Chapter 11

I've been so pleased to finally start really developing Sam's character. He will play such a pivital role in the next book.

Chapter 11

 

I will never say that mine is a life lived without regrets. For as many words I’ve spoken or have wished to speak, there have been countless regrets in my life. For I am not unlike any other man, despising blemishes upon the face of his honor.

Silence would render itself as being safer; as being easier. But there is no safety in silence, for it implies more than what it is and carries as much regret as any other word or sound might. Regret is as inevitable as breathing and as punishing as death. It is a devouring monster, a disease and an agony for which there is no comparison that might paint it accurately. But it is a common disease to us all and I am not exempt.

 

~>*<~

 

            Charly stood numbly in the driveway, shocked and rendered immobile by what she had heard and beheld only moments before. Randolf and Valaerie had long since gone, that sleek black car slipping so easily under the veil of the night and disappearing on the dirt road towards Dervyshire Park. Now not a sound touched her.

            If there were tears to be shed, she could not bear them yet, and remained catatonic in horror at what her heart now endured. Her hair blew about her, touching cheeks that were cold from the night’s breeze. Randolf’s blazer was still wrapped about her where he’d placed it earlier that night and had not moved to take it from her when he’d departed so suddenly.

            The screen door opened and Sam’s voice called out to her. She heard his footsteps running down the porch steps, across the gravel driveway with a crunch of rocks under his feet, stopping beside her as if trying to determine what was wrong.

            “Charly?” He was out of breath and one of his hands touched her shoulder. The instant he touched her she jerked, snatching away from the contact with eyes wide and horrified.

            By the look on his face, Sam was nearly as surprised by her reaction and stood with his hands up as if in surrender to her sudden retaliation. “What happened? Are you all right?” He asked at last.

            She blinked, appearing to remember herself then where she had been suspended above the moment when Randolf had left with that other woman. With someone named Valaerie. A woman that was ferociously beautiful and appropriate for someone like him.

            Tears broke forth and she sobbed, crumbling down into a heap upon the driveway under the fearsome weight of such acute and perfect betrayal. She hid her face in her hands, away from Sam’s concerned stares as he sat down on the driveway next to her, waiting for her to regain her composure.

            Hours passed and subtle signs of twilight began to appear in the tiniest hours of the morning but still she had not ceased her tormented weeping. Sam’s concern finally outweighed his respect for her personal space and he gathered her up into his arms, grunting a little under her weight, and beginning to carry her towards his pickup truck.

He set her carefully in the passenger’s side, climbing inside in naught but bare feet and pajamas, and cranked the truck to life with fury in every gesture. He mashed the accelerator, taking off down the gravel road with speed enough to sling gravel up behind them.

“W-where…?” Charly gasped frantically amidst her sobbing, mascara leaving a moist black lines down her cheeks.

Sam’s expression was utterly mad with anger, gripping the steering wheel with both hands so hard that it made his knuckles turn pale. “He did this, didn’t he?” He snapped sharply. “I knew it. I knew he’d do this. Nobody listens to a damn thing I say.”

Charly struggled for every breath, tears pooling in her eyes and dripping from her chin. “I don’t want to see him! Don’t take me there!” She sobbed violently, reaching for the door handle threateningly.

“Are you serious?” Sam looked at her with crazed blue eyes, snapping the car door locks into action. “You really think I’d take you to Dervyshire? Just how much of an a*****e do you think I am?!”

“T-then where…?” Charly choked on her sobs, unable to finish her question.

“To the only person who can fix this.” Sam sighed, hands still gripping the steering wheel once more as he tore up the road speeding towards town.

Kimberly James was standing out in the driveway, wrapped up in a bathrobe and squinting through the darkness as Sam pulled his truck into her driveway. Somewhere during the drive, unbeknownst to Charly amidst her desperate crying, he’d called Kim and asked her to be standing outside waiting.

“What on earth happened?” She asked as soon as he opened the cab door.

“Hell if I know. I found her in the driveway. I’m guessing this is tall, dark, and handsome’s doing.” Sam snorted, opening the passenger door to help pull Charly out of the seat.

Charly trembled as Kim wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly and rubbing her back. She filled her ears with calming, reassuring words and waved to Sam as he got back into his truck.

“I’ll cover for her with the Montgomery’s.” Sam said darkly, “Just fix her, okay?”

