“Will she come back?”
“What do you think?” The loudness of his voice shook her skull. “She took every last thing that mattered to her.”
He smirked at Sam, and she knew what he meant. “That’s not true.”
“Then why are you still here?” He swore again. “I wish I’d never signed those adoption papers,” he muttered to himself.
Sam’s insides felt hollow, like the emptiness would swallow her whole. Maybe she could run away and find her mom somehow.
“Do you know where she went?” she asked.
His eyes flickered, his face turning mottled red. He turned and took a step.
He did know where she’d gone to—she could see it in the set of his mouth. Sam imagined herself packing up and taking the ferry to the mainland. Landon could get some money from his parents if he had to. She could take a taxi or something and find her. Her mom wouldn’t turn her away if she showed up. A seed of hope sprang up in her for the first time since she’d seen the ripples in the water.
“Where’d she go?” Sam asked again.
His foot connected with a chair, and it scuttled across the kitchen floor, smashing into the cabinets. He turned back to her.
“I don’t know where she is! Even if I did, you think she wants you with her? If she wanted you, she would’ve taken you.”
Sam shook her head, fear crawling into her middle and pitching a tent. He still hadn’t answered her question. He knew where she was; he just wasn’t telling. Sam hated him then more than she ever had. Her eyes stung, but she blinked hard.
“She’ll come back.” The words were dead before they came out.
“Shut up.” His voice was thunder.
Sam choked back the rock in her throat. She had to find her mom. She couldn’t stay here. “Where’d she go?”
“I said shut up!” He grabbed her arm and hauled her off the couch.
His fingers cut into her flesh. “Stop it!”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He dragged her into her room.
Sam’s feet worked to keep up with him.
He opened the closet door and shoved her inside against the tangle of hanging clothes. The door shut, and she reached for the handle, but his weight was against the door.
The darkness closed in and pressed against her body. It swelled, filling the closet with a presence all its own.
“It’s real simple, Sam.” He spat the words. “You don’t move, you don’t talk, you don’t so much as breathe, you hear me? You do, and you’ll be as gone as your momma.”
Sam clutched a handful of clothing and squeezed tight. A moment later, the floorboards squeaked, and she knew he was leaving her room. Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor.
Sam slept like that, a shoe cutting into her back, her head against a stack of jeans she’d outgrown. She didn’t come out until morning, and by then, Emmett was gone. Later, he put a lock on the closet door.
Now, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and closed her eyes. Outside, a peal of thunder shattered the air. She clenched her trembling fingers into tight fists and tried to still the storm inside her.
“C
ome on, Max.” Landon exited the clinic and patted his leg. Max came running, stopping short of plowing him down. His black coat was slick with rain. “Ready to go home?”
Max barked, his tail waving high. When they reached the Jeep, Landon opened the door, and Max hopped in the passenger seat, his muddy paws leaving marks.
He turned the key in the ignition and started the wipers. Strange how things had changed since Sam came back to the island. Instead of being driven by his work, he was driven by the clock. The days went slow, and he wished he could fast-forward to the time he could see Sam again.
Traffic in town was getting heavy with summer people descending on the island. They darted through puddles, carrying bright umbrellas. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. When he got home, he’d change into work clothes and help Sam paint.
The irony struck him that his help would speed her departure. But how else was he to spend time with her? Their friendship seemed to have recovered from the double date, and he sensed Sam relaxing the day before. At times he wanted to brush her hair off her cheek or rub a splotch of paint from the tip of her nose. But he knew their relationship was precarious.
His feelings for Sam ran so deeply, he wondered if he’d ever be able to uproot them if she left. Even Caden had gained a spot in his heart. The thought of losing them tied a knot in his gut, tightening painfully.
Landon shook his head sharply. He wasn’t going there. He’d lost Sam once, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. There was too much between them; surely she could see that.
By the time he pulled into the drive, his mood had mellowed, the fear of losing Sam hovering in his mind like an unwelcome houseguest.
