Her Sister's Shoes (2 page)

A cool breeze tickled Sam’s skin, raising the hairs on her arm. She untied the sweater from around her waist, slipped it on, and headed for the parking lot. She hopped in her red Jeep Wrangler, buckled her seat belt, and turned up the volume on the classic rock station. She was waiting for a break in the traffic to make a right-hand turn onto Creekside Drive when a silver Audi convertible, with vanity plates DR HART, blew by her headed in the opposite direction. She recognized the handsome driver as her brother-in-law, the illustrious cardiologist, but the female passenger in the pink scarf with the hot-pink lips was definitely not her sister. Not only was it logistically impossible, considering Jackie had left the market only ten minutes ago, but her sister would never be caught dead in any shade of pink.

The traffic cleared, miraculously, like the parting of the Red Sea, and Sam whipped into the lane behind the Audi, following them through town at a discreet distance. She wracked her brain as to why her brother-in-law was driving around town with a beautiful woman riding shotgun. The woman was wearing a sundress and not a uniform, which ruled out the likelihood that he was giving one of his nurses a ride home. Maybe she was a patient, although that seemed unlikely since the glamour girl superglued to Bill’s right arm was no damsel in distress. She was too old to be a student intern and too young to be one of those volunteers from the women’s auxiliary at church who looked for local professionals to donate their services to the needy.

Jackie had never given Sam any reason to believe her marriage was anything less than perfect. Then again, Sam and Jackie didn’t confide in each other the way most sisters did. From Sam’s perspective, they appeared the perfect couple—Bill the doting husband and Jackie the devoted wife.

Three or four miles on the outskirts of town, Bill made a sudden, sharp right turn into Water’s Edge, a new community of three- and four-story houses built on pilings on tiny parcels of land. After several blocks, he pulled into a driveway and screeched to a halt with the familiarity of a well-traveled path.

Sam eased up to the curb alongside the house next door, hopped out of the Wrangler, and crept up to the giant magnolia tree that separated the properties. She peered through the branches and watched her brother-in-law help his passenger from the car. To Sam’s dismay, Bill kissed the woman passionately, in the middle of the driveway for the entire world to see. The woman then pulled away and led him by the hand around the back of the house.

Sam made her way over to Bill’s convertible. When she noticed the keys in the ignition, she entertained the idea of driving off in his car. She would love to see his face when he discovered his most prized possession missing. She imagined him pacing up and down the driveway, ranting and raving to the police when he called to report it stolen.

Sam collapsed against the hood of the car. She didn’t see Bill as the cheating type. She’d never felt especially close to him, and, aside from family occasions, their paths had rarely crossed socially. Not that Sam even had much of a social life. But Bill had always been supportive of her son. He took Jamie hunting and fishing on a regular basis and he came to as many of his sporting events as he could manage with his busy schedule. He was the best kind of father to Cooper and Sean, and they worshipped him in return. A divorce would devastate them.

Sam stared at her watch, counting the minutes as they ticked away toward party time. The idea of barging in on the couple in bed, with Bill’s mistress pulling the sheets up to cover her naked body, held no appeal for Sam. But she couldn’t leave until she had a chance to confront the cheating bastard.

Five minutes later, Bill emerged from the house alone. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sam leaning against his car.

“She doesn’t look sick, so I’m guessing she’s not your patient. Should I assume she’s one of your nurses? She appeared skilled in giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

Bill smiled at Sam, the warm smile she imagined he used when delivering bad news to his patients. “She’s actually the widow of one of my patients.”

Sam stared at him, mouth agape.

“Is there any chance I can convince you to keep this between the two of us?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

Sam pushed herself off the car and stood face to face with him. “You’re kidding, right?”

He held her gaze. “Actually, I’m not.”

“If you wanted to keep your little love affair a secret, why were you flaunting your glamour girl through the middle of town like a beauty queen in the Fourth of July parade?”

His shoulders sagged. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You were thinking, all right. Just not with the head on your shoulders. Are you going to tell my sister or should I?”

He slumped back against the car. “I should be the one to tell her. Although I think I should wait until after the party tonight.”

“That’s awfully big of you, considering it’s her fiftieth birthday and she’s been planning this party for months.”

“You never have liked me much, have you, Sam?”

She smacked him on the back. “Don’t take it personally, Bill. Aside from my father and Captain Mack, I’ve never met a man I could trust.”

Two

Samantha

B
y
the time
she arrived at the office complex at the hospital, Sam was nearly thirty minutes late to pick up her son. She slid into the closest handicapped-parking place and ran inside. She found Jamie waiting in the lobby, hun
ched over
in his wheelchair, watching a baseball game on
ESPN.

“You’re late,” he said, his eyes glued to the television.

