Prelude: Prequel to The Lewis Legacy Series (18 page)

“I’m listening, Captain Lewis,” Sarah said, assuming a professional tone. “Talk to me, please.” Her pulse raced, and a sense of foreboding swept through her.

“I feel like I’m back in high school even talking about this.” Sam shifted on the seat. “Here’s the thing. Sylvie invited me to meet her parents. But then she said, ‘Only if you want. Absolutely no rush and no pressure from me.’”

Sarah was rendered momentarily speechless. Tears stung her eyes. How his words disappointed her. All she wanted was to run away and hide and ponder the reasons why later. For now, she needed to keep talking or she’d burst out in tears. Then she’d be the one acting like she was in high school. When Sam drummed his fingers on the tabletop again, she put her hand over his, stilling them.

This is what you encouraged him to do, you silly girl. You tossed out the name of every eligible woman in town and told him he should be dating. What did you expect?

“Meeting the parents is a big step,” she managed to say. Needing something to do with her hands, she grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table and smoothed her fingers over the edges. “Sounds like you two are getting serious.”

“That’s the thing.” Sam’s tone sounded agitated. “We only had that one date for the dance at Harbison’s. I picked her up, we talked a little, ate a little, danced a little, and then I drove her home. End of story, as you’d say. Unless things have changed on the dating scene since I’ve been away, I think that’s moving way too fast.” He sat back in the booth, shaking his head. “What happened to old-fashioned courting?”

“No kiss on the doorstep?” She couldn’t look at him and didn’t know where she’d garnered the nerve to ask the question.

“What if I say yes?”

Sarah stopped fingering the edges of the napkin and resisted the urge to ball it in her hand and throw it at him.

“I’ve always heard a girl doesn’t invite a guy to meet her parents unless she thinks the relationship is going somewhere,” he said. “Why would Sylvie push for something like that so soon? And no, I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t even come close. Thanks for caring. I figured you could help me out here and lend the female perspective.”

“One date or not, it sounds to me like Sylvie wants the two of you to be exclusive,” she said slowly, her mind racing. “Her invitation confirms that. But this is the key as I see it: Sylvie doesn’t want you to think she’s being pushy or demanding.” Sarah ran her finger over the edge of the napkin, back and forth several times. Reaching for her, Sam covered her fingers until she stopped and put the napkin on the table.

They sat in silence as Sam appeared to consider her words. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re saying Sylvie wants to be serious, but she’s also giving me an ‘out’ of the relationship?” He shook his head. “It’s crazy to even call it a relationship. So, no matter what happens, she’s going to make it seem like it’s
my
idea?”

“You’re not as dense as you might believe, Captain Lewis. I didn’t think you paid attention to such things. However”—she smoothed the napkin on the table top, ruing how her voice wavered—“it would seem you actually catch on pretty quick.” The guy could fly a jet, but he couldn’t understand women. To be fair, he’d admitted as much. Well, they were even since she couldn’t understand men.

“I, um, need to get back to work now.” Tucking the napkin in her pocket, Sarah rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. Why did Sam’s words bother her so much?

Because you don’t want Sam dating Sylvie or anyone else, you fickle girl.

“Oh, be quiet,” she mumbled under her breath, hoping he hadn’t heard. Wonderful. Now she was talking to herself. Out loud.

“Sarah?”

She halted. What now? Turning around slowly, she pasted a smile on her face.

Sam rose to his feet and pulled out a piece of paper from the green folder. Her eyes widened as he handed it to her. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” She dared not look at what she held until he’d left the diner.

He stepped abreast of her and lightly rested his warm hand on her forearm. His touch electrified her, and she could barely breathe.

Leaning close, his lips next to her temple, he whispered for her ears only. “Something to show you that I pay attention.” With a quick tweak to her chin, Sam turned and strolled toward the front door without another word.

