Prelude: Prequel to The Lewis Legacy Series (35 page)

His jaw tightened. In the back of his mind, he’d suspected Sarah would get around to asking him that question. “We’ve already had this discussion. It’s not like I have a personal embargo on flying the plane.”

“Are you afraid for some reason? Is it the Ménière’s Disease?”

“No, it’s not.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe it is. I haven’t been able to go out to the airstrip and take Caty in the air since I came home.”

“Caty?”

“The name of our plane. It’s also my father’s nickname for my mom. Meaning I could be in serious trouble if Dad ever finds out that I told you.”

“My lips are sealed. Your secret is safe with me although I think it’s a very cute nickname.” Sarah swept one finger over her lips in a zipping motion. “I don’t mean to push you, and of course, you need to work through your issues or whatever. It’s just that I know how much you love to fly. For years, it’s all you talked about. I remember how happy your parents said you were when you got the acceptance letter from the Air Force Academy. Your mom said you didn’t stop smiling for a week. For all I know, you carried that letter around in your back pocket for a month.”

“You think you know me pretty well, don’t you?”

“I do, and please don’t change the subject.”

Rising from the swing, he walked to the porch railing. He pushed his hands down into his pockets and stared ahead, unseeing. “Like I said, you catch on quick.”

“This isn’t about me,” she said quietly. “It’s about you. I hate to see you not doing something I know you love.”

He jerked up his head. “That makes us even then, doesn’t it? At least I offered you the means to make your dream happen, but you rejected it.”

“I explained that. I wasn’t rejecting
you
, Sam.” Her voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear her. “There’s a difference. Please understand that.”

“Is there? I’m not so sure.” He turned and looked out over the dark expanse of the Jordan’s front lawn, attempting to keep his frustration in check. “I will fly again, but don’t push me.”

“I’m sure you will, and I don’t mean to push you. But sometimes the best way to conquer our fear is to face it head-on.” Lifting out of the swing, Sarah walked across the short expanse of the porch to reach his side. His arguments faded a little more with each step she took in his direction.

“Tell you one thing,” Sam said, swallowing hard. “When I do fly again, I want my favorite, beautiful daredevil beside me in the cockpit.”

“Are you still taking your medicine?”

So much for trying to lighten the mood. “Yes.” His shoulders fell.

“Then you’re afraid. I can’t imagine any valid reason otherwise.”

“No, I’m not. It’s not that. You’re pushing me again.” Why couldn’t she let it go? Sarah couldn’t know how he missed flying, how much he wanted to take Caty up in the air again. He missed flying so much he physically ached at times, as crazy as that sounded. She couldn’t understand. Then again, maybe she did. While he appreciated her concern, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“I think it is. Promise me one thing,” she said. Taking his hand, she turned his palm face up and pressed her soft lips on it. Oh, my, that was good. His knees almost buckled, and Sam gripped the porch railing to steady himself.

Lowering his hand, Sam tugged Sarah into his embrace and leaned his head against hers. “What am I promising?”

“The Lord is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” When he started to speak, she put her finger over his lips, stilling them. “Pray about it. Promise me.”

“Promise.” He walked down the front steps, thankful the rain had stopped, but then turned back to face her. “Sarah, did you enjoy the peach pie you won at the school carnival?”

“From the cakewalk? It’s in the extra ice box we keep in the garage. We wanted to save the pie for when Mom and Dad returned from their trip. I probably should have served it tonight. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Good night.” The corners of his mouth twitched. Turning, he started down the front walkway.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re coming with me.”

Ten minutes later, Sam sat obediently at the kitchen table after Sarah ordered him to stay put. The rest of the family had retired to their bedrooms and they were alone. She came back in from the garage and put the pie on the table in front of him.

“Is it frozen?”

“No, just cool. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” He drummed out a beat on the table until she stilled his hands. “The point was that you’re supposed to cut into the pie when I’m not around.”

“Ah, so I foiled your plan? Good.” She grinned as she pulled out a pie server and held it up in the air. “I knew something was up at that cakewalk. Your merry little band of friends—older ladies, bank customers, young mothers—kept nudging each other and winking at me.”

“Good for them.” Feeling somewhat disgruntled, Sam watched as she cut a generous slice and put it on a plate. She added a fork and then pushed the plate toward him.

