Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1) (14 page)

Ian rested his forehead against hers.  “If he ever touches you like that again, I’ll kill him.”

Chet. Right. She’d forgotten.

“Let it go, please.  It’s not worth getting yourself into trouble over.”

“I’m spending the night here with you,” he said again, as if he expected her to give him a fight, but she was okay with that.

“Promise me you won’t go near him.”  Sam pulled his face to look at her.  The situation reminded her of his fight with his sister’s boyfriend and how he’d ended up in jail in the first place.  Protecting someone.

“I won’t touch him.”

“I mean it.”  She swallowed.  “I need you here.”

“I’m sure you could find another cook.”

“I’m not talking about a cook.”  Sam had never told a man how she felt.  Maybe because she’d never had much opportunity.  She’d never met one that made her feel much of anything, and she’d always been too busy working to find one.  Now she was still working and she’d found one.  She couldn’t imagine wanting to find anyone else.

When had it happened?  She couldn’t recall an exact moment.  Little things.  The way she could depend on him.  How he was protective of her.  How she could talk to him.  The things Burt said about him.  It all added up to one very big thing.

She loved him.

Pulling his face to hers, she kissed him full and squarely the way he deserved to be kissed.  No reserve, holding nothing back.  When they both came up for air, they were breathing heavy.

He grinned.  “What was that for?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I should come over more often.”

“You should.” She took his hand and led him toward the stairwell that led to the upstairs apartment.

“Wait.” He stopped.  “Are you sure about this?”

Sam gave him her most seductive kiss yet.  “This is the surest I’ve felt since moving to Cold Springs.”

~ * ~

Ian couldn’t work at the diner the next day.  He had to give Jake Sanderson an estimate for repairing his barn roof then finish up a siding job outside of town. He couldn’t keep his thoughts off Sam.  He loved her, probably had always loved her.

Feelings of protection welled up inside him.  In an unexpected way it felt as if something bad was about to happened because he felt this happy.  His whole life, every time things were going right, the other shoe fell.  Right before he went to the pen he’d had a full football scholarship and had lost it.  Now he had Sam back.  He’d first lost her from his own stupidity, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

Driving through Pulaski, he purchased supplies at the local hardware, passed by Townsend’s Secondhand Shop and stopped. Displayed in the front window was a woman’s wedding set.  The wedding ring was a plain gold ring, but the engagement ring was a diamond.  He knew that because it resembled one like his mother wore.  She’d never removed hers even after his dad died.  Mom had called it a princess cut.  This ring wasn’t very big.  Ian had no idea how many carets it was, but it was pretty.  Small and pretty.  Just like Sam.

It was probably the second most impulsive thing he’d ever done—the first being murder—but he went in and paid the owner two hundred fifty dollars cash and came out the owner of a secondhand wedding set.

His heart pounded in his chest.  He didn’t even know Sam’s finger size, didn’t even know if she wanted to get married, let alone to him, didn’t even know—wasn’t it bad luck to buy a used wedding ring?

He jumped in his truck, stuffed the box in the glove compartment and got the hell out of there before someone from Cold Springs saw what he’d just done.

~ * ~

The diner was packed.  Chrissy had called in sick, but reluctantly came in when Martha left on her break and literally went to Chrissy’s apartment and brought her in.  Chrissy was nearly in tears.

“She just barged into my apartment.” Chrissy wrapped the strings of her apron twice around her lithe waist and tied it on the side.  “She’s so rude. Ben was really mad. It was so embarrassing.”

“Ben?”  Sam was pouring coffee as fast as people drank.  She started another pot. 

“Yeah.  Ben Towles.  I’ve been seeing him.  He’s thirty.  I know he’s older, but he’s really cute.”  She giggled, flashing Sam large, wide-set doe eyes.  “Okay, I know I wasn’t really sick.  I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped down the counter as Chrissy walked away to wait tables.  She nearly bumped into Martha who was pouring Burt’s coffee as two older men greeted him and took the last empty seats at the counter.

Burt turned their way.  “Have a seat, Fred, Bill. Coffee’s on the house today.”

“You can’t do that.” Martha stopped in her tracks. She set the coffee pot on the counter, slapped two palms down and glared at Burt like a sumo wrestler ready to take action. “You have no right giving out free anything. Coffee’s normal price, gentlemen. Same as always.”

Burt looked undefeated. “Seems like Fred and Bill come here every morning, they should get something on the house.”

“They get fine food at a reasonable price. That’s their something.”

“And when Chrissy’s here they get good service.”

Martha narrowed her eyes. “Sam, we have a problem.”

“It’s too busy to be worrying about this right now,” Sam called over her shoulder as she sped past with an armload of breakfasts.

