Interrupted (14 page)

“Sorry,” he muttered as we climbed into the truck. “This looks like another half-hour drive.”

“That’s okay. I’m in no hurry to get back.”

He started up the engine and pulled out of town. Once the buildings were behind us, the open countryside seemed to engulf us in pools of green. I leaned my forehead against the glass, content. “I haven’t been driving out here in a while.”

“It’s pretty,” Sam said.

I nodded, and let the silence carry us for a while. “Remember when we were little?” I asked, grinning. “We used to go out to
the hills — or, rather, you followed me out to the hills when I went there to draw. I used to think you were in love with me.”

Sam smiled. “I was. Madly.”

I rolled my eyes. “And what, pray tell, made you so utterly crazy about me? Was it my scabby legs? My scowling brow?” I wiggled my eyebrows.

Sam shook his head. “No, I think it was more your mystery.”

The giggle died in my throat. I ran my finger along the seat, tracing little circles. “What do you mean?”

Sam pressed his lips together and kept his eyes on the road. “You were always so … reclusive. The kids at school used to call you a witch or something, and say your mom was possessed and you had cast a spell on her.” He cracked a small smile and glanced at me. “I didn’t believe in your ability to cast spells until the first time I snuck over to your house and watched you. I think I was five years old. And I was in love from that day on.”

“Really? Oh, that’s so sweet.” I elbowed his ribs. “Tell me more.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You really are so humble.”

“Oh, come on.”

He chuckled. “Okay. I also thought you were pretty. And I thought you played the piano well. And your garden was the most beautiful heaven on earth.”

“It was not.” I twirled a piece of hair around my finger, enjoying the conversation.

Sam glanced at me. “Was too. And you were always writing in that little journal of yours. I used to imagine what you wrote in it, and always thought up the wildest stuff.” His voice lowered a little. “You were also so kind to your mother. That day we went on a picnic and she …” He trailed off and began
humming, strumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, it was a long time ago.”

I looked away and tried to ignore my beating heart. The green grass whizzed by, blurring in my mind.

We pulled in front of a little homestead in the middle of the countryside, which Charlie would have squealed over. Even I had to admit it was cute.

“Stay here.” Sam swung out the door and headed for the barn. Within minutes, he was hauling back a tin of thinner and two cans of paint, placing them in the bed of the truck. “All taken care of,” he said, climbing back into the seat.

I turned and frowned. “Sam, how much did those cost?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

“Seriously. I have to pay you back.”

He shook his head and smiled. “No need. I like Beatrice too. I mean … We both like Beatrice. Her shed is really pretty, but it could stand some paint, and I figured I might as well pick out a nice color for the two of you while we’re here.”

“Sam, I can’t …”

He held up a hand. “Don’t talk about it anymore.”

We drove until the farm was a little spot in the distance, and then not visible at all. The lush fields surrounded us; the long grasses swayed in the wind. I leaned toward the open window and smiled, feeling the wind on my cheek. My dark hair whipped my eyes.

The air smelled sweet — like sunshine and flowers and … smoke? I wrinkled my nose. “Sam, do you smell something burning?” The truck began to sputter, smoke pouring from the hood. Sam groaned and pulled over to the side of the road. “Oh
man …” He kicked open his door and popped open the hood. The engine sizzled, more acrid vapor filling the air.

I hopped out of the truck and stood by Sam, placing my hands on my hips. “Well, that’s a fine mess.”

Sam looked at me miserably. “I’m sorry. I’ll just have to …” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck.

A groan escaped my mouth. “We’ll just have to walk to the nearest house and telephone Beatrice. Naturally.”

I began walking down the dirt road, the warm sun on my back. Sam trailed along beside me, muttering to himself. “Don’t worry about the truck,” I said, smiling. “It’s a nice day for a walk anyway.”

“I know, I know. I just feel …” Sam kicked at a rock. “Silly, I guess.”

“Don’t feel silly.” I straightened. “You drove me all the way out here in the middle of nowhere to get paint for my shed and baking soda for my … for Beatrice.”

Sam grinned. “The baking soda was in town.”

“That doesn’t matter.” The sun was beginning to feel warm, so I pulled off my sweater and let it hang on my arm. “How far until the nearest house, you think?”

A look of concentration passed over Sam’s face. “I think we passed one five minutes ago in the truck.”

“That could be twenty minutes on foot.”

“True.”

Oh well
. I sighed and let my fingers run through the tall grass on my side. “Don’t you think it’s pretty out here?”

Sam looked around and seemed to consider this. “Yes,” he decided. “It’s peaceful, at least. Beautiful and calm.”

