since his injuries had sent him home. The physical wounds had long since healed, but inside the scars sometimes felt as fresh as if they’d happened yesterday. He’d give anything to go back and relive that day, find some way to make it end differently.
But he couldn’t. He regretted that more than he’d ever be able to convey, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Squaring his shoulders with determination, Sam put aside the past and focused on the misty view outside the windshield. Unfortunately, in the enclosed cab, he caught a whiff of Holly’s perfume. With a mental groan, he identified the flowery scent: roses. He’d always had a fondness for roses.
“There’s a small market in town,” he explained as he headed for the highway. “But considering the fact that Daphne’s cupboards are pretty much empty, I’m thinking you need something more than a few cans of soup and a loaf of bread. Waterford has a big new grocery store that should do the trick.”
“Oh, it’s not far, is it? It’s getting late, and I hate to take up the rest of your day.”
“Not a problem.”
A blossoming smile made its way across her face, reminding him of the way the sun came up over the nearby hills every morning. The poetic comparison was so unlike him, he was beginning to wonder if he was coming down with something.
“You’re a nice guy, Sam.”
Her sweet, no-frills compliment trickled into a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. His brain was clanging a warning, but the rest of him apparently wasn’t listening because he found himself smiling back at her. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
She didn’t say anything more, but the lingering gaze she gave him before looking out the passenger window made his heart roll over in his chest. Normally cautious when it came to relationships, he wasn’t one to go all mushy over a woman the first time he met her.
But this one had gotten to him on some level that he didn’t quite understand. One thing he knew for sure, though: he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
The next morning, Sam was clearing equipment from the bed of his work truck when he heard the kitchen screen door of Daphne’s house quietly creak open. He knew the sound of someone sneaking out, and he peered over the unruly boxwood hedge that separated his yard from hers. “Morning.”
Chase’s head snapped around, a guilty look on his face. “Hi.”
There was something about this kid that really appealed to him, so Sam decided to play it cool. “Headed to work?”
The boy grinned and shook his head. “Just checking things out. Mom said it was too muddy yesterday.”
“Sounds like a mom.” Sam wasn’t used to dealing with children, and he hunted for something else to say. “Wanna give me a hand?”
“I can’t leave Auntie D’s yard.”
It was a good rule, and Sam didn’t want him getting into trouble. Then inspiration hit, and he asked, “Have you got a baseball glove?”
“In the car. Why?”
“I’m ready for a break. We could play catch over the hedge if you want.”
“Cool! I’ll be right back.”
Skirting around the side porch, he scrambled up the driveway to where Holly’s car was parked. Sam expected to hear the slamming of a car door, but Chase made barely a sound opening and closing it before running back. Smart kid, Sam thought with a grin as he went into the garage to find his own glove and a baseball. They were under a pile of junk on his work bench, covered in dust. And one of the strings on his glove was considerably shorter than the others, with telltale gnaw marks that alerted him he had a mouse.
More like mice, he amended with a grimace. In his experience, the little pests always came with friends and were hard to get rid of. Just as he felt his chipper mood starting its usual nosedive, something incredible happened.
It stopped. As if someone had reached out to catch a ball on its way to the ground, his demeanor reversed course all on its own and began lifting again. Sam had never experienced anything even remotely like this, and he had no idea what to make of it. Since Chase was anxiously bouncing from one sneaker to the other on his side of the hedge, Sam put aside his bewilderment, banged the dirt and sawdust from his glove and tossed his throwing partner an easy pop fly.
After a few of those back and forth, Chase finally complained. “Come on, Sam. I’m not a baby.”
He laughed and put some more muscle into the next one. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“No problem. Y’know, you’re pretty good at this. Who taught you to throw?”
“Mom did. She’s got a good arm for a girl.”
“Does she like baseball, too?” Sam didn’t know what made him ask that, but now that he had, it dawned on him that his curiosity about his new neighbor hadn’t gone away overnight the way he’d expected it to.
“Kinda,” the boy replied as if it baffled him. “She grew up rooting for Atlanta, but she met my dad at a Boston doubleheader, so now she likes the Red Sox.”
It was the first Sam had heard either of them talk about the boy’s father, and it made him wonder about the details of his death. He’d lost his own grandfather not long ago and still missed him every day. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for a child to cope with losing a parent so young.
Maybe this was a chance for him to help someone else whose life had been upended by tragedy, he thought. At least, he could try. “So, do you remember much about your father?”
“Some,” Chase answered, spinning the ball in his hand before tossing it back. “He looked fine, but he was sick, and that made Mom sad. He didn’t ever want to go outside or play games with me. She said it wasn’t my fault, so I figured it was because he didn’t want to be my dad anymore.”
Laced with sorrow, those raw, honest words drove straight into Sam’s heart. He’d assumed the Marine had died in combat, but now it sounded as if he’d made it home only to pass away later. Sam didn’t know which was more devastating, but he suspected that to Holly and Chase, there wasn’t much of a difference. Brady was gone, and they had to live without him. It didn’t get much tougher than that.
It wasn’t Sam’s nature to delve into someone else’s pain, especially since he had more than enough of his own to bear. But this brave kid and his grieving mother had broken through his stalwart front and gotten to him in a way other people didn’t. Foreign as it was to him, he acknowledged that their heart-wrenching history made him want to do something to help them.
“I can’t imagine that,” he said. “You’re a great kid, and I’m sure he was proud to be your dad. Sometimes when folks get sick it changes the way they act, even with the people they love most.”
Unfortunately,