Kim smiled and nodded slightly as she guided Charly gently into the house. The sound of Sam’s truck faded down the street, leaving them both to watch his tail lights disappear into the early morning’s twilight.

“He’s a good guy.” Kim said in a soft voice.

Charly could not speak, throat raw from sobbing and cheeks crusted with dried tears and running makeup. She felt hardly a thing through the numbing pain until Kim had her sitting in her tiny bathroom, perched upon the toilet, and was wiping her face with a warm, wet washcloth.

Charly blinked grieved, dark green eyes at her friend who was focused and working dutifully to get her cleaned up.

“He…” She stammered hoarsely, hands shaking where she gripped at her knees with childish desperation.

“Sh.” Kim hushed her, frowning deeply and pausing from wiping the makeup from her cheeks. “Don’t talk about it now. Just rest. Okay? You can tell me everything you want tomorrow.”

Charly was silent once more, sitting in the bathroom and doing as she was told when Kim came in with a pair of pajamas and a little cup of green, syrupy medicine that was certain to force her into slumber.

Kim walked her to the edge of her own large queen-sized bed and tucked her in, standing back a moment to sigh and stared down at the dejected face of her very dear friend.

“That b*****d.” She mumbled under her breath as she flicked off the light. Charly blinked owlishly, not left in wonder as to whom that comment was meant for. The bed flinched as Kim climbed in next to her and snuggled up beside her, sighing heavily in the dark.

A deep and dreamless sleep came upon her hard and fast, fueled by the medicine she’d taken. Charly did not rouse until early the following afternoon, her limbs heavy and sluggish as she awoke to find Kim’s room empty and sunlight peeking through the long lavender drapes on the windows. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed, panning the room slowly and finding herself at a loss as to what had happened and how she’d come to be here. Remembrance was delayed but when it did come, Charly’s expression skewed horribly with remembered agony. But its grip had lessened somewhat and she breathed deeply, composing herself once more and standing at last.

She went to the window, pulling back the drapes and squinting into the sunlight. The day appeared as every other had, the mountains great and powerful on the horizon and the plains of the valley spanning out with grandeur to greet them. And so Charly saw that the world had gone on as it always had, much unchanged, and she sighed a breath against the cold windowpane.

The motion of a black car on the street below made her insides arrange themselves into swirling knots that drew all the color drain from her delicate features. The muscular gunmetal colored car pulled into the James’s driveway and stopped.

Charly’s breaths became short and she took several steps away from the window, horrified by what she saw and utterly vexed that Randolf should come here or even know where she was. Surely Sam would not have divulged that information and Kim would not have knowingly inflicted that sort of torture upon her.

The sound of the doorbell resounded in the house and Charly choked upon the tightness in her throat, able to find new strength in desperation as she hurried blindly down the stairs to the foyer garbed in what pajamas Kim had lent her and nothing more. A wild mane of gold curly hair wreathed her tragic face, looking to who stood in the doorway with all that was the utmost of tortured hope.

Kim was already present, having just answered the door and permitted a familiar voice entry into her house. But it was not Randolf who entered, rather it was Katia garbed in a white pea coat and tall heeled brown boots who stood there with mirrored surprise as she met Charly’s stare.

Charley found herself entirely at a loss for words and filled with a mixture of muting shock, fear, and relief.

Katia did not speak directly either, rather cast soft, sympathetic expressions that suggested she already knew what had transpired the night before. Or rather, perhaps she had heard Randolf’s side of the story.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” Kim offered to break the strained silence, moving towards Charly with apparent concern.

Charly closed her mouth, unaware until then that she had been staring with mouth agape at Katia in the doorway. She bowed her head a little, having no sense of what she might say or do just then.

“He didn’t come with me.” Katia assured them quickly, appearing just as eager to amend the awkward gap between them. “And he didn’t send me here. I came to see if you were all right.”

She offered a small, warm smile and shut the door behind her, unwrapping her scarlet wool scarf from her neck and looking between Kim and Charly. “I will leave right away if my presence displeases you.” She added, looking earnestly at the muted form of Charly that was now wrenching at the hem of her pajama shirt.

Kim spoke not a word, allowing Charly to make that decision and appearing as uncertain about it as Katia was; worried that perhaps it was still too soon.

“No.” Charly’s voice came in a tone so soft that it hardly made more than a frail whisper. “It is…good that you came. I have his jacket and I’m certain he’d like to have it back.”

Katia’s petite features melted into an expression of the purest empathy and she stepped forward to embrace Charly tightly, a gesture that Charly returned only slightly.

