Ruth knew something was amiss the instant she saw Samantha’s face. It was set like stone. Her granddaughter barely said hello before hurrying to her upstairs bedroom. At that moment Ruth despised her broken ankle more than ever. She wanted nothing so much as to climb those stairs and get to the bottom of things, but she was trapped on this lower level. She would have to wait until Samantha came downstairs again.
To help pass the time, she rolled her scooter into the kitchen and began to make salads for lunch. She washed and tore the lettuce. She mixed in fresh spinach leaves. She sliced cherry tomatoes in half. She added slivers of cucumber. All the while her thoughts roiled. She had plenty of questions and no answers. She wanted answers.
After setting the serving bowl on the table, she added a bottle of Samantha’s favorite salad dressing and a container holding homemade croutons right next to it. Two plastic tumblers filled with ice and water followed. Her last trip from cupboard to table brought salad plates and utensils.
With still no sign of Samantha, she decided the next move was up to her. She rolled to the stairs. “Sam? Lunch is ready.”
Silence.
“Sam?”
“I’m not hungry, Gran.”
“Well, come sit with me while I eat. I need company.”
Another lengthy silence.
“Samantha, please.”
Ruth took a deep breath, her gaze focused on the top of the stairs. She was about to give up when she heard movement from the floor above. A moment later, Samantha stepped into view. Her expression hadn’t changed much. Or perhaps it looked even sadder.
What on earth had happened?
Ruth glided her scooter into the kitchen, with Samantha not far behind. Once both were seated at the table, Ruth said the blessing, then slid the serving bowl toward her granddaughter. Dutifully, Samantha used the tongs to move a small amount of salad to her plate.
The silence chafed at Ruth. “How was everyone over at Nick’s?”
“Fine. Very busy. The men almost had the truck emptied by the time I left.”
“You weren’t gone long. I thought you would stay and help awhile.”
“I . . . I helped a little.” She speared some lettuce. “I left the thermoses. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. Nick or Derek will make sure they’re returned.”
Samantha put down her fork and reached for the bottle of dressing. “Nick wanted us to go to dinner with him and his parents tonight. But I said I would have to check with you.”
“Oh, I would love to go. I want to meet his parents.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a breath, a look of defeat on her face. “I’ll call him and find out the time and place.”
“Sam.” Ruth gave her granddaughter a stern look. “What’s wrong?”
She shrugged.
“No. Don’t put me off, dear. Tell me.”
“I guess,” Samantha began, “that I’m still afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of falling in love with him again.”
The confession didn’t take Ruth by surprise, but the war going on inside of her granddaughter made her heart ache. How can I help her?
“He’s different, Gran, but I don’t know if he’s changed enough for it to work between us. As much as I wish it could.” Samantha placed her napkin next to her plate and stood. “I’ll go call him now.”
“Sam, wait—”
But her granddaughter was already out of the kitchen, having said everything she intended to say for now.
Nick grabbed his cell phone off the counter and answered it. “Sam.”
“Hi. I talked to Gran. She would love to go to dinner with you and your parents.”
He noticed she didn’t say the same was true for herself. “Great.”
“Where should we meet you and what time?”
“There’s room in my truck. We could swing by to get you.”
“No, thanks. We’ll meet you wherever you say.”
Frustration welled inside him. Only a couple of days had passed since he’d asked her to give him a chance to win her love. Only a couple of days since she’d agreed to give him that chance. And already she was pulling back. If only he knew why. How could he fix it if he didn’t know the reason why?
“Nick?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I thought we should try out Delaney’s. It’s a new restaurant Brooklyn told me about. The food’s supposed to be excellent.” He reached for a slip of paper and read aloud the directions Brooklyn had given him. “I made the reservation for six thirty. Does that work for you?”
“Yes. Six thirty is fine.”
He heard her take a breath, sensed her desire for the call to end.
“Okay,” he said. “See you then.”
He lowered the phone from his ear, staring at the screen before it went dark.
“That was Sam?” his mother asked.
“Yeah.” He met her gaze. “She and her grandmother are able to join us for dinner.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad I’ll get to meet Ruth and spend more time with Sam.”
“Me too.”
“I hope to know her better over time.” His mom cocked an eyebrow.
There was no point denying it. “That’s what I’m hoping, too, Mom.”
“I thought as much.”
He gave her a wan smile.
“Doesn’t she return your feelings?”
“It’s complicated.”
His mom laughed. “When isn’t love complicated.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I wouldn’t know. This is the first time I’ve been in love. And it’s the real deal.”
“I’m glad for you, Nick. I’ve wanted you to find someone special. Even when you didn’t think you needed anyone, I’ve prayed for it to happen.”
“I hope God answers your prayers, Mom. I really do.”
Before his mom could reply to that, his dad entered the house through the sliding doorway to the deck. Boomer followed right behind, tongue lagging out one side of his mouth.
“Your dog would chase a ball from dawn to dusk if anybody could keep throwing it.” His dad leaned over and ruffled Boomer’s ears. When he straightened, he tossed the slobber-soaked tennis ball to Nick.
