The Soldier's Sweetheart (11 page)

Better for him if he felt nothing.

Better for
her
.

“He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord,” Grandpa Sampson remarked. He slid into a lawn chair near where Will sat watching Genevieve playing tag on the green with some of the other children.

“I’m sorry?” Will cleared his throat, attempting to erase the pure astonishment he knew was threatening to reveal itself.

“No need to hide it from me, son,” Grandpa Sampson said with a hoarse chuckle. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at her when you think no one’s watching.”

Will groaned inwardly. If Grandpa Sampson had noticed, others probably had, as well. His emotions were laid bare, and he’d never felt so uncomfortable, so vulnerable, in his life.

He shifted his gaze to the ground and picked at a piece of grass. “As you know, I’ve been married, sir. I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Perhaps,” Grandpa Sampson remarked, “you just hadn’t found the right woman. Yet.”

Will couldn’t let himself go there, even in his thoughts. It wouldn’t be fair to Samantha.

“Just think on that, son.”

Samantha was quickly approaching, and Will cleared his throat to alert Grandpa Sampson to that fact.

The old man just chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

“Check out what I just bought,” Samantha said. Will moved onto the edge of the blanket to make room for her. She upended a canvas bag touting the Sam’s Grocery logo, and a pile of fireworks—mostly fountains and multicolored boxes of sparklers—spread out before him in the middle of the blanket. “There will be a nice fireworks display at the end of the evening,” she explained, “but folks around here like to entertain themselves while they wait.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” He suddenly felt like a Roman candle had gone off in his chest. “Is it?”

He’d thought they were only going to see a fireworks show put on by professionals—at a distance. And even that was going to be difficult for him. The sound of explosions, however innocent, could take him back to combat, to the war zone. Even if he was perfectly aware it might happen. Even if he tried to stop it.

Never mind
him
. If Samantha thought he was going to let his little girl play with a stick glowing with ashes, much less a fountain of sparks, then she didn’t know him as well as he’d thought she did.

“Take a breath, Will,” Samantha murmured, laying a warm hand on his arm. “I promise I would never do anything to put Genevieve in danger.”

Will nodded and tried to even his breath, but it was difficult with his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He
did
trust Samantha. Of course she wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to Genevieve. He didn’t yet trust himself as the guardian of a young one, but he could bank on the fact that Samantha would always put a child’s needs ahead of her own.

“You didn’t exactly answer my question,” he reminded her. “Can’t the grass catch on fire from the sparks?”

Samantha gazed across the park as if the thought had never occurred to her. “I suppose it
could,
but to be honest, in all of my twenty-eight years, it’s never happened that I know of. Besides, the entire volunteer fire company is out here tonight with their families. Even if there was an incident—which I truly believe is highly unlikely—they’d be on top of it before anyone even knew it happened. But if it makes you feel better, we can set the fountains off along the pathway.” She pointed toward the gravel path that wound through the community green.

Will swallowed hard. He knew he was about to sound like an overprotective mother hen, but he had another question to ask her. “What about burns?”

Samantha gave him a strange look. “I’m sure the occasional burn happens, but probably to reckless teenage boys who use the fireworks improperly. Surely you remember being a young, invincible risk-taker.”

Will had actually never experienced fireworks as a child, or even as a teenager. His father hadn’t been much for celebrating national holidays, and his mother was too timid to stand up to him. By the time he was old enough to rebel, his father had made the habit of locking him in his room.

Young and invincible had not really been part of his makeup as a teenager.

He shook his head.

“No? Well, regardless, when used correctly, I promise you fireworks are totally safe.”

His gaze met hers, her blue eyes completely earnest. For a moment, there was such concern in her gaze that he suspected she guessed what was really going on.

“Trust me?” she whispered.

His gaze shifted to Genevieve, who was playing tag with a group of children near her own age. It amazed him how children naturally flocked together if given the opportunity to do so. They just found one another, and they welcomed newcomers into their midst. School hadn’t even started yet and already she was making friends. He was so proud of her. And he figured he had Samantha to thank for that.