“He wouldn’t tell me what happened, only that he was sure you would never forgive him. I’ve not seen him this upset before.” She said, looking to Kim as if for some verification or possibly for some further enlightenment as to what had happened.

“I haven’t asked her.” Kim announced hesitantly, a careful and speculative protectiveness to her brow, “I don’t know if she’s ready to talk about it yet. I’m actually rather amazed that she is out of bed, much less talking.”

“I’m fine.” Charly’s voice made them both turn, equally as surprised and somewhat eager to know what had happened and if she really was all right. Kim was quite evidently more doubtful and quirked her mouth, hardly seeming to believe that Charly could have possibly been anything close to fine.

With all that might resemble hopeful strength within her, Charly forced a smile to her lips that was as disturbing as it was insincere. “Truly, I am. I was…surprised and will admit that I feel a sense of betrayal so deep that I hardly thought it possible. But in my worrisome nature, I had suspected that this might happen. So I am prepared to meet with the consequences of a risk I shouldn’t have taken. The fault is my own entirely, for being so foolish, and I do not have any ill feelings towards your uncle.”

Katia’s youthful face frowned, “I hardly know what you mean, Miss Charly.”

“You cannot make a farmer’s daughter into the caliber of woman that will draw the eyes of a man like your uncle.” Charly expounded in her meek tone that had been made hollow of any real fervency. “When we returned to my home last night, there was a woman waiting for him. Valaerie was her name. He left with her and it was not made a mystery to me as to the intention of their reunion.”

“My god! You cannot be serious?” Kim, having not heard the recanting of the previous night’s events, was horrified.

Charly’s cheeks burned with the scarlet color of embarrassment as she nodded slightly, “Don’t think ill of him for it, Kim. And Katia, you may tell him that I have no resentment or ill will against him. I understand that I should not interfere with him further and won’t make any trouble for him. What transpired will not pass my lips again now that I have told you this.”

Katia’s expression was that of similar horror as Kim’s had been. But there was something starkly different from it and her large, dark eyes were wide and panicked. “It was Valaerie that you saw? Are you certain of this?”

Charly nodded in verification, “That is what Randolf called her. I’m quite certain.”

“Oh Miss Charly,” Katia exclaimed breathlessly, lunging to grasp her hands with an insistent hold, “My Uncle Randy would never betray you and most certainly not for Valaerie! You are mistaken in this, I am sure. Valaerie is an extremely dangerous woman to be acquainted with; a viper of the most terrible and awful sort. I’m positive that if he did leave with her that he did so only to spare you from what she might do or say to hurt you. Having such a dangerous woman appearing at your house without invitation would surely make him afraid for your safety.”

Charly hardly knew what to say in reply to that. Of course, she had gotten a very good notion that Valaerie wasn’t someone that she would have found it easy to be amiable towards. Especially after what had transpired the night before. Still, doubt clouded her thoughts and good opinions of Randolf and she looked down to her feet, embarrassed and perplexed with nothing more she might say.

“I should go.” Katia announced, casting hopeful glances between her two friends and touching Kim’s shoulder lightly. “Randolf and I are still planning to attend the luau this weekend. Perhaps I’ll see you both there?”

Kim nodded, if not a little reluctantly, “If what you say is true, Katia, it’s so unfortunate that Randolf won’t come himself to verify it and to apologize. It might not fix everything, but at least it would be a gesture of his real adoration for her. A step in the right direction, you know.”

Katia smiled and nodded slightly, “I agree. It is my hope that after I tell him about all of this that he will feel inspired to do just that without any more encouragement from me.”

Her rich dark eyes fluttered in Charly’s direction, casting such a glance that would make Charly shiver with the predatory, nearly feral hue beneath her long dark lashes. Such a glance had been given to her before, on the day they had gone to Dervyshire to visit and Charly had not forgotten it.

Katia bid them a farewell and let them to their morning. It was one a few small days until the luau and the knowledge that Randolf still planned on attending made Charly’s feeble courage falter. How shameful it would be to see him again. How mortified and utterly embarrassed she felt to know that he should look upon her after what had happened. Immediately she turned her mind over again and again for some excuse not to go.

After a quiet, thought-filled meal alone in the house, Kim reluctantly agreed that Charly should go back home and take some time to herself to think things over.

