“I can’t believe how fat Muffy is.”
“You need to convince your parents to put her on a diet, Sam. She almost died a few months ago.”
They shared a concerned look. Muffy was special to both of them. They’d picked her out together as a comfort to Sam’s mother, who’d been so sad after Sam moved out.
“Her food was cut in half as of yesterday.”
That reminded her of Sam, the old Sam. See a need, take charge, make it better.
Or at least try….
“Why doesn’t Mariah speak?” she asked, focusing somewhere just to the right of his chin. There could be no more meeting of the eyes. Sam’s looks touched her in ways she could no longer welcome. “Does she talk to you? Is it just strangers she’s so shy with?”
Frowning, Sam lifted his hands, then let them drop back to his knees. “She hasn’t said a word in six months. To me or anyone.”
“You said her family died. What happened? A car accident?” The tragedy sure explained some of the sadness she saw in Sam’s eyes. The sadness reached out to her in ways she wanted to resist.
“They didn’t just die—they were murdered by a band of terrorist thugs hijacking the airplane Moira and her husband, Brian, and Mariah were on.” He shook his head. “They were the only family Mariah had, and my closest friends.”
Cassie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Mariah’s mother had a husband. “Where were they?”
“It was a small jumper plane leaving Afghanistan. The Glorys were the only Americans on board. The terrorists were part of an extremist group fighting for recognition.”
Cassie remembered with horror the reports she’d seen on the news. “Out of forty people on the plane, only ten survived,” she continued slowly, her heart heavy as she watched the despair on Sam’s face. “Six women, three men—and an American child…” Her voice trailed off. Mariah. “At least those terrorists were caught,” she said, the thought bringing little comfort.
Sam clenched his jaw, and his hands tightened into fists. “It was all over the news—another terrorist incident. Mom and Dad heard about it in Germany, but they had no idea, of course, that the tragedy had anything to do with me.”
“You weren’t with them?”
Sam shook his head, eyes dulled and faraway. Cassie had all but forgotten that she wasn’t going to look into his face anymore.
“I was in New Jersey. I’d been there a couple of years, working with a guy who’s restoring old houses. I came home from work one day to a call from an attorney in Delaware—which is where the Glorys lived when they weren’t on assignment somewhere in the Third World. Their will named me Mariah’s legal guardian.”
“You didn’t know that?” Cassie was confused. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to make a go of marriage with this Moira, either. It must have complicated things when she’d married his good friend—not that Cassie wanted to hear anything about that. But wouldn’t he, as Mariah’s natural father, expect to have custody of her in the event her mother could no longer care for the child?
Sam nodded. “I knew,” he said hoarsely. “I just didn’t think there’d ever be a need….”
His voice broke off, and he lowered his chin as though holding back deep emotion. He’d loved the woman so much?
Another stab of pain left Cassie feeling weak and tired.
“When I got to Afghanistan to collect Mariah, she was this silent huddle with big frightened eyes.” He paused. “Immediately after the funeral, I moved into the Glorys’ home and began adoption proceedings. I tried to make her life as normal as possible, surrounding her with familiar things, but she hasn’t responded very much. She’s been in counseling since the beginning, but there’s only so much medical science can do. She’s suffering emotional pain, not some kind of chemical imbalance they can medicate. There is no diagnosis of a disease. There are always medications, of course, but some things you have to come out of naturally, on your own. Mariah has to want to return to us.”
“So she hasn’t spoken at all?”
“Not a word.”
“Not even when she saw you?”
Sam shook his head.
“It’s obvious she adores you.”
“We’ve always been close,” Sam said softly, almost apologetically, as his eyes met Cassie’s. “Without you, she was my only shot at having a child in my life.”
Cassie ignored the first part of that statement. “You and her mother split before she was born?”
“Her mother and I were never together,” he said, his expression gentle. “At least, not in any child-making sense. Mariah’s not my biological daughter, Cass.”
The breath slowly left Cassie’s lungs. She felt dizzy, light-headed. But not relieved. Whether or not Sam had had sex with Mariah’s mother made no difference to her; he’d certainly had sex with other women.
At least one while he and Cassie were married.
Because she didn’t know what else to do, Cassie sat and listened while Sam told her about his best friends, the Glorys. All three of them—Brian, who was full-blooded Chippewa, Moira, a Peace Corps brat, and Sam—had met when they’d been leaving for a two-year stint overseas as Peace Corps volunteers.
Mariah’s name came from a song she’d always loved. It referred to the wind. Sam said Mariah blew into their lives unexpectedly, but that she was vital to the very air they breathed.
While Cassie had been mourning their lost child, fighting to recover her life, Sam had been overseas making friends and helping other people, instead of caring for the wife he’d promised to love, honor and cherish. He’d been taking part in raising another child.
She’d have to tell him about that someday. When she was ready. When she felt she could get through the telling without falling apart. Emily’s premature birth—and subsequent death a month later—wasn’t something she spoke about. Ever. Even after all this time, the wounds were too raw. And it wasn’t as though she owed Sam an explanation. He’d lost all rights to Emily when he’d deserted them.
Although she knew Sam wasn’t responsible for the death of their child, any more than she was, she couldn’t stop believing that if only he’d been there…
Yet, no matter how frozen her heart felt at this moment, Cassie was still glad to hear that he’d been doing something worthwhile during those years. Glad to know that, while he hadn’t been there for his own child, little Mariah had been able to count on him.
Cassie had always figured he’d been enjoying the beds of coeds, like the girl he’d been with the night he should have been home with Cassie. Despite everything, she felt somehow consoled that this wasn’t the case.
“We were pretty much the only family any of us had,” Sam said, obviously lost in time. Cassie hated the stab of jealousy she felt as she heard the affection in Sam’s
