“Did you have fun?” Sam asked, hoping they were on speaking terms now.
“Yeah.”
Sam sat beside her on the sofa. “What did you do?”
Caden shrugged. “Fixed each other’s hair, ate breakfast.”
“I like your braid,” she said. They were talking like friends for the first time in a long while. Sam wondered how long it would last.
“Mrs. Walker did it. She made pancakes and took us to the park.”
Sam smiled even as a pang of jealousy twisted inside. How did Melanie find so much time to spend with her daughter? She was a single mom too.
The phone rang. Sam waited, wondering if she should get it. Maybe it was Landon. Or Tully. What would she say to him? To either of them?
You’re a grown-up, Sam; you’ll come up with something
. She got up and grabbed the handset off the end table. She’d forgotten about the coffee Landon had brought. Her stomach was feeling better; maybe she’d reheat it. She answered the phone.
“Sam? Hi, it’s Patty. How are you?”
Sam hadn’t talked to her boss since leaving Boston. “Hi, Patty. I’m doing good. How are things there?”
“Exceptionally well. We got the Merrek building back.”
“I thought Murphy’s Maids got that contract.” Her boss was concerned after they’d lost the job. She’d been about to open an office in a new location, but the loss of the Merrek building meant less income for the company, and they couldn’t afford the new space.
“They did, but the owners were unhappy with their work.”
“That’s great.” She set her coffee in the microwave and punched the buttons. “Maybe you can get that office space now.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I just wanted to make sure you were on track to be back a week from Monday. That’s when we’re scheduled to start at the Merrek building. I’ll need you.”
Sam looked around the cottage at the walls needing a second coat of paint. The ceilings, which she hadn’t planned on doing, now looked dingy against the white walls. They would need a coat of paint. The wood floor still needed to be polished and the cupboards painted. She’d have to work her tail off to get it done alone. “Don’t worry about a thing,” she said. “I’ll be home on time.”
“Oh, good.” Relief coated her words. “I know how home repairs can go. Everything seems to take more time than you bargain for.”
Wasn’t it the truth? If Landon hadn’t helped, she’d be way behind schedule. “No need to worry. I’ll be there a week from tomorrow, bright and early.”
After she got off the phone, she drained the coffee, then changed into her painting clothes. Her headache was a dull throb now.
Sam walked toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few, Caden. I need to get some stuff from the shed.”
Caden glanced up from the TV. “What time are we going to the beach? Can we go to the surf side?”
Sam stopped on the threshold. She’d forgotten about promising Caden she’d take a day off. She had so much to do and no help. She couldn’t ask Landon. And now she definitely had to be back in Boston on time.
Sam turned, her hand grasping the doorknob. “I’m really sorry, Caden, but we can’t do it today. I have to paint. My boss just called and—”
“But you said you’d take the day off.” Her whine was like fingernails on Sam’s spinal cord.
“I know what I said, but that was before Patty called and—”
“You never do anything fun!”
Did Caden think she wanted to work today? That she didn’t want to go hang out at the beach like she hadn’t a worry in the world? She was always caught between her daughter and work. She was tired of having to choose.
Sam took a steadying breath. “Let me get the work done. Maybe I’ll finish early, and we can go next Saturday.” She didn’t know if she could get done by then, but at this point, she was willing to offer hope. “If you help me, I’ll get done quicker.”
A pool of tears rose to Caden’s lash line. “You could get it done in time if you wanted.”
That might be true if Landon were helping, but she knew she’d be pressed to finish on her own. “I’ve got all this work to do and no help. I’m not sure it’ll get done on time as it is.”
“Landon’s helping.”
Sam shook her head. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?” Caden glared at her.
Sam opened her mouth to explain, then closed it again. What could she say that an eleven-year-old would understand? “It’s just the way it is. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe he could take me to the beach.” Hope lit her face. “I could play with Max in the water. Please, Mom?” Those brown eyes, so like her own, begged.
Sam wanted Landon farther away from them, not closer. Asking him to spend time with her daughter was foolish. And what if Caden slipped and called him Uncle Landon or something? She could just imagine how Landon would hate her if he knew. As much as she needed him to keep his distance, she couldn’t bear it if he hated her. She couldn’t risk letting Caden go with him.
Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry, Caden.”
Her daughter looked ready for a fight, her face all flushed, her mouth pursed.
Sam was beginning to feel a little heated herself. Everything she did was for Caden. Even the sale of this house was for her future, for college. They could go to the beach in Boston anytime, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t taken her since they’d been on the island. When would Caden learn life wasn’t all about her?
Sam bit her tongue and turned to go.
“You’re so unfair!”
Sam slammed the door and leaned against it, staring at Caden. Hadn’t she just let Caden have an overnighter at a friend’s house? Now she wanted something else. Sam’s head was beginning to pound again. Caden had no idea how good she had it.
Her daughter blinked, and her tears overflowed. “All you care about is work, work, work!” She dragged her fist across her face, wiping the tears. “You’re always leaving.”
Sam’s fist squeezed the doorknob, and she narrowed her eyes. “I’m leaving for a few minutes, Caden. When my mom left, she left forever.”
The air seemed to still, as if waiting for Caden’s response.
Fear spread slowly across Caden’s face, starting in her eyes and working its way down to her mouth.
Sam studied her, wondering what was going through her head. Did Caden think she might leave her? She remembered what it was like to be a child at the mercy of an adult’s whims. Caden probably felt she was at Sam’s mercy. Her daughter was dependent upon her. Sam wasn’t much, but she was all she had.
She took a step toward Caden, her hand reaching out.
Caden snapped her head toward the TV, an old
SpongeBob
episode Sam knew she was no longer interested in. She was only eleven, and a much younger eleven than Sam had been. Sam had to keep reminding herself of that.
There was anger in the set of her daughter’s shoulders, even in the tears that trailed down her face. Sam had to say something, undo what she’d done. But how? Sam never knew what to say anymore. How was she going to handle the teen years if she couldn’t deal with Caden now? But maybe all the attitude had nothing to do with adolescence and everything to do with Sam.
The thought was like swallowing a cold stone. “Caden . . .” Sam drew a breath and let it out. “Why don’t we paint together today? It might be fun. Then we can go to the beach on Saturday.”
Sam would paint all night if she had to. What was a little sleep other than a chance for her past to haunt her?
Caden crossed her arms. “I don’t want to go with you.” Her words wobbled like fury on stilts.
Sam sighed. So much for trying to accommodate. She felt her own ire rising. “Well, I’m all you’ve got, kiddo.”
Caden looked at Sam, her chin raised in defiance. “I’m going to ask Landon to take me.” Her freckles disappeared on her flushed cheeks.
Heat gathered in Sam’s temples, where a sledgehammer began to pound rhythmically. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am! You can’t stop me.”
Sam had to get a handle on her. She took a breath and forced a calm tone. “You’re grounded from TV.”
Caden sprang to her feet. “I don’t care! I’m telling Landon he’s my uncle!”
Sam sucked in a dry breath. It settled heavily in her lungs. “Caden Elaine Owens.” She stared at her daughter in shock. Caden sassed her and gave her attitude, but she’d never been this defiant. The girl’s face twisted in an expression Sam hadn’t seen before, and Sam didn’t doubt she meant what she said. “No, you won’t.” Sam’s voice was firm, covering the fear Caden had planted in her.
“You can’t stop me.” Caden turned and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door.
Even as the sound echoed in her head, Sam realized what Caden said was true.
W
orking alone, the painting went slow. Trimming out the house took most of the afternoon, and by the time the sun was sinking in the sky, Sam was glad for an early supper. She and Caden ate in silence on the porch, away from the paint fumes, her daughter ignoring her attempts at conversation.
After Caden put her plate in the sink, she came back out and trotted down the steps. “I’m going for a ride.”
Her earlier threat played in Sam’s mind. What would stop her from riding down to Landon’s house and dumping her secret on his front porch? If he found out about Bailey, it would only be a matter of time before he found out about her part in Bailey’s death. The thought jerked Sam from her apathy.
“No, Caden. Stay in the yard.”
Caden whipped around, glaring, her hands poised on the handlebars, her foot ready to swing over the seat. “Why?”