“Would you like ice cream with your pie?”

“Not necessary.”

“For a man who loves his peach pie—especially one made by his mother with her special secret family recipe—you don’t seem especially happy. Matter of fact, you seem rather sulky tonight.”

She made a big show of cutting another slice of pie, a smaller one. Why was she drawing this out and making him squirm? Taking the chair across from him, Sarah picked up the daintiest bite in the world with her fork. “Shouldn’t we pray first? It is food, after all.”

“Sure.” He grabbed her hand. “Lord, thank you for this peach pie which we are about to enjoy. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

“Amen,” Sarah murmured. “Short and to the point. Nice.”

“By the way, Fletcher came into the bank the other day. Guess who was with him?”

She sectioned off another equally ridiculous small bite of the pie and her eyes grew wide. “Sally Barksdale?”

“Yep. Congratulations on your cupid skills. In other Rockbridge financial news, I presented Martin Benson with a check to cover the cost of the headstone for Marty’s grave. There was enough left over for a good start on more memorials. So, kudos to you for your amazing fundraising skills.”

“Sam, stop it.” Sarah’s voice was firm. “You’re acting like a spoiled little boy. It’s great to hear those things. Thanks for telling me, in spite of the sarcasm behind them. Are you still sore because I asked about—”

“Yeah, maybe. I’m sorry.” He put his fork on his plate and rubbed his eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’m kind of beat.” She’d hit too close to the truth as to why he hadn’t flown Caty since coming home, and it bothered him, unreasonable or not. Granted, he
was
tired, and when he was tired, he knew himself well enough to know he got grumpy. He needed to go. When he started to rise from the table, Sarah pushed him back down into the chair with one firm hand on his shoulder. Bossy woman.

“Let’s find out what’s so special about this particular pie, and then you can be on your way. I’ll make it quick. You know, before you came along, I didn’t even like peaches all that much.”

His frown grew deeper. “Nice to—”

“You didn’t let me finish.” With the pie server, she dug around beneath the pie while he watched. “I was going to say that through the years, I’ve developed a great fondness for them, especially in your mom’s pie. Bingo!” Her eyes lit. “I think I’ve found something. What could. . .”

Taking his fork, Sam lifted up a part of the pie to reveal another layer of foil. “Dig beneath the bottom layer of foil.”

She glanced up at him for a second before lifting the foil with her finger. “Well, would you look here? It’s a card of some sort. In an envelope.” She flicked it back and forth between her fingers. “What, oh what, could this be?”

“Look at it and find out.”

With a curious expression, Sarah pulled out the card and scanned it. Her eyes grew round. “Sam.” Her voice had softened. She put the card on the table and moved beside where he sat.

He didn’t budge. He could be as stubborn as Sarah when he wanted. For whatever reason, he was going to make her work for this one.

“Stand up, please.”

“Make me.”

“I’m ordering you, Captain.”

Chuckling, he slowly rose to his feet. “Only because you’re beautiful even in your bossiness.”

Sarah inched her hands around his neck, once more draining his last ounce of resistance to her. What this woman did to him. She was tempting under any circumstances, but never more so than when she’d just eaten a slice of peach pie. Wow. He must be more tired than he’d thought.

“I seem to recall a handsome man at the church luncheon telling me that only someone very special would be given your mother’s peach pie recipe.”

“That’s right. Secret family recipe, mind you. It’s a once in a lifetime offer, and you’re it, baby. Please just be quiet and kiss me.” Sam lowered his head. “And be sure to guard that recipe with your life.”

“It will be my honor, Captain.”

And then Sarah gave him the absolute best kiss of his life.

♥

The Next Week

Sam’s steps faltered as he approached Perry’s. How could he tell her? He wasn’t sure if Sarah was scheduled to work, but she normally worked the early shift on Wednesday mornings. The familiar smells of coffee and frying bacon greeted him as soon as he pushed open the door and entered the diner. The bell signaled his arrival. Sometimes he wanted to yank that bell off and bury it where it’d never be found.

“Hey, Sam! Have a seat, and I’ll go get your coffee.”

“Thanks, Myrna.” He headed toward his usual spot, thankful it was empty. After nodding at a few of his dad’s cronies, Sam dropped into the seat. He felt mentally and physically drained and hadn’t slept well once he’d finally gotten home in the wee hours of the morning.