I nodded. “I want to live in the country someday. Far away from the world … in my own little haven of beauty.”

Sam licked his lips. “That would be nice. But I’m starting to grow fond of the seashore.” He glanced sideways at me.

Just look straight ahead
. “Well, then, we’ll have to visit each other. Just to get a break from our own paradises and enjoy someone else’s.”

Sam nodded.

“I can’t wait to meet your wife one day.” I risked a peek and studied Sam’s profile.

He glanced at me out of the side of his eye. “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“I’m just trying to imagine what kind of person you would marry. Someone happy, I think. Someone who would make you laugh and smile all the time. A girl with a happy, cheerful disposition.” I nudged him playfully.

Sam avoided my eye and looked at the ground. “Well, don’t think about it too much. You’ll hurt your head.” He straightened his shoulders. “Besides, I already have a girl I mean to marry.”

I bit my lip. My stomach felt like it had dropped — I hadn’t even realized it was floating.

“Oh, really? Is she from Tennessee?” I hadn’t seen him around any girls here, had I?
Not besides Charlie, and she doesn’t count
.

“Yeah.” Sam fell silent.

“Oh.” I brightened my voice. “Well, tell me about her.”
I hate her
. Panic gripped my stomach.
Wait, how can I hate her when I haven’t met her?
My head felt dizzy.

Sam’s voice, in turn, became tight. “You’ll meet her someday.” He halted, causing me to ram into his back. “Oh, here’s the house.”

We rang the doorbell and asked to use the telephone. I called Beatrice and explained the situation, promising to meet her by the truck. We hung up and headed back, walking too fast to talk. At least that’s what I told myself.

Beatrice pulled up just as we were swinging into the bed of the truck. She leaned out the car window and smiled. “Nice truck you have there, Sam Carroll.”

Sam reddened. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, I called a car mechanic. He should be on his way.”

We hauled the cans of paint, thinner, and the baking soda into the car and waited for the mechanic. I leaned against the truck and smiled. “Thanks for taking me driving.”

Sam grinned back, squinting from the sun. “‘Twas a pleasure, my lady.”

I
lay awake in bed and took in the sounds of Beatrice walking about downstairs.
She should have left for church by now
.

I listened for the signal — the sound of the front door clicking shut. As soon as I heard it, I leaped out of bed and ran to the window. Sure enough, Beatrice’s car was pulling out of the driveway.

With a victorious sigh, I walked over to the dresser and opened up the top drawer, locating my notebook and grabbing a pen. Moments later I was through the screen door, the sunny, blue sky greeting me to a perfect day.

My light-blue skirt fluttered in the wind as I sat on the sandy oceanfront, my notebook perched on my lap. I traced
my finger across the words, a faint smile on my face. My finger meandered to the opposite page, where I had drawn a charcoal print of the starry night sky. A sky I remember gazing on by the lake as my mother proclaimed me a star as well.

I bent my head and watched the water coming in around me, making my skirts swirl in the sand. On a whim I stood and placed my notebook on a rock, safely away from the sea.

The sand tickled my bare feet as I waded into the warm water, and my dress clung to my legs as the waves hit my body. Once I reached my knees, I sunk down, submerging my head under water, only to come up spitting out salty water and sand. I coughed and shook my soaking-wet head.
Well, that was dumb
.

But I was already in the ocean, and I might as well enjoy it. I ran my fingers through the water, making little rippling waves. My skirts billowed out around me like the petals of a giant flower. I laughed and pushed them down under the water.

The floating skirts gave me an idea. With some trepidation, I leaned backward until I was floating on the surface of the water. I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty, intoxicating air.

So this is what bliss feels like …
I smiled.
Sweet paradise
.

“Allie!” someone shouted.

I screamed and flailed. My feet failed to find ground, and I disappeared under the water, kicking and shrieking as salt water filled my lungs.

A rough hand grabbed my arm and jerked me above the surface, dragging me to the shore just when I was sure I was going to die. I crawled onto the dry sand and lay heaving on my stomach. I coughed up water and sand and who knows what else, gasping for breath.

Sam Carroll was shaking his wet head at me. “Gosh, you’re so stupid sometimes, Allie. You know you can’t swim very well.” He ran a hand over his face and frowned. “What were you thinking?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and turned around to sit on my sandy bottom. “I was perfectly fine until you came along and made me
drown
.”

“You would have drowned for real if I hadn’t saved you.” Sam glared at me. I glared back.

I lifted my chin and reached down to wring out my wet, now filthy dress. “I was floating.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow and dusted off his pants.

Avoiding his glance, I scrambled up off the ground and headed toward the rocks. “Why aren’t you in church, anyway?”