Obviously fireworks were a longstanding community tradition here, and he didn’t want to give in to his desire to take his daughter and get out before he disappeared into his memories of Afghanistan. He could see the smiles, hear the laughter, smell the aroma of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers that made his mouth water. This was a full-blown party. He was the only one who appeared to be having qualms about it. Even Amanda and Samuel hadn’t batted an eyelash when Samantha had dumped her load of fireworks onto the blanket.

He’d have to work to shut out the phantom sounds of gunfire and mortar blasts and remind himself that the noise and laughter around him were coming from a happy occasion.

He reached deep inside himself to find new strength. Just because he was had issues didn’t mean Genevieve ought to have to suffer along with him.

He realized he would do anything for his precious little girl.

Absolutely anything. Including fireworks.

“Will?” Samantha’s voice penetrated into his thoughts and he could tell from her tone that it was probably not the first time she had called his name. He suddenly realized she was touching his arm.

He tried to smile at her but knew he hadn’t succeeded in the endeavor. She frowned back at him.

“Where did you go?” she asked softly.

Will considered deferring her question rather than answering it, but then she slid her hand down his arm and placed it in his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Suddenly he found that he wanted to share the truth with her. He just wasn’t sure if he could.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do the fireworks,” she said before he could speak. “I can give them to one of the other families. There will still be plenty for Genevieve to see, even if we don’t participate ourselves.”

“No. You’re right. We should let Genevieve do her sparklers. I’m making a big deal over nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

He forced a laugh. “I feel that I ought to point out to you that just a few moments ago, you were arguing the opposite side of this conversation.”

She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. He waited for her to say more.

She didn’t.

Neither did he. So much for sharing the truth with her.

“Hey, Monkey,” Will called affectionately, rolling to his feet and tousling Genevieve’s hair as she came running up to greet him. “Miss Samantha bought us some sparklers. Do you want to do one?”

“Yes, please.” Her big brown eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Red, green or gold?” he queried.

“Red. Red is my favorite color.”

Will paused in the middle of reaching for the green box. “I thought you told me your favorite color was green.” He’d been mentally filing all the useful information he’d been learning about his daughter, and he was positive she’d said green was her preferred shade. Just the other day she had insisted on wearing a poufy green skirt with a Christmas-tree green shirt and green ribbons in her hair.

“Red is my
new
favorite color,” she informed him in a distinctly female tone of voice.

Apparently the entitlement of a woman to change her mind on a whim wasn’t learned behavior.

“Miss Samantha’s favorite color is red,” Genevieve explained.

“Well,” Will drawled. “That explains it, then.”

Samantha giggled right along with Genevieve. The sound made Will’s heart happy.

“So how do you go about lighting one of these things?” He opened the red box and slid one of the sparklers into his hand.

Samantha’s surprised gaze met his. “Are you serious? You’ve never done a sparkler before?”

Will shook his head.

“Oh,” Samantha murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not your fault my father was an overbearing jerk.”

Samantha knelt before Genevieve, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and pulling her close. She adjusted the sparkler in Will’s grasp so the safe end was in his fingers and then placed Genevieve’s hand over the top of his wrist. Time seemed to slow as he savored the feel of his hand, and his daughter’s, enfolded in Samantha’s grasp. His chest welled so tightly he thought it might burst from emotion. There was something inherently right about the three of them united in this way.

“There we are.” She nodded in satisfaction and reached for the long-stemmed candle-lighter in the picnic basket. “And here we go!”

She lit the end of the sparkler. The stick glowed and then sparked brightly, popping and crackling. He didn’t care for the sound, but he relaxed when he saw the glow of the firework reflected in his daughter’s eyes. Her happiness was worth any price—and any amount of discomfort on his part.