Frozen in place, Sarah couldn’t move until she heard the bell jingle. She waited until he walked past the front window before glancing at the paper. She stared at a drawing of her with Perry Sellers in the diner. Rendered in pencil, the likenesses were amazingly lifelike. The definition in the lines on the elderly man’s face, the shading of her hair, and the nuances in her facial features were exquisite.

Had Sam drawn this? He’d even added the heart-shaped mole on her neck. Her hand moved to her neck and, lost in thought, Sarah absently ran her finger over it. Even the faint scar over her left eyebrow—courtesy of a wayward softball many years ago—was visible in the drawing. She brought it even closer, inspecting it. In the right bottom corner were the initials, SJL. Yes, Sam must be the artist.

As if in a daze, Sarah collected Sam’s money from the table. She shook her head when she saw the large tip he’d left. More than his usual excess. This time, it was positively obscene.

Debbie had already left the diner, and Sarah walked slowly toward the front counter. Leaning against it, she studied the drawing some more. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at it but knew she needed to store it somewhere safe, away from food, steam, liquid and anything else that could possibly stain or hurt it. Maybe she should have asked Sam for the folder to protect it. At least this solved the mystery of that green folder. Never would she have guessed this was what Sam had been working on while he watched her.

A few minutes later, Tess slid onto a counter seat. “What do you have there?” When she stretched out her hand, Sarah handed it over. She was somewhat in shock, not sure what to think about the beautiful drawing. Without a doubt, she’d treasure it.

“My, my. This is really good. Who’s the talented artist?”

Sarah met her sister’s eyes. “Sam.”

Tess visibly blanched. “Sam Lewis?”

When she gave her a look, Tess lowered the drawing onto the countertop. “Come to think of it, he did take art classes in school. I just don’t remember ever seeing his work before, though.” She shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “Seems Sam has some hidden talents, huh? Who knew?”

Sarah certainly hadn’t known. Guilt stung her conscience. Was she supposed to read something into the reasons he’d made this drawing? Sam’s words came back to her.
To show you that I pay attention.
Maybe he’d made a drawing of Tess, too. Or any number of girls in town.

No, Sarah, he probably hasn’t.

She snapped to attention when the bell on the front door rang and some of the high school kids walked inside the diner. A glance at the clock confirmed it was already three o’clock. Where had the day gone? “Want a chocolate shake?”

“No more shakes.” Tess shook her head. “I need to shed a few pounds. Just give me a cup of black coffee, if it’s fresh.”

“It is. Myrna made it ten minutes ago.” She pulled a mug from the rack on the wall and poured the steaming brew before carefully placing the cup in front of Tess. After storing the drawing carefully beneath the counter, Sarah turned back around, not bothering to hide her frown. “Tess, I think Sam’s mad at me.”

“Why would that be?” Tess lifted her coffee cup and took a tentative sip.

“I have no idea.”

Tess shrugged. “Maybe he had a disagreement with Sylvie or something.”

“Or something,” Sarah murmured.

Tess leveled her gaze on Sarah as she took a longer sip of her coffee. “Like I said before, military service changes a man. We can’t know what he’s done, what he’s seen.”

Sarah swallowed. “What are you saying?”

Tess lowered her cup. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Do you know something?” Sarah parked one hand on her hip.

“No, no.” Tess said, waving her hand. “Nothing like that.”

“Sam’s one of the strongest Christians I know.” Sarah leaned across the counter so as not to be overheard by any big ears around them. “We’ve never heard rumors about him the way we have about other boys in town.”

“True enough, Sarah, but Sam Lewis is quite obviously. . .no longer a boy.” Tess arched a brow, and her expression was full of meaning. “Men have passions, desires. Even strong Christian men.”

Sarah’s spine stiffened. “If that’s the case, then he needs to get married, sooner rather than later.” Do some cleaving of his own. That thought shot straight to her heart.

Tess smiled and her gaze lingered on the drawing. “Oh, I think he’s working toward that end, little sister.”

