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The chill in Sam’s eyes warmed a bit, and he gave her a look filled with the sympathy of someone all too familiar with her circumstances. Fortunately, Chase trotted in to rejoin them, saving her the awkwardness of either explaining further or pretending that there was nothing more to tell.
More than once, she’d caught herself wondering how things would be for her now if she’d never met Brady in the first place. But then she wouldn’t have Chase, and her life was infinitely better for being his mom. So, despite the fact that Brady had caused her more heartache than she’d once thought humanly possible, she did her best to feel grateful for the good things he’d left behind.
“Chase, this is Sam Calhoun, a friend of Aunt Daphne’s. Sam, this is my son, Chase.”
Her son stared up at the towering man but bravely held his hand out over the counter. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Sam’s mouth as they shook. “Same here.”
Chase’s blue eyes drifted away, lighting on a glass display case filled with several varieties of cookies. “Are those fresh?”
“Kids like to stop in on their way home from school, so my grandmother makes sure there’s snacks for them to enjoy. She brought ’em outta the kitchen about an hour ago. Is that fresh enough for you?”
Chase nodded, and Sam motioned them to two stools. After washing his hands, he got them each a plate and set a delicious-smelling assortment in front of them. “Help yourselves, on the house.” When Holly opened her mouth to object, he cut her off. “You’re both soaked from the rain. It’s the least I can do.”
Deciding it would be rude to refuse his kind gesture, she chose one covered in chocolate icing and sprinkles. When she bit into it, it fell apart in her mouth as she hummed in appreciation. “Amazing. Now that I’ve heard it again, Calhoun sounds familiar. Is that the name I saw on the brass sign next to the bridge?”
Pride softened Sam’s angular features, and he nodded. “In 1820, Jeremiah Calhoun and his two brothers crossed the creek with nothing to their names but three teams of oxen and their wagons. They were top-notch blacksmiths, but there was no ironworks around here at the time. They opened Liberty Creek Forge to supply metal for themselves and other businesses that had started springing up. They built the bridge a couple years later so folks could get here easier. Some of them liked the area well enough to stick around.”
“And the rest is history,” she said, smiling at the appealing homespun story.
Having been raised in Savannah, she had a reverence for the past that had followed her throughout her life. She’d hoped to use that to create some kind of connection with this enigmatic man, but her efforts failed miserably. For some reason, the tentative light in his eyes dimmed, leaving them a flat grayish-blue that made her think of the storm clouds still hovering outside the windows.
Looking away, he pulled a pint carton of milk out of a cooler for Chase, then took two sturdy-looking mugs from a set of open shelves that ran the length of the wall opposite where they were sitting. “There’s a new pot of coffee. Would you like some?”
“Please.” One sip nearly put her on the floor, but she managed to swallow the jolt of caffeine without gagging. She reached out for a bowl of nondairy creamer and emptied a few of the thimble-sized portions into her mug.
“Too strong?”
Apparently, Sam was more observant than most, and she smiled to ease any insult she might have caused. “A little. I’m not used to coffee that’ll hold a spoon upright.”
“Sorry.”
It occurred to her that when he’d been relaying the story of his family’s legacy, Sam had seemed comfortable enough talking to her. But now that they were speaking more spontaneously, his conversational style was decidedly sparser. It reminded her of an actor who was adept at delivering his lines but stumbled while fielding questions during an interview.
She’d seen that kind of behavior many times at the veterans’ hospital, and she suspected that Sam was still waging a battle against something that had followed him home from wherever he’d been stationed. While Holly felt compassion for the former soldier, warning bells were clanging in her head so loudly, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Sam could hear them, too.
Still struggling to leave those horrific memories behind, she was committed to starting a new life with her son as far from the military as she could get. She was rapidly approaching thirty, and now that she’d made it through the worst storm she could imagine, it was time to make some serious plans for the future. For both her and Chase.
They’d spend their summer with Aunt Daphne, getting her back on her feet and enjoying this picturesque part of New Hampshire to the hilt. Then, in August, Holly would be ready to make some solid decisions about their futures and get Chase registered in a new school if they found themselves somewhere other than Boston. Nowhere in those plans did she have the time or the energy to take on another emotionally scarred soldier who may or may not become whole again. Chase was only six when Brady died, so he had hazy images of his father. To her mind, his ignorance was a blessing considering the tragic way Brady’s life had ended.