Martha slammed her fist on the counter.  “That’s it. It’s him or me. I’m not putting up with this—or her,” she pointed toward Chrissy, “anymore!”

Sam came back toward the counter after she passed out the meals. “Martha, don’t do this.”

“This is unacceptable working practice.  You got a waitress who cares more about snagging her next bed partner than she does working, customers who think they can get everything for free, and—”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not throwing customers out.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Martha,” Sam called.

“Good riddance,” Burt said.  Fred and Bill grinned from ear to ear.

              Sam slammed the pot down. “Then you can serve coffee.”  She threw an apron at Burt.

She went after Martha, catching her right before she stormed to her car. “Martha, please. Don’t do this. I know things are less than ideal, but give it some time. I’m new at this. Give me a break. Please.  I’ll make it better. I don’t know how yet, but give me some time. I promise I’ll do right by you.”

Martha turned to face her. Years of experience glared at her, and Sam felt like a sudden failure.  “Besides, if you go, who will Burt have to fight with?”

A hint of a smirk lightened Martha’s face. “I had a fight with my husband this morning. It was over the kitchen light over the sink. He promises to fix things and they never get done. I remind him and I’m the constant nag.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Martha slid her car keys back in her pocket. “But I won’t leave you.  Let’s go.”

Relief washed over Sam and she followed Martha back to the diner. “Thank you.”

When they got inside, Burt was making rounds with the coffeepot, proudly wearing the apron that Sam had thrown at him. He carried a fistful of dollar bills and Mrs. Mills, Cold Springs’s postmaster general, slapped him on the rear as he passed her table. “Sexiest waiter I’ve ever seen.” She whistled, sending the table of old hens cackling at an ear splitting level.

Martha and Sam went after the tables, waiting on customers left and right. Panic gradually left Sam as she got into the fast-paced groove. She’d just started to think everything was going to be all right, when Chet Tyler walked through the door.

“Hi, Sam.  Can we talk?”

“I’m too busy, Chet.”  She started pouring coffee.  “If you’re here for breakfast, have a seat, and Chrissy will be happy to serve you.  Otherwise, we have nothing to say to one another.”

“C’mon, Sam.  Don’t be like that.”

Chet reached out and grabbed Sam’s arm, the same arm Sam held the coffeepot with.  Instinctively, Sam jerked back, spilling half the pot of hot coffee all over Mr. and Mrs. Newlander, Mother’s next door neighbors. 

“Oh my God!” Sam didn’t have time to react.

Misses Newlander screamed, as scalding coffee slopped on her arms and shoulders.

Sam set the pot on the nearest table, launched herself into the kitchen to grab ice and towels as a cold compress.  She quickly gave them to the Newlanders.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Someone call 911!” Chet just stood there staring.

“This is all your fault!” someone told him. 

“Yeah,” Burt agreed.  “I saw the whole thing.”

“She never would have dumped it if he hadn’t grabbed her arm,” Steve Sanders added.  He was sitting at the counter next to Burt.

Chet shrugged.  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You could still call for help!” Burt shouted.

It didn’t matter because Martha was already talking to the 911 dispatcher.

“Yes.  We have applied ice.  Yes. Jean’s Diner.  On Main.  Yes.  Thank you.”  She hung up the phone.  “The EMT is on the way.”

Sam knelt beside the couple.  She couldn’t imagine the pain she’d caused the both of them.  They were each in their eighties, and she’d known them since she was little.  Mr. Newlander had a bad hip and required the aid of a cane to walk.  He claimed he was uninjured, but the skin on his hand was bright red, and Sam pleaded with him to keep the ice applied to the burn. Mrs. Newlander had received the worst of the injuries.  Her arm was red and angry blisters were already beginning to form.  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Newlander.”

“It was an accident, dear.”

“No, I should have been more careful.”

“The EMT will be here soon,” Martha said.

“I don’t need it,”  Mrs. Newlander assured.  “A little ice and it will be fine.”

“I’d feel better if you got checked out.”

“They’re here,” someone shouted.  “Clear the way!”

Sam stepped aside as the EMTs came through.  They checked the Newlanders’ vitals, asked them questions.  Each insisted they were fine, but Sam finally convinced Mr. Newlander to call their daughter to come take him to the hospital where they were taking his wife.

Sam watched them leave, heard others discussing amongst themselves the possibility of the Newlanders suing her, of bringing a case against the diner.  Sam didn’t care.  She would pay the bill. She just wanted them to be all right.  Nothing else mattered.

Chet came up behind her.  “We need to talk, Sam.”

“Chet, just get out.”

CHAPTER TEN

The diner was slow the next morning.  Sam hadn’t slept from worrying about the Newlanders.  Mrs. Newlander had called her when she got home, saying her injuries were mild and she was given an antibiotic, bandaged, and had to make an appointment with her general practitioner in a few days to check for infection.  Sam was thankful and as soon as they were open had called the florist to have a get-well bouquet sent over to her.