“Because I said so.” It would have to be enough, because Sam wasn’t giving her a better explanation.
Caden pressed her lips together, and Sam wondered if she was going to defy her. Instead, Caden dropped the bike, letting it thump onto the ground. “Fine.” She gave Sam one last glare, then strode through the long grass and toward the shoreline, arms swinging stiffly by her side, her tawny hair blowing behind her. When she reached the water’s edge, she stepped up onto the pier and walked down its length. At the end, she sat, her back toward Sam, her feet dangling over the edge.
Sam needed to go back in and paint, but she wondered if she should leave Caden on the pier without supervision. Sam had done nothing but say no all day, and the thought of another fight made her tired. Besides, it was only waist deep there, and if Caden fell in, she was a good swimmer. Anyway, her daughter wouldn’t get in without her swim cap, and Sam could keep an eye through the window.
She retrieved a new rolling pan and roller from the shed, casting a look in the direction of Landon’s house. She hadn’t seen him since that morning, when she told him to stay away. She wondered if he’d listen. The thought of not seeing him the next seven days brought an ache to her middle. When she and Caden left the island, they may never see him again. The hollow spot inside of her seemed to stretch out, growing, enveloping more of her.
That’s the way you want it, right?
She gathered the supplies and left the shed, remembering Landon holding her outside the shed, the rain pouring down on them. She remembered how safe she felt in his arms. He was a refuge in the storm.
All the more reason to keep away from him, Sam. You don’t needthat kind of false security.
Back in the house, she poured paint in the pan and ran the roller through it.
Stay focused on the task, Sam, and forget everything else.
When had worrying done any good?
Sam peeked out at Caden periodically. Her daughter didn’t move from her spot on the end of the pier. How many hours had Sam spent in that same spot? Often with Landon at her side, splashing her legs with his foot. Caden would be okay once they got back to Boston. Sam wished she could fast-forward through the week and be on the ferry back to the mainland now. She imagined the freedom she would feel as the island grew small on the horizon.
Suddenly Landon appeared in her daydream, waving good-bye from the shore.
Stop it, Sam
. She shook her head as if to dislodge the picture, then climbed on the ladder to reach the ceiling. The white paint went on smoothly, covering years of dirt and grime, obliterating evidence of Emmett’s smoking habit.
A few minutes later, she checked on Caden, reloaded the roller, and climbed the ladder, bracing her thighs against the top. The breeze had died down, leaving the air inside hot and still. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. A trickle of sweat ran down her back. Outside, a mower roared to life, and the scent of cut grass drifted through the window.
She extended the roller upward, and it hit the corner of the bedroom door, falling from her hand. Instinctively, she reached out, hoping to catch it before it hit the floor. Her hand grabbed at air. The movement unbalanced her. She clutched at the ladder, but it was too late.
Sam untangled her feet from the ladder, and they hit the floor first. But one foot landed on the roller handle and turned outward.
She heard a snap. A jolt of pain shot up her ankle. She smothered a groan. Sinking to the floor, she pulled her knee to her chest and rocked, squeezing her eyes shut. Sam focused on breathing.
Inand out. In and out.
Her breath caught every few seconds as if her body had forgotten how to breathe.
Sam eased her foot to the floor, wondering if she’d broken her ankle. At the very least, she’d snapped a ligament or tendon. She peeled off her sock inch by inch, shuddering at the pain the movement caused.
The flesh had begun to swell. She needed to get ice on it, quick. She couldn’t afford a trip to the doctor, but if it was only a tendon or ligament, she could handle it herself.
Sam’s ankle throbbed angrily. The kitchen seemed a mile away. How would she get all the way to the refrigerator? She lay back against the rug and moaned. The thought of moving her foot an inch was enough to make her cringe.
She needed Caden. After catching her breath, she propped herself up and sucked in air, releasing it with her daughter’s name as loudly as she could. She stilled, listening. All she heard was the mower that had started up awhile ago. With the noise of that, Caden wouldn’t hear her calling.
The phone. A quick scan of the living room told her it was only a couple of yards away, on the coffee table. She could get to that. She propped her weight on her palms and used her good foot to propel her backward. Her right foot dragging, she moved like an injured crab.