“Why aren’t
you
at church? I assumed Beatrice made you go.” Sam followed me.

I gave him a withering glance as I picked up my journal and wiped it off. “She and I have an agreement. I’m not religious.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and watched me. “Why is that?”

The question caught me off guard. I froze, crouched near the ground, and pulled my journal tight against my stomach. “I’m just not. Mama hated Christianity, and she told me I should as well.”

“Well, that seems ridiculous.” A teasing glint caught in Sam’s eye, balanced out by something bordering on serious. He ran a hand through his hair until it stood up a little. “I never took you as the type to do what someone else wanted you to.”

I stuck up my nose and climbed to my feet. “This coming from the son of a Sunday school teacher?”

“My parents aren’t the reason I’m a Christian. Their faith has nothing to do with mine.”

“I thought your mother—”

Sam kicked a stone, sending it yards out of sight. “Please don’t mention my mother.”

I started walking toward the house. Sam slowed down a bit and fell behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw him grimace. “Sam, what’s the —”I gasped. “Oh, my goodness! What happened to your foot?”

Sam looked down at his foot and shrugged. “I must have cut it on a shell.”

He had a large gash on his left heel and blood trickled into the sand.

“Sam Carroll, how could you walk around in the dirt with your foot like that? You’re going to end up dying of an infection!” I gaped at him.

Sam avoided my eye. “I was headed home. It’s only a couple hundred yards away.”

“How could you say that? You’ll never make it up the hill on that bad foot, and I can’t carry you!” I ran a hand through my sand-matted hair and rolled my eyes. “Just come into the house and I’ll clean it up.”

Sam followed me into the kitchen.

“Up on the counter,” I commanded.
Where did Beatrice move the medicine?
I rummaged through the cabinets until I found a bottle of salve. “Here we go.”

I lifted his foot and gently washed off the blood and sand.
Little cuts pierced the rough skin, with bits of shell stuck in the sores. Sam winced and gripped the counter, making my stomach squeeze even more. “This’ll help.” I smoothed the ointment onto the cut and ignored Sam’s groan.

Almost done …
I reached beneath the sink and pulled out a clean rag, ripping it into shreds and wrapped Sam’s foot.

“There.” I patted the foot and looked up.

Sam was smiling. “Once again, I thank you for tending my wounds.”

I screwed the top back on the salve. “What are you talking about?”

Sam looked at me quizzically. “Don’t you remember?” He held up his hand, where a small scar crossed his palm.

I sucked in a quick breath and shook my head, gathering up the supplies. “Apparently not,” I lied. My hands quivered as I carried the medical tools back to the cabinet.
Don’t let him make you feel this way, Allie. Don’t listen to a word he says
.

“Oh.” Sam sounded deflated. “Well, I cut my hands helping you in the garden and you bandaged them up for me.”

I peeked over my shoulder. He was smiling to himself as he turned over his hands.

“I told you I thought you were pretty, and you told me to go home.” Sam chuckled. “I still think you’re pretty, Allie.” His voice softened. “Beautiful, in fact. Even with sand and grime in your hair. And I think you’re smart and funny and sweet and …
perfect
.”

I placed a hand on my hip, suddenly feeling sick of it all. “What is your problem, Sam? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Well, I saw you from my window and …”

I raised a hand, cutting him off. My mind was racing. “No. It’s not just that.” I took a step back and looked him over, frowning. “Why are you always here? You’ve always just sort of
been here
. There is no reason whatsoever that you should be here on this beach on Sunday morning at the
exact
same time as me.” My eyes became slits. “There isn’t even a reason why you should be in Maine, living three houses down from me and popping back into my life.”

Sam bit his lip, running a hand through his hair. “I can explain.”

“So do it.” I crossed my arms. “Explain.”

Sam looked at his foot. “I didn’t want you to find out, because I didn’t want you to get mad at me.”

“About what?” I rolled my eyes. “You are making no sense at all.”

“Remember that time I went out of town for three weeks to visit Aunt Rachel in Maine?” He frowned. “It was right before your mother died.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, what about it? “Sam took a deep breath. “Well, I told Aunt Rachel about your mother. And how she was sick and dying …” He scrunched his face. “I was worried about you, Allie. So when I found out about Beatrice and how she was lonely and wanted another daughter …” He trailed off, staring at the ground. “I just thought you would be happy with her.”

The floor seemed to shift beneath me as I took another step back.
I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this
. “Wait.” I pointed a finger at Sam. “
You
arranged for Beatrice to adopt me?”

He licked his lips. “No, actually Beatrice arranged it, once Aunt Rachel told her about you. She has a really big heart, Allie.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand.

