Finding Home (Montana Born Homecoming Book 2) (7 page)

“Really?” said Samara. “But I thought you didn’t want to.”

Logan took a couple of steps away, then stopped to check his watch, pretending not to hear them.

“Please, Mama, please!” She was dancing from foot to foot, tugging at Samara’s shirt.

“I’ll have to ask Mr. S. Or,” she paused here, as if an idea had just struck her. “Perhaps you could ask him.”

“Mama!” pleaded Jade.

“Quick, I think he’s going!”

Jade made a tortured sound. “Mister S? I changed my mind.”

Logan figured that’s as close as they were going to get, but he couldn’t resist playing it out.

“Did you say something, Samara?”

“Me!” said Jade, stamping her foot. “I changed my mind.”

“So,” said Logan. “Are you saying that you and Bob and your mom would like to come to the park with me, after all?”

“Yes. Yes!” Jade groaned. “Mama?”

Logan grinned. “It’s up to you, Mama.”

Jade sent pleading eyes up to her mother.

“All right, honey, we’ll go.”

Jade jumped and down, then threw herself against Samara’s knees. “Yay!”

“Thank you,” mouthed Samara, while her daughter squeezed so tightly, her little face turned red.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured back.

If this playground wasn’t up to Jade’s standards, he’d drive them to Livingston. Hell, he’d drive them to Billings if he had to.

Whatever it took to keep that smile on Samara’s face.

*

The community park
was a stone’s throw from the elementary school Jade would be attending as soon as they were settled.

She should be there now, but Samara couldn’t add that to Jade’s already overloaded life. Soon.

Though from the look of it, Jade might be more prepared than Samara gave her credit for.

With her mother’s permission, she’d unclipped Bob’s leash, and the two of them had raced across the park, straight to the playground equipment, birds and squirrels dashing away at the commotion.

What was taking Logan, she wondered? They’d each taken their own cars; had he made a stop on the way?

There he was and yes, he was carrying a box in his hands.

“I stopped at the deli,” he called. “I hope you still like Reuben sandwiches. I got ham and cheese for the rug-rat.”

He sat down at the picnic table beside her, where they could both see Jade and Bob.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Samara. She opened the box. He’d gotten more than sandwiches; pickles, potato chips, bottles of iced tea, three chocolate cupcakes, he’d even thrown in some roast beef slices for the dog.

“I wanted to,” said Logan. “Mustard?”

She shook her head, took a bite of her Reuben and nearly moaned.

“Good?” asked Logan hopefully.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Better than good. The sauerkraut was crunchy but not overpowering, the meat was thinly sliced, but thickly layered, the Swiss cheese soft but not gooey.

She glanced up and caught him contemplating her, a strange expression on his face.

“They certainly know how to slap a sandwich together,” he said, turning away.

But she’d seen it, a mixture of longing and desire and fascination that left him mystified, uncertain. She recognized it because it was the same expression she’d seen on his face in algebra class, the day he’d first spoken to her.

The memory was clear as a photograph.

Logan Stafford, captain of the football team, student council representative, handsome, popular, smart and talented, didn’t know what to make of her. Couldn’t talk to her, not for days, but couldn’t quit watching her either.

“Delicious,” she said.

He looked back at her sharply, as if he’d heard more than she intended. Samara reached for her drink, but in her haste, bumped it, spilling it on the table.

“Here, let me,” said Logan, grabbing some paper napkins.

“I’m so sorry,” said Samara, feeling her face flame. Together they patted the weathered boards dry without getting drenched in the process.

Somehow, after, they seemed to be sitting a lot closer than they’d been before.

‡

B
efore coming down
from her room Monday morning, Samara had an interruption-filled but ultimately successful conversation with A-1 Movers. She clicked off her cell, feeling that maybe, just maybe, things would work out after all.

And hungry.

That wonderful al fresco lunch with Logan had apparently turned her appetite back on. The food had been so good; the company so easy.

As she walked through the bathroom to Jade’s room, the smell of bacon wafted up faintly from the kitchen below and sent her stomach rumbling even more.

She pulled a still-clean top from the diminishing pile in Jade’s suitcase and held it briefly to her nose.

If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the sunshiny-fresh scent of Logan’s clean church shirt, and see the tanned skin of his forearms, where the sleeves were rolled up.

When they sat side by side at the picnic table eating their sandwiches, and his bare arms occasionally brushed against hers, he may as well have had her stretched out naked under the afternoon sky, for the effect it had on her body.

“Mama, I’m cold.”

Jade had taken her pajamas off and was waiting impatiently for the clothes Samara was day-dreaming over.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she said, hastily completing the task.

When they got to the kitchen, Eliza was tending a sizzling pan at the stove.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “I’ve got scrambled eggs in the warming oven and the bacon’s on the way.”

Mabel sat at the small table, doing her crossword in a patch of sunshine. “Samara, you look like the cat that ate the canary.”

