Caught in the Net (4 page)

Back at the house Scott watched his friend pace the
floor, yelling about disrespect and assumptions.  After ten minutes of the
ranting, Scott put his hand on his friend’s chest.  “Okay, that's enough.  You
can stop it now with the ridiculous overreacting.  There is no doubt you can
still scare the living hell out of that boy, but why?  You know damn well that
your daughter would have found a way to get that thing with or without our
knowledge.  Be grateful Mike was there to at least watch over her.  You’re
being a complete asshole about this.”

“Aren’t you in the least bit pissed?  She manipulated
it so that it sounded as though you gave her permission!”

“And that surprises you?”  Scott wrinkled his
forehead.  “I wasn’t expecting this, but then, with her, I’m not shocked.  I’m
just glad she didn’t try to get a tattoo.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.  The day may come and she will use both of us as
examples.  After all, we both are inked.”

“Only because you made me,” Dr. Quimby glowered.

“Rite of passage for our families.  Our dads had them,
we got them and I’m surprised Mike hasn’t asked about getting the dragon yet.”

“Probably because his little sister will want one,
too.  I know he's a good kid and he really goes all out for her.  He always
has.  I just can't believe he didn't try to talk her out of it,” Dr. Quimby
sighed.

“I am certain that he tried, but she is her mother's
daughter with the stubborn persistence inherited from both our families.  Joe,
you need to relax.  That boy has sacrificed a lot for his sister.  Give him
some credit, okay?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Should we just let this
one go?”

“I think so.  Seriously, it was not bad enough for you
to blow your cool.  There are far worse things she could have done and you know
it.  Are you okay now?”

“Yes, thanks.  You never had to worry about this stuff
with Allyson.  They didn’t do belly button piercings back then,” Dr. Quimby
said, plopping on the couch and rubbing his head.

“No, but I did yank her little ass out of a tattoo
parlor once.  She said it wasn’t fair that all us guys had one and she didn’t.”

“I don’t remember that.  When did that happen?”  Dr.
Quimby looked confused.  He had known the Jenkins family all his life.

Scott laughed.  “Shortly after you started medical
school and got your dragon.  Yep, she got blistered for that little act of
defiance.  And for her colorful language.  It blows me away how much Sam is
like her.  It’s almost déjà vu for me.”

“I wonder if things would have been different if she
was still with us.  I really miss her, Scott.”

“Me too.  But I’m glad that our girl keeps our
memories of her alive.  Things I wouldn’t ordinarily think of, too.”

“I know that I need to laugh more.  I’m still so
scared for her.  I’m so afraid she’s going to do something to push herself over
the edge and that I won't be there to protect her.”

“I know, but we can’t expect her to live in a bubble. 
We’ll get through this together, I promise.  No more yelling, okay?  That's my
job in this house.”  Scott punched his arm.  “Here they come.”

Michael hesitated before opening the sliding glass
door and stepping into the house with his sister hiding, once again, behind his
back.

“Kids, come in.  Sit down, please,” Dr. Quimby said,
seeing fear on their faces and feeling guilty.  “Listen, I’m sorry that I overreacted. 
Michael, thank you for looking out for her.  Knowing our little angel, she
probably would have found a way to sneak around you anyway.  Samantha?  Promise
me that you won’t do a tattoo without talking with us first, okay?”

“I will want the dragon one day.  I deserve it as much
as the rest of you,” she announced, chin high. 

Her father nodded with a reluctant sigh.  “I figured
as much.  Just don’t sneak, please?  This particular design is very unique to
our family and something that doesn’t disappear.  We need to make certain that
it is done correctly.”

“I plan on waiting to get mine at the same time that
she gets hers.  I don't want you to feel left out,” Michael said to Sam, as he
squeezed her hand before standing.

“You’re afraid of it hurting, that’s all,” his sister
teased lovingly.

Michael shook his head.  “See?  I’m nice to her and
she still picks on me.  I’ll never win.”

“But, you’re fun to pick on!  You’re my big bother. 
It's my right.”

“Don’t you mean ‘brother’?” Michael asked. 