“I cannot impose myself upon you any more. I’m keeping you from work,” Charly apologized as she dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that belonged to Kim. Borrowing clothes had never been uncommon between them and Charly found that Kim’s clothes were still a little too long in the arms and legs.

“I think I will feel better once I’ve gone back home and done a few normal things.” Charly proposed as she rolled up the bottoms of the jeans so that they didn’t drag the floor.

“Keep in touch, then.” Kim was frowning as she watched, “I’m serious, text me. I’m going to be worried sick that you’re just sitting up in your room sulking around. You can rise above this; you have to if you really want to move on.”

Therein lay the primary cause of Charly’s uncertainty and she looked to her friend with such vulnerability in her dark green eyes as Kim could read easily. “Do you think Katia was telling the truth about Valaerie? Do you think Randolf would betray me like that?”

“I cannot answer those questions for you.” Kim answered with the utmost of affection in her voice, “You know him better than anyone else in this town. You’ve spent the most time with him. You will have to answer those uncertainties for yourself and decide what you believe. The truth isn’t always pleasing, Charly, but it is always the truth.”

She nodded somberly in silent agreement, putting her dress from the night before in a bag and brushing her curled hair away from her face to cast Kim a half-hearted smile.

The sound of a car horn made two sharp blasts from the driveway and Kim sighed heavily, answering Charly’s curious expressions directly. “It’s Sam. He insisted that he come get you. He has been texting me all night, worrying about you. I don’t think he slept a wink for wondering if you were going to be all right.”

Charly was speechless at that and was unable to veil her surprise with any expression of disgust. “I suppose I should go then, else he’ll break down your door or something.” She said quietly and gathered up her things, “I will let you know when I get home.”

“You know he really does care about you, Charly.” Kim spoke suddenly, catching her arm with a calm hand. “We’ve known him for so long and I’ve seen how he looks at you. His world stops when you smile at him. Maybe you don’t know if Randolf cares for you or not, but you can always be certain that Sam loves you.”

There was nothing Charly could do or say in reply and so she stood, staring in dumbfounded awe at what Kim had said. Never had her friend spoken of Sam that way and never had the thought of his face, of his name and his presence, been offered to her in that perspective.

Her heart felt such a burst of confused energy that it made her skin prickle and she swallowed back a thickness in her throat. “I’ll be in touch.” She said in a hushed voice, making a soft retreat down the stairs and out into the daylight.

Sam’s truck was parked in the drive and he was looking down, drumming anxious fingers on the steering wheel where he sat in the driver’s seat. His blonde hair was mussed and his jaw was dusted with the shadow of a beard that he hadn’t cared to shave off that morning.

It was a rather pleasing look for him, she had to admit, and tapping a finger on the glass window on the passenger’s side. It made him jerk and look up, surprised to see her standing there. He reached across the seat to unlock the door, offering to take her bag and set it on the floorboard between them.

Charly pulled the door shut behind her, finding it tense and awkwardly silent in the cab of his truck as neither of them said a word. Charly looked down at her hands in her lap, feeling a nagging want to see what sort of face Sam was making or if he appeared to be angry or upset. But no words passed between them until he took a turn that took them on a different road than the one that led to her family’s farm.

“Where are we going?” She asked in a tone so commonplace that it surprised her.

Sam appeared to be surprised at her apparent normality and looked to her from across the cab with brows lifted in unspoken mystification. He tipped his head towards the back of the truck, gesturing to where the long black case that held his banjo was sitting in the bed against the tailgate.

“The luau’s in a few days.” He explained after he’d clear the nervousness from his throat, “The guys wanted to get together and practice a little before that. You know, get the stage set up and test out the acoustics. I…guess I thought you might want to come along and listen. I can take you home if you don’t want to.”

 “No, it’s fine.” Charly said, peering around her seat to where the banjo’s big black case slid a little in the bed of the truck. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

She’d forgotten that he played the banjo, guitar, and a few other assorted instruments. But the banjo was his favorite; she did remember that. He’d told her once that it was the hardest to play and he liked the challenge. Nearly as soon as word had gotten around that Sam could play, he’d been recruited into the blue grass band that performed at the luau every year. The band was nothing more than a mixture of the locals who got together to pick and have a good time, but their music was excellent and Charly felt a thrill of genuine pleasure that she’d get to listen to them practice.

Sam didn’t say anything further but his expression looked rather satisfied and carefully excited at having her along with him. It had been a great many years since she had willingly come along with him to do anything and she watched him revel in it as if he’d never been more pleased with himself. It didn’t take much to please him, apparently, and she caught herself smiling a little too.

