02_Groom of Her Own (4 page)

The trouble was,
she
couldn’t overlook it. She’d carried the guilt with her for years, would always carry it, because there was no way to right the wrong. All she could do was atone for it by denying herself the kind of happiness Laura had found. And by her weekly volunteer work at the counseling center.

Sam knew that most people would think her self-imposed punishment too severe. That what had happened hadn’t been her fault. That she needed to get over the tragic event and move on with her life. And sometimes, when the nights got especially long and lonely, she almost began to believe that herself. Time had a way of softening the horror.

But then the nightmare would return with vivid intensity, bringing back the harsh reality of what she’d done, and she would wake up shaking, the sights and sounds so real that it always took her a moment to realize that it was, in fact, only a dream. Yet what it represented was real enough. She had
lived
that nightmare. It wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. And for days afterward she would feel haunted. Because she knew that what had happened that fateful night
was
her fault.

Sam rose slowly and walked back to the stove to refill her cup. As she lifted the brass teapot, it suddenly reminded her of Aladdin’s magic lamp, and she paused. She didn’t allow herself many forays into fantasy. That was a waste of time. But just for a moment she broke her rule. If she had one wish, she thought wistfully as she gazed at the teapot, it would be to erase that night from her life. But it was too late, and no amount of wishing could change that.

Suddenly Sam felt a tear trailing down her cheek and realized that she was crying—again. It had been happening with alarming frequency since the wedding, and it had to stop, she told herself firmly, heading for the bathroom to get a tissue.

The sudden ringing of the phone startled her as she passed, and she stopped in midstride, reaching for it automatically. “Hello,” she sniffed.

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Sam?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Brad Matthews.”

Brad Matthews…the minister? “You mean Reverend Matthews?” she asked cautiously, swiping at her eyes.

“The same. Although I thought we’d gotten past that to ‘Brad.’”

“Oh. Right. I was just…surprised.”

It was obvious to Brad that Sam was either crying or had been recently, and he hesitated. “Listen, is this a bad time? I could call back.”

“No. It’s fine. Really.” For some reason she felt better listening to his voice. It helped even more than the hot tea.

“Are you sure? You sound…well…is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” she lied, touched by the concern in his voice, struggling to get her emotions under control. Good grief, every time she had any contact with this man she was crying! He must think she was a nutcase! She searched for some plausible excuse for her emotional state, and her gaze fell on Laura’s note. “I just got a postcard from Laura, and like I told you at the wedding…I’m a sap for happy endings.”

Her explanation didn’t ring quite true, but Brad let it pass. “So are they having a good time?”

“It sounds like it.”

“Well, I guess we won’t know for sure until they get back. If they look sleep deprived, we can assume they enjoyed themselves,” he said with a smile.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that a rather…racy… remark for a minister?” she asked in surprise.

“Why?”

“Well…I don’t know. It just seems like maybe sex would be a taboo topic for a preacher.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you might be surprised at some of the subjects ministers tackle these days. Besides, Laura and Nick are married, and sex is a natural and good part of marriage. No reason not to hope they’re enjoying it.”

Sam found herself smiling. “I must say, Reverend, you continue to surprise me.”

“Pleasantly, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

“Well, then here’s another surprise. I’m actually calling for professional reasons.”

Sam frowned. “Professional reasons?” she repeated, puzzled.

“Yes. Believe it or not, I’m in the market for a house, and I know from Laura that you sell real estate. So I thought maybe you could offer me some advice.”

“Well, sure, I’d be glad to. But I thought houses were usually provided for ministers.”

“That was true in the old days. But things are changing. The parsonage I live in is more or less falling down around me, and the congregation just doesn’t want to sink any more money into it Besides, we need to expand our parking lot. So
…voila…
the parsonage is coming down. I’ve known about it for a couple of months, and I still have ten months before I have to move, but I figured I’d better start looking.”

Sam reached for a pad and pen and sat down at the kitchen table. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll take a few notes.”

“Now?” Brad hadn’t expected to actually do anything today, just sort of get the wheels in motion. But Sam had other ideas.

“Why not? That way I can line up a few things for you to look at and get a better idea of what you’re after. Ten months may seem like a long time, but it’s really not when you’re buying a house.”

Brad couldn’t argue with Sam’s expertise, so he did his best, with her prompting, to describe his “ideal” house. Within minutes she had the information she needed to line up some prospects.

“How about if we get together Wednesday to look at a few houses?” she suggested. “Would nine o’clock work for you?”

Brad flipped through his calendar, not at all sure how things had moved this quickly. He wasn’t quite ready to let go of the parsonage. It was too filled with memories of his happy years with Rachel. But the day had to come sooner or later, and it looked like it was going to be sooner, if Sam was in charge. Which she seemed to be, he thought with amusement. “That would be fine.”

“Great. I’ll call to confirm on Tuesday night and let you know how many houses I’ve come up with. But don’t get your hopes up,” she warned. “This first trip will be more fact finding than anything else. It takes one hunting trip before I get a good feel for a client’s tastes.”

“I’m in no great rash.”

“Good. You can’t imagine how many people expect to walk into their dream house first time out. I can’t promise that, but we’ll find it eventually.”

“I’m sure we will.”

Sam heard a hint of laughter in his voice and frowned. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Not a thing,” he assured her, but she could still hear amusement in his tone. “It’s just that you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Oh.” The light dawned. “I came on a little strong, huh? Sorry about that,” she apologized. “I sort of get carried away when I have a prospective client. In my business we really live by that old saying, ‘He who hesitates is lost’ Or, in this case, she.”

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be impressed until you see the results,” she warned again, but this time there was a smile in
her
voice.

“I have a feeling my house search is in good hands. So I’ll talk to you Tuesday?”

