On his way to the jobsite Thursday morning, Nick parked his truck on the street outside Sips and Scentimentals. He might not have the sharpest brain in the world, but he was still smart enough to know what he was doing there. It had little to do with food and beverages. Instead, he was there in the hopes of seeing Samantha again, of spending a little more time with her, of hearing her laugh and seeing her smile. Which meant he wasn’t smart enough after all. Because, while forgiveness was a good thing, wanting anything more than that wouldn’t be fair to Samantha. Her stay in Thunder Creek was temporary. She was there to take care of her grandmother, not to renew a relationship with him.
And yet he couldn’t shake the memory of that moment on Sunday when something had flickered between them. There’d been a connection of sorts, and it had surprised him, coming as it had on the heels of her seeming disinterest in what he’d tried to tell her.
He got out of the truck and went into the shop, greeted by pleasant odors that made his stomach growl in anticipation. Good thing he’d skipped breakfast, because he was going to treat himself and his crew to something sweet and gooey, along with their coffees.
He recognized the woman behind the counter from the previous Sunday at church. At least he thought that’s where he’d seen her. Some details escaped him. He got into the queue and waited, looking around the interior with interest.
The front side of the shop held small tables and feminine-looking chairs. Windows lined the entire length of that outside wall, allowing muted sunlight to spill into the room. A gift shop took up lots of space to the left of the entrance. One large display in the center of the area held all sizes and shapes of scented candles. Scents. He would bet that explained the odd spelling of the shop’s name. He felt proud of himself for figuring it out.
“What can I get for you?”
While he’d been distracted, Nick had somehow moved to the front of the line. He hesitated a few moments to collect his thoughts, then placed his order.
“You’re the young man who helped Ruth after her accident,” the woman said. Without waiting for his reply, she turned toward the coffee machines.
Small towns were like that. It was hard to remain a stranger, and news always traveled fast. He’d learned that from his childhood in Wyoming.
After a lengthy period of time, while the machines hissed and whirred as they filled to-go cups with coffee, the woman faced him again. “I’m Camila Diaz. Ruth and I go way, way back. She’s my very best friend. And I heard you know Sam too.”
“Yeah. I do.” He took his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.
Camila moved to the display case and retrieved the cinnamon buns he’d ordered. When she placed the box on the counter next to the tray of coffees, she waved her hand at his wallet. “Put your money away. This order’s on me.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Of course you can. After what you did for my dear friend, I’d like to do a lot more.”
“But I—”
A smile lit her face even as she scolded. “Young man, don’t argue with me.”
Obediently, he pressed his lips together.
A sound off to the right, barely audible above the din of the shop, drew Nick’s gaze in time to see Samantha step through a connecting doorway. From his visit on Sunday, he figured it must lead into the house’s kitchen. She glanced up, saw him, and stopped, as if uncertain what to do next. He gave her a quick smile, hoping it would help her make up her mind.
It must have worked, for she returned the smile with a brief one of her own and proceeded toward him. “Hi, Nick. I see you decided to give Gran’s coffee and pastries a try.”
“It seems like it’s the thing to do in Thunder Creek.” He motioned toward Camila. “Can I buy you a cup?”
Samantha smiled again—as if he’d suggested something silly. Which he supposed was true. Undoubtedly she could have as much coffee as she wanted for free, whether out here in the shop or beyond that door in her grandmother’s kitchen.
What he wanted to do next was invite her to sit down. After all, he’d come here in hopes of seeing her. But now that the moment presented itself, it seemed a dumb suggestion. He didn’t imagine she’d come out to the shop to join one of the customers at a table. Any of the customers, let alone him.
He saw Camila glance between him and Samantha, a look of curiosity in her eyes.
“I guess I’d better get to the jobsite,” he said, taking the tray in one hand and the pastry box in the other. “Have a great day.” He included both women with his parting words and headed outside. “Coward,” he muttered as he put the containers of coffees and pastries on the passenger seat of his truck.
No, not a coward. Despite his traitorous hopes, he’d been smart. He’d done the right thing. He’d been friendly and courteous but had kept the proper distance.
Only it didn’t feel as if he’d done the right thing. It didn’t feel right at all.
Samantha stared at the screen of the desktop computer, but what she saw in her mind was thick, wavy dark hair, brown eyes, and a smile that made her chest feel funny.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she whispered, trying to drive the image away. She inhaled slowly and deeply, then released the breath the same way. It helped. A little.
She had effectively kept thoughts of Nick at bay ever since he’d walked out of Gran’s kitchen on Sunday. But seeing him in the coffee shop this morning had changed all that. Now she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. Imagining what had happened to him on that kayaking trip, conjuring up the full extent of his injuries. She wished he’d told her more. Then again, she wished he hadn’t told her anything at all.
