The Dandelion Page 3

  “Are you…” I glance down at his hand, getting an answer to my question before I even finish asking it. “Are you married?”

  Sam rubs his thumb over the gold band encircling the fourth finger on his left hand. “I am.”

  “You found your happy,” I murmur softly.

  “I did.”

  I tilt my head to the side, happy that he’s happy, even though there’s an ache in my chest that I’ve never quite gotten rid of. “Who’s the lucky woman?”

  “You don’t know her. I met her in college, after you left.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly, I feel awkward, like I’m prying and he’s just too polite to tell me to mind my own business. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing so well. It’s…it’s really good to see you, Sam.”

  “Good to see you, too, Abi.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and once more I’m impressed with a sense of weight. Gravity. What’s going on with Sam Forrester? What sadness does he carry with him to the grocery store at ten o’clock on a sunny Friday morning in May?

  “See ya around,” I say, rolling one way as he rolls the other.

  Even though I don’t look back, I take Sam with me when I leave, just like I did all those years ago. I never could get him out of my head. Now is no different, it seems. Only these days, it appears that Sam might be in need of some help. I make the resolution as I walk away that if I can help him, if it’s within my power to ease the burden he carries, I will do it. I owe him that much.

  CHAPTER 5

  ABI

  Old Friends

  I stow the hot, foil-covered casserole dish in the passenger side floorboard on a folded towel. I didn’t think about transport when I baked the lasagna for Mrs. Sturgill.

  An insulated carrier I have in the cabinet above the fridge in my kitchen back in Charleston pops into my mind. For a few seconds, I wish I had it. But that means I’d have to go back to Charleston, to my old house, to my old life, to get it, and I’d rather have ten burned fingers and a dozen cooling casseroles than to step foot back in that place again.

  I start the car and head across town to the street where my childhood best friend lived. Unerringly, I find my way to the right house, pulling into the driveway to park behind the silver sedan that was at the cabin yesterday.

  I didn’t call ahead, mainly because Anna Sturgill didn’t leave me her number. I’m just gambling that she’ll be home because it’s five minutes after six.

  I knock once, balancing the hot dish on my towel-covered palm. After a few seconds, I see the doorbell, which I then push. Before the chime can complete its prescribed jingle, the door swings open and Mrs. Sturgill greets me with her trademark “Hi, honey!”

  “I brought you a lasagna. As a thank you,” I announce, holding up the casserole. “Be careful. It’s still hot.”

  “Aw, you sweet thing! You can bring that right inside and set it on the counter. You’re just in time for supper and I didn’t have a thing thawed.” She props the door with one hand and invites me in with the other.

  I step inside, wiping my feet on the wine-colored rug in the foyer. “That’s what I was hoping. I didn’t want you to have to worry about cooking after a long work day.”

  “I appreciate that, but I hope you know you have to stay and eat with me. That’s the deal.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I—”

  “It’s suspicious to turn down your own cooking. Didn’t your momma ever tell you that?” She winks and bumps her shoulder against mine as she passes, waving me to follow her through the small but immaculate living room into the kitchen that’s as familiar to me as my own.

  “God, it’s like a time warp in here.” I set the lasagna down on the bar that’s still covered with the same black and white tiles I remember, then I stuff my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and look around. “Everything looks exactly the same, just…smaller somehow.”

  “This is no grandiose house, by any means.”

  “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess when you’re a kid everything just seems bigger. Larger than life. The good, the bad, all of it. Just…big.”

  “I’m sure it felt that way to you. You were about as full of life as they come. You and my Christy. Two of the best girls in town. Hearts of gold. Never got in trouble. At least not that I found out about.” She slides me a look that says I’d better not be hiding any salacious details about late-night sneak outs or raucous parties.

  “Who are you kidding? If there were parties to find out about, you would’ve found them out.”

  She laughs, a sound straight out of my teenage years, and agrees with me. “You’re right about that. A mother needs to keep tabs on her girls. That’s part of her job—protecting her babies.”

  I swallow hard. “Yes, it sure is.”

  “I’m sorry your momma hasn’t been able to take care of you for a while now.”

  I wave her off. “It’s okay. I was grown by the time the accident happened.”

  “I mean before that. I know how hard it was on you after your daddy died. Your momma…well, she took it awfully hard. Couldn’t find her way out of it for a while. Sometimes we get so lost in our own pain, we’re numb to everyone else’s. I think that’s what happened to her. And I know you must’ve suffered double because of it.”

  I smile into her warm brown eyes. “But I had you.”

  She presses a hand to my cheek. “Still do.”

  Tears prickle at the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You, too, honey. You, too.”

  She turns away and busies herself gathering two of everything—plates, sets of silverware, glasses, and napkins—to set the table.

  “So what have you been into today? Besides cooking, that is.”

  “I just did some shopping and then spent the afternoon on the dock, reading.”

  “What did you think of Mullins’s since the remodel?”

  “It looks great. Glad they kept the green clouds, though.” She laughs. I don’t need to explain what I mean by green clouds; she knows exactly what they are. You can’t go into Mullins Grocery even once and not know what they are. They’re everywhere.

