Sheltered in His Arms. Tara Quinn Taylor
a sample issue of the journal, Cassie started to fill it in. “I’m not hiding out. And I can do whatever I damn well please. That’s the great thing about being single and living alone.”
At least, she told herself that often enough. And it was true. Sort of. She enjoyed living alone. She had to. Or live her life without enjoyment.
“It’s been three weeks,” Randi said. “He’s probably not coming back, after all.”
“It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other,” Cassie lied.
“Uh-huh.”
“Isn’t your family going to be getting mighty hungry?” Cassie asked, still concentrating on the form in front of her.
“Dinner’s not until five.”
Oh. Great.
“Look,” Cassie said, putting down her pen as she met her friend’s gaze. “My life with Sam was a long time ago. I’m a different person now, and I’m sure he is, too.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“He killed any feelings I had for him when he went to another woman’s bed,” Cassie interrupted, before Randi could say anything she might have a hard time denying.
It was taking everything she had to keep her mind on the right track. And her heart from splintering into a million pieces with the force of bitterness and regret.
Randi stood up, headed for the door. “You need to learn how to lie better before you go trying it again,” she said, getting the last word. “We’ll bring some barbecue by your place later tonight. You’d better be there, or I’ll make Zack come here and drag you out.”
No question, Randi had won that round.
But Cassie would have her turn. She wasn’t going to let anyone get the better of her again. Not her partner’s new wife. And not the ex-husband she hadn’t heard from in ten long years.
After three weeks of waiting, of constantly looking over her shoulder, of hiding out to avoid the chance of inadvertently running into Sam, Cassie’s nerves were a little raw.
But maybe Randi was right. Maybe he wasn’t coming, after all. His cryptic note had come three weeks ago. Surely it didn’t take that long to get to Shelter Valley, no matter where he’d been.
It was time to get on with her life. She wouldn’t give Sam the opportunity to rob her of it again.
Sam. Where had his letter come from, anyway? The postmark had been someplace back east. But the letter had been sitting on James Montford’s desk for a day or two before his wife had happened upon it in the middle of a party—a celebration to welcome their long lost nephew into the fold. She’d gone to the library to check on her guests’ sleeping babies, had come through James’s office on her way back to the party, and had been reaching for a tissue on his desk, when she’d knocked a pile of unopened mail onto the floor.
She’d recognized her son’s handwriting on the envelope with no return address. After ten years, she still recognized Sam’s handwriting.
Cassie knew she’d have recognized it, too.
What else about Sam would be recognizable?
No. She shook her head, pulled the stack of files toward her. She wasn’t going to spend another minute of her life thinking about something that hadn’t been real for a very long time.
He wasn’t coming, anyway.
THE CLINIC WAS NEW, built since he’d left town. Not too far off Main Street, it sat on a lot that had been vacant Sam’s entire life. With its fresh stucco finish and smoothly paved parking lot, the clinic spoke of success.
It spoke of Cassie.
Leaving his truck parked under the shade of a tree, Sam took Mariah’s hand, drawing as much comfort as he gave. Somehow, his having a child made facing Cassie more tolerable. He didn’t question that Cassie would have a family; it was all she’d ever wanted. He wondered briefly about the man she must have married—someone he knew?— then dismissed the thought. It occurred to him that in some ways, Mariah’s presence put him and Cassie on a more equal footing. They’d both moved on. She wouldn’t be the only one who was a parent now. They were both parents…although not of each other’s children. He slowly approached the door of the veterinary clinic. It was Monday morning; he wasn’t ready for this. Could hardly drag the air through his lungs. But he’d become a man who faced hardships and challenges head-on, and this was one of the biggest.
There were only a couple of cars in the parking lot. He hoped one was Cassie’s. And that she’d have a minute or two to spare for him. While he and his parents had spent a miraculous five hours talking the night before—about their lives and his, about Mariah—they’d never mentioned Cassie.
The unspoken message was very clear.
He’d have to clean up this mess on his own. And until he did, his parents weren’t going to give him anything where Cassie was concerned. They loved her like their own daughter. Always had.
They were on her side.
Sam couldn’t blame them. He’d be on her side, too, if there were any way for a man to be in two places at once.
“We’re going to see an old…friend of Daddy’s,” he told the silent child who’d refused to leave his side in the eighteen hours they’d been in town.
His mother had been enchanted—as Sam had known she would be—with Mariah. Though the little girl was completely unresponsive, at least outwardly, Carol Montford hadn’t lost any opportunity to make contact. To touch Mariah’s hand. To smile at her, tend to her, stroke her hair. To get some food—any food—into the child’s stomach.
His father was already wrapped around Mariah’s little finger.
Mariah just didn’t know it yet.
She didn’t know she’d met her match in those two. They were going to love Mariah back to life. Period. Between him and his parents, she wouldn’t have a chance not to become the vivacious, happy child she’d once been.
They walked across the parking lot. “Her name is Cassie and she’s just about the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen,” Sam said, remembering.
He had to do this, to see her first thing. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to accidentally bump into each other in town. And he hoped that seeing her at work would mean he wouldn’t be face to face with her children. Or her husband. At least not yet. Unless it was in the form of a photo on her desk.
It was what he wanted for her, what he’d been imagining all these years. A husband who deserved her love, who cherished her as Sam had promised he would. All the children she’d dreamed of raising. It was the only way he could live with himself, believing that without him she’d managed to have everything she wanted. That she was happy.
“She used to be Daddy’s best friend, a long time ago.”
Mariah walked solemnly beside him, her long black hair in a high ponytail tied with a blue bow that matched the jeans overalls and pink-flowered top he’d chosen for her that morning. Before the disaster that had changed her life so completely, Mariah had insisted on choosing her own outfits every day. And on doing her own hair, as well. She’d looked a little lopsided a time or two—but Sam would trade that for the smile she’d worn any day.
She’d been so proud of herself back then. So sure that life was there just for her. Sure there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do, couldn’t have, if she just got big enough.
She’d been sassy and confident and too smart for her own good.
And she’d chattered from the time she got up in the morning until she’d gone to bed at night, innocently sharing her every thought with anyone lucky enough to be around.
Sam had never tired of listening.
“Cassie