With This Ring (25 page)

* * *

Amy hummed as she worked. She felt completely happy today, with none of the doubts and fears that still occasionally plagued her.

She was doing the right thing in marrying Justin, and she knew it. Justin really was wonderful, and she appreciated him more and more as the days went by. They would build a good marriage. What they had together was different from what she and Sam had had together, but it wasn't inferior. It was solid and stable, something that would give them a firm foundation when it came to making a home for the children they both hoped to have. And most importantly, she would never have to worry about Justin leaving her. Her welfare, their childrens' welfare, would always be first in his heart.

All these thoughts, and more, drifted through her mind as she dusted the furniture in the living area. The October sunlight streamed through the windows, catching her diamond ring and firing it with light.

Amy sighed. The ring was beautiful, but—and she'd never have admitted this to
anyone
—she could hardly admit it to herself—it didn't mean as much to her as the emerald ring Sam had given her. It hurt her to think this. It hurt her that she felt this way. And if Justin knew! God, she couldn't imagine how he would feel.

Well, he would never know. Never. She was stupid to even feel this way. Still, her thoughts strayed to the emerald. It still sat in her jewelry box. Every time she opened the lid of the box, she saw it. She knew she should put it away somewhere, completely out of sight. She knew Justin had caught sight of the ring and wondered what he thought about it. Several times, she had wanted to ask him, but then she stopped herself.

They never talked about Sam. Sam was a forbidden subject, and that hurt her, too. Why couldn't they talk about him? Would they ever be able to?

Perhaps one day, after she and Justin were married, and he was finally secure about her and her feelings for him, they would both be able to openly love Sam again, because Amy knew Justin
did
love Sam, and it saddened her that she was the cause of that love being denied. Wouldn't it be sweet, she fantasized, if some day they had a little girl and named her Samantha? Amy could save the ring for her to wear when she grew up. That would be lovely.

She finished her dusting and was just about to walk out onto the deck to shake out the dustcloth when she heard the sound of a car on the driveway below.

It must be Justin, coming a little earlier than she'd expected him. She looked in the corner where Major lay sleeping in a patch of sunlight. The dog spent most of his time at Amy's now, since Justin was rarely at home. As she watched, Major opened his eyes and his ears perked up. He'd heard the car, too.

Now she heard a
thunk.
A few seconds later, slow footsteps started up the stairs.

Funny how different Justin's footsteps sounded from Sam's. Sam had always bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Justin was slower, more methodical.

Major stood up. He listened for a moment. Then, bewildering Amy, he raced for the door and pawed it frantically, whimpering the whole time.

What had gotten into the dog? He never acted this way when Justin came home.

Suddenly, a clear whistle floated in the air.

Our song . . .

Chillbumps broke out on Amy's arms. She moved, trancelike, to the door. The moment she opened it, Major bounded out and down the stairs, barking joyously. Amy felt as if time had been suspended. As if the earth had stopped moving. Dazed, she walked out onto the deck. Looked down. Blinked to clear her eyes. This couldn't be happening.
This can't be real. I'm dreaming.

But the barking was no dream. The whistle was no dream. And the lean, tanned man standing halfway up the stairway was no dream. Her heart beat wildly as she stared, hardly able to believe her eyes. His hair was lighter than she remembered it, and longer, tied back in a ponytail. His skin was much darker, as if he'd been outdoors for a long time. But his eyes hadn't changed. They were still golden-brown, still intense, still filled with that wonderful light.

"Sam!" Tears filled her eyes, even as she rushed forward. "Sam, Sam!"

By now he'd reached the top, and she catapulted herself into his arms. Sam! Sam was alive! His arms closed around her the way they had so many times before, crushing her against his chest.

And then they were kissing and laughing and crying and Major was running in circles around them, barking at the top of his lungs. Amy said his name over and over again, touching his face, still hardly grasping the miraculous fact of his return . . . alive and warm and breathing.

"Amy, Amy . . . " Sam said. His heart was a battering ram against his chest as he drank her in. She looked so beautiful. So clean and fresh and beautiful. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her smile was blinding.

