Twelve Days (45 page)

"What's wrong?" Sam asked again. "You don't sound like yourself. Is it that boy? Rachel said the two of you broke up."

"We did."

"Is that all?" Sam asked.

"No." Emma hadn't meant to say that. It had just come tumbling out. She'd always told Sam everything. Well, practically everything.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"I didn't want to say anything. Not with everything that's going on with Ann and the baby, but..." Emma looked for some fine line she could walk here without spilling the whole thing. "He isn't taking this well, Sam. He's mad, and he's been calling here, even though I've asked him to stop."

"What happened between the two of you?" Sam asked, steel in his voice.

"I'll... Can we do this when you and Rachel get here, please? I'm fine, and I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just... not now. Not on the phone, okay?"

"You're fine?"

"I am. I promise."

"Okay, but what did he say?"

"I think I've embarrassed him, more than anything," she said, thinking how odd to find herself interested in one man while explaining to her father on the phone about the one she'd just left who was stalking her. Her humiliation just went on and on. "His parents were expecting to meet me, and I guess he doesn't want to tell them we broke up. So he's making excuses and waiting for me to get back there, even though I've made it clear I'm not coming."

Sam started firing off questions. "So he's not listening?"

"No."

"Has he threatened you?"

"No."

"I think you should come up here. Right now. You don't need to be in that house by yourself. Or you could go to Rachel's sister's or her brother's, her father's. Take your pick."

It made sense. She knew that, and it was so tempting.

But it felt like running away. It felt cowardly, and she already felt like such a coward. She already resented the way Mark seemed to have invaded her whole life, making her second-guess everything she'd ever believed about herself and her ability to take care of herself. She didn't want to be anyone's victim, not ever again, and running felt like admitting that she was.

"I really just want to stay here," Emma said.

"No," Sam said.

She frowned, knowing that tone well. Sam didn't use it often and certainly not arbitrarily. But he'd made up his mind. She'd never flat-out refused him anything, because she loved him and trusted him. She knew he loved her.

Emma looked across the room at Rye, who'd given her the same argument in much the same way. He'd even sounded like Sam when he did it.

"What did he say?" Rye asked.

Sam had just said the same thing. It echoed in her head.
What did he say?
Not just the words or the tone. The voice.

They
sounded
alike.

Looking up at Rye now, the color and shape of his eyes, that little notch in his chin, the way he simply held himself, he even looked like Sam.

And he'd come here looking for Sam....

Not about business, but something personal, and seemed oddly reluctant to even let Sam know it. Why in the world would he do that?

"Emma?"

They both said it at once, Sam's voice coming through the phone, Rye's from across the room. It was just the same. She forgot all about Mark and the phone calls, the threats, and the bruise on her face.

The voices were the same.

Could it be?

She thought... just maybe, she was standing here with Sam's long-lost brother.

It just hit her out of the blue.

Sam had a brother she'd never seen. One Sam hadn't seen himself in ages. For the longest time, she thought he didn't have anyone at all, and she'd wondered how he'd stood that. She couldn't imagine a world without her siblings, particularly after they'd lost their mother. She'd said something about that one day, and Sam had told her he had a brother but not much else. It had obviously been so hard for him to talk about.

But she'd always been curious. Where had his brother gone? What had happened to him? Why didn't Sam ever see him? Why did it still hurt Sam so much?

Emma stared up at Rye. Rye who'd looked so troubled and so reluctant all along. She thought of the way he was so reluctant for Sam to even know he was here, almost like he was testing the situation first, before deciding whether he was willing to reveal his true identity.

But why? If he really was Sam's brother...

Emma put her hand over the receiver and faced Rye. "Who are you?"

He stared for a second, then turned and looked away, up toward the ceiling and through the window and off the back porch, anywhere but at her.

Wow.

He looked so uncomfortable, she thought he might head for the door and not come back. She couldn't let that happen.

"Sam?" she said into the phone. "I'll do something tonight. I'll go somewhere or have someone come stay at the house. Promise."

"I wish you'd come here," he said.

"I know... I just... I have some things to figure out on my own. I'll talk to you, tomorrow, okay?"

"No, it's not okay."

"Sam—"

"I know. You're not a little girl anymore."

He sounded like such a father then, like such a great father. He was having a really hard time with the idea that she was growing up. Not that she seemed to be doing a good job of taking care of herself at the moment.

But if this was his brother...

She looked back at Rye, pacing the length of the kitchen. Sam would be so surprised. What a wonderful Christmas present that would be.

Page forward for an excerpt from Teresa Hill's

Unbreak My Heart

Excerpt from

Unbreak My Heart

by

Teresa Hill

Prologue

Nine-year-old Allie Bennett woke to a hand shaking her shoulder, a light shining in her eyes. "Allie?" Her mother's voice was odd and tense. "Come on. We have to get up now."

"Is it morning?" She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her soft pillow. "Do I have school today?"

"No. No school. It's not morning. But we have to get up. Now."

"Why?" Allie said. Outside, it was dark. Inside, the only light came from the flashlight her mother held.

"You and I are going away. Tonight."

"Away?" she whispered, the first flickering of unease creeping in.

Her sister, Megan, went away. And never came back.

Megan
ran
away six months ago. Allie still missed her desperately. She sneaked into Megan's room sometimes and lay on Megan's bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms clasped around them, and inside she just ached from missing her sister.

"Why are we going away?" Allie whispered, scared now. It seemed she'd been scared the whole time since Megan disappeared.

"We just have to. Be a good girl for me and hurry." Her mother went to Allie's closet and flung open the doors. "Get dressed while I pack your things."

Her mother handed her a pair of jeans and a sweater, socks and her favorite shoes. Still sleepy, she hurried to put them on, watching in growing fear as her mother hastily stuffed things from Allie's closet into two suitcases. Cold, Allie grabbed her favorite doll and sat on her bed wrapped up in her comforter.

Outside, the rain was loud. At times she heard the crackle and boom of thunder, saw a flash of lightning. Her mother, breathing hard and still wiping away tears, took Allie by the hand and led her down the big, curving staircase to the front door. Two more bags sat there, packed and waiting. From out front, Allie heard a car horn.

"There's the cab," her mother said, reaching down for the bags.

There were footsteps behind them. Allie turned and ran to her father. He lifted her into his arms and held her, something he rarely did now that she was so big.

She held on tight. "Daddy? We're going on a trip?"

"Oh, baby. I love you. Will you remember that? Always? I love you."

She nodded gravely. He put her down and went to her mother. There were whispers, strangely intense whispers. Something was terribly wrong. Sick with fear, Allie remembered the morning they woke up and found Megan gone. She wanted to be back upstairs safe in her bed.

Her mother and father began arguing. Her father said, "Don't do this, Janet. Don't take her away from me." Her mother, weeping, said, "I've already lost one daughter. I'm not going to lose another one."

And that was that. Her father turned away.

Allie ran to him and threw herself into his arms once again. "Daddy?" she said urgently. "You're not coming with us?"

"I'm sorry, baby." She saw tears in his eyes, thought his heart must hurt, just like hers did. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she said. Whatever it was, he'd said he was sorry. When someone said he was sorry, you were supposed to forgive him and be his friend again. Her mother taught her that.

"If I could go back and change things, I would, Allie," he said. "And I'll always love you."

There was a rush of air, and the sound of the rain grew louder. Someone must have opened the front door. She buried her face against her father's neck, the next moments a terrifying blur. She remembered screaming and holding onto her father, her mother pulling her away, her father wearing such an odd expression on his face as he watched them disappear into the night.

Chapter 1