  “Did you drive around any? See what’s different? We got a Dollar Tree now. And a McDonald’s.”

  “I saw those.”

  Only in a town this small would either of those places be new or noteworthy.

  “And did you see the new doctor’s offices down on Sherwood? You’ll never believe who took over Dr. Montero’s practice when he retired.”

  “Sam Forrester?”

  Mrs. Sturgill turns to look at me. “Saw that, did ya?”

  “No, but I saw him. In the store. He…he mentioned he’s a family practitioner now and since Dr. Montero was the only one in town… And he was old even then, so…”

  She stops and turns, still with a set of silverware in each hand. “Sam’s a good one. Maybe better than Dr. Montero. We’re lucky to have him.”

  I walk to the table. I can feel her watching me, so I reach down to flatten the crease of a paper napkin she just put down, anything to keep from meeting her eyes. This woman knew me during my Sam years. I don’t want her to see that some things haven’t changed very much since then. “He, uh, said he married someone he met in college. She’s good to him, right?”

  After several long seconds, during which Anna Sturgill doesn’t say a word, I drag my eyes up to hers. She’s smiling at me, an odd smile that brings her expression into a place that’s somewhere between nostalgic and pitiful. “Yes. Sara. She’s a good woman.”

  I nod, smiling to show I’m happy for him, which I am. However, that doesn’t stop me from feeling the muffled pain of deep, deep regret somewhere in the attic of my heart. It’s in the place where I’ve kept my love for him all this time, right alongside a dusty box of pictures from high school and the hope chest Momma made me leave behind when we moved because we couldn’t fit it in the trunk of the car. Sometimes I think my actual hop
e was in that old wooden chest, and that maybe, on some level, I’ve come back here to find it. It isn’t in Charleston, that’s for sure.

  “He deserves to be happy.”

  “Yes, he does. Sam’s had a hard life. I think everybody in town wants to see him happy.”

  “Does that mean he’s not happy now?”

  “No, it doesn’t mean that at all. It’s just…well it’s complicated. Probably something best for Sam to tell you himself.”

  I want to argue or pout or something. But I don’t. Really, it’s none of my business. I’m here to find peace and do some good if I can. Unless Sam needs help that I can provide, he’s nothing more than a boy I used to know.

  “This smells delicious,” Mrs. Sturgill says when she peels back the aluminum foil after setting the lasagna on the table.

  “I hope it is. I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Makes the gesture even sweeter, then.”

  I shrug one shoulder. “I wanted to thank you for cleaning up the lake house and staying to give me the tour.”

  “As unnecessary as that is, I’m glad you came by. It gets lonely around here, especially at night.”

  Although she hides it well, I can see that Anna Sturgill is living with her own life’s pain. It’s there in the sadness that darkens her eyes, and the grief that pulls her lips down at the corners.

  “Why is that? Where is Mr. Sturgill?”

  She doesn’t look at me when she answers, but, from the side, I see the tremor in her chin just before she speaks. “He passed away three years ago. Massive heart attack. He was gone before the ambulance could even get here. He was talking to me one minute and the next, he was just…”

  “Oh. Oh, God, Mrs. Sturgill, I am so, so sorry.” I reach over to lay my hand on hers. Her fingers are drawn into a fist, like she’s still resisting the truth of that moment, like she still wants to fight against it. I know how that feels, only I didn’t just lose a life.

  She pats my hand with her other one, regaining her composure before she glances over at me. “He’s better off. This world…it’s going to hell in a hand basket, don’t you think?”

  She shifts the conversation into more emotionally neutral territory, for which we are both thankful. No one wants to talk about painful things. Not really. No one wants to relive his or her grief over and over and over again. That’s no way to live at all.

  “Sure looks that way,” is my casual reply. We exchange a quick look that says we both agree to keep conversation at the superficial level for the remainder of the meal. And while I do still wonder about the mysterious situation with Sam Forrester, I will keep my questions to myself. Maybe it’s better not to know too much about the people you’re trying to help. Instead, I ask about my old friend. “So, Christie has four kids did you say?”

  Anna Sturgill’s face melts into a smile of pure, happy love. “Two boys, two girls. All of ‘em handfuls, just like the two of you when you were little.” She shakes her head in amusement. “Good thing she’s a stay-at-home mom or she’d be in trouble, I’m thinking.”

  “I’m assuming she moved?”

  With a nod, Mrs. Sturgill’s smile fades a bit. “Yeah, just after she got married. Her husband is a big man in the banking world, so they moved up to Charlotte.”

  “At least it’s not so far that you don’t get to see them fairly often, right?” I hope she gets to see them a lot. In the short time I’ve been with her, it’s become clear that this woman is lonely. I make a mental note to keep her company as much as I can while I’m here this summer.

  “Not too far at all. They come home for Mother’s Day, holidays, birthdays, all those, but when it’s your baby, that never seems to be enough.”

  I nod. I don’t say so, but I know what she means. Being without someone you love is like a tiny little loss, every single day.

