jenny was embarrassed to admit that she cared about public opinion, but she did.
“Would it make a difference if I told you we have a perfectly good excuse?” he asked, drawing her hand to his lips. His lips kissed her fingers.
“We do?”
“Look up. Your sister went crazy with mistletoe.”
Jenny glanced up. Sure enough, hanging from the old-fashioned light fixture was a straggly clump of mistletoe adorned with a red ribbon. Laughter bubbled up from deep inside.
“You’re as bad as Josh,” she said, but the words seemed to come from a long way off. The light quivered and suddenly Josh’s shimmering image superimposed itself over Sam’s body.
“Jenny?” Sam said.
His voice sounded as if he were speaking through a block of ice. Which made sense, because the hallway had suddenly turned cold. Deathly cold.
Panic flooded her veins. A blinding fear possessed her. Without conscious thought, she struck out at the image that didn’t belong there.
“No,” she cried. “You’re dead. Leave me alone.”
One minute Sam was standing in front of her; the next he was gone. So was the vision of Josh. All that remained was an odd groaning sound.
Dizzy, Jenny grabbed the handrail until the vertigo passed. She looked down and spotted Sam sprawled at the base of the staircase. Jenny let out a terrified scream. “No. Sam.” What have I done?
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM DIDN’T MOVE for a good four or five seconds. What the hell happened? One minute he was kissing Jenny, the next he was cartwheeling down the stairs.
Jenny pushed me.
Thank God for years of stunt work, he thought. A fall like that could have broken something. Bad enough his pride was in pieces. At least nobody had seen it happen, he thought, opening his eyes.
The angles of the walls in the dim hallway shifted two or three times before finally coming into focus. He was about to move, when a piercing scream made him freeze. Almost simultaneously, the sound of footsteps snapped on the staircase beside his cheek. Rolling his eyes as far back as possible without lifting his chin, he saw Jenny flying down the stairs, her long skirt flowing.
A door opened somewhere behind him. “Good heavens,” a voice said from the opposite direction. “What happened?”
Sam slowly turned his head. Neck seems fine, he silently gauged.
Warren Jones, Sam’s tax accountant, stood frozen in the doorway leading to the antique shop.
“Sam, Sam, are you okay?” Jenny cried, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands skittered over him, sending shock waves in all directions. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I don’t know why… God, tell me you’re all right.”
Her plea fell like sparkling drops of honey on Sam’s ear. She cares.
“Call 911,” she ordered Warren.
Sam pointed at the hapless man. “Do and you’ll regret it,” Sam threatened. He started to sit up, but Jenny pressed both hands flat against his chest, rendering Sam immobile. “Don’t move. You could have a neck injury.”
“I’m fine, Jen.”
“You don’t look fine.” She ran the tips of her fingers down his torso then his legs as if checking for broken bones. His response was the kind that would have proved to anyone looking that he was healthy—and horny.
“Jennifer. Stop it. I’m fine.”
He rolled to his side. Twinges zinged him from hip to lower back. Apparently his grimace showed.
“Is it your back?” She slid her fingers beneath his shirt at the small of his back and gently probed his spine. Her touch was agony, but not for the reason she assumed.
“Believe me. Nothing’s broken,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Can we go home now?”
Suddenly the door flew open, and a dozen people poured into the tiny anteroom.
“What happened?” a familiar voice asked. “Sam, you okay, bud?”
Donnie. Sam had never been as glad to see his old friend. “Just peachy,” Sam said, pushing into a sitting position. He gingerly rubbed a tender spot on his elbow. He must have clipped the banister on his way down. “I lost my footing and fell.”
Jenny made a squeaky sound. “He’s lying. I pushed him.”
“No, she didn’t. I slipped,” Sam stressed.
Jenny’s gaze met his, and through her tears he could read her confusion.
Before either of them could say anything more, the crowd parted to let Diane and Gordon past. Donnie backed away. “I’ll see if I can catch Kristin before she leaves.”
Sam wasn’t sure he understood the reasoning behind that, but maybe a good masseuse could help.
“How’d this happen? Were you feeling dizzy before you fell?” Gordon asked, his tone professional.
“He didn’t—” Jenny started.
Desperate to prevent a second impassioned confession, Sam said the first thing that came to mind. “There’s a board loose on the stairs. It made me lose my balance.”