She shook her head, standing on the couch to kiss his
cheek and swing her arms around his neck.  “Nope, I meant bother.  But I love
you anyway.  Carry me,” she commanded as she plopped into his arms. 

He hoisted her up with ease.  “Where do you want to
go?”  He nuzzled her affectionately.  His father and Scott started laughing.

“You will never tire of playing with your present,
will you?” Scott asked, rubbing his hand over Michael’s hair.

“I hope not.  But what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Let’s take it down to the beach and walk some,” Dr.
Quimby suggested, slipping on his sneakers. 

Sam grinned, her arms wrapped tightly around her
brother’s neck as he carried her down the stairs.  She snuggled under his chin.
“I love having my own pack mule,” she commented as they walked along the surf
line.

Michael raised his eyebrow.  “You do?  Well, let’s see
about that.”  He waded in thigh deep and tossed her into the water.

“Hey!  I’m not supposed to get the ring wet yet!” she
shrieked, a wave dunking her.  She stood up, hands on her hips and glaring at
her laughing family.

“Too bad, so sad,” Michael teased.  “You look like a
drowned rat.”

“No, more like a redheaded Yorkshire terrier,” Dr.
Quimby chuckled, holding his hand out to help her out of the water.  She took
it, twisted and sent him flying into the next set of waves.  He scowled,
pulling himself to his feet.  “That was mean, daughter.”

“Comparing me to a yappy dog wasn’t very nice either,
father dear,” Sam remarked as she backed away from his reach.  She caught the
expression on his face; he was not satisfied with the turn of events.  He
lunged and Sam bolted, shrieking as she ran with him hot on her heels.  His
long legs quickly overtook her and he dove to catch her legs and tackle her
onto the sand.  By the time Michael and Scott joined them, the father and
daughter were engaged in a full sparring match, and attracting cheering
onlookers.

“That was a good block, but he turned too far to the
left.  Could have lost balance.  Ooo, nice throw, Dad,” Michael observed,
squatting to watch closely.  He knew his sister's moves, every expression and
every twitch.  He frowned.  She was transitioning into combat mode and was out
to win.  Poor Dad.

“OW!” Dr. Quimby yelled as Sam's foot landed squarely
on his thigh, knocking him backwards.  “Chill out, kid!  We’re sparring, not
trying to kill each other.  HEY!”

He ducked a swing, grabbing at her leg and catching
air.  She was incredibly fast and her small size was deceptive, offering a tiny
target.  Sam dove behind him and caught the back of his knees, knocking him
down before pouncing on his chest with her arm across his throat.  Dr. Quimby
mistakenly believed his size to be an advantage at that point, and flipped her
easily over his head.  He did not anticipate her next move, which left his head
locked between her strong legs.

“Oh shit, that’s her death move.  Okay, you guys, that’s
enough.  Sam won this match,” Michael called, pulling his sister away.  He
brushed her off as Scott helped Dr. Quimby to his feet.

“Good match.  I hate to tell you, buddy, but she
kicked your ass this time.  She could have snapped your neck like a stalk of
celery,” Scott stated, sounding impressed.

“She sure did.  Where did you learn those moves,
little girl?” Dr. Quimby asked, brushing sand off his arms and inspecting his
bruises.  Sam looked completely unaffected except for a slight sand rash on her
chin and being covered with white sand.

“I have a great trainer and sparring partner.  You okay? 
I got you good.”

“You’re lucky I was holding back,” he grumbled.

“You were?  It looked like you were going full force,
Dad,” Michael teased. 

Scott cuffed him on the back of the head, pleased to
hear a yelp.  “Stop messing with his ego.  The old fart already has to face the
fact that he was beat up by a midget.”

“A girl midget,” Michael snickered.

“At least he knows I can take good care of myself. 
Right, Daddy?”

“I would hate to face you in combat, my dear.  I am very
pleased with your progress.”  He sounded proud as he knuckled Michael on top of
the head.

“Good.  Then you have nothing to worry about when I go
on my date tonight.”

Dead silence.

“Oh boy... I thought she already talked to you.” 
Michael eyed his sister, “We’re doubling, Dad.  You’ll get to meet him when he
comes over at 1900.”