“Let’s go, buddy.” He went inside to change, letting Max traipse around the wet grass. While he rummaged through his drawers for an old T-shirt, his thoughts went back to Scott’s words.
Knowing Sam had gone to the tavern and knowing how she’d behaved there were two different things. Had anyone else asked her out besides Tully? Scott said she flirted with Phil Henderson, and the thought sprouted a seed of jealousy. Like Tully, Phil was known for his philandering, a pernicious habit aided by his dark good looks.
Why did Sam flirt with a married man? Why did she flirt with any of them, when they probably had one thing on their dirty minds? Why was she willing to settle for so little?
Landon shoved his feet into his old tennis shoes and exited the house. Max came bounding around back, his tongue flopping out of his mouth.
Landon had forgotten to set out fresh water. Even though Max had probably already helped himself to a puddle, Landon walked back to the spigot and ran water into his pet’s dish. Max lapped it up noisily.
Landon straightened and looked toward Sam’s cottage, suddenly feeling less than eager to go. Sam had flirted with half the men in the bar and tortured him with a double date, and still, he pined for her.
“I must be a glutton for punishment, huh?”
Max lifted his head, his eyes bright, a drop of water clinging to his tongue.
A bolt of lightning pierced the gray sky, and the rain picked up. The darkness made it look three hours later than it was. “Let’s go see Sam.”
Max darted ahead, and Landon jogged behind. Did Sam look forward to seeing him at the end of the day? Or was he just a means to an end? Maybe she just endured his company to get the job done quickly and get back to Boston.
She’d been quiet about previous relationships when he asked. Maybe Sam didn’t want to tie herself down to anyone. Maybe she wanted to be free to go out with anyone and everyone.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair as he slowed to a walk past the two bikes and up the steps onto the covered porch. He rapped twice and waited. Max sat at his side, panting, his black head cocked.
After a minute, he knocked again. Maybe she’d gone for more supplies. But her bike was outside, and it was pouring rain. He turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked, and stuck his head through the door.
“Sam?” He turned his head and listened.
No answer.
Strange. Maybe she was at Miss Biddle’s. No. It was their neighbor’s night out with her lady friends. He stepped into the house, inhaling the paint fumes.
“Sam? Caden?”
He scanned the room and saw the drop cloth in the kitchen. In the middle of the floor sat an open paint can. The clean brush still lay on the sink, and a glance at the dry walls told him she hadn’t painted anything.
He stooped by the can, dabbing a finger on the surface. A skin of dried paint coated it. He frowned. Sam was too frugal to leave paint out like that.
His mind turned and twisted places he didn’t want to go. What if she was hurt? What if Caden was hurt and they’d called an ambulance?
He looked through all the rooms and saw Sam’s purse sitting by the front door. Something was wrong. He was ready to pick up the phone and dial the hospital when he heard Max’s bark.
Landon exited the house and saw Max with his nose to the ground by the shed. Thunder crashed overhead, and cold rain soaked him. The door to the shed was shut, and the stone that propped the door open was missing. He ran to the structure.
Over the rush of rain, he heard Sam’s voice. “Landon!”
As he neared, she pounded on the door.
“It’s okay, Sam, I’m here.” He wiggled the knob and found it locked. “Where’s the key?”
She called something he couldn’t hear over the storm. He pressed his ear to the door.
“What?”
“On the kitchen counter!”
“I’ll be right back.”
He ran, his legs working as fast as they could. Where was Caden? He hoped she hadn’t gone after help. But why would she when the key was right here? He snatched the key from the counter and returned to the shed. How long did it take for paint to form a skin? She must have been in there for hours.
The key slid easily into the lock, and he twisted the knob. Sam came through the door and into his arms. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her face buried in his chest.
Landon put his arms around her. “It’s okay. It’s okay now.” He rubbed her back and wondered what had frightened her so much that she trembled against him. What he would give to crawl into her mind and know what she was thinking.
He wanted to ask her what happened, where Caden was, how long she’d been in there, but he didn’t want to break the spell. He wanted to stay just a moment in a world where he could be her sanctuary.