The Calloway’s farm was one of the oldest and largest in Westcliffe and they had more than a few barns and sheds and grain silos standing on their broad, beautiful property. The newest of their barns was where the luau was always held and it stood on the forefront of their land, closest to the house and to the road. It was a huge, 4-story structure made of sweet smelling wood and painted red and white, like something out of a country magazine.

The inside of the barn had been opened up and rearranged to suit the town’s yearly social, leaving space for plenty of tables and chairs, a dancing floor, a bar for drinks, and a large stage where the band would perform. The exposed beams of the lofty rafters were wrapped in twinkle lights and garlands of pine that filled the air with their sharp flavor.

Tim Floyd’s truck was one of the few parked outside the barn and Sam parked next to it, climbing out and getting his banjo out of the back. Charly took her time climbing out into the brisk air, letting it permeate her skin and blow through her hair. With the sleeves of her sweatshirt pushed back to her elbows and her dark gold hair wild in the valley wind, she followed Sam into the barn while he held the big door open for her with one hand and had his banjo case slung over his shoulder with the other.

Seeing him in such a casual way felt familiar and reminded her of their childhood. Of the times they’d spent riding horses all afternoon and going swimming in the creek out on their back property, of building forts out in the woods out of sticks and limbs and playing cards after dinner time at the kitchen table. He’d changed a lot since those days and she was quite certain she had too. He was taller, his shoulders were broader, and somewhere in all that time he’d begun to look less like a boy and more like a man with muscles on his strong arms and back from working the farm all day. With his keys hanging out of the back pocket of his old blue jeans and that same old faded smile in his blue eyes, she found herself blushing under the adoring glances he gave her freely.

Tim Floyd was just about bigger than the upright bass he was thumbing and two of the Calloway boys were strumming guitars up on the stage in the far side of the barn. Mary Ann Etheridge had her fiddle out and was tuning it busily while Jack Hander tapped restlessly on his drum set, all people she’d grown up with and gone to school with only a few years ago. All of them bore that warm country welcome in their smiles and waved as she and Sam wandered up to the stage.

“Look there, he drug little Miss Charly with him!” Tim chuckled, beating the strings of that old bass to a slow twanging beat.

Mary Ann hadn’t been one of Charly’s close friends in high school, but the two had always been amiable in passing. Mary Ann was older and newly married, still having that blushing glow every new bride had as she smiled at Charly and waved.

Sam was taking his banjo out of the case and slinging the strap over his shoulder, picking at the strings as he climbed the steps up onto the stage with them. “I had to kidnap her from Kim.” He explained with a wink in Charly’s direction. “I hope you’ve all warmed up because I’ve been picking all night.”

The group bantered and nagged each other, tuning up and leaving Charly to sit in one of the folding chairs near the stage and watch. She’d not seen Sam be so genial and casual around what appeared to be a group of people he considered to be friends. Somehow, in all the time she’d spent resenting him as diligently as she knew how, he’d found a place here in Westcliffe that had nothing to do with her or her family farm. He’d made friends and become as much a part of this place as anyone else was.

The group of them laughed and harassed him for bringing her along, whooping at each other’s jabs and strumming their instruments playfully until they finally settled down enough to begin picking out songs. Mary Ann was devilish on her fiddle, able to play circles around any other member of the band and always tossing her waist length brown braided pigtails over her shoulder bashfully.

Tim beat his huge palms on his bass, making the bulky instrument sing out beautifully in such a way that baffled Charly. Sam accompanied the Calloway boys who were singing the vocals to the old country tunes they played and Charly was even more surprised to find that he had a pleasing singing voice as well. He picked his banjo and looked entirely happy, satisfied, and calm.

Sitting beneath the lights on the stage, watching them all playing and feeling swallowed by their sound, Charly felt nearly invisible. Her presence slipped easily into the shadows of the room, watching Sam and the rest of his band shine as they practiced.

They played all afternoon, breaking a few times to go over song lists and to drink a beer or two. Sam would come down, beer in hand with his instrument strung across his back, and sit down next to her. Periodically she sent a text to Kim, assuring her that everything was all right and that she was having a good time.

However, she kept the development of this strange turn of feeling with Sam to herself. It was the first time, she knew, that he had sat next to her without her feeling utterly tense and repulsed with his nearness. His presence felt less impending and far friendlier than it had in so very long.

