The next morning, still in her pj’s and with eyes half closed, Samantha felt her way down the stairs in search of her first cup of coffee. Before she reached the last step, she sniffed the warm, familiar scent and somehow knew it came from Gran’s kitchen rather than the connected shop, Sips and Scentimentals.
“Camila,” she whispered. “Bless you.”
And sure enough, her grandmother’s best friend—tall and sturdy, black hair streaked with gray, and a smile that, when directed Samantha’s way, made her feel all warm and wonderful on the insides—stood in the kitchen watching the last of the coffee drip into the waiting pot. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning,” Samantha mumbled.
“Rough night?”
She held out a hand as Camila poured coffee into a large mug. “More than you know.” But she refused to think about the reason why. A reason who had broad shoulders, chocolate-brown eyes, and the shadow of a beard that never quite became one. Someone she had nearly managed to banish from her thoughts . . . up until yesterday.
The woman acknowledged Samantha’s words with an “Mmm.”
Still trying to rid herself of the image in her mind, Samantha went to the kitchen table, where she doctored the aromatic brew with cream.
“I went to see Ruth last night.” Camila sank onto the opposite chair, holding a cup of her own. “You know what she said when I told her she had no business being on a horse at her age? She told me if the Queen of England could still ride at ninety, then Ruth Johnson could still ride at seventy-six.”
“Lots of people plenty older than Gran ride horses every day.”
Camila grunted. “Never understood the desire to get up on an animal that big.”
“Then I feel sorry for you.” Samantha smiled and took a sip of her coffee.
Camila did the same before saying, “Your grandmother is overjoyed that you’re here.”
“Did you know it’s for the duration? Until Gran’s finished with rehab and fully recovered.”
Camila arched an eyebrow.
Samantha answered the unspoken question. “I have vacation coming, and then I’ll take advantage of the company leave. I want to be here for as long as Gran needs me. Maybe longer than she wants me.” She laughed, making a joke of it.
Camila Diaz was nearly as astute as Samantha’s grandmother. “What is it, Sam? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Then she shook her head. “I don’t know. I just feel less and less happy at work. It doesn’t make sense, because my goal when I started college was to eventually work for a firm like Whitewater. Although it doesn’t help that I’ve been passed over for a promotion I thought for sure was mine.” She frowned as she drew in a slow breath. “More than one, actually. I think my boss has made sure he can keep me working in his department rather than have me move elsewhere.”
“Have you spoken up for yourself?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head again. “No.”
“Why not?”
She could have told Camila how nervous it made her to think about standing up for herself or to think about looking for work elsewhere. Both were true and accurate reasons. Only unlike yesterday, they didn’t seem . . . enough. Giving herself a few moments to form an honest response, she sipped her coffee, then finally answered, “I don’t know why. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Oh.”
“I hope this time with Gran will help me do that.”
“Then I hope so too. And nobody’s better at helping folks figure things out than your grandmother.”
Samantha chuckled, her mood lightening. “True.”
Camila looked toward the door that led into the shop. “It sounds like things are getting busy. I’d best go help Gina before the morning rush overwhelms her.”
“Do you need me to do anything?”
“Heavens, no.” Camila waved a hand dismissively as she stood. “You concentrate on your grandmother, and I’ll make sure Sips and Scentimentals is taken care of.”
“Okay.”
“If you’ve forgotten where anything is, give a holler.”
“I will. Thanks, Camila.”
The woman disappeared through the doorway.
Samantha closed her eyes and took another sip of coffee. Ahhh. There was something rather amazing about a Monday without commutes into and out of the city, without eight hours of staring at a computer screen or studying numbers on a printout or sitting around a conference room table. She could almost feel her heart rate slow down a good ten beats a minute.
She opened her eyes. It felt wonderful to be in Gran’s home again. She’d come to stay here right after graduating from college while she looked for employment. Those summer months remained among her favorite memories ever. After God made Gran, He’d broken the mold. She was the absolute best. Ask anybody in Thunder Creek.
The telephone rang, and she forced herself up from the chair to go answer it. “Ruth Johnson’s residence.”
“Hey, cuz.” Derek’s voice was full of a smile. “Got here all right, I see.”
“Yes. Yesterday afternoon.”
“I talked to Gran this morning. The doctor was in to see her, and they’re going to keep her in the hospital one more night. So Brooklyn and I want you to come to dinner at our place. No point you eating alone or living on hospital food. Sound good?”