But now her son was old enough to get attached to people and be devastated if they were suddenly yanked out of his life. For her sake and Chase’s, Holly knew that the smartest thing she could do was keep Sam Calhoun at a nice, safe distance.
* * *
Sam had never been the chatty type.
His mother had often accused him of being a poster child for the staid New Englander who didn’t have much to say but meant every word that came out of his mouth. Still, in thirty years of living he’d never found himself tongue-tied around a woman. Until now.
Holly Andrews was more than easy on the eyes. A few blond strands had escaped her ponytail, framing her brilliant blue eyes in a halo of curls. When she’d pegged him as former military, he’d braced himself for the awkward moment when he’d have to explain where he’d served and why he was back.
To his great relief, she didn’t ask. Probably because she was familiar with veterans and could sense that he didn’t want to talk about his experience. The interesting thing was, she didn’t treat him like someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves the way so many folks did. Instead, she’d given him sympathy and understanding. For someone who’d dealt with every conceivable reaction during the past year, Sam found her matter-of-fact approach to him a refreshing change.
Realizing that her drink was nearly gone, he asked, “Would you like a refill on that?”
“That’d be great. It was a long trip, and we still have to drive to Auntie D’s and unpack.”
“Auntie D?” he echoed in disbelief as he poured coffee into her mug and added some hot water to make it more to her taste. “That’s what you call Daphne Mills, the greatest actress of her generation?”
“Oh, that’s just a bunch of hype invented by her agent.” Holly waved it off with a laugh. “She’d be the first to tell you there were actresses better than her. Not many, of course, but a few,” she added with a fond smile.
“I guess she’d know.” Then he remembered what had brought Holly into the bakery in the first place. “I think that envelope you were asking about is back here somewhere. Gimme a sec.”
“Don’t rush. If we’re not in the way, I’d rather hang out here until it quits raining, anyway.”
“According to the weatherman, this storm’s not moving off till tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, well.” Glancing at her son, she shrugged a delicate shoulder. “Them’s the breaks, right, bud?”
“We won’t melt,” he assured her brightly.
She rewarded his optimism with a proud mother’s smile and slit open the envelope Sam had given her. A pile of cash spilled onto the counter, followed by a house key.
She let out a sound that was half moan and half laugh. “Oh, Auntie, what’re you thinking?”
“Whoa,” Chase commented. “That’s a lotta money.”
“It certainly is,” Holly replied, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself.
Sam was trying hard not to snoop, but it was impossible to miss the large, scrawling message on the pale pink stationery.
Get whatever you want, Peaches.
Reaching back inside, Holly pulled another piece of paper from the envelope. She opened the note and studied it with a frown. When she started spinning the page, he felt compelled to ask, “Something wrong?”
“I’m assuming this is meant to be a map.”
When she turned it for him to see, he realized that even a local like him would have trouble following the vague drawing anywhere. “City folks like your aunt aren’t much for giving directions. They like their GPS.”
“It’s very helpful,” Holly informed him primly. “I managed to get all the way here from Boston using it.”
“To the town, sure, but you won’t find Daphne’s place that way. That road’s not even on a state map.”
He seldom engaged anyone so directly, especially not someone he’d just met. Why had he chosen this afternoon—and this particular woman—to change his approach? No explanation immediately came to mind, but he couldn’t help feeling that something important had just happened to him. Something bigger than an out-of-towner needing directions.
It gave him a sliver of hope that he might be able to regain his emotional footing, after all. Since his return, he’d felt like a stranger in the hometown that had always been a haven from the world. No matter what he’d tried, that impression had stubbornly remained, leaving him convinced that as much as he loved the town that his family had built from nothing, it might not be the best place for him anymore.
What would it be like to start over? he’d wondered more than once. To go someplace where no one knew him and wouldn’t ask about things he’d prefer never to talk about again? Sometimes, after a particularly difficult day, moving away was the only choice that made any sense to him.
When it dawned on him that Holly was speaking to him, he yanked his wandering mind back to their conversation.
“She told us that’s one of the things she likes most about Liberty Creek,” Holly went on. “After dodging Hollywood paparazzi for so long, she’s thrilled about having her privacy back and being treated like a regular person.”
Sam chuckled. “No offense, but there’s nothing regular about her. She’s one of a kind.”