The band finished after the sun had set and they all began to split off one by one, packing up their music and equipment while still keeping lively conversation going.

“Glad you could come hear us, Miss Charly.” Tim Floyd said and patted his enormous hand on her slender shoulder.

“I’m glad too.” She said with as sweet a smile as she’d worn in years, “You sound great. Everyone’s going to love the songs you picked out. I’m glad I got a preview.”

“Aw, well maybe we’ll give ‘em something to jig to, eh?” Tim cackled and waved to the rest of the group before he ducked out to leave.

Charly followed Sam back out to his red pickup truck, leaning against the side while he packed his case into the back and came around to unlock her door and open it for her.

“So you liked that?” He asked, firing the truck up and setting them back in the direction of her house.

Charly hadn’t been able to stop her silly grinning since they’d begun and she laughed a little, leaning against the passenger side window, “It was really fun. I’m glad you kidnapped me. I didn’t know Mary Ann could play like that!”

Sam smirked and shrugged as he wheeled his truck down the rough country roads, “Yeah she’s pretty awesome. Her sister could tear up a piano just the same way, but she’s got that new baby so she can’t play with us anymore.”

They talked as casually as they ever had all the way back to the Montgomery farm, stopping only when he parked his truck in the drive and started into the house.  The air was bitter cold and she was relived to find that her father had already brought in plenty of firewood for the night, leaving one crackling in the hearth to fill the living room with warmth.

Sam shut the door behind them, shrugging off his jacket while he looked around curiously, “Where are your folks?”

Wandering into the kitchen, Charly had taken notice to a note left on the kitchen table. She took it up and returned to the den, reading her mother’s hastily scribbled handwriting.

“They went to play bridge at the Emerson’s.” She announced. “We are on our own for dinner.”

Sam sighed tiredly, “Looks like cereal for me, then.”

Charly felt her stomach twist and she dropped the note into garbage can in the living room, unable to turn to meet his gaze as she spoke, “I can make dinner for us.”

Sam was quiet at first, seeming to sense her anxiety and keeping his thoughts or impressions to himself until he’d thought them over for a moment. “What if we do it together? You know, like we used to when we were kids.”

Charly turned to look at him over her shoulder with a skewed brow, “French Toast?”

He shrugged, offering her one of his familiar crooked grins, “I’ll clean up whatever I mess up, I swear.”

She laughed, a response that both frightened and surprised her. It was simply too easy to remember those times when they had teamed up to cook a dinner that had left the kitchen in complete ruin and gotten them both into trouble. It was too easy to remember what had been so fun and good about him.

Sam flicked on the radio on the kitchen counter while Charly was beginning to pull out ingredients and mixing bowls. He cranked the dial to an upbeat pop song that made her arch a brow in his direction.

Watching him dance like a fool, trying to crack eggs into a bowl at the same time, made her grin and allow herself to be pulled into his carefree banter. She tossed a handful of powdered sugar at him, leading to a brief sugar war in which they exchanged blows from handfuls of sweet white powder.

Such simple and uncomplicated happiness made her heart soar, made every bit of her spirit that had been grounded and wounded flutter back to life. He tried to show her how to do a few dance steps and she tried to show him how to scramble eggs. Neither was entirely successful, but when they’d eaten their meal and cleaned up the chaotic mess they’d made, Charly sat back in her chair at the table and finally realized what had happened and how things had changed so smoothly and quickly that she’d hardly noticed it at all.

He plopped down in the chair across from her, resting his cheeks on his fists and looking at her with curious blue eyes. “What now?”

Momentarily, her mind had drifted to Randolf and to the touch of his lips and the feel of his hands. The heat on his skin was unforgettable. His pull on her heart was unmistakable. A stern thickness filled her throat and choked moisture into her eyes. Perhaps now she’d gone and done the same thing that he had and that was the only reason she was entertaining Sam at all.

“Hey.” Sam reached across the table to grasp her arm firmly, “Don’t think about him. I know you are. I can see it on your face.”

She blinked, finding herself once more and looking away quickly. “Sam…I don’t think that we"“

He cut her off before she could finish, “Don’t start that again. We’ve had fun today. You’ve had fun. God, it’s been like it used to be. If you want to start hating me again, that’s fine, but can’t you at least wait until tomorrow? Can I have just one last day with the Charly I remember…the one I fell in love with?”