The crowd gave a collective gasp and murmurs started to build. Sam caught a few words like “liability insurance” and “litigation.” He stifled a groan.
His elbow was starting to throb, and he could feel a painful area under the knee of his jeans that was probably bleeding. He needed a hot bath and a couple of aspirin. “I’m okay, Gordon. Really.”
“I don’t like that goose egg on your head,” Gordon said, gently probing a spot Sam hadn’t even been aware of until Gordon touched it.
“Ouch. Quit it.”
“Uh-oh,” someone muttered. “He’ll probably sue.”
Sam almost laughed until someone else said, “He won’t sue. He’s practically family.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Ida Jane said, pushing her way past a cluster of onlookers. “He is family, you dolt.”
The dolt in question—Linda McCloskey puffed up indignantly. “He’s an in-law. I meant real family.”
A twinge in Sam’s belly, totally unrelated to the fall, made him flinch. Ida Jane looked him straight in the eye and said, “He’s the twins’ daddy. Does that make him family enough for you?”
Oh, Miss Ida, what have you done?
A hush fell over the crowd for several heartbeats. Sam was still looking at the old lady. He saw something that looked an awful lot like satisfaction in her eyes. He didn’t understand it, but he knew without turning his head that her great-niece wasn’t going to feel the same.
“Ida, you’re mistaken,” Diane said loudly. “Josh is Tucker and Lara’s father. Sam’s their uncle.”
“Don’t tell me what I know,” Ida Jane said angrily. “Sam’s the daddy.”
Sam looked at Jenny. Stricken. Mortified.
A murmur of questions and speculation was building. Snippets like, “They had an affair when Josh was dying? How could they!” came through loud and clear.
Andi jumped atop an inverted bucket and whistled. “Good grief, people,” she shouted. “What planet do you come from? Haven’t you heard of science?”
She swept the crowd with her indignant glance then pointed at Sam. “Yes, Sam is the twins’ biological father. He helped his brother and Jenny conceive because Josh was sick. Remember? Dying. Remember?”
The group looked uncomfortable. One or two people gave Sam conciliatory smiles. He grabbed the railing and pulled himself to his feet. Unfortunately, he stood up too fast, and black spots flashed before his eyes. He swayed unsteadily.
Gordon grabbed one arm, Jenny the other.
“We’re going to the hospital and get a couple of X rays,” Gordon said.
“Andi, please call the ranch and tell them we might be late,” Jenny ordered.
Kristin suddenly appeared; Donnie followed a few steps behind. “What happened? Donnie just caught me. How can I help?”
“Take Ida Jane home for me?” Jenny asked.
“Of course.”
Sam tried to navigate under his own power, but neither Gordon nor Jenny would let go. Donnie parted the crowd with a single command.
Sam kept his head down and focused on not stepping on Jenny’s toes, but something made him look up. His gaze met his mother’s. Her eyes were filled with accusations.
He swallowed a sigh. Oh, the joy of Christmas.
“ARE YOU Mrs. O’Neal?” the desk clerk asked Jenny.
Sam had already disappeared down the hallway, Gordon at his side.
“Yes,” Jenny said without hesitation.
“I need you to fill this out,” the young woman said. “Insurance forms. Medical history.”
Jenny absently reached for the paperwork. She was a pro at filling out forms—she’d done a million for Josh.
Sam had been understandably subdued on the trip to the hospital. No doubt his injury was only part of it; they also had to deal with the gossip that would be flying around. Diane would want answers.
Gordon hadn’t said a word about Ida’s revelation, but Jenny knew she wouldn’t be that lucky where her mother-in-law was concerned.
She tried to focus on the lines of the form. Heart disease? No. High blood pressure? No. Kidney problems? She scanned the list and suddenly felt swamped by fear. So many things could go wrong. There were so many ways she could lose him. Just like she’d lost Josh.
The antiseptic smells and the bright overhead lights of the hospital brought back memories of Josh on his downward slide. The fear and desperation. The unspoken prayer that a miracle was in the making, when deep in her heart she knew there was no hope.
Where’s Sam? What if they found something wrong?
She jumped to her feet and started toward the door that said Authorized Personnel Only.
“Wait,” the admittance clerk said.
“I can’t. I have to make sure he’s okay.”
The girl—who couldn’t be older than eighteen or nineteen—gave her an odd look. “You’re Mrs. O’Neal,” she said. “The teacher.”