“Sounds great. I haven’t seen the inn since your wedding, and it wasn’t even open for business yet. Can you believe that’ll be two years come September?”
“Yeah. Time flies. As for the inn, Brooklyn’s always full of new ideas. But we aren’t living in it anymore. We built a new home on the property, and that’s where we’ll eat tonight.”
“Wow. Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“It was a secret.” He laughed. “Come about five and we’ll tell you all about it firsthand.”
“How do I find your new place?”
“As long as you remember the way to the inn, you won’t have any trouble finding us. I promise. See you at five.”
“Okay. I know the way. See you soon.”
Smiling, she put the handset back in its cradle. Although she would never say it out loud, Derek was her favorite cousin. Being around him and getting to know his wife and her daughter better would be an added benefit of staying in Thunder Creek for a few months.
A glance at the clock told her she’d better get a move on. She might not have a job to go to today, but there were things to do. First, pour herself another cup of coffee, followed by breakfast and a shower, then driving back to the hospital in Caldwell to spend time with Gran.
“Boomer, down.” Nick pointed to the ground near the side of his pickup. “Stay.”
The border collie lay down, eyes watchful. Whoever had trained the young dog had done an amazing job. And whenever Nick thought of that, it also made him wonder why Boomer had ended up at the humane society. It didn’t make sense to him, someone giving away such a great animal.
“Whatever the reason, I’m the lucky recipient.” He reached down to stroke Boomer’s head.
With a smile Nick started unloading more pipe. But before he could get much done, he heard his name called and turned around to see Derek Johnson striding toward him.
“How’s it going?” Derek asked when he arrived.
“Good. And how’s your grandmother? I went to see her yesterday, but she was sleeping, so I left.” Not to mention seeing Sam made me want to get out of there.
“She’s doing well, according to her doctor. And thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything but call for the ambulance and hold her hand until it got here.”
“Seemed like more than that to all of us.”
Nick shrugged.
“She gets to go home tomorrow.”
“That’s good.”
“My cousin’s staying with her during her recovery.”
“Sam.” The name slipped out before he could stop it.
“Yeah.” Derek’s expression showed his surprise. “How’d you know that?”
“She was at the hospital yesterday when I got there.”
“Oh. So you met her then.” Derek nodded, as if to confirm that it now made sense.
Nick hesitated a short while before correcting him. “Actually, Sam and I knew each other in Oregon. A couple of years ago.”
“You’re kidding?” Derek’s eyes widened, inviting Nick to say more.
“Some coincidence, huh?” He looked down at the ground. What else could he say? He hadn’t told anyone in Idaho about the accident that had changed his life. No one in the area knew he held a PhD in Fisheries and Wildlife. Everyone thought he was an ordinary laborer, the lead foreman for an irrigation company, and that’s where he wanted to leave it. He didn’t want anybody feeling sorry for him or asking questions that he found hard to answer.
“Some coincidence,” Derek echoed. He waited a few heartbeats, as if tempted to ask some of those unwanted questions. Finally, he added, “It’s a small world for sure.”
“Small world.” Nick hoped that would put an end to the subject. Luckily, it did.
Derek motioned to the pipe and equipment on the ground. “I’d better let you get to work, and I need to get to my own.” He turned and took a few strides away before stopping and facing Nick again. “Hey, would you like to have dinner with us tonight? My wife’s a great cook. I promise you’ll like it.”
“That’s good of you, but I wouldn’t want to—”
“Come on. You told me yourself you know hardly anybody in the area.”
That was true. Nick had told Derek the first day on the job that he was new to Caldwell. He usually didn’t admit such things to any of the company’s clients. It led to invitations like this one. And if he accepted, then there would be questions around the dinner table—the getting-to-know-you kind that made him uncomfortable. Not only because he preferred to keep his former life to himself, but because there were too many facts, dates, and memories that remained fuzzy or had disappeared altogether.
On the other hand, he had a feeling Derek was the kind of guy he would like to call a friend, and it was time Nick made a few of those in Idaho. Unless he royally screwed up as the foreman for Masters & Sons Irrigation Systems, Caldwell was going to be his home for the foreseeable future. Maybe for good.
“All right,” Nick said at last. “I’ll be glad to come. What time? I’ll have to drive home to clean up and put Boomer in his kennel.”