He lay his head on hers, sheltering her from the rain. She smelled of honeysuckle shampoo and earth and gasoline. She felt warm and soft, and her vulnerability made him want to keep her in his arms forever.
Her lungs worked fast, her shoulders rising with each breath. “It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair.
She spoke into his shirt. “It was just like before.”
He tried to siphon meaning from her words but couldn’t. Before he could ask, she spoke again.
“Dark and hot.” Her throat sounded scratchy, her voice raw. “Like the closet.”
He moved his palm to cradle the side of her head, dread creeping into his heart. “What closet?”
She clutched at his shirt. “Mine. He used to lock me in.”
Landon’s eye sockets burned. He could feel her heart thumping against his, mimicking the same fright. “Emmett?”
She nodded, her head moving against his palm.
Rage swelled inside him. He’d known even as a child that Emmett was trouble. He’d feared for Sam, though she never talked about Emmett. The way he treated her like a slave was enough to prove the man’s cruelty.
He remembered his frustration with her only minutes ago and scolded himself. Who was he to judge her? Who knew what other demons she fought? She’d been wounded and still bled. He wanted to hold her until she knew she was safe. Until she knew
he
was safe.
S
am’s legs trembled under her weight like a seedling in a storm as she entered the house. She ran a hand across her head, and it came away with cobwebs. The odor of dust and dampness clung to her clothes.
Landon shut the door. “Why don’t you grab a shower? I’ll fix something to eat; you must be starving.”
She walked to the phone instead. “I have to call Melanie. Caden will be worried.”
“I’ll call. Where’s the number?”
Did he seem eager to talk to Melanie? Sam wondered if they’d seen each other since the double date. But she was too tired to argue with him. She was weary, so weary of doing it all alone. “By the phone, on a scrap of blue paper.”
Minutes later she stood under a stream of tepid water, letting the dirt and memories wash away simultaneously. She had avoided small spaces all her life, avoided the possibility of being trapped in the dark. The nightmare was a living thing, not forgotten, only pushed down deep. Today it had surged to the surface, and she wondered if she’d be able to bury it again.
She stayed under the flow of water until she stopped shaking. When she got out, she wrapped up in her robe, the only clean clothing she had.
“You look better,” Landon said when she entered the living room. A sandwich and bowl of soup sat on the freshly painted coffee table beside a glass of water. The kitchen, still covered in drop cloths, was off-limits.
The realization that she’d lost a whole afternoon’s work sank in, and she sighed. She didn’t want to think about the house and the work still to be done. She just wanted to rest and eat and forget.
Sam sat across from Landon in the recliner and picked up the water, drinking half the glass in one gulp. Next, she started on the soup, lifting the spoon to her lips. “Thanks for this.”
He watched her eat, silence filling the room. She knew she should feel awkward after making herself so vulnerable, but she didn’t. Outside, the sound of the rain pounding the roof was interrupted only by the rumble of thunder.
“Caden’s on her way home,” he said. “Melanie was concerned when she couldn’t reach you. Apparently she came over, but of course, no one answered. I apologized and explained what happened.”
“Thanks,” she said again. The soup soothed her raw throat. She’d hollered for Miss Biddle off and on all afternoon whenever the noise of the storm died down. Time passed slowly without any way of keeping track, and she was surprised it was still daylight when Landon came. She remembered the feel of his arms around her and relaxed a little. She’d never been so glad to see anyone.
Sam realized she hadn’t thanked Landon for rescuing her. The bowl of soup finished, she set it down but left the sandwich on the plate. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”
The corners of his lips turned up a fraction of an inch. “I’m just sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
“I was in a hurry. I went out to get the paint pan and roller, and I kicked the rock out of place. The wind blew the door shut.” Sam could feel the panic of the moment, and her heart stuttered.
“You never told me what Emmett did.” His eyes fastened on hers.
Lamplight from the end table illuminated one side of his face. His jaw tightened, and a shadow tumbled across his cheek.