Jenny paused, torn between good manners and her need to see Sam. The girl walked toward her. “I’m Mandy Sogerson. You taught my little brother, Robbie. I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
Jenny was still trying to pull an image of Robbie to mind, when she saw a light go on in Mandy’s face. If Jenny’s husband was dead, then Jenny wasn’t the right Mrs. O’Neal.
“Thank you, Mandy. Your brother was quite a character! Tell him I said hello. Now, I have to see Sam.”
“Um…but…you’re not…I can’t…”
Jenny sympathized with the young woman’s dilemma but she was beyond caring what anyone thought.
“Listen, Mandy, I’m the person who lives in Sam’s house, fixes his food, raises his children. If you want to see a marriage license, you’ll have to get in line. I need to be with him.”
The stalemate ended a second later when the door opened and Sam walked out, followed by Gordon. He looked at Jenny. “Are you ready to go home?”
Jenny’s knees felt weak, but she managed to clear the distance between them. “Are you okay?”
He hugged her tight, as if to convince her that he was healthy and whole.
“He’s going to be just fine,” Gordon said, patting her shoulder. “It helps to have a hard head.”
“I prefer to think it was my years as a stuntman that saved me,” Sam said, his tone thick with humor. He pushed back a lock of hair that had come loose from Jenny’s elaborate hairdo. “No concussion. Hairline fracture of one rib, but I still think that’s an old break.”
He and Gordon exchanged a look. “Don’t tell your mother, but I’m going to sneak a cigar before you take me back,” Gordon said. He picked up his coat from the pile Jenny had been watching and walked through the pneumatic doors.
“He’s a good man,” Sam said, then he put his arm around Jenny’s shoulders. “Let’s sit down and talk a minute.”
Jenny wasn’t sure she could. Her emotions were all over the place: relief, residual panic, dismay at being the center of all the gossip once word hit the grapevine, and shock from the unnerving memory of Josh’s image blocking her view of Sam. Maybe she was losing her mind. Her maternal grandmother had gone crazy. Maybe mental instability was an inherited trait.
“Can we go home instead?”
He steered her to an uncomfortable-looking chair in the far corner of the waiting room. “Soon.” He sat beside her, then leaned close enough to take both of her hands in his.
“Jenny, Gordon and I were talking. We can do some damage control. If you move back to town—”
She blinked. “What?”
“I was wrong. I should have known this would come out and that people would think the worst. They always do.”
“You don’t care what people think.”
“No, but you do.”
Jenny looked at the admittance desk. Just the top of Mandy’s head was visible behind a magazine. “I read somewhere that most people’s attention span is just slightly longer than the life span of a mayfly. I’m through living my life worrying about keeping the rest of the world—even the people of Gold Creek—happy.” She stood. “Can we go home now?”
FACEDOWN ON KRISTIN’S massage table the next morning, Sam blinked the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. By the time they’d dropped Gordon off, replayed the whole fiasco for Greta and checked on the twins, it was after midnight. Lack of sleep—plus the jet lag from his East Coast trip—left him feeling slightly hungover.
“You know, Jenny thinks she saw Josh’s ghost, Sam,” Kristin said as she dug her fingers into the tender muscles of his upper shoulder.
He gritted his teeth when she touched a particularly tender spot. “I beg your pardon?” he asked, his voice echoing from beneath the table.
Kristin had spent the night in Jenny’s room at the ranch and had offered to give him a massage before she headed home to Oregon. Despite their little talk at the hospital, Sam and Jenny hadn’t really discussed what happened the night before. He’d been wiped out on the ride home, so much so he let Jenny drive.
“I believe the human spirit never dies. And I’m sure Josh is still a part of our lives, but I don’t think his ghost suddenly appeared on the stairway, blocking her view of you,” Kris said.
Sam lifted his head. “Ghost?”
“Whatever she saw was probably a result of a combination of stress and grief,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Her first Christmas without Josh…all suddenly got to her. Unfortunately, now she thinks she’s lost it.”
“Lost what?”
“Her mind. Like Grandma Suzy.”
Sam pushed his face into the cutout and cussed.
“There’s been too damn much talk about ghosts,” he muttered.
Kristin plied his lower back with her thumbs. “I agree, but I did feel a chill right before I left. Maybe the place is haunted.”