♥

Wednesday Afternoon—May 30, 1962

The moment he walked into Perry’s, Sam sensed something was wrong with Sarah. At the very least, she was bothered. If it wasn’t her creased forehead or the way she moved as if in a trance, the way she asked him to repeat his lunch order was a dead giveaway. The spark wasn’t in those lovely brown eyes, and he missed it. She didn’t call out greetings to the customers the way she always did when she moved among tables. Even old Perry Sellers followed her with his eyes, his shoulders slumped.

Sam caught her hand as Sarah finally worked her way back to his table. “What’s wrong?”

She stared at their joined hands for a moment before slowly withdrawing from his grasp. “Nothing.” Sarah wasn’t the type of person to say that particular word.
Nothing
was a non-answer if ever he’d heard one.

“I don’t believe you.”

She visibly tensed. “Fine. Then don’t believe me. What would you like to order today?” After nodding when he gave her his order of a cup of white chili and a chicken fried steak sandwich, Sarah departed, leaving him to stare after her. The remainder of his meal, she only came near his table when necessary—to refill his iced tea, to ask if he wanted a slice of pie, to give him his ticket. Pushing the issue wouldn’t help. He’d have to wait it out. He only hoped she understood he wanted to help her if he could.

When Debbie Harrison came into the bank late in the afternoon, Sam spied her from his office. Tired of poring over charts and reports, he tossed down his pencil and rose to his feet. Strolling into the bank lobby, he walked over to the teller windows with the pretense of making sure they were preparing to close their stations and completing the necessary daily reports.

“Hi, Sam.”

He turned, pleased that Debbie called to him first. “Debbie. How are you?” As he walked across the lobby toward her, he schooled his features into a neutral expression. The light streaming through the windows highlighted the faint red highlights in her now natural hair color. He’s seen it all since his return to Rockbridge—deep blue streaks in her hair and that crazy red, shellacked hairdo she’d sported when he first moved back home. Arnie must be relieved. Ditto her normal looking eyebrows that had suddenly reappeared. He’d ignore the miniskirt she wore that could use a few more inches in length. He wouldn’t mind seeing Sarah in one of them, although she probably wouldn’t think of wearing one. Even if she did, her mother would bar the door and prevent her from leaving the house.

Focus, man.

“I’m just peachy,” Debbie said, recapturing his attention. “Did Sarah tell you my news?” She held out her left hand adorned with a fairly large diamond engagement ring, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. He had to love this girl’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, and I’m very happy for you both. Arnie’s a blessed man.” Genuinely pleased, Sam gave her a quick hug. “So, when’s the big day?” He knew better than to say anything about how long she’d waited for Arnie to pop the question. Neither would he let on that Sarah had already given him the basic details of the wedding. Never one to stand on ceremony, Debbie might have been the one to fall on her knees and do the proposing. Wouldn’t surprise him a bit.

“We’re not having a big wedding. Just a private ceremony at City Hall with the Justice of the Peace. Friday the 15th at three o’clock.” She shrugged. “We’re putting our money into a honeymoon trip to the Grand Canyon, and then we’ll have a reception here in town later on.”

“I see. If you need to open joint bank accounts, we’ll be glad to open those up for you.”

“Thanks. Arnie’s taking care of the financial stuff, so I’ll tell him. I only came to deposit my paycheck. Well, I guess I’ll see you later.” She turned to go.

“Debbie, have you seen Sarah today?” This girl was one of Sarah’s closest friends. If anyone knew what was wrong, Debbie should.

“Earlier when I stopped in at Perry’s for my break, like always.”

“Did she seem out of sorts to you?”

Debbie lowered her gaze. When she chewed on her lower lip, it was a dead giveaway.

“I care about her and want to help her, but she won’t tell me anything. She wasn’t herself when I went in for lunch.” Sam pinned her with what he hoped was his most earnest gaze.

Jerking her gaze away from his, Debbie glanced around the bank—everywhere but at him—before stepping closer. “Can we go somewhere private to talk?”

“Sure. Let’s go into my office.” He motioned for her to go first and then followed her inside.