After a moment of careful, deliberative silence, Charly looked up to him with a small smile and asked, “Do you still suck at cards?”

A handsome smile spread across his face and he shook his head slowly, “I guess… if you still cheat.”

She followed him into the living room, staring out the window at the front porch lights and the moonlight on the fields while he dug through the drawers on the coffee table to find their deck of playing cards. The stars were brilliant in the cold, crisp air and she was about to turn away when a glimmer caught her eye.

Movement in the front yard that looked like an enormous dark shape made her eyes widen suddenly and her voice catch in her throat. Its back appeared to have a hunch in it, nearly like a bear’s, but its movement was not unlike a dog as it lumbered slowly, lifting the shape of a head to the air. There was a glimmer of light, its eyes shining in the night.

The coldness of fear drained the color from her face and the warmth from her skin as she stood, paralyzed, staring out the window.

“Sam!” She gasped suddenly, able to squeak out his name, “There’s something in the yard!”

He was at her side in an instant, grim-faced and peering out the window until he saw what it was that she saw. Something huge that was moving towards the house at a slow pace.

“Go to the bathroom and shut the door. Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.” He ordered in a voice so deep, so commanding, that it jarred her.

She trembled where she stood and was unable to move, watching him with owlish frightened eyes as he took her father’s shotgun off the rack above the fireplace and loaded it with shells. He snapped the gun into action and moved towards the front door slowly, every muscle tense.

“I said go!” He whispered to her again and she flinched, nodding with one final glance to the glowing spots of light out in the yard that seemed to be looking right at her. It made her heartbeat skip and her blood turn icy, but she did as he had told her and fled to the bathroom. She shut the door and retreated to sit on the floor in front of the sink, knees drawn up to her chest and hands clamped over her ears. She didn’t want to hear what might transpire out on their front porch.

Despite how she’d attempted to obstruct her hearing, the percussion of a gunshot made her cry out and tears welled in her eyes, looking to the door in baited, horrified silence while she waited for some other sound beyond it.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and she caught her breath between panicked sobs, screaming with what fear she’d repressed in that suspenseful moment when Sam opened the door. In a second’s span he had leaned the gun against the bathroom counter and knelt down on the floor in front of her, sitting still while she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed herself against him in a tearful outburst.

“You’re all right.” He assured her in a soothing tone, seeming uncertain and reluctant at her touch at first. But as she sobbed against him, he put his arms around her tightly and held her there, speaking calm, reassuring words to her again and again.

Minutes passed and she steadily began to calm, a panicked state subsiding into trembling silence as he gathered up the rest of her petite form to sit on the bathroom floor with her in his lap. She sat with her head under his chin and his arms around her, making a barrier against whatever was outside that reassured her effectively.

“What was it?” She whispered faintly, staring dejectedly without seeing anything about her.

“I don’t know.” He answered, something equally as quietly horrified in his voice. As if he had seen something that had truly scared him. Charly was certain that she’d never seen Sam be afraid of anything before, be it a bull mad with rage or a mountain lion stalking the calves in the night. But what she had seen, despite the town’s rumors, couldn’t have been a mountain lion. “It…It looked like a wolf. A huge wolf. It looked right at me.”

“Is it dead?” She asked again.

“No. I just scared it off when I shot at it, I think.” She felt him shutter as he held her, entirely unnerved at what he had seen. “That has to be what’s been killing all the cattle around here. My god…I didn’t know wolves got that big. It was huge. Taller than me.”

Charly let out a trembling sigh, trying to reassemble her nerves as best she could. But whatever it was had shaken Sam too and he had a firm grip on her as if he were afraid to let her out of his sight. She reached down to touch his hand, to squeeze it lightly until he returned the gesture and held her hand tightly.

“We’ll be all right.” He said in a steady exhale, as if trying to reassure himself as well as her. “Let’s…go back into the den. I locked all the doors and closed the curtains. We’ll be fine.”

Moving out of his lap, Charly stood and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt, able to breathe easier now though she stayed very close to Sam as he gathered himself up and carried the gun into the living room.

The silence between them was heavy as they sat down onto the living room floor, staring at the deck of cards between them but unable to gather up the will to play.

“Thank you.” Charly spoke softly, staring up at him with a glazed look in her eyes.

Distracted from his own thoughts, Sam canted his head a bit in confusion, “For what?”

“For taking me to Kim’s last night. For taking me with you today to your band practice. For protecting me.” The corners of her mouth twitched at a small smile, picking at the fibers of the rug where they sat. “And for not asking me what happened.”