"Oh, Sam. You're alive. You're alive," she cried. The tears rolled down her cheeks.

They kissed again and again. The only thought in Amy's head was that Sam had come back to her. Her love was alive, and he had come home.

"I thought about this moment the whole way home. I could just picture you here, on the steps, waiting for me," he said as they finally stopped kissing long enough to look at each other. He touched her face, her eyes, her cheek, running his hands over her silky skin. He would never get enough of her. The love he felt for her threatened to burst his heart. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

"Oh, Sam, we thought you were dead! Where have you been? What happened? Oh, God, I can't believe you're here!"
Sam . . . Sam . . . Sam,
her heart sang.

"Whoa," he said, laughing. "One question at a time. Let's sit down. My leg . . . it bothers me to stand too long."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, don't worry. It's all right. It'll just be better for me to sit."

So they sat on the top step and there, with the sun warm on their faces, the soft breeze caressing their skin, and the song of the birds filling the air around them, he told her everything. How elusive the snow leopards had been. How tired he had felt. How Morgenstern had gotten sick. And how, that last day, he had seen his chance to get his pictures and go home to her. "That's what I was thinking about, Amy," he said. "How much I wanted to go home. It's the first time I'd ever resented being away, ever wanted a job to just be over. And that's because of you."

"Oh, Sam . . . "

He told her how he'd decided to climb down to the cave, how the Sherpa guide had warned him not to, how he hadn't listened. "I was stupid," he said. "Stupid. Jesus, I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me." His arm tightened around her shoulders as his eyes implored her to understand.

She forgave him. She would forgive him anything, now that he was home again.

He told her about the thoughts that raced through his brain as he fell. "In those seconds," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "all I could think about was you."

She swallowed. Remembered what it was like to hear about his accident. To be told he was dead. "It was awful," she whispered. "When they told me, I didn't want to believe it." Then she remembered something else, something she would have to tell him, something they would cry over together, but not now . . . later . . . there would be time to talk about their little lost baby later . . . .

He told her about waking up and finding himself in a remote village in western Nepal. "I had no memory," he said slowly. "I didn't know who I was or where I'd come from. I was delirious and in terrible pain. Both my legs were broken, and I had all kinds of injuries. It's a miracle I was alive. The villagers, especially one kind, older woman, nursed me back to health."

He told her about the big blizzard and the avalanches that followed. He told her about gradually being able to walk again, about the crutches one of the village men had fashioned for him, about how he'd eventually been able to get around with only the aid of a cane.

He told her about Reena and how good she'd been to him. A sadness clouded his eyes when he talked about her, and Amy squeezed his hand. "She was wonderful," he said softly. "I want you to meet her some day."

He told her how his memory had come back to him. And how he'd made his way home.

"But Sam," she said when he'd finished, "I don't understand why, after the winter was over, the villagers didn't get help for you."

"You'd have to know what a closed kind of society they live in to understand. They are mistrustful of outsiders, especially outsiders in their own land. It's a lucky thing for me that so many Americans have visited Nepal and been so forthcoming with their money. Now even the people in the most remote areas have kindly feelings toward Americans. But the most important thing was, Reena had kind of adopted me. From what I've been able to figure out, I don't think she was able to have children, and she made me her son. So the villagers wouldn't have wanted to take me away unless she sanctioned it." His eyes softened. "I'm sure she didn't want me to leave, but once I'd indicated that I wanted to, she wouldn't try to hold me."

"But why didn't you leave when you were able to? I mean, I know you had no memory, but didn't you want to find out who you were?"

He shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but I was afraid. The village was the only security I had. Everything else was unknown . . . and frightening."

"Well, why didn't you call me once you had your memory back?" Amy demanded.

"All I could think about was coming home. I didn't want to talk on the telephone. I didn't want to try to explain long distance. I wanted to see your face. God, I love you."

"Oh, Sam, I love you, too." Tears filled her eyes again, tumbling down her face. She paid no attention to them. "I've never stopped loving you."

