Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (26 page)

I woke up with her
words echoing in my head, and I wasn’t sure whether I had
really been visited, or if it was my own subconscious telling me what
I already knew and wanted to do.

Her words—or
my own damned advice—got me out of bed, and I felt immeasurably
better. It was time to go back to work, to live. To make sure that
Ann Claire’s actions were not in vain.

It was AnnClaire who
wrought the gris-gris to protect me. It was her will behind the
protection spell, not mine. So even if I didn’t believe in it
and put more stock in my gun and skills, AnnClaire’s spell
still worked. Her belief was unshakable. It was her need to protect
me, the woman who had resurrected her beloved Imogene’s, that
gave her the power to pick up the gun, to force herself to become
corporeal. I would forever be grateful for that.

My first day back at
Imogene’s felt surreal, but the moment I started baking,
smiling when I picked up my rolling pin, it served me well. With
determination, I rolled out my crusts, and mixed, and blended, and
filled, and thankfully the hate I felt for Kyle Mayhew had faded,
replaced by a certain sense of justice. Instead of the hate, I’d
replaced it with love. Love for my strong, capable, sweet husband,
Jeff. A fountain of love for my precious little boy, Scott, and a
new, deep, abiding, sweet love for Chase Sutton.

As soon as I pulled
my last pie out of the oven, Beth came rushing into the kitchen.
“Chase Sutton is in the town square. He’s going to raze
the Colonel’s statue. Everyone is going to watch.”

“He’s
going to what?”

“He’s
got his truck hooked up with bailing wire, and he intends to drag it
right off its high horse.”

I grabbed my car
keys, and Beth and I drove over to the town square. I always thought
that statue loomed over the town with the kind of self-indulgence
known only to a man full of pride and his own self-worth. Traffic was
so snarled—shocking in this small town—that we had to
park and run.

I heard the
sheriff’s voice over a bullhorn. “Chase Sutton, step out
of your vehicle. This is town property.”

Winded, I saw Chase,
his face offset with defiance and determination. Then he hit the gas,
his tires churning in the grass. I saw Chase’s father, mother,
sister, and brother arrive. River and her mother looked triumphant,
but his father looked pissed. Jake’s expression was so
shuttered I couldn’t read him at all.

With a deep,
metallic groan, the horse’s hooves detached from the base, and
the statue toppled over, clanging as it hit the pavement of the
viewing area, detaching the Colonel from his proud steed.

While people cheered
and applauded, I hurried over to the truck. Chase stepped out and met
his mother’s eyes. She smiled. The sheriff slapped cuffs on
him, but his father rushed over. “What do you think you’re
doing, Mike? Take those cuffs off him.”

“He destroyed
city property.”

“We…I
donated that statue to the city; therefore, I’m telling you
right now to let him go. I’m not pressing charges.”

Chase wasn’t
looking at anyone but me. There were dark circles under his eyes, as
if he hadn’t been sleeping, and my heart nearly broke. As soon
as the cuffs were off I went to him.

“Samantha,”
he said, his voice husky and…hopeful.

Heedless of the
people standing around, heedless of the startled look in his eyes,
heedless of everything, I launched myself at him. I choked out his
name, suddenly blinded by tears, and he caught me as I stumbled into
his arms.

Gathering me up in a
rough embrace, he caught the back of my head and held me tight
against him. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

I tried to answer,
but I couldn’t. There was just too much emotion breaking
loose—old fear, new fear, desperation. It was as if his love
stripped everything away, and I was new. I knew I could never let him
go.

He folded me in his
arms and dropped his cheek to my hair, rubbing, one hand buried in my
hair. “Talk to me, babe.”

I hung onto him,
shaking with emotion, suddenly experiencing the same sweet sensation
I had when I first laid eyes on him. This was right. He was mine. and
he would also be my anchor.

“Please, baby.
Talk to me. I’m dying, here.”

I raised my head and
met his wonderful, concerned eyes. “I love you, Chase.”
Wiping my face, hope driving me, my fears urgent, I said it again. “I
love you so much.” I flattened my hand against his heart,
feeling it beat in frantic time with mine. “Tell me it’s
not too late.”