I shook my head. My eyes began to sting. I rubbed them and turned away. “You had no right.” My voice shook. “No right at all to interfere with my life and my future.”

“Allie, I was young. And I worried about you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

I spun around, shooting every ounce of anger I possessed at his body. “What made you think you had permission to come into my life and ruin it?”

Sam shook his head desperately. “I wasn’t thinking, Allie. I loved you.”

My stomach twisted in knots. I gripped my skirt and tried to swallow the hot tears in my throat.

Sam’s voice began to rise. “I still love you, Allie. I love you so much that I stayed away from Maine for four years. I knew you were grieving and I didn’t want to pop up and … ruin your life. So I waited. I was hoping I’d forget you.” He looked down. “I knew you’d forgotten me. And then I came here. Once I saw you …” He trailed off, waving a hand. “I knew I hadn’t forgotten you at all. And I knew you’d be angry, so I didn’t tell you what I’d done. Which was selfish and stupid and just goes to prove what a jerk I am.” He jumped off the counter and looked down at me. I hoped he stepped right on the cut.

My mind was racing. I backed away from him, bumping my head against one of Beatrice’s cabinets.

“But I never meant to hurt you.” He lowered his voice. “I just wanted to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you, to see you and make you as happy as you make me.” He reached out and touched my hair, smiling softly.

It was my turn to speak, but when I opened my mouth no
words came out. My wrist throbbed; I looked down and saw my white knuckles gripping the countertop. I let go and stuck them behind my back, avoiding Sam’s eyes. “Go home, Sam,” I whispered.

There was a pause. And then, “Allie, I don’t understand.”

I opened the cabinet and placed the salve inside, closing the door with a slam. I turned around. “I’m sorry. But you have to go home.”

Sam ran a hand through his wet hair. “Don’t you see, Allie? You’re the girl I mean to marry. You’re the girl I’m crazy about.”

I gripped my skirt, water from the ocean still running down my legs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

The lump in my throat threatened to choke me and my eyes were burning. “Because I don’t love you.” I bit my lip until I could feel blood on my tongue.

“But I thought …” Sam looked bewildered, and continued to run his hand through his wet hair, as if he couldn’t stop. He straightened. “Is this about Aunt Rachel? Or my mother? Because we never have to see them again. I just want to —”

I sucked the inside of my cheek and stared out the window. “It’s just not meant to be, Sam. Just go before you make it worse.” My words sounded cold and flat. I slid my eyes shut.
I can’t believe this is happening
.

Sam hobbled toward me. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me so that I had no choice but to face him. He shook his head, his blue eyes filled with disbelief.

“Allie, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t you see we’re perfect for each other? We’re alike,
you and me. We think and act the same. We’re both stubborn and proud and difficult … but that’s what makes us right for each other.” He searched my eyes desperately.

I lifted my chin. “Good-bye, Sam.”

He looked me up and down, disgusted, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Good-bye, Allie.” Plates rattled as he stormed out of the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind him.

I rushed to the window and watched him stomp down the beach, slowing down to a defeated limp.

I closed the curtains and sat alone in the dark kitchen, tears coursing down my cheeks.
Why should I care whether he stays or goes? He had no business stepping into my life. No business at all
.

I sighed and hugged my chest, sliding down against the cabinets. My body collapsed into itself as soon as I hit the floor.

Why should I care what anyone thinks of me?

“Soda?”

I jerked my head up. Irene was smiling at me from behind the counter, a Coke bottle in her hand.

“Thanks,” I muttered. I popped the lid off and ran my finger around the cold rim.

The diner was empty, the wistful sound of Bing Crosby floating from the jukebox. “You should have that thing painted pink.”

Irene glanced at it and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’ve
ever
seen a pink jukebox, honey. But I suppose I could have the first.” She hummed to herself as she stacked clean dishes on the
shelf behind the counter. “As soon as Daniel comes home, we’ll paint it pink and throw a party, with the happiest music you could think of. He’s just got to finish his overseas duty first. Then we’ll have a great time.”

I wish
. I slumped my arms on the counter and stared at the ticking clock.
How could I go from feeling happy one week to completely miserable the next? Darn that Samuel Carroll for coming to Maine and making my life awful
.

Irene reached out a hand and rested it on my arm. Her long pink fingernails massaged little circles on my skin. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You seem a little out of it.”

I pushed the Coke away and buried my face in my hands. “Sam ruined our friendship.”

Irene’s breathing picked up. “Did he say something ugly to you? Should I be
infuriated
with him?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s just …” I couldn’t tell Irene what he’d done about Beatrice. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. “Last week he told me that he loves me. I haven’t talked to him since.”