The older woman’s brows drew together as she approached his table. “What’s made you so sour this early on such a beautiful day?”

She must not have heard the news. “Merle wrapped his car around a tree last night on the outskirts of town.”

“Oh, mercy!” Myrna moved one hand over her heart and dropped into the opposite side of the booth. “Is he—”

Full of mixed emotions, Sam heaved a deep sigh. “He’s hanging on, but he was in surgery most of the night to repair the internal damage. He lost a lot of blood.”

“Was he—”

“Merle wasn’t drinking, but he was speeding and hit the tree head-on. Doc said he actually died at the scene, but the emergency personnel managed to revive him. They took him to the hospital over in Springhaven. I stayed until the surgery was over, but then I came back home to catch a couple hours of sleep.”

“Poor Merle.” Myrna shook her graying head and a tear slipped down her cheek. Lifting the corner of her apron, she dabbed it beneath her eyes. “I sure hope he’s gonna be okay.”

Sam scrubbed one hand over his face, feeling every one of his twenty-seven years. Closer to twenty-eight now, anyway. Every bone in his body ached like he’d been physically slammed. “Tommy called me late last night. Told me he didn’t know who else to call since Merle doesn’t have any family left and because he works at the bank with me now.” He thumped his curled fist on the table. “I guess that qualifies me as the next of kin, not that I mind being there for Merle.”

“Merle was mighty lucky you gave him that job. I know he appreciated it. I’ve always said that boy was the most likely person in this town to kill himself, one way or the other. Not to sound harsh, but that’s just the way it is.” Myrna heaved a sigh. “Sounds like he almost got the job done last night.”

“Merle suffers from a legacy of low expectations,” Sam said. A yawn escaped and he covered his mouth with one hand.

“You’re gonna tell Sarah, I take it?”

“I think I need to be the one to tell her. I probably shouldn’t have come here while she’s working, but I need to head back to the hospital in a bit.” From behind the kitchen door, he heard Sarah engaged in lively banter with Jimmy and Patti. The sound of her voice swelled his heart even as regret seized him. She sounded happy, and he hated to take away her joy. But it had to be done.

“Sarah covered Patti’s shift again last night,” Myrna said, interrupting his thoughts. “If she needs to leave, tell her not to worry about it. You take good care of our girl, Sam. We’ll make do.” She patted his hand, and in so doing, gave him a small measure of comfort. “You need to tell her before someone else blurts it out. It’s only a matter of an hour, give or take, before it’s the talk of the diner.”

Myrna leaned close. “Especially when something like this happens, it’s a wakeup call from God of how important others are in our life. Family”—she quirked a brow—“or otherwise. Before Sarah goes off to nursing school, I sure hope you’re gonna stake your claim on her heart.”

Before he could respond, Myrna slid out of the seat and hustled behind the swinging kitchen door. Sam leaned back in the seat and braced himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he whispered a quiet prayer.

“Myrna said you have something you need to tell me?”

Opening his eyes, Sam cleared his throat as Sarah seated herself opposite him. She looked so pretty with the morning light coming through the front window.

“I thought I should wait until later, but Myrna said I should go ahead and tell you now.”

“Sure. Sounds serious.” She took hold of his hand. “Is everything okay with your mom and dad?”

“They’re fine. It’s nothing like that.” Sam’s brow creased and he met her concerned gaze. “It’s Merle. He, um”—he swallowed the hard lump in his throat—“he was in an accident last night. Bad one. He survived, but barely. They lost him for a few minutes, but they managed to revive him.”

“Oh, no!” Moisture quickly filled Sarah’s eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks. Seeing her cry twisted him inside, rendering him with a sense of helplessness he’d never before experienced. Moving quickly to the other side of the booth, he slid in beside her, gathering her in his arms. Yanking a napkin from the dispenser on the table, he handed it to her. Sam held her, blocking out everyone and everything else, absorbing her trembling body and soft sobs.

Sarah’s tears soaked through the napkin. Tossing it on the tabletop, she then buried her face against his chest. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“That’s what it’s for.” The other patrons in the diner were quiet. He noted Myrna moving among the tables, no doubt telling them what happened. Perhaps he should escort Sarah outside the diner and take her somewhere more private, but several of the ladies in the diner were now also openly crying. Even some of the men were wiping their eyes.