It couldn’t be
too late.

He studied me with
an intensity that made my heart climb up my throat and nearly stall.
Finally, he hauled in a deep, uneven breath and grasped my face
between his hands, his eyes fierce with emotion. He tightened his
hold, his voice gruff with affection, “I love you, too. It’s
not too late. It’s never too late for love, babe.”

SAMANTHA

Chase and I were
living together. Ethan had taken over his residence, and they’d
signed their partnership agreement. The sheriff closed the Kyle
Mayhew case, and kept the information to himself that AnnClaire, a
woman dead for hundreds of years, had pulled the trigger. I figured
he wanted to stay out of the looney bin.

Chase had a
knock-down drag-out with his family, fighting like a demon for his
way, his arguments well-thought out and irrefutable. In the end, he
swayed his father to his side. The Founders Day Festival was going to
be renamed Suttontowne Days. Chase was willing to let go of his
insistence about changing the name of the town when his father
reminded him that the Suttons who came after the Colonel were really
the ones who shaped and nurtured the growth of the community. It
might have had a rocky, tragic start, but it was going strong.

His father said,
“With that journal entry, everything changed, came crashing
down, and I realized how we’d treated the Outlaws. I didn’t
understand until River Pearl came home and exposed Earl’s
deception and treachery. I also realized something else. Even though
the Colonel was a coward and blackguard, he was just a man. Our
family, all of us, have worked hard for what we have. Our foundation
might have been built on blood, but it was our own blood, sweat and
hard work that kept it going. You’re right, we should’ve
pulled down his statue.

Chase couldn’t
argue with that.

But it was what his
father said to him after his speech that still choked me up. We were
in the library, having a celebratory drink, when he turned to Chase
and said, “I’m sorry for how I behaved at the anniversary
party. I wanted to make things right, and it got all muddled with
hurt feelings and defensive anger. You were right. I had a vision of
who I thought we were, and I put you on that path, convinced it was
the right one. I thought we were the golden family, entitled. When
you left, I didn’t understand. I felt disappointed and angry
that you’d throw everything we’d worked for away, your
future ruined, gone. The family business, your legacy shunned and
rejected. I’m sorry, son for taking away your choices, but I’m
damn proud of what you’ve built with your own two hands.
Welcome home, son.”

There wasn’t a
dry eye in the room. Jake was painfully absent, and he and Chase
would have to work to restore their relationship, but Chase was
determined to make amends, get his forgiveness and offer his own. He
was sure it was a matter of time.

After Chase’s
reconciliation with his family, we finally got to play the
long-awaited softball game. It was a showdown between Outlaw
Landscaping and Outlaws. Ethan and Chase had been roped into playing
for Outlaws, and, at the moment Chase was pitching. He had his
baseball cap on backwards, and was wearing a baseball jersey with
Outlaws across the front and a pair of jeans. His stubble glinted in
the sun as he watched Brax giving him signals. Boone and one of his
employees were on the mound, and Booker came up to bat.

“Home run!”
Boone shouted, and Booker grinned at his brother. “Get ready to
catch air,” he said to Brax. Aubree sitting in the bleachers
next to me shouted, “Go, Booker!”

Chase wound up and
whoosh
,
the ball exploded across the plate.

“Steeee-riiiike,
one,” the ump shouted. Aubree’s stepfather was
officiating and having a grand time.

“Nice,”
Booker said, giving his father-in-law a sour look. “You blind,
ump?”

Mike chuckled, and
Chase wound up for his second bullet over the plate. “Stee-riiike
two.”

Booker chuckled and
said, “Really, ump? Can you read that sign? That’s where
the next ball is headed.”

Brax laughed and
threw the ball to Chase. He checked the runners, then wound up. The
guy on second base started moving as Boone took off. The ball cracked
off Booker’s bat, and he slammed it out of the park and over
the wall.

Aubree stood up,
clapping and whooping. Chase looked over and gave me a grin, and I
shrugged and blew him a kiss.