“You’re too young.”

Sam rolled her eyes.  “Daddy, I’m 18.  You have got to
stop being so overprotective!  Please!  I’ve never been on a date and Michael
will be there with me the entire time.  We are just going to dinner then
walking around.  I told him he would have to meet you and Scott first.”

“No.  And don't roll your eyes at me.”

“Daddy, please listen.”  She put her arms around his
waist with her chin on his chest, and looked up into his eyes.  “I’m not a baby
anymore.  You need to let me do normal things.  It’s just dinner.  If it was
Major Fox, you wouldn’t have a problem, and he’s OLD.”

“I’ve known Jim for over ten years, Samantha.  He is a
good friend of this family.  I don’t know this kid.”

“He’s not a kid.  He’s 23, and a year older than
Michael,” she said quietly. 

Scott stepped in.  “Absolutely not.  No way.  He is
much too old for you!”

“Do you mind if I ask how old Mom was when she started
going out with Daddy?” the girl asked gently. 

Scott started to bristle.  “I wasn’t happy about that
either, but I trusted your father to be a gentleman with her.”

“Our first unofficial date was when she was 16.  I was
20,” Dr. Quimby said softly.  He looked at Scott.  “Sorry, I lied to you when I
told you we started dating when she was 18.”

“I already knew.  I was okay with it.  Better you than
some loser,” Scott smiled sincerely.  “But this is about Samantha and some
stranger.  It's not just your body, Sam; it's your heart.  Neither of us wants
to see you get hurt.”

“I know, and I love you for it.  But it's something
that could happen and you can't protect me forever.  I promise both of you that
I’ll be careful.  Please, just meet him and if you honestly don’t like him,
then I won’t go.  Deal?” she asked patiently.

“You mean that?” Dr. Quimby asked, stroking her hair. 

She nodded, hugging him tightly.  “Of course, I mean
it.  You will always come before an outsider.  All of you will.”

* * * * *

Dr. Quimby paced the living room as she readied for
her date.  Michael watched him, amused.  “Dad, please try to calm down.  I
promise that I won't let her out of my sight.  And be nice to this guy.  He has
no idea what he’s walking into.  It isn't his fault that her siren song called
to him.”

“If he hurts her, so help me, I'll...”

“You'll love on her until she is ready to try again. 
You are making this more difficult than it has to be.”  Michael scowled, “And
Scott certainly isn't helping.”

“Shut your pie hole, boy,” Scott grumbled back
unhappily.  The doorbell rang at exactly 1900 sharp.  “He’s prompt, that’s a
plus,” Scott muttered as Michael stood to answer the door.

He made quick introductions as hands were shaken
firmly.  “Hey Rich, I’m Michael, Sam’s brother.  Come in, please.  This is our
family.  My father, Dr. Joseph Quimby; and uncle, Dr. Scott Jenkins.”

“Richard Lewis, sirs.  Pleased to meet you. 
Physicians?”

“I am.  Scott is a physicist.  Please have a seat. 
Can I get you a drink?  Beer?  Wine?” Dr. Quimby said, skeptically assessing
him.  Good, firm handshake, direct eye contact.  Rich was taller by a good inch
than the Quimby men, with green eyes and dark brown hair, deeply tanned, broad
shouldered with an athletic build.  His dimples seemed out of place when he
smiled, softening his strong features.  He appeared confident with impeccable
manners, as well.  Dr. Quimby fought not to instantly like him.

“No thank you, sir.  I don’t drink,” Rich said,
accepting the place on the couch. 

Scott leaned back in his recliner.  “Do you smoke?  Do
drugs?  Tell us about yourself, son.”

“No sir, neither of those,” Rich laughed, unbothered
by the inquisitions.  “I…”

“I thought I heard the doorbell.  Hi, Rich!  I’m sorry
I wasn't down here sooner to protect you from my loving family,” Sam stated,
eyeing her parents as she glided gracefully down the staircase.  “Oh, thank
you!  It’s lovely,” she said as Rich handed her the rose he had brought,
greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.  She ignored the comment her father said
to Scott about him getting her orchids.