When Holly tilted her head and gazed up at him, he wondered if he’d stepped over some unseen line of etiquette. He’d just met her, after all, and she could easily misinterpret what he’d intended to be a compliment. He’d never had much luck reading women, so he waited anxiously for her to say something.
“I think so, too,” she finally agreed, adding a cute grin. “Just don’t tell her I said so. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
It didn’t occur to him that he’d been holding his breath until it came out in a rush. Hoping to mask his bizarre reaction to her, he held out his hand. “Deal.”
As they shook, Holly’s hand felt small and vulnerable in his, but her grip was firm. Trusting was the word that leapt into his mind, and he sternly pushed it aside. Nice as she seemed, there was no way he’d drag a woman into his wreck of a life, especially one with such a young child. Even though every word she said in that lilting Southern accent of hers made him want to smile.
He’d just made that decision when she said, “I hate to impose, but is there any way you could help me get out there? She’s coming home from the hospital on Friday, and I have a lot to do before then, so I’d like to get started first thing in the morning. Even a new map would be better than this,” she added, waving the useless drawing before tossing it on the counter.
“Sure.” Sam reached for an order pad and pen, then stopped. His parents had drummed hospitality into their children’s heads since they were old enough to grasp the concept. It certainly didn’t include sketching roads on a piece of paper for a visitor who’d probably get lost once she left Main Street. “Actually, I’m doing the rehab work out at her place, and the new fixtures for the kitchen and bathroom came in today. I was planning to take them out there later, but if you give me a minute, we can go now. That way, you can follow me and learn the way.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” Reaching out, she rested a hand on her son’s shoulder in a motherly gesture. “I’m sure we can find it, and I hate to interrupt what you’re doing.”
“You’ve had a long day already,” Sam argued, unsure of why he was fighting with her about this. Most of the time, he let people make their own choices and didn’t worry too much about the outcome. For some reason, this was different, and he tried again. “It’s still raining, and you’ve probably got a few suitcases. If I give you a hand, the unloading will go faster.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Letting out a tired sigh, she smiled at Chase. “Right now, I’d give anything for a warm bath and some dry clothes.”
“Me, too,” the boy chimed in eagerly.
That was the closest he’d come to complaining, and Sam had to admit that he was impressed with the kid’s upbeat attitude. Probably got it from his mother, Sam mused before shoving the thought away. “Okay, then it’s settled. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
She gave him a grateful smile before focusing on the rest of Daphne’s letter. It was a good thing, too, because the exchange of those few simple words had unleashed a torrent of emotions in Sam. As vivid as the day they’d first appeared, they made his chest twist with a pain so strong, he wondered for the countless time if he’d be dragging it around with him like some invisible anchor until the undertaker finally put him in the ground.
Running his hand over the dog tags he wore beneath his shirt, he closed his eyes and waited for the worst of it to pass. As usual, the intensity eased, but the remorse he still felt left a bitter taste in his mouth. Someday, he might be able to hear someone say, “I’ll be here,” and not flash back to the darkest, most horrific day of his life.
But not today.
Chapter Two (#u5cc924aa-cd0f-5887-a101-e9ba2f9fb7e7)
Holly was fairly certain that if Sam had left her to her own devices, she’d have driven right past the road that led to the long, winding driveway of her aunt’s new home. One unmarked side street led to another and another, which fed into an isolated dead end that held exactly three houses. She got the feeling that her guide was finding his way through the outskirts of Liberty Creek using an inherited sense of where things in his hometown had been standing since the founders had first hacked it out of the forest.
She’d never been much for school, but being a history buff, that class had always held a special appeal for her. She recalled that New Hampshire was one of the original thirteen colonies and had played a pivotal role in the Americans’ fight for independence. If those long-ago Calhoun brothers were any indication of the local residents’ spirit, she had no trouble believing that men like them—strong and stubborn—had played a key role in the patriots’ eventual victory.
Sam’s pickup finally signaled a turn onto a rutted lane that looked more like a deer path than a driveway. When she got her first look at the house, she groaned out loud. “Oh, Auntie. Have you lost your mind?”
Chase leaned in to get a clearer view between the front headrests. “Didn’t Sam say he was fixing the house?”
“Yes.”
“It looks like he should tear it down instead.”