She didn’t sit in the chair opposite his desk but fidgeted beside it, holding onto her handbag. “Sarah will kill me if she finds out I told you.”

“I’m not asking you to divulge any secrets. If it’s something you don’t think I should know, then you have every right not to tell me.”

Debbie gave him a small grin. “You’re so proper. Formal without being stuffy. You’re a lot like that Atticus Finch character in the book she likes so much.”

Pleased by that comment, Sam smiled and indicated the chair. “Please. Have a seat. For the record, I don’t close my office door when I have a woman of any age, married or not, in here with me.”

“As it should be, and that only reinforces my point. You’re a true gentleman, Sam. Don’t mind if I do.” Debbie dropped into the chair, settling the handbag on her lap. “First off, you should know that Randy Sweet is Arnie’s best man. I’ve asked Sarah to stand up with me, and Randy will be there for Arnie. They’ve been friends forever, since they were little boys.”

Sam nodded, wondering why Debbie felt the need to divulge this information. “I know Sarah and Randy are friends.” He took the chair across from her.

“I think Randy still believes something might happen with Sarah. He’s held out hope for her for years. Poor man can’t seem to get it through his thick skull that she’s not interested. Although. . .” Chewing on her lower lip again, Debbie dropped her gaze to her lap.

“Although?” he prompted.

“Things might be changing with Sarah. That’s why she’s upset. Not that it would change how she feels about Randy.”

Sam shifted in his chair, tempted to blurt out his question again. He liked straight talk, not skirting around the truth. Another reason he didn’t like Sarah’s “nothing” non-answer. Especially when that word came from a woman—in response to a man asking what was wrong—guaranteed, things were
not
okay.

Debbie’s shoulders lifted and then lowered as she drew in a deep breath. “Sarah was supposed to get scholarship money from the nursing school, but they’re going to withdraw the offer if she can’t enroll by the end of June. She got a letter. The school needs to award the money to other students if she’s not enrolled for the fall semester.”

Sam’s eyes widened. Sarah hadn’t told him about scholarship money, but that made perfect sense. “She can reapply again in the future, right?”

“As far as I know.”

Leaning forward, Sam rested his arms on his thighs. “Do you know the amount of the scholarship?”

“I’m not sure, but apparently enough to make her feel like she’ll never get to go. She was depending on that money.” Debbie’s hazel eyes met his. “You know Sarah. She’ll bounce back from this, but right now she believes she’ll be here in Rockbridge forever.”

Sam nodded. “I appreciate your confidence in telling me.”

Debbie rose from the chair. “Sam, if Sarah has to stay in Rockbridge, I don’t think it’s the death sentence she used to think it’d be. In the past few weeks—more specifically since the twenty-fourth of April, I’d say she’s pretty much had the time of her life.”

Seemed his mother wasn’t the only woman who’d perfected that knowing look. The same look Debbie gave him now. “So have I, Debbie.” He walked her to the door. “Thanks for being such a good friend to Sarah, and congratulations again on your upcoming marriage. Like I said, Arnie’s a blessed man.”

“Thank you.” Quickly lifting on her toes, Debbie planted a quick kiss on his cheek before patting his arm. “Now it’s your
turn, Atticus. Time to put your brilliant defense into action.” She giggled. “You two are next, you know.”

Chuckling as she departed, Sam rubbed a hand over his chin. No wonder Sarah liked this woman so much.

Not two minutes later, he heard female voices engaged in a spirited debate. Sam walked to the door of his office and almost collided with Kathy Parker as she came around the corner. Oh joy. He had the feeling his day was about to go south fast. Dressed to kill, the girl must have bathed in enough perfume to suck the oxygen from, and asphyxiate, a person.

“Hello, Miss Parker. Do we have an appointment?”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “No, but I’d like a word with you, Captain Lewis.”

This woman suffered from a sense of inflated entitlement and always had. Perhaps he should tell her he had an appointment, but that wouldn’t be true. He might as well hear her out now. Hopefully, she’d have her say and that’d be the end of it.