  CHAPTER 6

  SAM

  Then

  Abi’s words are soft and quiet, but they seem to echo all around us, bouncing around the cove like an ominous pinball. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

  Clear blue eyes fill with tears and my gut twists into a tight knot. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong and I have a feeling I’m not gonna like what it is.

  She looks away, turning to face the water. The dying sun paints her skin a beautiful, rich honey color. I watch as a single tear escapes her lashes to slide down her cheek. It glistens like a diamond. Like the diamond I’ve already been saving for five months to get her.

  I had it all worked out—the when, the where, and the how. I was going to wait until after freshman year of college. That was the when. I knew just how I was going to do it, too. We were both planning on going to Clemson, so on our drive home from school for summer break, I was going to detour north and take her to Cleveland. I had the perfect spot in mind, a place I saw once when I went with Steve Rich’s family on vacation in that area. We hiked to a waterfall that his mom wanted to see. At the time, I thought it was cool, but since I started dating Abi, I’ve thought of that waterfall just about every time I look at her. I don’t know why, really, but it’s always there in the back of my mind. Maybe it’s the way I feel like I’m falling for her like water off a cliff. Or maybe it’s the way my blood roars in my ears when I kiss her, just like the crashing sounds the falls make. Or maybe it’s just that she’s the only thing I’ve ever seen more beautiful than that natural wonder.

  Yep, I had it all worked out, right down to the hour. Sunset. She looks almost ethereal in the colors of a setting sun. Like she does right now.

  But…

  We’re leaving.

  Do I even need that plan now?

  My mouth goes dry with dread.

  “Momma told me this morning. She took a job in Ohio. We leave in three days.”

  “Three days? She only gave you three days? And she has to go now? Right before your senior year? That’s pretty shitty timing.”

  Abi doesn’t look at me; she just continues to stare out at the water. There’s something about the defeated tilt of her head, something about the hopeless set of her chin, something about the desolation that’s rolling off her like ripples in the lake when she jumps off the dock…

  Makes me feel desperate all of a sudden. Desperate and terrified.

  “Don’t go.”

  There’s a long silence before she answers, and even then, it’s so small I have to lean in to hear it. “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. She can go without you. You can stay here with me and finish school, then we’ll go to Clemson like we planned.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s all alone. I can’t…I can’t leave her like that. I’m all she’s got”

  “But you’ll leave me. That’s the better choice?”

  I can’t keep the anger, or the hurt, out of my voice.

  This time she turns my way. There’s agony in her eyes and it makes me even angrier when I see it. “Please don’t do that. If there was any other way…”

  “There is. Stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “Both. She’s been a wreck since Dad died. You know that, but…but she already told me I can’t stay. I asked.”

  “Did she say why?”

  Abi shakes her head.

  “Well, screw her! Stay anyway. You can stay with me. My parents won’t—”

  “I can’t, Sam.”

  “You can. Let me talk to her. I’ll tell her—”

  “No! Don’t. Please. She…she’s not doing well, Sam. I’m afraid to leave her.” Abi wraps her arms around her bent legs, letting her forehead drop down to rest on her knees. “She just can’t seem to move on after Daddy. She hasn’t been right in the head. She says she just can’t be here anymore. She’s making herself sick. And I couldn’t… I can’t just leave her. Not yet.”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach. Out of my world.

  “Jesus!” I breathe, running rigid
fingers through my hair.

  I can’t hear Abi crying, but I see her back shake with her silent sobs. “If there was any other way, I’d stay, Sam. I’d never leave you. Not ever. But…”

  I don’t even know what to say to that. I can’t ask her to abandon her mother. What if something happened and she had a nervous breakdown or tried to kill herself? Abi would never forgive herself. Or me. And neither would I.

  “Is this… is this it, then? Are we over?”

  At that, Abi raises her head. Her face is ravaged by tears—eyes puffy, lips swollen, cheeks shiny. Even so, she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

  “No! Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. I can’t… I can’t think that way either. I just can’t.” She starts to cry again, but this time she doesn’t turn away. And watching her… Sweet God Almighty, my heart breaks. “She doesn’t understand that I love you. She thinks we’re just dumb kids in puppy love. She doesn’t realize that I want to make my life with you. But I…I’m stuck. I’m stuck, Sam.”

  I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. In seconds, my shirt is warm and wet with her tears. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Even as I say the words, I don’t feel them. I don’t believe them. This feels…final somehow. How long until her mother starts feeling better and Abi can leave her? Weeks? Months? Years? Those all feel like a lifetime away. The odds are stacking up against us.

  “I’ll wait for you, Abi. Forever if I have to. College, the future…nothing else matters without you. I don’t care about anything else.”

  “But I do.” She lifts her head and pins me with her wounded eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if loving me ruined your life. Look at your dad. He let all of his dreams go because of someone else and he’s just bitter and miserable.”

  It pisses me off to think of him. I can’t imagine blaming someone I love for ruining something as stupid as a sport.

  “Loving you could never ruin my life. Loving you is my life.”

  Abi raises a hand and drags her fingertips from my jaw down to my heart where she flattens her palm against my chest. I’ve always loved it when she does that. It’s like she’s just reassuring herself that my heart’s still beating, and that it’s still beating for her.