The Soldier's Sweetheart (17 page)

She felt like a puppet. Will had jerked her strings and she had blindly danced to his music. And then in the next instant, he’d dropped her, leaving her in a mixed-up heap of parts on the floor.

Maybe Will was right. Maybe they
had
gotten caught up in the moment. Her stress level was through the roof, after all. Her entire life was falling apart. But in her case, the pressure had only forced her to admit what she’d already known deep down—that she had feelings for Will.

That she
loved
him.

He, on the other hand, was brushing those emotions off as if they were nothing. And yet he’d been the one who’d reminded her of all her blessings, who had encouraged her to lean on God during the tough times when she was beginning to believe she had nothing and no one.

For some crazy, wonderful and now absolutely mortifying reason, she had thought, at least for a moment, that she had Will.

What a fool she had been.

“So, what was that, then?” she hissed. “You were just stealing a kiss because I’m vulnerable right now?”

His eyebrows lowered over his smoldering eyes, which had turned almost black, as they always did when he was experiencing great emotion.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do
what?
”

“Don’t belittle what we shared. It meant a lot to me.”

She ignored his admission. He was just yanking her chain again, and she would have none of it.

“It seems to me that you’re the one belittling what we shared. It also seems to me you’re doing an awful lot of ordering here. You aren’t in the Army anymore, Will, so don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “Don’t diminish what happened here tonight. I care for you. I really do. But for reasons I can’t explain, I can’t go there with you.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Maybe she was being unfair, pushing him further than he was ready to go, but she had to know the truth. He couldn’t just kiss her like that—like he was ready to give her the world—and then step back and tell her he couldn’t
go there
.

“Honey, I can’t give you what you’re asking me to give to you.”

She felt like Will was taking a chain saw to her heart, methodically cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces until there was nothing left. “If that’s true, Will, then why did you just kiss me like that?”

He looked at her for what felt like an eternity with those heart-stoppingly beautiful brown eyes that for once she was able to read clearly. She saw love in his eyes—she was sure of it. But she also saw fear, and uncertainty.

“I promised you that I’ll be there for you,” he said, his voice hard, even cold, “and you can bank on that promise. No matter what happens with Stay-n-Shop, I’ll be by your side.”

“Is that all this is to you, Will? Is this just about the Stay-n-Shop?”

“That’s all it can be, Samantha. Trust me on this. Let’s just focus on the Stay-n-Shop and leave the rest alone.”

He turned and headed back into the Grange hall, leaving her right where he’d found her before he’d changed her world with a single kiss.

At the moment, she didn’t give a fig about Stay-n-Shop. She wanted Will. She wanted
all
of Will, especially the one thing he apparently refused to give.

His heart.

* * *

“Hey, Monkey,” he said as he scooped Genevieve into his arms, squeezing her extra tight and running his hand across her black curls. Holding his little girl in his arms was his anchor to reality right now. It was all he had.

“Thanks, Delia,” he said to the woman hovering in the doorway. “I appreciate you watching Genevieve tonight.”

“Anytime,” Delia said pleasantly. “How did the meeting go?”

Will’s mind immediately flashed to those moments after the meeting, when he held Samantha secure in his embrace. The most wonderful minutes of his life. And his biggest mistake of all.

“The Grange was filled to bursting with folks coming out to support Samantha and her family. I think it went well.”

“I heard Stay-n-Shop brought in a whole legal team.”

“They did. Hopefully the council will see through their arguments and keep Sam’s Grocery safe.”

“Tell the Howells I’m praying for them.”

“I suppose that’s the best thing we can do for them at this point.”

“Daddy, you’re holding me too tight,” Genevieve exclaimed, wiggling.

“Sorry, Monkey,” he said, bending to place her on the ground.

“Your daddy just loves you so much he wants to squeeze you like a stuffed animal,” Delia said with a chuckle.

Well, that was true. And more. Genevieve was all he had. He didn’t want to screw that up.