“You can count on it, Reverend. Goodbye.”

Sam replaced the receiver and glanced out the window. The day was just as gray and rainy as ever, but for some reason she felt a whole lot better. It was illogical, of course. But for once she didn’t try to analyze her emotions. She just enjoyed the sudden sense of well-being that her conversation with the preacher had produced.

Brad slowly hung up the phone and leaned back thoughtfully in his desk chair, swiveling to stare out at the soggy landscape. For the first time he’d gotten a glimpse of the Sam Laura had described all these years. Professionally, it was clear that she had her act together. She knew her stuff, had initiative—and then some, he thought with a smile—and seemed very efficient. She was confident, articulate, knowledgeable and clearly a go-getter. No wonder she was so successful at her job. He had no doubt that she would be a great help to him in his house search, and he was glad he’d contacted her.

But Brad was honest enough to admit that while he’d justified the call on the basis of needing her professional services, there had been more to it than that For some reason she’d been on his mind ever since he’d found her in tears at the wedding reception. And while she’d quickly pulled herself together on the phone just now, it was obvious that she had been in tears just prior to his call, as well.

Brad frowned. Sam seemed like such a troubled soul, alone and adrift, almost as if she’d just lost her best friend. Which, in some ways, was true, he realized. Laura’s first loyalty was now to Nick, as it should be. He was sure Laura and Sam would remain staunch friends, but it would be different. Sam’s days of dragging a protesting Laura to singles events to spice up her nonexistent social life were over.

Brad smiled at that picture, shaking his head. He couldn’t even imagine Laura in the singles scene. The fact that Sam had managed to get her to go spoke eloquently of the woman’s considerable persuasive powers and the strength of their friendship.

Brad stood up and strolled over to the window, his hands in his pockets. Sam and Laura’s friendship was still an enigma to him. From what he’d gathered during his conversations with Laura, the two women were as different as night and day. Laura’s deep faith had provided a firm foundation for her, during her rocky years. Despite her hardships, she’d never wavered in her beliefs, and she led an exemplary Christian life. She had sound morals, a gentie and sensitive nature, and lived simply.

Sam, on the other hand, was apparently just the opposite—fashion conscious, outgoing, flamboyant, blunt, assertive and definitely not the “religious” type. At least that was the impression he’d formed based on Laura’s comments. What had drawn the two women together initially he had no clue. But something had clicked, and they’d become the best of friends. Even though Laura admitted that they didn’t necessarily share the same values, she admired Sam’s strength and self-confidence and spoke with affection of her sharp wit and frank manner.

Until their phone conversation, however, Brad had seen little evidence of those qualities in Sam. Rather than the confident, outspoken, unsentimental, no-nonsense businesswoman he’d expected, he’d found a lost soul. For some reason Laura’s wedding seemed to have thrown her off balance. She said it was because she was a sap for happy endings. He was convinced it was more than that.

But what? And, even more relevant, why should he care? Sure, as a minister his job often involved dealing with troubled souls. So he could say he had called her for professional reasons—
his
profession—wanting to help. And there was some truth to that. But it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew it. The simple fact was that for the first time since Rachel’s death, Brad found himself actually noticing an attractive woman. And, even more surprising, Sam brought out a protective instinct in him that had long lain dormant—the last thing he had expected. Laura always described Sam as self-sufficient, able to take care of herself. But she didn’t strike Brad that way. Not even close. She seemed like someone desperately in need of just being held.

Which was silly, of course. Based on what Laura said, Sam led a
very
active social life that probably included a whole lot more than just being held. So then why did she seem so lonely? And if she led such an active social life, and really wanted to get married, as Laura said, why was she still single?

Brad raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He ought to be working on his sermon for tomorrow, not worrying about one very attractive—if troubled—redhead. He walked back to his desk and sat down in front of the word processor, determined to finish his sermon. And even though he eventually found the words, he also found himself spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the screen and looking forward to his next encounter with Sam Reynolds.

The rain had stopped by Wednesday, but it was still unseasonably cold for April, and by the time Sam and Brad inspected the three houses she’d lined up she was chilled to the bone. She shivered as she slid behind the wheel of her car and reached over to unlock the passenger door, and when Brad climbed in beside her a moment later, he was rubbing his hands together.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. How about a cup of coffee before we call it a day?” he suggested.

Sam nodded as she put the car in gear. “Great idea. Can you believe this is April? I think somebody upstairs turned the calendar
back
a month instead of forward.”

Brad chuckled. “It sure seems that way.”

“Besides, this will give us a chance to talk about the houses a little more,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway. “Have you ever been to Michele’s?”

“No.”

“It’s a little European tearoom not far from here. Great pastries!” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, it’s almost noon. Would you like to grab a quick lunch while we’re there?”

“Sure.”

Within minutes they were being shown to a cozy booth, and as Sam started to shrug out of her coat, Brad moved behind her and smoothly lifted it off her shoulders.

She turned her head at the courtesy and smiled. “Thanks. You’re quite a gentleman, Reverend.”

Brad gave her an exasperated look as he placed her coat on a nearby hook. “Are we still hung up on that ‘Reverend’ bit? What’s wrong with ‘Brad’?”

Sam watched him slip off his leather bomber jacket. He was dressed casually today, in a cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of fitted, well-worn jeans that highlighted his athletic physique. He certainly looked different when he wasn’t in clerical garb, Sam mused. Not at all like a minister. More like an ad for aftershave—one that featured a rugged outdoorsman or athlete.
Handsome
didn’t even do him justice, she realized. Sam glanced around the room. Judging by the discreet looks being directed his way from women at nearby tables, she wasn’t alone in her appreciation. However, he seemed totally oblivious to the admiring glances as he slid into the booth across from her and smiled.