Love Lies Bleeding: A Novel Part 13
"Do you want a list?" Anne asked, arching an eyebrow. "Let's start with Samantha, add Caleb and all the bills, then finish with Edward Dunlap."
"Edward?"
Anne, picking up her gla.s.s, stared at the ruby liquid. "Yeah, I ran into him today. It's so sad." With a sigh, she ran her finger down the side. "I wish there was something I could do to help him, but I never can get him away from Esther long enough to do any therapy."
"Anne," Greg said, his voice gentle. "You can't save the world."
"I'm not trying to, but Edward's life could've been so much more. Here he is almost fifty and still at his mother's beck and call." She frowned. "If only he hadn't had that accident."
Greg shook his head slowly. "Maybe."
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard all the stories about how he was on the brink of a great future, too, but in the end, I doubt if he'd ever have made the break with his mother."
"Why?"
"Esther would've found some way to stop him. Guilt him into staying."
"I always heard she was proud of him and looking forward to seeing him succeed."
"Really? Maybe that's what you heard, but knowing Esther, I think the attention she received from being Edward's mother was what mattered most to her."
"What about now?"
"Now she has everyone's sympathy and has had for twenty-some-odd years. Poor widowed Esther and her damaged son."
"That's kind of sick, Greg," Anne exclaimed.
He shrugged. "The world's a sick place Anne." He leaned his head back and crossed his arms. "If they could talk, the two dogs we found today would tell you."
"Bad?"
"Starved, dehydrated; someone dumped them, G.o.d knows how long ago, over by Perkins Hill." His eyelids drifted shut as if he was suddenly weary. "I don't know if they'll make it through the night."
Anne reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."
His eyes opened and he gave her a sad smile. "Thanks, but we're human; there's only so much we can do. Can't save them all."
"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"
"Yup, sure would." He scratched Molly's ears. "I think most of the time, present company excluded, I'd rather be with them than with people. At least with a dog, what you see is what you get. They're faithful, loyal, and they don't have any hidden agendas."
"Not everyone has an agenda."
He gave a short laugh. "Sure they do."
"I don't," Anne declared hotly.
"Oh yes, you do-get Caleb in college and see him get a degree, whether he wants one or not."
Anne snorted. "Now you sound like Fritz Thorpe."
"I hate to say it, because I think Caleb should go to college, too, but I agree with Fritz. At some point you're going to have to let Caleb make his own choices."
"Yeah, but what if his choices are wrong?"
"You followed your dream, Anne."
"Yeah," she shot back, "and look where it got me-spending my life hustling for a dollar."
"But at least you gave it a shot."
"What about you?" she asked pointedly.
Greg sat forward. "I followed my dream."
"But when you got screwed, you gave up. Why didn't you fight back?"
"Hey, we were a.n.a.lyzing you, not me," he said, lightening his tone.
"Truth hurts, huh?"
Greg chuckled. "We're a fine pair, aren't we? Life threw us both a curve, and now we're where we never thought we'd be."
"Right," Anne said, setting her gla.s.s back on the table. "And where I should be right now is back at Samantha Moore's."
Greg rose and extended his hand. Grabbing it, Anne rose. "You're spending the night at her cabin?" he asked.
"Just for a couple of days."
"Not looking forward to it?" he asked, following Anne across the deck and into the house.
"Not really." Anne stopped and turned. "It was funny-earlier this morning, after you left, she sat and chatted with Fritz just like a normal person-"
Greg's chuckle broke in. "Whatever that is."
"Right," she said with a lift of her brow. "But after two of her paintings arrived, she turned back into the ice queen and stayed that way." Anne puffed out her cheeks and blew out a long breath. "I hope by now the nicer version has reemerged."
Greg nudged her arm playfully. "Good luck."
"Thanks," she said, and with a wave headed down the lane.
The sun was sinking lower on the horizon and the long shadows stretched across the path. To her right, Anne saw the calm surface of lake. Above her, birds flew, searching for their nightly roost. She paused and took a deep breath, attempting just for a moment to lay her worries aside and enjoy herself. Releasing her breath slowly, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Everything would work out, she told herself. Just get through this summer and into the fall, then Caleb would be back in school, and she'd be working at the hospital again. Samantha Moore would be long gone, back to whatever life she wanted in the city. Life would be normal again.
Suddenly the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled. Someone was watching her. She could feel it, feel their eyes on her, but as she scanned the woods for something . . . there was nothing there.
"Stop it," she whispered. "You're beginning to act as paranoid as Sam."
To her left, the snapping of a branch broke the stillness. Someone was lurking there. She turned and hurried in the direction of the cabin-all the time feeling the unknown presence following her. She fought the urge to cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Her pace increased. More sounds came from the woods, but not from behind her-in front of her. Whoever it was-they were outdistancing her. Would they cut her off just as she reached the cabin? She began to trot, her breath coming in pants. Part of her brain ridiculed her silliness, but another part urged her to hurry.
When she was just yards from the cabin, the crashing of branches erupted from the woods, and Anne skidded to a halt as a ten-point buck leaped from the woods, landing in the center of the road. For a moment she and the deer stared at each other in surprise, both shocked to find the other.
The deer was the first to recover. With an angry toss of his antlers, he bounded across the road and down the hill, heading for the lake.
Laughing at her unfounded fear, Anne strolled to the cabin, missing the sudden flash of red as her watcher turned and pulled deeper into the forest.