“Bring the dog. Miss Trouble will love having some canine company.”
“Miss Trouble?”
Humor filled Derek’s voice. “Our dog. We can tell you that story tonight. Come at five or five thirty. We’ll plan to eat at six.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Great.” Derek turned and began walking away. “Sam’s coming, too, so you won’t be completely among strangers.”
Samantha? Nick’s heart thudded. Had she known Derek planned to invite him? He’d bet money she hadn’t. He’d also bet she wasn’t going to like it. Not after the way she’d looked at him yesterday.
He inhaled slowly and let it out. Was this God’s way of getting him to ask Samantha to forgive him for the way he’d ended things with her? It was something that had nagged at him, off and on, after memories had begun to return. Sure, he could have picked up the phone and called her, but he’d never been able to make himself do it. Pride, he supposed. He hadn’t wanted her to know what happened to him.
He faced his truck. Boomer lay in the exact same spot, watching his master, waiting for a command. A walk would do them both good. “Come on, boy. Let’s have a look at where we are.”
Derek and Brooklyn Johnson owned about thirteen acres of prime farming land. A couple of acres were in pasture, and another half acre or so hosted a small, mostly immature, fruit orchard. A bed-and-breakfast, the Inn at Thunder Creek, along with its expansive event gardens and enormous shade trees, took up close to an acre as well. Then there was the main house, smaller outbuildings, greenhouse, and barn. That left just shy of nine acres for growing fruits and vegetables.
Inspired by an organic farmer in northern California where the owners grew more produce with less water, no tilling, and no pesticides of any kind, Derek planned to use the same methods on his farm, including swapping out above-ground irrigation methods for a drip system using thin plastic tubes. Starting tomorrow, Nick would be joined by a larger crew to begin installing the system. Today he continued to map things out.
He knew a few people back in Oregon who believed the knock he’d taken on his head had made him lose his mind along with many memories. Why would a man with his education and experience leave behind the academia he loved to do this kind of labor—setting up, repairing, or replacing irrigation systems on farms both large and small? Of course, he didn’t have a lot of choice. Even with improvements in his health, he couldn’t go back to his former life. He didn’t have the required mental agility for the classroom any longer, and he wasn’t physically able for the thing he’d loved most: taking those high-risk excursions with students. Countless doctors had made it clear what another accident could mean to him.
Nick had always loved the outdoors. He’d also been eager for new adventures. Big adventures. Scary adventures. The accident may have put an end to his thrill-seeking ways for good, but the outdoors could still be his. There was something rejuvenating about working out in the sun and the rain, the heat and the cold, the wind and the calm. Thanks to Brett Masters, he had a job that gave him all of that. It had been good for him. It was still good for him.
In fact, Nick liked to think he was a better man today than he’d been two years ago. He liked to think he put others first more often than he used to. He liked to think he listened better than he used to.
Would Samantha see the differences in him, given a chance?
He closed his eyes, remembering the first time he’d seen her. Some memories hadn’t returned to him, but this one— from two years and eight months ago, almost to the day—was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
How in the blue blazes had Nick let himself be talked into coming to this stupid thing? A tax seminar. In August!
The meeting room in the hotel was windowless, but Nick knew an incredible summer evening lay beyond those paneled walls. He could be riding his bike or rollerblading or even rock climbing at the gym. Instead, he was stuck here because he’d made a promise to John Moss, his accountant.
“You’re brilliant in a lot of ways, Nick,” John had said after informing him about the seminar, “but you’re going to find yourself with a stiff fine one of these days if you don’t pay attention to a few more bookkeeping details. I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
The lecturer droned on. It seemed like hours already. In reality, maybe fifteen minutes had passed.
Nick happened to look to one side in time to see a woman enter through the door. Moving quickly and hoping not to be noticed, judging by her expression, she took a seat in the row in front of him, to the far right of where he sat next to the center aisle. It afforded him a nice view of her profile.
Man, she was gorgeous. The beautiful shade of her red hair. The pale, clear complexion. The perfect arch of her long neck. And although he couldn’t see her eyes, he’d bet money they were green. Her attire said “business professional,” but at the same time it said “Feminine” with a capital F.
Nick checked his watch. The program called for a ten-minute break on the next hour. Whatever else happened during those ten minutes, Nick would make certain he met that young woman, learned her name, and, most important, made arrangements for when they would see each other again.