Her mother came in early.  “Hi, Mom.”

Sam poured her a cup of coffee, pushed the box of fresh doughnuts her way. Mother took a frosted jelly pastry.

“How did the date with Chet go?” Mother whispered over the counter loud enough for customers on either side of her to hear.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That well?”

Two women and a boy about ten years old came in.  Sam grabbed three menus and headed to the table they went to.  “Good morning.  Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”  They both chimed. 

“What can I get you?” Sam directed her attention to the boy.  His eyes were bright with dark features, and he seemed bored by the whole scene.

“Soda,” he muttered.

“He’ll have milk,” the younger woman, Sam assumed his mother, corrected. 

“White?”

“Please.”

Sam took another glance at the woman.  She looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn’t place her.  She was bringing them their drinks when it dawned on her.  Ian’s sister, Roxanne, and his mother.  The boy must be Teddy, who hadn’t even been born when Ian had been incarcerated.

“Roxanne Woods.”  Sam set down beverages.  “Do you remember me?  Samantha Stone.  We went to the same high school.  I was in the same graduating class with your brother, Ian…actually.”

They all looked at her as if she’d said something incredibly rude.  It was as if they were expecting some sort of shoe to drop with the mention of Ian’s name.  Sam recalled what Ian had said about how strained his relationship was with them. 

“You probably don’t remember me.”  Sam cleared her throat.  “That’s okay.  It was a long time ago.  Ian and I used to be friends—are still friends, so I just thought you’d remember me.”

Sam felt heat rise to her cheeks.  Pure word vomit was pouring out of her mouth, and she couldn’t stop it. She wanted to defend Ian to these people, his family, who were supposed to be in his corner, were supposed to love him unconditionally no matter what he did. 

“I remember you.”  Roxanne’s tone was curt.

Ian’s mother smiled.  “You’ve done a nice job with the diner.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiled, feeling slightly relieved.  Ian’s mother appeared uncomfortable.  Sam wondered if she should apologize or keep her mouth shut.  “Well, thank you for coming in.  What can I get you?”

They ordered breakfast, and Sam headed to the kitchen.

“Did you hear her?” Roxanne whispered when Sam’s back was turned.  “She’s still friends with him.”

Moments later, Sam delivered food to a table, wondering if she should say something to Ian about his family being here.  Did they know he worked here?  Somehow Sam doubted it.  She wanted to do something to get them talking again.  It was none of her business, but it wasn’t right.  Families needed one another.

She went to Ian, who was busy flipping a pile of home fries.  He smiled and stole a kiss.  “You smell nice.”

“I smell like diner food.”

His smile was infectious.  “I like diner food.”

“Your mom and sister are here.”

All lightheartedness left his face. “What do they want?”

“Breakfast.”  She handed him their order slip.

Without a word, Ian pinned it up overhead and started the order.

“Are you going to speak to them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Let it go, Sam.”

“Why not just try?  Maybe—”

“I said no.”

His tone stung as if he’d slapped her.  Tears welled and she hated herself for being so sensitive.  She should have just minded her own business.

She wondered what it would take to knock down the walls he had built around his heart but doubted if she could, if anyone could.  And right now she was tired of trying.

Without a word, she went back to working.  The diner was getting full when she noticed Ian taking his family’s breakfast out to them. Sam was waiting on the table next to them when she heard him whisper. “Hi, Mom.  Roxanne.  Hi, Ted.”

His mother’s expression was total shock.  “Ian.”

Pushing her chair out, she stood, cautiously hugged him.  It was almost as if asking permission.  Ian melted into her embrace.  There was no hate.  Just regret and worry, and something far more.  Love.

Roxanne, on the other hand, made no move toward her brother.  She looked down at her place, refusing to acknowledge him.  His mother sat back down, pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit.”

“I can’t. I’m working.”

“You work here?”

Ian nodded. “I do this, and I started my own construction business.”

Ian touched Teddy’s arm.  “Hey, buddy.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“Roxanne.”  Ian’s mother kept her voice low.

“What, Mom?”  Roxanne pushed her plate away.  “You’re just going to sit there and pretend like nothing happened?”

“Something happened, Roxy.”  Ian kept his voice even.

Everyone was starting at them now.  Ian seemed to realize it too, at the same time he glanced up and saw Sam watching him.  Correction:  Sticking her nose in his business again.

Sam quickly made herself scarce.  All the while she felt Ian’s glare boring into her back.