She bent down to kiss the top of his dark head. “I know, honey. I’m sorry. Something important came
up.”

“Moses wants to see you. He’s waiting for you in his
office.”

Sam glanced at her watch. They were due at Jackie’s in an hour. “Okay. Wait here and I’ll be right
back.”

“Seriously? Like, where else would I go?”

Sam dashed down the hall to the physical therapist’s office and burst in without knock
ing. “I’m so sorry, Moses. I had a family emergency.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.” He came from behind his desk to greet her. He towered over her as he took her hand in his. Although she’d gotten to know the therapist well over the past six months, Moses’s size always amazed her. Jamie referred to the framed articles on the walls and the trophies lining the shelves as his shrine, a tribute to his time playing tight end for the Georgia
Bulldogs.

Sam let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Revealing family secrets was not in her nature, but Moses had proven his trustworthiness many times. “I caught my brother-in-law Bill in a rather embarrassing situation this
afternoon.”

Moses’s chocolate-brown eyes grew large. “Uncle Bill, the brother-in-law who’s married to the sister with the twins?”

“Exactly. Cooper and
Sean.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, shaking his
head.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I thought you should have a heads-up about the situation. The last thing Jamie needs right now is more drama, but considering his close relationship with the twins, he’s likely to get mixed up in the fallout from the
divorce.”

“Calm down, Sam. You’re snapping the ball before the quarterback calls the play. Millions of men and women have extramarital affairs. Not all of them end in divorce. Hopefully, for the twins’ sake, your sister and her husband can work out their
problems.”

Sam paused, letting that thought sink in. She couldn’t imagine Jackie letting Bill off the hook for something as big as an affair, but she’d given up on second-guessing her older sister a long time ago. “Maybe you’re
right.”

Moses took Sam by the elbow and guided her to the door. “I have to meet another patient in a few minutes. Do you have time to walk with me to the recreation room? I’d like to talk to you about Jamie’s progress.”

“Of course.” Sam followed him out of the office and into the
hall.

“I spoke with Jamie’s neurologist this afternoon about his recent MRI. Apparently Dr. Mitchell has been trying to reach
you.”

Sam increased her pace to keep up with Moses’s long legs. “We’ve been playing phone tag for the last few days. Did Mitchell have good news?”

“Good and bad,” Moses said. “I’ll give you the good first. The MRI showed the bone has healed and the swelling is
gone.”

“And the bad
news?”

“The obvious. Jamie should be walking by now and he’s not.” Moses took her elbow and drew her to a halt. “Your son’s problem is no longer physical, Sam. Dr. Mitchell believes, and I am in agreement, that his paralysis has become
psychosomatic.”

“Yo, Mo!” A bald-headed man, his muscles bulging from his navy scrub top, approached them. “Can I have a quick word with you about a patient?” He pulled Moses aside, leaving Sam to stand alone in the hallway.

The prognosis for Jamie’s recovery had always been good. A team of doctors at MUSC had inserted a rod and repaired the damage to his lower spinal cord, an injury sustained in an ATV accident at his best friend’s house. But that was five months ago, and Jamie had yet to take his first
step.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Moses rejoined her and they started walking again, in the direction of the lobby. “As I was saying. I know Jamie had several sessions with a psychiatrist on staff while he was in the hospital. Has he seen anyone since
then?”

“No. He refuses to talk about the accident. He says it only makes things
worse.”

“And I empathize with him,” Moses said. “What your son experienced would be tough for anyone to handle, especially an eighteen-year-old kid. Jamie is a very angry boy, Sam. He is grieving and he is carrying a load of guilt. He has hit a wall. I’m afraid he won’t walk again until his heart gives his body permission to do
so.”

None of this was news to Sam. Her hope was that time would heal all her son’s wounds, both physical and emotional. “What can I do to help him?”

Moses handed her a business
card.

Sam read the card. “Dr. Patrice Baker, MD, Psychiatrist.”

“Patrice is a close friend of my older sister’s. She’s helped many of my clients
before.”

She dropped the card in her handbag. “I trust you, Moses. I’m willing to give her a chance. I only hope I can convince Jamie to do the same.”

When Sam returned to the waiting room,
she saw Jamie deep in conversation with a police officer. Panic gripped her chest as she approached them. “Is my son in some kind of trouble, Officer?”

Jamie’s head jerked up, surprised to see his mother standing over them. “Right, Mom. What could I possibly have done wrong, drive my wheelchair over th
e speed
limit?”

The officer chuckled. “That’s a good one, speed limit for a wheelchair. I’ll have to remember that.” He stood to greet Sam and offered his hand. “I’m Eli Marshall. Your son and I have just been discussing batting averages. I’m impressed with his
knowledge.”