“And none of it is my business.”
She leaned her head back against the rest, considering. Maybe that wasn’t true. Didn’t being his friend mean they should talk about their lives? Wouldn’t it give her the right to ask those kinds of questions?
“Not necessarily,” she answered herself.
With a sigh of disgust, she rose from the chair and left the office. The early-morning coffee rush was over. The remaining customers were those who wanted to linger. A few had laptops open on tables. Others were in pairs, visiting as they sipped hot beverages.
Samantha gave a brief wave to Camila as she made her way to the connecting door to the house. Once it was closed behind her, she went to check on her grandmother and found her in the recliner. Napping, she thought.
“I’m not asleep,” Gran said without opening her eyes, proving Samantha wrong.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb.”
Now her grandmother looked at her. “You didn’t disturb me.”
“I need some fresh air. I thought I might go for a walk in the park.”
Gran lowered the footrest of the recliner. “Great idea. I’ll go with you.”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not joking in the least. I’ve mastered the scooter. I think a brief outing would be good for me.”
“Gran . . .”
“I was married to a physician, my dear. I know a thing or two about recovering from an accident. The best plan includes exercise and fresh air.”
Samantha gave her head a slow shake, not to argue further but in resignation. Gran would have her way. She might as well accept it.
Once Gran was out of the chair, her knee firmly planted on the scooter, Samantha helped her into a sweater to protect her against the early-morning chill. Then the pair of them headed outside. Samantha let her grandmother set the pace.
The house and shop were surrounded on three sides by the town park. The pair followed a sidewalk toward the creek that ran through the center of it. At this time of day in the middle of the work week, they had the park all to themselves. Not even the playground was in use by children too young to be in school.
The soft sounds of nature—a breeze through the limbs of the trees, a songbird announcing its presence, the tumble and gurgle of the creek—and the whir of the scooter wheels surrounded them.
“This is lovely,” Gran said. “Just what I needed. I hate being cooped up day after day.”
Samantha glanced over at her grandmother. “That’s great, but we don’t want to go too far. You shouldn’t overdo things.”
“Then let’s sit on that bench near the bridge. I’m not ready to go back inside yet.”
“All right.” Again, she knew it was useless to argue.
Once they were settled, the morning sun caressing their faces, Gran took hold of Samantha’s hand. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Troubling me?”
“Oh, Sam. I broke my ankle, but my ability to observe wasn’t affected. I’ve tried to be patient, to wait for you to tell me what’s wrong.” She shook her head. “If you really don’t want to talk about it, of course I will not press you. But maybe telling me will help.”
Denial rose in Samantha’s chest. An instinctive reaction, an urge to keep her life in order and under control. Admitting her confusion aloud to another person, especially to her beloved grandmother, felt like failure.
Her grandmother closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun, the image of patience.
“It’s complicated, Gran.”
“What is?”
“For starters, my job. I don’t like my boss, and I can’t seem to get anywhere. You know how much I dislike change. But even so, I feel stuck. I’m restless. Restless with everything.” She looked at the trees on the other side of the creek. “Including my personal life. It feels like an utter disaster. I haven’t had a serious relationship in my life since—” She broke off abruptly.
Gran waited several moments before asking, “Since?”
Samantha released a breath, needing to be honest. “Since Nick.”
“Do you mean . . . ? Oh, good gracious.”
She laughed, a humorless sound, and repeated her grandmother. “Good gracious.”
“Well, well.”
Softly, “Well, well.”
Another silence, this one lengthy. Finally, Gran asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I don’t know what to say. We were together about eight months. When he wasn’t working or off wind surfing or sailing or hiking, we spent time together.” She drew in a breath, her thoughts flittering from memory to memory. “We liked such very different things. I don’t suppose it ever could have worked. And yet I liked him so much. I loved those times we spent together.” She felt Gran’s gaze on her but refused to look in the older woman’s direction. “One day the differences became too much. We argued and broke up, and that was it. It ended just like that.”
“Are you sure?”
She met her grandmother’s gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Are you sure it ended . . . for you? Because there is something in your voice that makes me think that might not be so.”
“Of course I’m sure.” She sat straighter on the bench, looking toward the creek, hating that her grandmother had seen something Samantha had managed to keep hidden even from herself. “I never spoke to him again. Not until he walked into the hospital and found me with you.”
Gran released a soft breath. “Were you in love with Nick?”
Unexpectedly, tears welled up. She was horrified by their presence but was unable to stop them from falling.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Gran put an arm around her and drew her close. “Oh, my dear.”
Samantha turned her face into her grandmother’s shoulder and let herself cry.