Samantha was clearly enjoying the child’s delight as well. She was sharing it, really. He’d never met a woman who embraced the moment the way Samantha Howell did, with such joy and vivaciousness. He envied those qualities. She absorbed the life around her, lived in the moment. He was a man who struggled to find any kind of joy or peace in his existence at all, although it was getting easier with Samantha and Genevieve in his life.

Jo Spencer, the boisterous elderly redhead who owned the local café, approached waving a lit multicolored sparkler in one hand and a miniature American flag in the other, reminding Will of the conductor of a symphony. She was wearing a T-shirt proclaiming
Like Freedom? Kiss a Soldier.

Will’s breath caught in his throat as Samantha’s gaze met his. Despite all his good intentions and resolve to keep himself away from Samantha—at least in
that
way—the T-shirt triggered a smile. If the deep rose color rising to her cheeks was any indication, she was aware of Jo’s T-shirt, as well, and her mind had gone exactly where his had. There was a certain satisfaction in that.

“Isn’t this absolutely the most enjoyable time of year?” Jo asked merrily.

Samantha chuckled. “You say that about every holiday.”

Jo looked taken aback for a moment, but then she burst into high, melodic laughter. “I do, don’t I?”

Samantha nodded and winked at Will, making his gut flip. Repeatedly.

“Well, at least this gives you all the opportunity to get out and put aside all that nonsense about the town council meeting with Stay-n-Shop. It’s this coming Friday night, right?”

“What did you say?” Samantha bolted to her feet, a stricken expression on her face.

Will’s adrenaline pulsed to life. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for Jo’s answer. Cal had mentioned approaching the town council, but he hadn’t known they’d actually scheduled a date. And neither, apparently, had Samantha.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry,” Jo said, raising her palms to cover her cheeks. “I let the cat out of the bag, didn’t I? I didn’t realize the council hadn’t contacted you yet. My bad.”

Will was fuming. She’d better believe it was
her bad
. He had no idea how this woman could have possibly discovered this information before the Howells even had wind of it. Didn’t the town council have to contact
all
of the parties involved before they went and made a public agenda? He was steaming mad, not so much at Jo as at whatever person or entity had dropped the ball on this one.

“When’s the meeting?” Samantha’s jaw was set, but her voice was surprisingly steady and even.

“This Friday evening, if I’m not mistaken. I can ask Frank about it to make sure.”

“Do you have any idea what their agenda is?”

Will was amazed at how well Samantha was taking the news. She was calm. Collected. Rational.
He
was the one who felt like throwing punches, like running pell-mell across the green screaming his outrage at the top of his lungs. What kind of a mixed-up, backward legal system was this?

“That I do not know,” Jo said, responding to Samantha’s question, and in an odd sort of way, Will’s unspoken one. “I’m surprised you’ve had no contact with Stay-n-Shop, seeing as you’ll be the competition should they decide to build here.”

So much for her not knowing anything.

“I only heard there would be a meeting, nothing specific,” she continued. “I’m sure you’ll be contacted soon enough, dear. Oh, my, I hope I haven’t gone and ruined your celebration.”

“No. Of course not.” Samantha managed to smile, although Will couldn’t imagine how. “We appreciate you coming by.”

And accidentally body-slamming us
, Will added mentally. Samantha might be able to smile through the pain, but he didn’t have that much strength.

“How did she find out about this before we did?” he whispered harshly the moment Jo was out of earshot. His throat felt as dry and gravelly as the path beneath them.

“From her husband, Frank, I imagine. He’s the president of the town council. Jo is a sweet lady, Will. She didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

Samantha turned to him, her beautiful blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Will’s heart snapped. He couldn’t bear to see her in pain.

He reached for her shoulders to steady her, but she misinterpreted the gesture and stepped forward into his arms. She fit comfortably there. He could rest his cheek on her hair and inhale the floral scent of her shampoo. She was as delicate as a flower yet as strong as a rock, and she was absolutely amazing.