Chapter Thirteen.
A curl of steam rose up from the bowl of oatmeal sitting in front of Sam.
"I don't like oatmeal," she said, pushing it away.
"Look," Anne said, towering over her. "I let you slide yesterday, but not today. We have a deal and I expect you to live up to it. Now eat your breakfast."
Sam stared down at the bowl in front of her and contemplated flinging it across the room. Her lips formed a smile as she imagined the bowl hitting the wall and splattering globs of oatmeal everywhere. Childish, but it would show Anne that she couldn't keep bossing her around. Her hand inched across the table. Don't be an idiot, she thought, drawing back. Anne was right; they had a deal, but did it mean she had to eat the oatmeal?
"I doubt I would've made that deal if I'd known it included oatmeal," she grumbled.
Anne chuckled and moved over to the counter. She returned and placed a plate with a poached egg and toast next to the bowl of oatmeal.
"At least taste it. It's an old family recipe, and you'll insult my long-dead grandmother if you don't."
Sam snorted. "What's to making oatmeal? You open the package, pour it in a bowl, and add hot water," she said, stirring the thick glop with her spoon.
"This isn't instant."
"Bet it still tastes like wallpaper paste," she replied, shoving a spoonful in her mouth.
Not bad, but she wasn't going to admit it to Anne. She took another spoonful as Anne placed a gla.s.s of milk next to the egg and toast.
Sam shot her a quick look.
"Let me guess . . . you don't like milk." Anne's lips twisted in a wry grin. "Drink it anyway."
"Thought you were supposed to back off on the bossiness," Sam replied indignantly.
Anne's eyebrows lifted. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Moore," she said with a slight bow. "Would you care for a gla.s.s of milk?"
Sam rolled her eyes. "Fine. I get it. I'm being a brat."
Anne shrugged. "Yup, and I've never been very good at letting someone steamroll me." She crossed her arms and c.o.c.ked her hip. "So if I'm too bossy, how do you want me to act?"
Sam placed her spoon next to the bowl. "You might try asking me what I'd like to eat. Minor, but it would be nice to be able to make a few decisions for myself, even if it's only what's for breakfast."
"Fine," Anne said, dropping her arms and returning to the stove. "I'd planned on grocery shopping today. You can go with me and show me what you want."
"Wait a second," Sam cried, her voice full of dismay. "Can't I make a list?"
Anne shook her head. "Nope. It will do you good to get out."
"You know being around people makes me nervous."
"And the best way to get over fear is to face it." Anne turned and leaned against the counter. "It'll be a short trip, I promise. And if it turns out you can't handle it, you can wait in the car."
Chewing her lip, Sam thought about it. At one point in her life, she'd thought nothing of standing in front of a roomful of people, giving a presentation. And now the thought of a simple trip to the grocery store set her nerves jangling. Maybe Anne was right. The best way to get over it was to take it in small steps. She had to do this if she ever wanted to get her life back.
"Fine. Whatever. But if I feel panicky, I'm going to the car."
"Fair enough."
An hour later, Sam questioned the wisdom of her decision while she walked slowly alongside Anne. Pushing the cart did help her keep her balance, but in every aisle, she felt people watching her. With curious glances in Sam's direction, several people had made conversation with Anne, forcing her to make introductions. Part of Sam did want to run to the car, hide from all the prying eyes, but if she did this, she'd be giving in, acting like a coward. And, honestly, she was tired of being a coward. She steeled herself against the speculative glances and kept moving, concentrating on keeping her balance.
When the ordeal was over, Sam couldn't help feeling that she'd accomplished something-maybe minor-but the important thing was that she hadn't given up and gone to the car. Now, if she could succeed once, she could do it again. Feeling happy with herself, she sat up straight as they pulled into the driveway.
Jackson's car was there, and Jackson himself stood on the porch talking with Fritz Thorpe. He was early. As the thoughts of all the issues between them came crashing down on her, some of her happiness dimmed. Pasting a smile on her face, she got out of the car and walked slowly to the cabin.
Jackson, spotting her, came rushing down the steps and across the yard. "Samantha," he cried, grasping her shoulders and holding her away from him. "You look wonderful." He reached up and lifted a few strands of her hair. "Did your mother send Renaldo up here?"
Self-consciously, Sam batted his hand away. "No, Anne took me to a beauty shop in Pardo-um-Alice's Beauty Barn."
He took a step back with a derisive snort. "You've got to be kidding me! Alice's Beauty Barn?"
Sam's chin shot up as she smoothed her hair. "I think she did a great job. Every bit as good as Renaldo would've done."
He threw an arm around her shoulder and led her toward the cabin. "Ha, well, I never would've expected someone that talented to be living up here."
Out of the corner of her eye, she studied him. Did she come across as being as sn.o.bby as he was? Her attention shifted to Fritz, who was still standing on the porch. What had she said to him yesterday? That the community up here wasn't a seat of art and culture? Chagrined, she lowered her chin. At the first opportunity, she'd apologize for her remark.
"Um," she said, clearing her throat. "I went grocery shopping with Anne."
"That's wonderful," he said, then paused, his eyes going back to her hair. "I can't get over how much better you look. Your father is going to be so pleased."
Irritated that all Jackson could think about was her new haircut, Sam dodged out from underneath his arm and continued walking toward Fritz.
"Fritz, nice to see you again," she called out.
His eyes widened in surprise. "After yesterday, I wasn't sure I'd be welcome."