“Thanks again,” he called over his shoulder as he buckled Genevieve into the car seat. Delia waved and closed the door.

“Are we going to see Miss Samantha?”

It was an innocent question, but it pierced Will’s heart like a knife.

“No, sweetheart. It’s late. Miss Samantha might already be sleeping.” He knew she wouldn’t be. Not tonight. Not after what he’d pulled with her. She was probably stomping around her house, mulling over his demise.

And rightly so.

“Miss Samantha promised to show me how to play the piano,” Genevieve said.

Will’s throat burned. “You really like Miss Samantha, don’t you?”

“She’s nice to me. And she’s so pretty. You like her, too, don’t you, Daddy?”

Will hadn’t shed a tear since he was five years old and his father threatened to hit him if he didn’t stop bawling like a baby, but at Genevieve’s words, his eyes burned, and it took every bit of strength within him not to give into the urge to let go. It hurt that much.

He had to clear his throat twice to answer. “Yeah, Monkey. I like her, too.”

Chapter Fourteen

W
ill hadn’t seen Samantha in three days, and he hadn’t slept in nearly that long, either. There was no doubt in his mind that she was avoiding him, and he supposed he really couldn’t blame her. He’d hurt her—deeply—which was the last thing he’d ever meant to do. But now it was too late to take back what he’d said—or what he’d done.

On Saturday, Samantha’s parents had asked him to take a day off from the store to finish building a wraparound porch for one of the cabins near the river. There was a certain satisfaction in building things up instead of tearing them down. As he set the planks, he’d listened to the gentle swoosh of the river gliding over large, pointed rocks, and to the birds singing what Will imagined to be praise songs from the trees. A rare black squirrel had even approached him when he got too close to the animal’s home. He’d been impressed by the squirrel’s angry chattering and apologized for disturbing him.

It was a peaceful scene, but Will had felt no tranquility in his heart. Not while things were so completely unresolved between him and Samantha.

He’d declined to attend church on Sunday. He was too confused and confounded to come up with a reasonable excuse for why he wasn’t going, especially since he’d only just started attending at all, but fortunately, the Howells didn’t ask. They merely wished him a good day and left him to his own devices.

He’d hoped giving Samantha a couple of days to cool off and pray would give her new perspective, but it didn’t take him long to realize he was wrong on that count.

Sometime during the night on Sunday, Samantha had left an envelope taped to his door, which contained a key to the store and brief, scribbled instructions for him to go ahead and open the shop Monday morning on his own. He’d thought maybe she was running errands and intended to arrive late, but as the hours slowly passed, he came to the distressing realization that it was unlikely that she was going to put in an appearance at all.

He was able to handle the store on his own with no problem, even with all the extra customers coming out in droves to support Sam’s Grocery and bolster Samantha’s spirits. He wished she could have been there to see the day’s business, and thank the community that was well and truly behind the Howell family legacy.

Whether or not Stay-n-Shop was allowed to build on that land, Will firmly believed that Samantha’s heritage was safe in the hands of the wonderful, faithful folks of Serendipity.

As the day ended and there was still no sign of Samantha, Will closed up, cleaned up and found himself reaching for his cell phone. He dialed Samantha’s mother.

“Hello? This is Amanda.”

“Hey, Amanda. It’s me, Will.”

“Hi, Will. I just fed Genevieve a bowl of macaroni and cheese. She said she was hungry and I like to spoil her a little bit when I can. She’s like a granddaughter to me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” He was happy to hear the pleasure in Amanda’s voice when she spoke of Genevieve. Samantha’s mother and his young daughter had a special bond. They were good for each other, much in the same way that Genevieve and Samantha were good for each other. He pushed the thought out of his mind. “Actually,” he continued, “Genevieve is the reason I’m calling. Or—er—part of the reason, anyway.”

“Sure, Will,” she said, sounding intrigued. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Samantha recently?”

“I saw her yesterday. She played the organ for church, but she left right afterward. Why? Did she not show up for work this morning?”

