Between Us Girls (36 page)

Liv asked him to say grace.

He shut his eyes. “We thank You, Lord, for this food we are about to receive, and bless the little hands that prepared it. Amen.”

Samantha said, “ ‘
Little
hands?' ”

“Something my granddaddy always prayed.”

“I take it Granny Mibs had
little
hands.”

“Why yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

“Liv doesn't. And she prepared this platoon-size feast with a whole lot more than just her hands.”

“That's mighty true, Miss Sam. I appreciate you calling that to my attention. Miss Olivia, I apologize for any offense I might have committed. I realize you put your whole self into this feast, a lot of time and energy, and heart and soul.”

“No offense taken, Beau.” Liv spooned a scoop of the casserole onto Jasmyn's plate. “Samantha, hold up your plate, dear. So you think I have particularly large hands?” she teased.

“No!” Samantha's cheeks reddened. “They're regular women-sized hands. ‘Little hands' sounded derogatory, that's all. Like…like you're insignificant and incapable unless you're in the kitchen cooking. If you feed the men, then you'll get noticed.”

Oh, my.

Beau said, “I meant no disrespect, Sam.”

Her cheeks were two beet-red circles now and she lowered her eyes. “I know,” she mumbled.

Liv touched Samantha's shoulder lightly and said a silent prayer for healing whatever triggered her unease around Beau. It was obvious the man adored her.

Keagan helped himself to the casserole. “Say, how about those Padres?”

Liv said, “I thought you didn't want to eat.”

“Changed my mind. It seems a night to indulge in comfort food. You baked brownies too, right?” He winked at her. “Cream-cheese filled with milk chocolate icing?”

Liv stared. She had never seen sugar pass the man's lips. There had to be a virus in the air.

Jasmyn said, “Who are the Padres?”

Keagan chuckled.

Beau laughed.

Samantha snickered.

The virus was most definitely contagious.

Liv shut the door on her guests and walked through the cottage, turning off lights.

The kitchen was immaculate, compliments of Jasmyn and Beau. They
insisted she relax and that the other two stay out of the way. Samantha and Keagan were all thumbs when it came to simply clearing the table.

Her guests. It seemed too detached of a description for those four young people. Was “family” going overboard?

Jasmyn had finally shared details of her meeting with Manda Smith. Naturally, the big letdown was that there seemed to be no future relationship in store.

Beau had offered, “It's like with adoption. Sometimes the kids or the biological parents don't want to meet the other.”

Samantha said, “Exactly. If there's the slightest possibility that a meeting would throw a major wrench into their status quo, they'd just as soon not.”

Beau said, “Upsetting the applecart isn't on anyone's agenda.”

“Exactly.”

Liv said, “But who knows? Manda might get in touch with you again now that she's met you and sees what a sweetheart you are. She might want her husband and kids to meet you.”

Jasmyn said, “But she might not because then her kids would wonder why we look alike and tell their grandmother and then Manda would have to explain who I was.”

“Still,” Samantha had said, her eyes watering, “you met her. You got to fill up that spare room in your heart.”

Keagan had rested his arms on the table, leaning enough toward Jasmyn to force eye contact. “Who needs genetics? You have us.”

Liv's head spun. What had happened? Samantha and Beau agreed on something. Samantha talked about the heart. Keagan suggested they were all family.

Her surrogate daughter announced she was leaving as soon as she got a ticket.

But Liv sensed that certain things had been cemented tonight. She and Jasmyn and everyone at the Casa would always be surrogate family.

And for that, Liv sang hallelujahs. She hitched up her shoulders and swayed her hips in rhythm to her spur-of-the-moment tune. She shuffled around her living room in little circles, her version of a jig.

If she kept looking for wonders, they never ceased and they continued to amaze her.

Sixty-Two

Beau, Jasmyn, Keagan, and Sam said their good nights outside Liv's door and veered off in four directions through the courtyard shadows.

And then Sam veered off to follow Beau down the path to the back gate.

“Beau,” she called out softly, not wanting to disturb Inez and Louis, whose open window she scooted past. “Beau!”

He turned and she caught up with him.

His size always struck her. In the dim glow of solar lamps along the walkway he appeared even larger, as big as the polar bear she'd seen at the San Diego Zoo the one time she went for a work-related event.

And as cuddlesome as the midsized brown teddy bear her dad had given her.

She jerked her head as if that would shake loose the sappy images glomming onto her mind's eye. It didn't work.

Bearkins was his name. She slept with him for years, clung to him during her dad's funeral, whispered secrets to him, and screamed at age nine when her stepdad pitched him in the trash because Sam had head lice.

“Miss Sam?” Beau stood before her and lowered his chin to his chest.

The movement was a habit of his. She figured it helped him see faces rather than tops of heads.

She lowered her own chin, not wanting to see his face. The way his green eyes always sparkled was too…kind.

“Everything all right?” he said.

“Yeah.”
No.
“I just, um…” Wanted a hug.

A hug?
Good grief.
Where had that come from? From the stupid teddy bear link because Beau happened to be a big guy?