“My delivery date’s been extended.” Samara smiled as she fixed Jade’s breakfast, eggs in the center, toast cut diagonally, framing but not touching the eggs. “Turns out they had a breakdown or something; my things won’t be here until Wednesday, the twenty-fourth. We’ll need to stay here a little longer; I hope that won’t be a problem.”

Eliza set the platter of bacon in the sideboard. “That’s wonderful news, Samara; you must be so relieved. Of course you can keep the rooms. If you haven’t noticed, you’re our only booking. Besides, we’re enjoying the company.”

Mabel lifted her eyebrows but didn’t speak.

Jade took the plate Samara handed her and set it on the table next to Mabel. Then she dragged the chair a little closer and climbed up, settling in for her breakfast.

“Bob is my dog,” she informed her tablemate. “She is part Labrador Retriever, part Border Collie.”

“Yes, Jade,” said Mabel. “So you’ve said.”

Jade observed her meal for a moment, then made a minute adjustment, lining the bacon up with the toast points.

“Aunt Mabel, are you mad at Bob?” she asked, without lifting her head.

A wave of discomfort rippled over Mabel’s face. “Don’t be silly. Your dog is… quiet. And she seems devoted to you. I have no quarrel with her.”

“Mama says she is part luck-of-the-draw. That means she doesn’t have a family. Like me.”

The room went silent, except for the sound of Jade’s utensils on her plate. Jade’s matter-of-fact words cut Samara to the heart. With the Kims in Asia, her dad gone and her mom busy with her new husband, it was the two of them, that’s it.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, and got a slice of toast. The bacon and eggs had lost their appeal.

“Everyone has a family,” said Mabel, her voice rough.

“We don’t.” Samara spoke briskly. “Jade, sweetie, finish your breakfast.”

Mabel waved away Samara’s words as if irritated by the interruption. “Jade, tell me something else about, er, Bob.”

Jade glanced at her mother with a frown, but not like she was becoming agitated. More like, she was… intrigued.

Some strange magic was brewing here.

“You could tell Aunt Mabel how old she is,” suggested Samara.

Jade’s expression cleared. “Bob is five years old. I’m four years old.”

“We established that upon your arrival,” said Mabel with a scowl. “What activities does your Bob enjoy?”

Jade thought for a moment. “She likes to eat and she likes to chase squirrels and she likes it when I rub her belly. She likes car rides.”

“Does she like to play with other children?”

Jade thought again. “Other children?”

Guilt twisted Samara’s gut again. Their post-Michael socializing had shrunk to the grocery store and the doctor’s office. When she could bear to re-join the happy wives and nannies at playground, the ranks had closed around them, as if their tragedy was contagious. Any play-dates she managed to arrange for Jade weren’t reciprocated. Not that they’d been wildly successful beforehand.

“Does Bob like other people?” Mabel repeated. “Friends or playmates or neighbors, perhaps.”

“She likes Mama,” said Jade. “She likes Mr. S. And lookit – she likes you too!”

Bob leaned against Mabel’s chair, staring up at the woman in adoration.

The old lady had put a spell on both of them.

“Jade, eat your eggs. We need to leave soon.”

Mabel arched an eyebrow at the expression on Samara’s face. “Don’t rush us. We’re having a lovely conversation, the tadpole and I.”

“I’m a
chipmunk
,” said Jade, around a mouthful of eggs.

“You’re a tadpole with me.” Aunt Mabel went back to her crossword without looking at Jade and Jade continued eating, her gaze stuck on the food in front of her.

“Perhaps the tadpole might help me sort through some pictures today,” said Aunt Mabel casually. “If you can spare her, that is.”

“Pictures?” said Jade.

Sam thought of the mess that still remained in her kitchen. She desperately wanted to get working. Her extra time was a welcome reprieve, but they still needed every possible minute.

But she hated to leave Jade.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“I have pictures,” said Jade. She scrambled down from her chair and ran to fetch them from her room.

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” said Samara quickly.

“You didn’t ask.”

“She’s not like most children.”

Mabel sniffed again. “Most children are irritating. Leave her here. It will be good for the child. And I need a break from Eliza’s relentless toadying.”

“My pictures are of dogs,” said Jade, breathlessly. She opened up the flashcard box and spread out her collection. “Labrador Retrievers and Border Collies are my favorites.”

“Do you want to stay with Aunt Mabel, honey?”

Jade hesitated. “I want to put my pictures in piles.”

“The tadpole will be fine,” said Aunt Mabel.

“I’m a chipmunk. Bye Mama.”

So Samara left.

*

The students were
in the kitchen with the tradesmen, getting a lecture on proper grout sealant, when Logan saw Sam slip in the front door.

Blue jeans emphasized her long, lean legs and the simple t-shirt hugged her curves just right.

He’d have to be careful to keep an eye on the horn dogs in his group.

“You’re an early bird,” he said. For the first time since her return, she appeared relaxed. “Where’s the chipmunk?”

Sam’s smile lit up his insides, like turning on a light in an abandoned basement.