Sergeant Marshall, according to his name badge, was about the same size as Jamie, medium height and stocky build. Judging by the crow’s feet around his eyes and the dark curly hair graying at his temples, Sam guessed him to be in his midforties.

She accepted his callused hand, a workingman’s hand. “Sam Sweeney. Nice to meet you.”

“Jamie was telling me about his recent trip to Turner
Field.”

Sam followed the officer’s eyes to the television. “Aha. The Atlanta Braves. Jamie’s uncle was good enough to invite him along when he took his boys to Atlanta last summer,” she said, reminded of Bill’s more generous qualities. “But did Jamie also tell you his true devotion lies with the Red
Sox?”

Eli smiled. “He may have mentioned that.”

Sam ignored her son’s glare. “I bet Jamie didn’t tell you he’s been offered a scholarship to play shortstop for USC.”

Eli’s gray eyes grew wide. “Wow! The Gamecocks are huge. Congratulations.”

“That’s all in the past, Mom. The sooner you realize that, the
better.”

“Baseball is your future, Jamie. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll get out of that wheelchair.”

Eli placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I don’t know what your situation is, buddy, but never give up on your dreams no matter how many bumps in the road you encounter. Trust what you feel in your heart and everything else will work
out.”

“That’s the problem,” Jamie said under his breath. “I don’t feel anything in my heart anymore.” He spun his chair around, and wheeled toward the door.

Sam watched him go,
and then turned to Eli. “I apologize for my son’s rudeness. He’s really not himself these days.”

Eli held up his hand. “No apology necessary. He’s a good kid with a lot on his
mind.”

Sam shook the officer’s hand again before following Jamie to the parking lot. When she caught up with him, Jamie was struggling to hoist himself up into the Wrangler. Refusing her help, he managed to lift his body onto the passenger seat. She folded the wheelchair and stowed it away on the special rack she’d had installed on the back of the
Jeep.

“You were pretty rude to that policeman,” she said, climbing into her seat. “I know you’re hurting, but you have to at least try. Having a positive attitude is the most important thing toward your
recovery.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can we please not start this again?”

Sam knew she sounded like a nag, but she had no idea how else to reach her son. She held three fingers up Boy Scout-style. “I promise. No negative talk tonight. We have a party to go to.” She started the car and weaved her way out of the parking lot.

She thought about the long night ahead of her, of being forced to watch Bill make nice to her sister for the sake of the party. She would have to be careful not to let the secret slip to her sister and her mother. If only she had her son back to confide in. Sam missed their camaraderie, but mostly, she missed his humor. The old Jamie had always taken a light-hearted approach to life’s difficulties. But there’s nothing funny about being confined to a wheelchair. And no place for humor when you are mourning the loss of your best friend.

“Did you get a chance to enjoy the nice weather today?” Sam asked.

His eyebrows shot up. “Since when is hundred-degree heat nice weather? I took your suggestion and wheeled my way over for my appointment this afternoon. I was dripping with sweat when I got there.” He lifted his arm and smelled his armpit. “I smell like
shit.”

“Come on, Jamie. It couldn’t have been that bad. The hospital is only five blocks from our house, downhill all the
way.”

“I’d like to see you try
it.”

Sam waited for the traffic to clear before turning right onto Main Street. “I’m sorry, honey. I wanted you to see that you can still have some independence. Prospect is a small town. You can wheel yourself over to a friend’s house who can drive you places. My schedule is going to be busy after the market reopens this weekend. I’m not always going to be around to take you where you need to go.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Mom. I’m fine at home. I just want to be left
alone.”

“Staying cooped up at home in front of the Xbox is not good for you. You should be out and about, enjoying your
summer.”

A group of Jamie’s friends from school pulled up next to them at a red light. The driver motioned for him to roll down his window, but Jamie ignored him. The boy shouted at Jamie through the closed window, “Beach Week wasn’t the same without you, dude.”

Sam felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Jamie had never mentioned going to Beach Week.

The light turned green and Jamie flashed his friends the peace sign before they sped off.

Mother and son rode the rest of the way home in silence.

Fifteen years ago, Sam bought her little yellow cottage from Captain Mack when his wife died after a long battle with breast cancer. He couldn’t stand to live in the house surrounded by all the memories of the good times they’d shared. Without children to consider, Mack made Sam an offer she couldn’t refuse,
and moved to the old houseboat he kept on a wooded property he owned. The property was on the inlet outside of town.

Built in the early 1940s, the cozy one-story Cape Cod offered everything a mother and her young son needed—front porch and back deck, three bedrooms and two baths, sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. The fenced-in yard had given Jamie plenty of room to run around in when he was little, and the detached garage had provided storage space for all his hunting and sporting equipment as he got older.