Sweet Hearts (30 page)

Sam sat in the visitor’s chair
and took Marla’s chilly hand. She had the fleeting thought that she should have
tried, one more time, to bring some of the box’s magic with her.

“Those young people, the ones
with the daughter Jolie’s age?”

Sam nodded.

“They’ve asked if Jolie might
come live with them. They would raise her and even adopt her if I agree. I
didn’t know what to think.”

Sam pictured Jimmy and Callie
McMichael, who seemed so stable and happy. “Tito thought a lot of Jimmy. He
trusted Jimmy with some very important things.” She started on the story,
telling Marla about Tito’s bank accounts and giving the gist of his DEA work.
“Tito wanted to get some really bad people put away. He was a real patriot.”

Marla’s gaze traveled past Sam,
to the doorway of the room. “Hi, baby,” she said.

Sam turned to see that Jolie was
standing in the doorway with Jimmy and Callie McMichael. They greeted Sam.
Jolie walked to her grandmother’s bedside and ran her hand down the length of
the blanket, tucking it closer to Marla’s emaciated legs.

“Jolie spent the night with
Taylor,” Jimmy said. “We’ve been talking about the idea of—”

“Marla told me. What does Jolie
think of it?”

“I’m standing right here,” the
girl said.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me not
to ask you directly. So, what do you think?”

“I never really knew Taylor all
that much. But I think we could get along.”

Jolie looked at her grandmother,
seeing far more, Sam realized, than any of the rest of them did. She’d lived
with this woman nearly her entire life. She surely remembered Marla as a
vibrant, healthy woman who’d seen her through the loss of both parents, had
taken her to her first day of school, who’d watched her grow from toddler to
adolescent. Who would not be there for her teen years, her college days or to
witness her marriage and children. Sam swallowed hard against the lump in her
throat.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Jolie
said.

Marla’s smile was sad to see—the
combination of wistfulness, relief and pain. “I do too,” she said.

Jimmy and Callie wore warm
smiles. Suddenly, to Sam, this seemed like exactly the right answer.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “We
brought papers. I hope you don’t mind that we asked our attorney to write them
up— It just seemed like maybe we should . . . do this soon.”

Sam edged to the far wall while
Jimmy read the words aloud to Marla.

“I want to add one thing,” the
older woman said when he’d finished. “Tito left some money. It should be used
for Jolie, for her schooling and such. Is it okay if I write that on here?”

Callie pressed the buttons to
raise the bed and wheeled the portable table into position. Marla accepted a
pen and worked laboriously for several minutes to write out what she wanted to
say. Callie found two nurses to act as witnesses. At the end, Marla signed the
line Jimmy indicated to her and the witnesses added their signatures. When it
was all finished, she slumped back into the nest of pillows.

“Jolie, come here. Come talk to
grandma for a minute.”

Sam had the sudden, unshakable
knowledge that this was goodbye. She motioned to the McMichaels’s and the three
of them stepped out of the room. Four or five minutes passed before Jolie came
out to the hallway.

“She wants to see you, Ms Sweet.”

Sam looked at Jimmy and Callie. A
silent message passed between them, something Sam couldn’t even voice. A prayer
of sorts, to care for the little girl. The two adults took Jolie’s hands.

When Sam walked into Marla’s room
again, her friend had stopped breathing. She blinked her stinging eyes and sent
out a little prayer that Marla rest peacefully.

Five days after her son’s
funeral, Marla Fresques’s casket was lowered into the ground beside him. Tight
green clusters—the first of the spring crocus—poked through the bare earth. Sam
and Beau stood among the small group of friends and neighbors. Jimmy and Callie
McMichael stood with their two daughters, Taylor and Jolie.

Beau squeezed her hand. “Take a
minute, if you want to,” he whispered as the priest finished the final prayer.

As if the others understood,
everyone else moved aside as Sam approached Jolie.

“They were wonderful people,” Sam
said, “your parents and your grandmother. You’ll always remember them that way,
won’t you?”

“I knew this day was coming,”
Jolie said matter-of-factly. “For a long time she was sicker than she wanted to
let on. My grandmother believed Dad would come back, but I knew it would end
this way.”

“Really?”