Sam hung his head. He’d shared about the Lord with Merle and tried to impress upon him the need for a solid anchor in his life. Based on the way he’d shown up to work faithfully every day, even though only for a short time, Merle seemed to be straightening out his life.

Leaning his head against Sarah’s, the sweet-smelling scent of her hair giving him its own comfort, Sam began to pray. “Dear Jesus, I pray what I’ve shared with Merle might have made an impression upon him. We don’t have the answers, but you do.”

Sarah squeezed his hand. “Father, no man’s life should be full of disappointment and regret.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. The others in the diner remained quiet, and a number of the other customers had also bowed their heads and nodded at her words. “We ask that you bless Merle, and if it’s in your will, please heal him. If he’s spared, let us all help Merle in whatever way we can, as you’ve given to each one of us unique talents and abilities.”

When she said nothing further, Sam ended the prayer. “We ask these things in the name of your precious Son. Amen.”

“Amen,” Sarah whispered. She wiped beneath her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks for praying.”

Leaving his arm around her, he nodded. “Sometimes prayer is all we have. And it’s the
best
thing.”

“I need to tell you something.” Sarah scooted farther down on the seat, giving him more room. “Merle was here in the diner just last night. Must have been right before the accident. It seems he took Pastor McDonald’s message from Second Timothy to heart. The one he heard when he was in church. About fighting the good fight and finishing the race. He said it’s only the second time he’s been in a church in his entire life except for weddings or funerals.”

Sam nodded. “He took off right after church that morning. I wish I could have talked with him. I should have talked with him since. It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity at the bank.”

Cupping his jaw with one hand, Sarah’s lips were soft as she graced him with a sweet kiss. “You invited him, you know.”

“I always invite people to come to church, but—”

“He’s watched you at the bank, Sam. Without giving me any details, Merle said he admires the way you handle situations and especially the way you deal with people. He said he didn’t know a numbers man could be so normal and human.”

Sam scratched his chin and allowed a small smile. “Did he now?” His five o’clock shadow felt rough beneath his fingers.

“Merle’s perspective was something I never would have thought about on my own,” Sarah told him. “He said he’s never felt capable or worthy enough to participate in the race, much less to win one. I’ve been a Christian so long that maybe I can’t fully understand how others feel. People who don’t understand what being a believer means because they didn’t have parents or anyone to take them to church or read a Bible to them. People who go through the motions without hope for anything after this life.” Sarah’s eyes met his, and she shrugged. Within seconds, as he watched, another tear streaked down her cheek.

“Ah, baby. Don’t cry.” Sarah rarely cried, but when she did, it socked him right in the gut.

“I tried to tell Merle how important and valued he is to God. The problem is, from what he told me, he’s never felt like he mattered. Not once. His dad wasn’t there for school programs. His mother cared more about going out and having a good time than cooking dinner for her son. Can you imagine what that’s like, Sam? To feel like your own parents don’t want you?” Another tear streaked down her face. “And the worst part of it? I’ve known Merle a long time and not once have I ever cared enough to speak with him about his salvation.”

She raised her hands in frustration. “What kind of nurse will I be if I can’t even care for the people who are hurting right in my own neighborhood, so to speak? I have no excuses.”

“You can’t help them if you don’t know they’re in pain. Merle stuck to himself. He didn’t have many friends. Not that it’s an excuse. The simple fact, Sarah—as much as we’d like it to be different—is that we can’t save the entire world. But, when circumstances present themselves, like with you and Merle, you took that opportunity, and you ran with it.”

The slightest hint of a smile pinched the corners of her lips. “I gave him a Bible, too. I always keep an extra one around in case it’s needed.”

“That’s great,” Sam said. “We have to believe he’ll be okay.” He tugged her closer, unbelievably touched by her compassion. More than ever, Sam determined he’d find a way to send Sarah to nursing school. A way she’d accept. It was probably already too late for the fall semester, but as much as anything else, he acknowledged that nothing was impossible when God was involved.

“You shared your heart with Merle, and we need to pray he’ll take your words to heart and read that Bible.” He felt as though he should say more. Sometimes, like now, the words wouldn’t come. “I wish I had all the answers, sweetheart. But I don’t.”

“I don’t expect you to have the answers, Sam. You’re here, and that’s all I can ask. We’ll let the Lord handle the rest.”