“Of course. Come into my office.”

“Sam, why are you paying attention to that little waitress from Perry’s?”

He flinched since she’d raised her voice. Kathy had been the head cheerleader in high school and, as such, had learned how to project her voice. She couldn’t wait until they went inside for some privacy?

“As I said, let’s come inside my office so we can discuss this without an audience.” Several bank customers eyed them and the tellers tried to appear busy, but they weren’t fooling him. Stepping aside, Sam motioned for her to go into the office.

“I’m coming, too.” Debbie gave him a conspiratorial wink as she marched behind Kathy. That might be a good thing. Debbie would be a good ally, if needed, to defend Sarah. What a strange thought, but when it came to Kathy, nothing was outside the realm of possibility.

“Care to sit down?”

“No, thank you,” Kathy said. “This won’t take long.” She patently ignored Debbie even though she was standing right beside him.

“First of all, her name is Sarah, and calling her names won’t help your cause.” Sam crossed his arms. “Whatever that cause happens to be.”

Kathy lifted her chin. “Congratulations. You’re the talk of the town with your shameless flirtations all over town with that Jordan girl, including in the church, of all places. I’d have thought you’d have more reverence for God’s holy place.”

“Thanks, and funny you should mention church since I haven’t seen you darken the doors since I’ve been back in Rockbridge.”

Debbie grunted and then coughed.

Tossing her long blonde hair behind one shoulder, Kathy gave him a smile no doubt intended to mollify him. With a come-hither look, she stepped closer and tugged on his silk tie. When she attempted to pull him closer—in essence, to reel him in—Sam stood his ground.

“Sam, you’re a handsome, accomplished military man with a bright future here at the bank. You’d make any woman a fine husband. Surely you’re aware that Sarah Jordan’s not planning on sticking around town. I don’t want you to get your heart broken when she leaves town.”

Sam smoothed his hand down the length of his tie, dislodging Kathy’s grasp in a not-so-gentle way. “Thanks for your concern, but my heart will be just fine.” He moved toward the door, hoping she’d take the hint. Kathy didn’t budge but neither did Debbie. Of all things, he couldn’t have a showdown between two sometimes hot-headed, stubborn women in the middle of his office. He willed his dad to walk in right about now.

“Kathy, answer a question for me.” Debbie’s voice was low and controlled.

Kathy glanced at Debbie as if seeing her for the first time. “Why is this any of your concern? Don’t you need to be off somewhere planning your wedding?”

“I’d like to know why you’re treating Sarah like she’s the dirt beneath your feet,” Debbie said. “You’ve been vindictive and nasty to her since eighth grade. Tell me what Sarah’s ever done to you other than treat you with kindness?”

Kathy moved both hands to her hips, settling them there, her handbag dangling from one arm. “How can you even ask me that? Did you hear what that little twit said to me in the diner the day of Sam’s homecoming? She was positively rude and insulting. The only reason I didn’t insist that Myrna fire her on the spot was because I didn’t want to cause a scene on such a happy occasion.”

Debbie snorted. “What a crock! Who died and made you queen of Rockbridge? Sarah Jordan’s got more class in her little finger than you’ll have in a lifetime—”

“Why, you impertinent little snit!” Both women faced off and glared at one another.

Oh, Lord, this can’t be good.
Sam considered pushing the panic button beneath his desk to summon the security officer, but doing so would only make him a laughingstock.

“Kathy.” He used his commanding officer tone. “It’s best if you leave now.”

“I know what it is!” Debbie snapped her fingers and stared at Kathy.

“What
what
is?” Kathy’s frown deepened.

“Sarah beat you out for the biggest award in school at the end of eighth grade. She got a write-up in the newspaper and they honored her at an assembly in front of the entire student body.” Debbie’s eyes widened. “Then somebody started that nasty rumor about how Sarah cheated on an English test and didn’t deserve the award.” She advanced toward Kathy, one slow step at a time. “Something tells me you were
directly
involved.”