“I never knew what good friends
my dad and Mr. McMichael were, but we’ve talked a lot in the past couple of
days. They care for me. I can appreciate what they are doing for me. I can
handle it. ”

Sam believed her. This adolescent
girl had endured more than many adults.

“I’ve got plans, Ms Sweet. I’ll
keep up my grades in school and I’ll get into a good college. I’ll be an engineer,
maybe design big buildings. Something fabulous like they have in Dubai.”

Sam’s throat closed when she
tried to respond. Jolie reached out and took her hand.

“Really. Don’t worry about me.”

Sam squeezed her hand and smiled.
“You are truly someone special. You’ll be a strong woman one day. What am I
saying? You’re strong right now. Stay in touch, okay?”

She watched Jolie walk back to
her new family and the four of them get into their car. Beau appeared at her
side.

Across the way, Iris’s headstone
caught Sam’s attention and they moved toward it.

“Three funerals in less than two
months,” she said. “It’s been a rough winter, hasn’t it?”

He nodded and put a strong arm
around her shoulders. “You okay?” he asked.

“I tried to save them, Beau. I
tried so hard and it didn’t work.” She blurted out the whole truth, the ways in
which the magic box had empowered her, energized her to accomplish so much with
her business, and how it was the box’s power that allowed her to see things,
which in the past had helped solve his cases. “It nearly wiped me out, honey,
trying to give that healing energy to Marla last week. I wanted to do more but
. . .”

If he had questions, he saved
them. He simply pulled her close and wrapped her in his reassuring warmth.

They walked out of the cemetery
together. He took her to his house and to his bedroom, where they spent the
afternoon forgetting the last few days.

Late afternoon light cast stripes
on the log walls, turning them golden, when Sam awoke from the luxury of their
post-coital nap. She stared at Beau, asleep with the innocence of a little
boy—his head on the pillow and the light sparkling off the curls that were
forming as his hair grew out from its last haircut. This could be her
life—forever.

She slipped from under the sheet and
took a quick shower, wrapping herself in her own robe this time. Downstairs,
she made a cup of tea and stood at the windows that faced the wide pasture
beyond. Both dogs lay on the wooden deck, flat on their sides, at ease with the
world. So much had happened in recent months, since the day she’d met this
wonderful man.

The sun went behind the trees at
the western edge of the land and she felt him beside her. He smelled of piñon
soap and his damp hair brushed her cheek when he bent to kiss her neck.

“I still want that ‘to have and
to hold’ part,” he murmured in her ear.

She turned to look him in the
eye. “What about Felicia? Will she be back?”

He chuckled. “I heard an
interesting rumor a couple days ago.”

She tilted her head.

“One of the duty officers was
gabbing on the phone with a friend who dated this guitar player, a guy who
plays romantic songs in restaurants around town. Well, the story is that the
guitar player dumped his regular girlfriend, fell madly in love with a striking
redhead, and that they’d eloped to Vegas.”

“Felicia?” Sam gave a silent
mental cheer. She’d forgotten about her delivery of the extra-strength special
chocolates to the restaurant.

His grin widened and he nodded.
“She’s gone—I hope forever.”

Then a wave of uncertainty.
“Beau, I love you. I just wish I knew what other surprises lurk out there.”

“Samantha, I hope there are
always surprises. I don’t want us to ever get tired of each other, to become so
predictable that we’re bored together.”

She started to open her mouth,
but he held up a hand.

“I love you. I will always love
you. Just know that.” His gentle hands squeezed her shoulders before he turned
to go into the kitchen.

She stepped out to the back deck.
The dogs raced past her to get inside for their dinner and she pulled the robe
more tightly across her chest. The evening was chilly but she felt a tiny hint
of warmth in the air. Maybe spring really would come a little early this year.

Discover all
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Competition
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The Samantha Sweet Series

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Sweet
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Sweet
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Sweet Hearts

Published by Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of

Columbine Publishing Group

PO Box 416, Angel Fire, NM 87710

Copyright © 2012 Connie Shelton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and
retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Although the author and publisher
have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of information
contained in this book we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies,
omissions, or any inconsistency herein. Any slights of people, places or
organizations are unintentional.

Book layout and design by Secret Staircase Books

Cover image © Myszka Brudnicka

First e-book edition: January 2012

Also published in trade paperback

First trade paperback edition: January 2012