“I hate him for hurting you, Charly.” Sam said with every ounce of fervor and certainty in his expression, “But it’s not any of my business and I’m not going to ask about it. If you want me to know…well, I guess you’ll tell me. But I don’t really care what it was; I just want to know that you’re all right.”

She was silent as he spoke, cheeks coloring with bashful embarrassment as he asserted himself so nobly. It was a side of him she’d not allowed herself to notice even existed.

“You have a spark in you, Charly, and you always have, even when we were kids. It was that spark of fire that I fell in love with and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some joker kill that part of you. You don’t love me, I get that, but that doesn’t make you mean any less to me. It doesn’t make me want to give up and it doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to protect the part of you that I love the most.”

Sam looked away, his brow rumpled with a fierce cold glare that was apparently grounded in intense frustration. It made her insides scramble as she tried to reason with the parts of her heart that refused to let go of what appeared to be a girl’s fantasy.

She had no way to know whether or not Randolf was sincere. There was no guarantee and always a hint of insecure fear that his affections might not be permanent. Sensibility begged her to reconsider and to give Sam a chance. He was the safer choice. But she could not fathom that there could ever be the same passion in his kiss as there had been with Randolf.

As if her thoughts were voiced aloud, Sam was moving towards her on his hands and knees, shoving the deck of cards out of his way with a look of severe focus and clear intent upon his face. Hesitation drew walls up about her and she shook her head, opening her mouth to protest and preparing to pull away as he closed the distance between them swiftly and took her cheeks into his hands.

Not a word was able to pass her lips before he kissed her, every ounce of his intensity mounted into that desperate gesture. What began with reluctance on her part melted gradually into calm submission as he moved his mouth against hers, breathless with heart pounding such that she could hear it clearly. His hands entwined into her hair, drawing her in closer until she felt the touch of his body against hers. It was a shocking contact that made her flinch and made him draw back just enough to break their kiss, eyes dazed and bewildered in the wake of what he had done.

“I love you.” He told her, clear with every word.

“I know.” She replied helplessly.

His eyes rolled shut head leaning towards her once more, resting his forehead against hers and grinding his teeth with a deep furrow of his brow. “What do I have to do to prove myself to you, Charly? What do I have to do to prove that I mean it?”

“That isn’t why…” She began, finding herself then at a loss for words and what she might say to explain herself.

“Please, I’m not asking for forever. I just want a chance, just one chance to be the kind of man you deserve.” He spoke but she felt as though he wasn’t speaking to her. It was almost as if he were repeating what he’d already said in his thoughts over and over again whenever he saw her.

“I’m so sorry, Sam” Her voice trembled at the renewed sensation of tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry for what I’ve said to you and what I’ve put you through. For changing and forgetting what things used to be like between us. Believe me when I say that I was never bitter with you and you never did anything to deserve the way I treated you.”

“But you don’t love me.” He finished for her, such graveness in his eyes that it made her heart ache for all the damage she’d already done to his feelings.

Now he had pressed her into a corner from which she could not dodge or lie her way out.

Truth was painful and bitter on her tongue and she shook her head slightly, “I don’t know. I hardly know how I feel about anything anymore. I am lost, Sam, and to feel pulled in so many directions only makes it worse.”

He was quiet for a moment, sitting so near to her and letting his forehead rest against hers still. “Then just know that I mean what I say when I tell you that I love you. That will never change. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe me. I won’t say it again after this, so you won’t feel pulled by me anymore.”

There was sadness in his face as he spoke that it made her own chest ache and she did not move to refuse him as he touched his lips to hers again. The feeling was so soft and gentle that it made her skin prickle, but she felt the intense grief in his heart through it vividly. It was a farewell kiss, as far as he knew, and it was his last chance and utmost effort to tell her how he felt.

But as his lips pulled back and he moved away, she was left with the clarity that while there was little doubt that he meant what he said, his affections lacked the vital warmth that Randolf’s had possessed. It was a warmth she couldn’t dismiss or forget. It had captured her so readily and effectively and until she heard it revoked by Randolf’s own mouth, Charly knew she would be held as its captive against the love of another.

 

Author's Note

Content not edited.

Reviews

[WhiteWolf]

Well, I look forward to reading further in your story! I must say I was sad to see it end and do hope you intend on finishing it. My compliments and best wishes!

-WW