She hadn’t meant to pry when she entered Nick’s spacious home office. She’d wanted a sticky note, and she’d known there was a dispenser on his desk. But as she removed the sticky note, her eyes fell on the printed sheet of paper in the center of the desk. The word ITINERARY was typed boldly across the top, easy to read even though it was upside down. Without considering her action, she turned the sheet of paper to face her.
Her stomach fluttered when she saw the dates at the top of the page. Was this part of Nick’s surprise? He’d been so evasive about what he planned to do during the university’s spring break that she’d convinced herself his secrecy included something special to do with her.
The flutter stopped, then hardened and sank like a rock as she took in more of the information on the page. Colorado. Kayaking. Almost a whole week of white-water rafting and camping.
“Sam?”
She turned toward the office doorway.
“I wondered where you went,” Nick said. “I’ve got the movie in the player and the popcorn’s ready.”
“I wanted to make a note for myself.” She held up the yellow Post-it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nick gave her a quizzical look.
“About your spring break plans.”
He was silent a short while, then answered, “Because I didn’t want to argue with you about my trips again. I’m tired of it. We’ve been over it ad nauseam.”
“I wouldn’t have argued with—”
“Yes, you would have, Sam. You don’t like what I do for fun. Even when all I do is go mountain biking for an afternoon. You’ve made that plenty clear. And this is one trip I didn’t plan to pass up because of your fears.”
“What if you get hurt again? Remember how you dislodged your shoulder blade when you fell rock climbing last month?”
Nick moved into the room. His mouth seemed hard. “You worry too much.”
“With good reason.”
“Sam, I’m not your dad.”
She sucked in a breath.
“His death was an accident. You told me so yourself.”
Yes, she’d told him about the skiing accident that had killed her dad. But she hadn’t expected him to turn the tragedy against her like this.
“His death has turned you into a coward.”
She drew back, as if struck. “That’s a little harsh.”
Regret flickered in his eyes. It seemed he might reach for her, might say he was sorry for his word choice, if nothing else. Then the moment passed, and with firm resolve in his voice he added, “It’s not harsh. It’s the truth. You’re afraid of your own shadow.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered.
His expression softened a little. “Sam, you need to accept it.” He spread his arms. “This is who I am.”
“It isn’t who you have to be.”
“I can’t let your fears change the way I live my life.”
“It isn’t fear. It’s being sensible. Sensible people don’t risk their lives just for the thrill of it.” Her voice rose sharply. “Nick, sometimes you are reckless with yourself and thoughtless with others. Sometimes I think you’re a highly educated idiot. You even take unnecessary risks with your students.”
“Is that what you think?” All emotion bled from his voice, leaving it flat and cold.
Her own hurt gave way to anger. Tilting her chin in a show of strength, she answered, “Yes, that’s what I think.”
The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. They stared at each other, unblinking, unmoving.
After what seemed an eternity, Nick said in that same flat, cold voice, “Then we have a bigger problem than where I plan to spend spring break.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
He spun on his heel. “A movie wasn’t such a good idea.”
“No.” She turned and slapped the sticky note onto the edge of his desk. “It wasn’t.” As she left the office, she flipped the light switch off, wanting the action to make a statement of some sort, though she knew not what.
It wouldn’t have mattered if it did. Nick didn’t see her do it. Didn’t care either, from the look of it. He awaited her by the front door, her sweater held in one hand. Obviously all he wanted was for her to leave. Now.
Her anger continued to rage as she took the sweater from him. She wished she could slap his face. Hard. And not for this argument alone. Not even for him calling her a coward or bringing up her dad. No, for all the little disagreements that had happened before tonight. For his stubbornness. For his inability to see her side of the issue. For the way he refused to understand that her concern was because she cared for him so much.
Since it wasn’t in her nature to slap another human being, the best she could do was clench her teeth and say, “Good night, Nick.” She stepped through the open doorway.
“Good-bye, Sam.”
His choice of farewell felt like a shaft in her heart. It sounded so . . . final. She spun around on the stoop, hoping to see another glimmer of regret in his eyes. It wasn’t there. A shudder ran through her. “Nick . . .”
“It’s over, Sam. It has to be.”
He couldn’t mean it. Surely he couldn’t. They’d had a disagreement. They’d both lost their tempers. But he couldn’t want to break up with her over it.
“I’m not the guy you’re looking for,” he said, the anger gone, even the coldness gone. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe we could make it work, but I don’t think so anymore. You need somebody . . . safe. I hope you find him. I really do.”
Anger welled again, although even at that moment, she understood it was a reaction meant to protect her shattering heart. “Fine. Have a fun spring break. Maybe you’ll drown in that white water you crave so much. I won’t care if you do.”
Hateful, stupid words. Words she was immediately sorry for but couldn’t take back.
“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Sam.”
He didn’t close the door on her. Not the one she could see. But she felt an invisible door slam closed.
She turned and hurried to her car.