~ * ~

Ian was the last person Sam expected to see at her door that night.  Ian didn’t knock.  Just let himself in with the key Sam had given him, which he’d been reluctant to take, but Sam had insisted to prove her trust in him.  He stood in the middle of her tiny living room like a giant.  He didn’t say anything.  He didn’t have to.  Sam stood, and Ian opened his arms.

There was no need for words.  She knew he hadn’t meant to be harsh.  He had been scared but he had faced his fears anyway.  Closing her eyes against his chest, she sighed as he gently stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“You were just trying to help.”  He kissed the top of her head.

“It’s okay.”

“No.”  He sighed.  “It’s not.  Every time you try to help me, I push it away.  Every single time.”

Sam stepped back and stared at him. His expression was determined.  “Well, maybe recognizing it is the first step to changing it.”

He smiled, relief immediate in his expression.  “Maybe.”

He pulled her close and kissed her.  “I’m going to change. I promise.”

“Well, don’t change too much.”  She pressed herself against him, feeling his arousal against her.  “I kind of like some parts of you as they are.”

~ * ~

At six o’clock the following evening, Ian stood on his mother’s doorstep, his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel like a stranger near his family. It wasn’t the same here. He hadn’t grown up in this home. That had ended in the divorce. Marriages had a way of ending after a son went to jail.

He cautiously rapped in the door.

After a few moments, his mother opened the door. Her hair was styled in a modern blunt cut. It had grayed considerably since he’d gone to jail. He’d noticed it immediately when seeing her at the diner.

Her face was a mask of surprise and something else. Shock? Sadness? “Ian.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“You came.”  

Had she thought he would stand her up? He had called yesterday and she had invited him to dinner after all.  “Of course, I came. Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in as if at a loss for words.  “You thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I wasn’t sure. I mean, I don’t know how busy you are nowadays.” She smiled then turned serious. “I don’t know you anymore. I want to know you.”

Something broke in him just then.  He was surprised, stunned, shocked. She still wondered about him, perhaps still cared.  Maybe, just maybe, he could have some assemblage of family back. “I want to know you, too.”

With that, Ian reached forward and hugged her. She had lost considerable weight since he’d last remembered.  She was never overweight, but now she seemed too thin. 

The hug was warm and strong, and his mother held him back with a fierceness that promised a lifetime of forgiveness.  Her shoulders sagged and shuddered.

“It’s all right, Mom.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for everything. I’m so sorry.”

“I should have been there for you.” She sobbed.  “I went to see you, but they said you didn’t want to see me.”

“I didn’t want you in that place.” He squeezed her tightly, her sobs ripping his heart out. Regret tore at him. He’d thought he was doing the right thing at the time. He’d never wanted her in that place. She was too good. No mother should have to see her son in jail. He should have granted her the visits. He had no right denying her.

“What kind of mother doesn’t visit her son?”

“What kind of son goes to jail for manslaughter?” he was quick to answer.  He held her tightly. “I wouldn’t have wanted you in that place. It was my fault. Everything was my fault.”

She pulled back, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I made tuna noodle casserole. That used to be your favorite.”

“It’s still my favorite.”

She started crying again.  Ian put an arm around her. “Don’t cry, Mom. It’s okay.”

“I’ll try.” She smiled and gave a nervous laugh, and the tears started again.  “It’s just that it’s been so long.”

“Ten years.”

“Ten years,” she repeated as if confirming it to himself.

“Here,” Ian took the casserole and proceeded to help her set the table.  “I don’t know where you keep things, but I want to help you out.”

She was frail, too thin. She wasn’t like he remembered. No one and nothing was.

He’d ended up telling her everything from his trial to the endless days in prison to what parole was like to how he’d gotten reacquainted with Sam when his mother had asked how he’d felt about Sam. 

Ian had spilled out everything as if he’d been sharing details with his mother for years when in fact this was the only close conversation they’d ever had in his life.  It felt good.  Beyond good.  He had family.  He no longer felt like an outcast.  He had a sense of belonging, purpose.  Even his parole officer, whom he’d had a meeting with this morning, had noticed, had said speaking to his family—even though his sister was less than receptive to him—had been a progressive move forward.  Family support was one of the most important tools to staying clean on the outside, he’d said.  And that felt good. Damn good.

And it was all because of Sam.

~ * ~

Ian arrived at the diner a little before 9 a.m., just after his parole meeting.  Parking his truck in the back alley, he entered the diner through the storage room. He heard the shouting all the way from outside.  Ian hurried to the dining room where Chrissy and Martha stood in the middle of the room.  The place was packed, and they were ringside and Sam was the referee. 

“I can’t believe you’re not going to fire her!”

“Martha, please stop.” Sam was pouring coffee and trying to calm Martha at the same time.  “She didn’t mean to mess up the orders. We’re all busy and overworked.  Mistakes happen.”