“No. She left me the key to open with, so I figured she was going to be late, but she never came in at all. I thought maybe she was spending the day with you all. I guess she needed some time alone.”

“That’s odd.”

Will sighed. “No, not really. I’m fairly certain she’s avoiding me. She’s not picking up her phone, either. Do you have any idea where she might have gone if she was upset?”

To her credit, Amanda did not ask what Will had done to upset her daughter, even though he’d pretty much admitted that was exactly what he had done.

“You really care for her, don’t you?” she asked softly.

Everything in him burned—his eyes, his throat, his heart. He wasn’t sure he could speak, but Amanda was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“So? What are you waiting for? Writing in the clouds?”

Will chuckled. “That would be nice.”

“Indeed it would, but love is never that simple, or that tidy. We’re all a mess inside, you know. Every one of us carries baggage. But when God unites two hearts, they can lift each other up, carry their loads together.”

“But I—”

“Love my daughter. Go get her. Try the church. Ever since she started learning music as a little girl, the church has been kind of like her refuge. Playing the organ seems to help her organize her thoughts and work through her feelings about whatever is bothering her.”

Which would be me.

“And before you ask, I’m happy to watch Genevieve for you for as long as you need me to.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, gratitude welling in his heart. Once again, he was astounded by the Howells’ continued generosity toward him. They just gave and gave without a second thought.

He could see where Samantha got her heart from.

“It’s my pleasure,” Amanda insisted. “That’s what family does. We step in and help each other.”

Will’s throat clogged with emotion. He ended the call and then just stood staring at his cell phone.

Had she just referred to him as
family?

He didn’t know how that had come about, but it made him want to stay in Serendipity more than ever. It would be such a shame if he had to walk away from the best thing he’d ever known. If only he could make Samantha understand that no matter how much he loved her—and he did love her—he would not risk hurting her the way he had hurt Haley.

It was
because
he loved her, because he’d never experienced anything remotely close to the bond he had with Samantha, that he had to back away from the relationship. If he had to, he would even go so far as to leave Serendipity, but he hoped with all this heart that it wouldn’t come to that.

Amanda had reminded him that everyone carried scars, perhaps even regrets, and that if he could get past his troubles, Samantha might be waiting at the end. But he felt so weighed down by his past. Could he ever let it go?

He heard the organ long before he actually entered the sanctuary of the church. Samantha was playing a dark, brutal piece of music that immediately reached into his soul and tore pieces away, leaving every last nerve vibrating with tension.

If her selection was anything to go by, she wasn’t even remotely close to getting over being angry with him for starting what he couldn’t finish, not that he’d expected her to be.

Now it was time to explain.

The last majestic chord of the piece set him off balance and he had to shake his head to try to regain his mental focus.

“‘Toccata in D Minor’,” she said as she slid from the organ bench and approached him. “It’s Bach.”

“It’s chilling is what it is,” he countered. He didn’t know who this Bach guy was, but he sure wrote unsettling music.

She leveled him with a glare. “It
is
a little cold in here.”

Well, at least she was honest—and she wasn’t talking about the music or the air-conditioning. It was a place to start.

“I came to apologize,” he said bluntly.

Her expression didn’t change, yet Will felt her shift in emotion just as clearly as if she had burst into tears.

“I’m not here to apologize for kissing you, so let’s get that clear right off the mark.”

Her shoulders sagged, but Will didn’t know whether it was from relief or dejection.

“Kissing you was the best moment of my life.”

“Me, too, Will,” she said, crossing her arms as if she needed to protect herself from him somehow.

“Along with the day Genevieve was born, of course,” he added.

“Of course,” she agreed, the sad smile on her face showing him that she knew exactly how important his daughter was to him.

She understood. She
got
him.

And he was going to walk away from all that? His brow furrowed. He considered himself a strong and powerful man, but did he have the fortitude it would take to do what was best for Samantha, even if it wasn’t best for him?