After catching it, Nick grimaced. “Thanks, Dad.” He laughed as he shook his hand, as if to flick off the moisture. More symbolic than anything else. And he was thankful for the distraction. He needed answers from Samantha before he tried to respond to more of his mom’s questions.
Delaney’s was located in a converted 1940s home not far outside the Nampa city limits. It had what could only be described as “character,” complete with curved archways, rounded corners, and pastoral wallpaper with shepherdesses in billowing green skirts holding crooked staffs. The wood floors were new. Or looked new after old carpeting had been ripped out and the wood refinished. Either way, the rich tone added an overall warm glow to the establishment.
As the five guests were led to a table near a window overlooking an emerald green lawn, shadowed by two giant weeping willows, Samantha tried to imagine how the home had originally looked. Walls had been removed to open up the space, and yet the architect had somehow managed to keep the homey feel.
Gran must have thought much the same thing. “This place is charming. I’d never even heard of Delaney’s until Sam told me where we were going.”
Nick answered, “Brooklyn promised we would love it.”
They took their places around a large round table. Nick sat on Samantha’s left, Gran on her right.
Looking at Gran, Tricia said, “Brooklyn should know. Her inn is utter perfection.”
“I’m glad you’re finding it so.”
Tricia glanced at her husband. “I may be able to convince Rocky to spend an extra night or two before we fly home so we can enjoy it a little longer.”
“Not sure we’ve had a chance to enjoy it at all,” he replied with a wry smile. “I think we were so tired last night we could have slept on a slab of wood and thought it wonderful.”
“Rocky,” Tricia said beneath her breath, her look both chastising and tolerant at the same time.
Samantha felt a tug of increasing affection for Nick’s parents. Especially for his mom. And it wasn’t a feeling she welcomed. It only complicated her emotions when it came to Nick.
“Sam.” He leaned close, his voice low. “Would you take a walk with me in the garden?”
She looked at him, surprise and suspicion mingling inside her.
“Please.”
“Wouldn’t that be rude? To leave everyone here?”
“Please.”
“We haven’t ordered yet.”
“Tell your grandmother what you want. That way we’ll have longer in the garden.”
She hadn’t a clue why she agreed to his request, but after a quick perusal of the menu, she told Gran what she wanted.
Nick stood. “Sam and I are going to have a look around outside.”
He slid Samantha’s chair back from the table and motioned for her to lead the way to the rear exit. From there a pathway wound between the trees. The summer air was heavy with the aroma of flowers.
Samantha followed the path, not stopping until she reached the back fence. There, she turned and looked at Nick, questioning him with her eyes.
“We need to talk, Sam.”
“About what?”
“About whatever happened this morning. You’ve pulled away from me again.”
“I don’t know what you—” She stopped. That wasn’t honest. “I saw the kayak in your garage.”
“My kayak?”
You don’t have to be afraid, the voice whispered in her heart. She ignored it. “Why is it there?”
“I always kept the kayaks in my garage.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Do you intend to use it again? Is that why you kept it? Is that why you moved it here with your other belongings?” She imagined him in it, flipping over, hitting his head, drowning.
Understanding replaced confusion. “No, Sam. I don’t intend to use it again.”
You don’t have to be afraid. “Then why did you keep it?”
“Because”—tenderly, he touched her cheek with his fingertips—“it’s a good reminder to me of God’s mercy.”
Her heart tumbled at the unexpected reply.
“Sam, I’m not a fool. You might argue with that, given my past. I admit I miss some of my old adventures. I loved them. But I have no intention of risking my health or my life unnecessarily. I told you the doctors cautioned me about what another head injury could do. I mean to listen to them.”
She wanted to believe him. Could she? Should she?
You don’t have to be afraid.
“And if none of that was enough to stop me, Sam, I wouldn’t do it again because you don’t want me to.”
“You didn’t care enough to stop before.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re right. I didn’t care enough back then. For anybody. I did whatever I wanted.” He held a hand toward her, silently inviting her to take it. “But that isn’t how I want to live my life today or in the future. If you’ll give me a chance, I want to put God first and you first.”
Was he proposing? Her heart nearly stopped beating.
“I love you, Sam. Don’t pull away from me. Don’t be afraid. Talk to me. Ask me whatever you want.”
She opened her mouth as if to ask something, then closed it as she realized God had already told her the only thing she needed to know. She didn’t have to be afraid. She didn’t have to try to control everything in her life. She could let go and trust Him.
The discovery must have shown on her face, for Nick’s own broke into a grin. “Is that a yes?”
Was it a yes? There were so many reasons she should say no. Good reasons. Sensible reasons. Her job. His new home in Idaho. Her home in Oregon. And yet . . . she didn’t have to be afraid. She loved him, and she didn’t have to be afraid.
“Will you marry me, Samantha Winters?”
Certainty rushed in, replacing fear and lingering doubts and even what she would consider common sense. “Yes, Nick Chastain. I’ll marry you.”
Gently but firmly, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. A long, slow kiss that made her heart soar. When he drew back his head, he stared down into her eyes, and she felt the warmth of his love all the way to her toes.
It was going to work out. No obstacles would be too much for them to overcome together. Somehow, someway, they were going to be okay.