He drew her closer. The kiss he gave her was filled with a fierce hunger and it drove any remaining questions completely out of her mind.

"Let's go inside," he muttered.

"Yes."

They barely made it through the door before he was kissing her again, kissing her and touching her. "Amy, Amy, I've been thinking about this for days . . . wanting you so much." His voice was rough as his hands grazed her breasts and his mouth dropped to her neck.

It was only then, as Amy's head fell back to give him better access, that her gaze fell on the book Justin had been reading last night, which lay open on the coffee table.

Her heart slammed against her chest.
Oh, my God. Justin!
How could she have forgotten him? Now her heart pounded in fear. What was she going to do? Justin would be home soon. Panicked, she said, "Sam, I-I have to tell you about—"

"No, no. Let's not talk," he muttered. "Not now." He sought her mouth, even as she tried to turn her face away, his hands moving down to cup her buttocks and press her close.

Amy could hardly think. His mouth captured hers again, open and hungry. His tongue, his hands, the way they were caressing and stroking her, brought a torrent of emotion and sensation and a reawakening of the wild passion he had always been able to ignite. She clung to him, forgetting everything else. Her body trembled with desire, she felt as if her insides were on fire, and only he could put the fire out.

He pushed her sweater up, buried his face in the hollow between her breasts. "Amy, Amy," he muttered, his voice ragged. His thumbs rubbed against her nipples. She moaned as pain and pleasure arched through her, and wove her fingers through his hair.

Then, as if through a dense fog, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car in the driveway. A car door slammed. Slow footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"Sam . . . stop. Stop!" She pushed him away, managed to get her sweater back down.

"Amy," Sam said, "what's wrong?"

The footsteps were louder now, climbing, crossing the porch.

Amy could hardly breathe. The door opened.

Over Sam's shoulder, she saw Justin's face. His happy smile. His mouth open to greet her. And then, like a slow motion movie, his eyes widening, the smile fading.

Sam turned around. Amy's heart was beating so fast and so hard, she thought she might faint. Her stomach rolled. She didn't know what to do. What to say. The three of them stood there, frozen.

As understanding swept over him, Justin's face blanched, shock and disbelief pummeling him. Sam! Sam was alive! He stared at Sam's face. At his arm around Amy. At her swollen lips and disheveled hair and the guilty look on her face. He realized what they'd been doing when he came in. A sick feeling washed through him.

Sam's face spread into a wide grin, then he gave a whoop of joy. "Justin!" he shouted, releasing Amy and moving as fast as his still-stiff right leg would let him. He grasped Justin in a bear hug. "Oh, man, it's good to see you!"

It was only as Sam felt the rigidness in Justin's body and the lack of enthusiasm in his return embrace that he realized something was wrong.

He dropped his arms and backed away so he could see Justin's face. It looked frozen, the blue eyes filled with some emotion Sam couldn't identify. "Justin?" he said.

"Hello, Sam," Justin said stiffly. "You're alive, I see." Then his gaze swung to Amy.

Completely bewildered, Sam turned to look at Amy, too. Her expression was stricken as her eyes moved from Justin to him and back to Justin again.

"What's wrong?" Sam said.

No one answered.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Sam said, beginning to feel scared and not knowing why.

"Are you going to tell him, or should I?" Justin said, voice still strained and tight.

"Tell me what?"

When Amy, who seemed incapable of speech, didn't answer, Justin brushed past Sam to her side. He put his arm around her possessively, and the look he gave Sam was challenging. "Amy and I love each other," he said. "We're engaged to be married."

The words fell like stones into the suddenly silent room, broken only by the
thump, thump
of Major's tail.

Justin took Amy's left hand and raised it.

Sam stared. The diamond on her finger blazed in the sunlight. He swallowed, raised his eyes to Amy's face. "Amy?" He wanted to say he didn't believe Justin, but the ring on Amy's finger was all too real. His mind spun. This couldn't be true. It couldn't. Amy loved
him.
She was engaged to
him
.