Or from Liv-induced thoughts? The woman had hugged them all goodbye, explaining that their emotional health needed twelve touches a day. Hugs were the best bet and, by golly, she was going to do her part to add to their tally.

Sam never got twelve touches a day. Nowhere near.

“Sam?”

Sam. Just Sam. No
Miss
attached. Exactly what she had asked him to do a while ago, at the potluck for Liv. Why had he waited until tonight to comply?

When he had done it earlier, at the dinner table, she hadn't only heard it. She'd felt it, like a tug on a thread which, if pulled anymore, would unravel her.

And now he was tugging on it again.

“I, um, I…” She took a breath and risked a glance upward. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. That's all. Good night.” She spun on her heel and took off.

Beau's chuckle followed her down the walkway. “Hey,” he called out softly. “Don't you want to hear me accept the apology? Or not?”

She shook her head, zipped around the corner lickety-split to her door, unlocked it, and slipped inside.

His quiet laughter echoed long after she'd put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth and watched the news. Oddly enough, the sound didn't set her off. He had not laughed
at
her. It was more like a friend letting her get away with being a hothead.

With being herself. Curious. Too curious to welcome sleep.

Thoughts poured in, the kind she always preferred to ignore. They were the heavy ones that took her down dark alleyways, asking ridiculous questions.

What did she mean,
being herself
? Who was she? Was she still Samantha Yahzi Whitehorse, acting out of fear as she had since her father died? A hothead spouting caustic remarks that kept the likes of Beau Jenner at arm's length?

Couldn't she be Sam Whitley, respected professional with a tiny dose of Jasmyn's sweet naïveté to soften the edges?

That might be a bit much, though. It would be like a leopard changing her spots.

But still. Sweet, naive Jasmyn had changed into a more confident woman during her stay at the Casa. The passage of time since the tornado partially explained it. Managing the place for Liv had boosted her tremendously. Facing that stranger today and coming to terms with her heritage certainly made an impact.

There had been an obvious peace about her tonight. It was not exactly spot changing and her voice still dripped with maple syrup. Yet Jasmyn was in a new space. She had filled up that spare room of hers in her heart.

Spare room.

Nah. There wasn't a spare room in Sam's heart. It felt more like a hole.

Holes in hearts were not healthy. They just weren't.

Sam got out of bed, grabbed a sweatshirt, and shuffled into her second bedroom, aka her second office. In one continuous motion she flipped on the desk lamp, slid onto the chair, and turned on her laptop.

Avoiding familial research no longer seemed an option.

Sixty-Three

Jasmyn added cream to her first mug of coffee and noticed that the container was almost empty.

Which begged the question: Should she buy more or go home to Valley Oaks?

Of course Quinn had already given her opinion on the phone yesterday. After Jasmyn told her about the meeting with Manda, Quinn said with relatives like that in California, why would she stay another minute out there with the weirdos?

Jasmyn walked over to the bay window. Shadows still enveloped the courtyard, but patches of sky between the treetops were clear, a promise of early sunshine. Except for two rainy days, it seemed to be an autumn thing like the slanted sun rays. She saw a figure moving slowly. It was Liv, making her morning rounds.

How would Liv decide what to do?

Jasmyn smiled. The point no longer was what Liv would do. It was what Jasmyn would do.

Praying might be too strong of a word to describe what had woven itself into her everyday life. Morning and evening she consciously said simple things like
Thank You
and
Help me do such-and-such
and
Bless so-and-so
. Between the two, though, something else had developed. It was a quiet assurance that she was not alone.

Even yesterday at the coffee shop, before Chad appeared, while she reeled from how things had turned out with Manda, she knew at some
level that she lived and moved within the confines of God. Loneliness was not a constant companion.

Jasmyn saw Liv now pausing at the other side of the fountain, in the proximity of Cottage Three. How lovely that she prayed for all the tenants, even the ones not yet at the Casa.

She set down her mug, went into her bedroom, and knelt before the bed on the nice, thick throw rug Inez had loaned her along with the bed.

“Thank You for the rug. Maybe when I'm Nova's age I can manage with a hardwood floor or even flagstones.” She smiled. “Thank You for all of my new friends here.”

She rested her forehead against the mattress, her arms outstretched, her hands folded, and she began to imagine each of them, one by one, round the ring of cottages.

“Take care of Coco today. Ease her arthritis pain. Bless her nephew and niece and the visiting nurse who take care of her.

“Use Keagan to take care of others. And let him know through others that he is cared for too.

“Help Chad with his struggles to find where he belongs in this world. Give his parents wisdom. Give him a path to a more independent, satisfying life.

“Give Piper a good, productive day at work in the store. Comfort her when she misses her fiancé.

“Take care of Noah. He always looks a little lost except when Déja is here.

“Keep Riley's head above water. Being a single mom of a special needs child and working as a dental hygienist is a lot. Take care of Tasha as she plays with friends today. And tell her dad, who has never been here since I arrived, to pay some attention to them.