Whispers Under A Southern Sky. Joanne Rock
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of her longed to offer to hold the squirming bundle, but she didn’t know if she could keep it together. Her miscarriage had been traumatic—a turning point in her decision to reconnect with her family. After the worst of the initial grief faded, she had decided she wouldn’t ever have a family of her own now, but she did want to salvage some kind of relationship with her siblings.
“So what’s his name?” She reached toward one of the baby’s small feet, guessing it must be a boy by the blue blanket and onesie. She tucked the blanket around the kicking leg.
Then, realizing how close that had put her to Sam, she scuttled back a step and returned to loading the small cupboards with food supplies. She also shoved the police scanner she’d bought to the rear of the counter, not wanting to reveal the full depths of her personal paranoia.
“Aiden.” Sam held the child at arm’s length and studied him. The baby stopped pedaling his legs long enough to stare at his dad as thoroughly as his father examined him.
She noticed Sam’s ring finger remained bare.
“Nice. Is that a family name?” She realized suddenly that he may not know much about his real family and kicked herself for asking. Sam had been in foster care when they’d dated.
“I don’t know. I didn’t choose it.” He tucked the baby back against his chest and swiftly changed subjects. “I didn’t mean to intrude, and I can see you’re busy. But Heather told me you were here, and I wanted to make sure you were okay out here alone.”
He was already heading for the door, which she told herself was probably just as well. The chapter of her life with Sam’s name on it was long over. Even if he hadn’t ditched her without a word, there was still the matter of that tiny boy nestled in the crook of one strong arm.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I’m up here for a couple of months to renovate this place into a year-round home so I can sell it and split the profits with my siblings.” Besides bringing her closer to her family, she needed the money to set up her accounting business. A business that would let her work from home and focus her energies on numbers and data as opposed to people. “I’m doing a lot of the work myself, but there will be a few contractors here, too, so don’t be surprised if there is more noise and trucks going in and out.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded. Frowned. “Amy, you were friends with Gabriella Chance back in school, weren’t you?”
“Gabriella?” The girl he’d left her for? Amy was floored by the bluntness of the question.
Funny, she’d always thought of herself as the socially awkward one. Maybe Sam had her beat.
“Zach’s sister,” he reminded her. “She was in your grade.”
She gripped a box of pasta so tightly it started to cave in.
“Right.” She shoved the box in the cabinet and closed the door with a satisfying bang. “Up until she left town, that is. But, yes, we were friends before that.”
Before Gabriella took away the most important person in Amy’s world.
“I’m building a case against a man I believe stalked Gabriella during high school, but I need more evidence to connect him to her.”
She grabbed the kitchen counter, suddenly feeling like the floor was giving way beneath her. She couldn’t speak. How much did Sam know about that part of her past? About the night she’d followed him to Gabriella’s house? Her throat convulsed reflexively until she had to find a glass in the cupboard and pour herself a drink of water.
Sam watched her, but he didn’t seem to notice the effect his words were having. She couldn’t talk about this with him.
“It’s imperative I put this man behind bars for a long time, but he’s been smart about covering his tracks,” he continued, his forehead furrowed and his jaw flexing. The tension and frustration of the case were obvious.
“I don’t know anything about that.” Which was true. She’d had no idea the man had been there for Gabby. Setting aside her glass, she turned from him and lifted a bag from the hardware store. Her hands shook as she withdrew Sheetrock screws, joint compound and tape.
She concentrated on the task, needing a physical distraction to keep herself from thinking about the past.
“You might know something and not realize it.” He sounded certain. “Would you mind if I came back sometime when you have a couple of hours to talk? I’d like to ask you a few questions about that summer.”
The summer of The Incident had been the darkest of her life until her miscarriage. She couldn’t discuss it with him for even a few minutes, let alone hours.
“I’m not sure about that.” She shook her head, not looking at him.
“I’m sure you must have your own questions. You deserve more of an explanation about why I left than I gave you.”
“I did have plenty of questions about that summer and your friendship with Gabriella, too. Not that I need answers. It’s been ten years, Sam. I’ve put it behind me.”
Silence met her comment, tempting her to turn and gauge his expression. Just when she couldn’t stand the drawn-out tension any longer, Aiden burst into a prolonged cry that filled the cabin. She did face Sam then. He was repositioning the baby on his shoulder and whispering something into the boy’s ear.
To her, he said, “We really have to talk. I’m trying to find a regular sitter for Aiden, and as soon as I do, I’ll be back.”
She wanted to tell him absolutely not. She didn’t need the frustration, the hurt, the temptation or the reminders of all she didn’t have in her life by seeing him again. And she sure didn’t need to relive an episode she’d struggled to put behind her for years.
But Sam and his child were already gone. Aiden’s cry grew smaller and quieter as Sam walked away from the cabin. She watched him out the kitchen window, his broad shoulders retreating.
For now.
She believed him when he said he’d be back. He wanted answers for his case. Or for Gabby.
Damn it.
Shoving the rest of the groceries and building supplies into their proper places, Amy hurried to make a list of the tasks she could complete on the cabin renovation right away. Today. The sooner she finished this project, the sooner she could leave Heartache and all those questions about the past behind.
* * *
“I HAVE A seven-page paper to research for AP English, a take-home test in calculus to complete and a slew of college application essays to write.” Bailey McCord thumbed through the pages of her purple daily planner, where she made notes about her homework assignments. She sat in the passenger seat of her car after begging her best friend—her only friend these days—to do the driving. “Tell me again why I am interviewing for a job I don’t have time for and that I’ll never get in a million years?”
Her friend Megan Bryer was steady at the wheel of the used Volvo Bailey’s dad had bought her just last week. Bailey was grateful for the gift, even if she’d come to think of the car as her consolation prize for her mother going to jail. That definitely took off some of the sheen of new wheels.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Megan turned down the radio as she steered out of the Crestwood High School parking lot. “I read an article last week that suggested we feel really uncomfortable around confident, self-accepting women. Doesn’t that describe our whole high school? Let’s not be the girls who bond over talks about how fat we are or how our math scores suck.”
As they passed the girls gathering for dance-team tryouts on the football field, Bailey could kind of see her point. She knew for a fact that a couple of them had agonized for weeks over whether or not to try out because they had “back fat” that the formfitting costumes would show off.
But Bailey was having her own crisis today,