She couldn’t have summed up the property’s condition any better, but she was wary of agreeing for fear that he’d repeat her comments and hurt their sensitive relative’s feelings. The sprawling farmhouse must have stood on many more acres years ago, and the trees growing around it were the same vintage as the ones she’d admired in the town square. The porch that stretched across the front of the house wasn’t quite done, and the front steps were nowhere to be seen. Entire sections of boards had been replaced, but most of the antiquated windows remained. The end wall was painted a mellow cream, and a pair of wine-colored shutters leaning against it gave her a glimpse of Sam’s plans for the exterior. She could envision it looking classic and stunning when it was finished, but for now, the kindest description she could invent was “work in progress.”
Sam parked near the front porch and climbed out of his truck. Avoiding the puddles, he strolled toward Holly’s car while she sat there trying to come up with something encouraging to say about the dilapidated farmhouse her aunt had bought on a whim for her retirement home.
When she stepped out, she blurted out the only positive remark she could think of. “It’s in a real pretty spot.”
Cocking an eyebrow in obvious amusement, he said, “I know the house isn’t much to look at now, but it’s actually better than it was when I started in the spring.”
“Was it falling down the hill?”
“Not a chance. This place was built of solid oak, and it’ll outlast all of us. It was empty for a while, but with a little work, it’ll be amazing.”
She stared up at him waiting for the punch line, but judging by his earnest expression, he wasn’t yanking her chain. He sounded confident, not in the cocky way some guys could, but in the solid, dependable way a girl would be able to count on.
So, since she wasn’t exactly Miss DIY, Holly decided that she didn’t have a choice other than to trust his assessment. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
The clouds in his eyes lightened, and the corner of his mouth crinkled in a half-hearted motion that made her wonder what it would take to coax an actual smile from him. Not that it was up to her, of course. She was just curious.
“So,” he went on, “I’m guessing you’ve got a trunk full of suitcases.”
“We have a few things,” she retorted, irritated by the thinly veiled display of chauvinism. She’d gotten enough of that from other men to last her for the rest of her life. Overwhelmed by Brady’s deteriorating condition, she’d made the mistake of allowing other people to do things for her that she could have handled herself. It had led them to view her as helpless and, after a while, she’d been alarmed to find she’d started agreeing with them. One of the many things she was determined to change as she took charge of her life again. “It was nice of you to offer your help, but we’ll be fine. Chase can manage the smaller bags and I can get the big ones.”
“No, you can’t.”
Sam’s condescending tone got her back up, and she glared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Easy now,” he soothed with a hand in the air. “I just meant a lady shouldn’t be carrying her own luggage when there’s a guy around who’s willing to do it for her.”
She refused to take that bait and stood with her arms crossed, scowling up at him for all she was worth. After a few seconds of that, he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his well-worn jeans and sighed. “How ’bout we do it together? Those clouds aren’t going anywhere, and I’d hate to see all your stuff get drenched.”
Holly glanced into the distance to see that he was right about the rain and decided there was absolutely no point in being obstinate. This time, anyway. “Okay, that makes sense.”
Reaching back into the car, she popped the trunk as he muttered something under his breath. It wasn’t flattering, but he was taking time out of his day to help her so she opted to let it go. He reminded her of a displeased grizzly bear most of the time, and she wasn’t keen on pushing him too far and alienating him altogether. As the contractor on this large job, he’d be around a lot, and she figured it would go better if they could at least be civil to one another.
Eyeing their pile of luggage, he shook his head but didn’t comment on her heavy traveling style. Instead, he plucked out two enormous cases crammed to the gills and carried them to the finished half of the porch without complaint. Whoa, she thought with honest admiration as she picked up two of the smaller bags. He was even stronger than he looked.
They quickly emptied the trunk and then paused while Holly fished out the key Aunt Daphne had left at the bakery for her. As she turned the knob, Sam stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Did Daphne warn you about Pandora?”
That sounded ominous, and Holly couldn’t help giggling. “You mean, as in ‘Don’t open that box’?”
She delivered the last few words in a horror movie narrator voice, and to her utter surprise, he laughed. She’d barely been able to get a smirk out of him until now, so the bright sound astonished her. Quite honestly, she wasn’t sure he had that kind of humor in him, and it was nice to discover that he did.
“No, I mean, the big black cat named Pandora. I never got the connection till now, but she can be a troublemaker, so her name definitely fits.” Looking down at Chase, he went on, “She’s the queen around here, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Holly wasn’t much of a cat person, so his advice seemed slightly over the top. “You’re kidding, right?”