She reached out and brushed a hand along his shoulder, bringing him back to the present.

“What are you not telling me?”

“I’ve told you everything. I can’t ever be in a relationship with you. I won’t. I’ll hurt you, and I never want to do that. Don’t you see?”

She frowned and shook her head. “See what, Will? What is it that you think is going to happen if you let yourself be with me?”

“I’m dangerous, Samantha. It’s my fault Haley is dead. If anything were ever to happen to you because of me, there’s no telling what I’d do.” He took a deep breath, and finally let the rest spill out. “I don’t deserve you, or your love.”

* * *

Samantha took a step back, stunned not only by the words Will had uttered, but by how vehement his tone had been. His eyes were dark and reproachful—he was condemning himself.

Criminal, judge and jury. Guilty as charged.

But how could he say that, much less believe it?

Samantha stayed very still, as if Will would disappear if she made the wrong move. She ignored the very strong urge she had to wrap her arms around him and tell him what an amazing man he was. “Will, it’s not your fault she’s dead.”

He leveled her with his gaze, cold and accusing. “Isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t. You can’t blame yourself for what happened in a dark alley a continent away from where you were at the time.”

“Haley wouldn’t have been in Amarillo working as a waitress in a truck stop if we hadn’t been separated. If I had been a better husband to her, she would never even have been in that dark alley. So you see, it is my fault.” His words held such agony that Samantha felt her heart ripping into shreds, her eyes pricking with tears.

“I see no such thing, Will Davenport,” she retorted. She could stand it no longer—she took his face in her hands, trying to make him look at her, to see the truth in her eyes.

He groaned and tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

He couldn’t answer her. She could practically see the battle that was being fought within him, and she realized that now it was her turn to stand by him, to offer her support, to help him win his war.

“I see a strong man. An honorable man. A man who puts his whole heart into everything he does. A man who puts his daughter’s needs above his own. A man who is brave and unselfish.”

“I’m not any of those things,” he rasped.

“You are in my eyes.” She was going to make him hear her, even if she had to put her own heart on the line. She gathered her courage and finished what she’d started to say the other night outside the Grange. “I love you, Will Davenport.”

He took a harsh, deep breath, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

“Samantha, you can’t. You shouldn’t. I’m not—”

“Why can’t you forgive yourself?” she asked before he could finish telling her all the reasons why he was undeserving of love. “God forgives you.”

“How can God forgive me?” He shook his head, unwilling to believe it, yet Samantha could see the hope gleaming in his eyes. He wanted to believe. He just didn’t know how yet.

“How can God forgive any of us, Will? We’ve all sinned. No human is worthy of what God gives us. Jesus died so we could have forgiveness. So we could find love.”

“Even me?” The hope in his eyes had turned to understanding. She could see the fear receding, replaced by strength and courage. She could see the man she loved coming back to her.

She leaned her forehead against his and reveled in the moment when two hearts became one.

“Even you, Will. Even you.”

He framed her face with his large, strong hands, and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “God must have blessed me, if I’m here with you.”

He brushed his lips softly against hers, once, and then again.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she whispered against his mouth.

He kissed her again, pulling her close. She could feel the strength of his embrace, yet his touch was infinitely gentle for all that. Tough, yet tender.

When he lifted his head, she had a brief moment of panic. Was he turning away from her again?

But, no. His gaze caught hers, and his mouth moved as if he were going to speak, but no words came. Not at first.

“You know I’m not a man of words,” he said softly, “but these words need to be said. Over and over again. Every day, for the rest of our lives.” His eyes glimmered with emotion.

“I love you, Samantha Howell. I want to cherish you. Protect you. And show you every day that I love you.”

His smile was radiant. That was the only word Samantha could think to describe it. And it matched the glow of her heart perfectly.

“I love you,” he said again, stronger and louder this time. “I love you.” The sound echoed through the sanctuary, and he laughed.

He tucked her head against his chest, his cheek resting against her hair. “I love you.”