The game was tied,
and now Chase’s team was up to bat. Booker was pitching, and
just as he let go of the ball, Boone sang at the top of his lungs:

Take me out to
the ball game,

Take me out with
the crowd;

Buy me some
peanuts and Cracker Jacks,

I don’t
care if I never get back.

Let me root,
root, root for the home team.

If they don’t
win it’s a shame.

For it’s
one, two, three strikes, you’re out,

At the old ball
game.

Everyone in the
stands started laughing. It just wouldn’t be right in
Suttontowne unless the Outlaws did some crazy shit.

Each time a batter
came up, Boone kept singing. Finally, it was Brax’s turn. Boone
broke into song, but it didn’t phase Brax, he just sang along,
and then Booker joined in just as he released the ball. Brax swung,
the ball connected, and with bases loaded, he won them the game.

Brax invited us all
over to his house for a barbeque, and I’ll never forget the
look on River Pearl’s face when she opened the door.

She handed him one
of the babies and Chase’s face softened. “Come in,”
she murmured. We followed her to the back and I braced myself for all
the babies and children. Scottie would always be there in my heart,
but I had room for more. So much more. I was ready for this,
vulnerable, open and so in love.

“You okay?”
Chase asked as he watched me with concern.

I took a breath and
said softly. “Wonderful, now hand him over.” He nestled
the baby boy in my arms. It hurt, but it was bearable. “What’s
this one’s name?”

“That’s
Bane,” River said, frowning. “I think.”

I looked down into
his sweet little face, his eyes as blue as his dad’s. “You’re
going to be a heartbreaker, aren’t you?”

He cooed and rubbed
at his eyes. I sat down on one of the benches while Brax heated up
the grill and the food was laid out. Contentedly, I watched Chase and
River Pearl talk. Just talk and laugh while I held that warm little
body in my arms. Everything was going to be fine. Everything worked
out for us. Chase had gotten back his family—almost all of
them—and I was confident Jake would come around. It was good
for Chase to be here finally.

After eating, we
went into the house and got a treat. The Outlaw boys sang for us, and
that was something no one ever got tired of hearing. Boone did most
of the singing, his voice as beautiful and clear-pitched as an angel,
Booker was on the piano, and Brax’s fiddling was as poignant as
ever. The words to the song, “My Town” resonated as Chase
slipped his hand into mine and squeezed.

River Pearl sat down
next to me. “You doing okay with him?”

“Yes. He’s
fine where he is,” I said firmly.

She smiled. “I’m
so thrilled to have you here with us. So happy that Chase is finally
home.”

I nodded. “I
love him so much,” I said, leaning into his shoulder.

Chase kissed the top
of my head. “You’ve got yourself your own singing group
here,” Chase said.

River laughed. “Who
knows what these boys are going to do with their lives? As of right
now, I’m going to enjoy every minute of them being babies. The
shenanigans will begin soon enough.”

***

Later on that night,
Chase and I finished up our meal and we were cleaning up. It felt
completely domestic and peaceful and wonderful.

He wrapped his arms
around me from behind as I finished loading up the dishwasher. “I
got this eBook about grieving and read it from cover to cover.”

My heart pulsed at
the reminder of Scott’s loss. But I was deeply touched to know
Chase had made the effort to understand more.

“What did you
learn?”

“That love
never dies, that you will love Scott forever. His life might have
been cut irreversibly short, but his love lives on forever. And
ever.”

I closed my eyes and
leaned back into him. “What else?”

“Bereaved
parents share a dreadful bond. I found a website you might like to
take a look at. Maybe it will help. There are things they will get,
understand, and can respond to, that I can’t.”

I turned in his arms
and said, “Thank you. That’s so thoughtful. Thank you for
not acting like this doesn’t exist.” I kissed him, loved
having his mouth soft and warm against mine. “I will grieve for
a lifetime. For as long as I breathe, I will grieve and ache and love
my son with all my heart and soul.”

“It’s
what I love about you, babe. Your courage and commitment.”

“But this
isn’t a sad ending,” I said. “Because I’ve
known deep sorrow, I also have known inexpressible joy. Because I
grieve, I know joy with you.”

I touched his face.
He sustained me, and his every word was a heartfelt testament to his
love.